Free The Cannons of Lucknow by V. A. Stuart Page B

seating himself on the bed, gestured to the pile of shirts and native-made white uniform jackets. “Poor devil, he evidently expected a long campaign! He had rallied, you know, and Dr. Le Presle was hopeful that he’d pull through. He and Sydenham Renaud were both moved to a building known as the Savada Koti, which has been taken over as a temporary hospital. It was near the Nana’s camp, I believe.”
    â€œYes,” Alex confirmed. “He kept some of his European captives there.” He hesitated. “How is Renaud? Someone told me the surgeons were afraid they would have to take his leg off.”
    Barrow shrugged despondently. “They died within an hour of each other, I’m sorry to say. The funeral is tomorrow, with full military honours for them both. The Movable Column has suffered a great loss, Alex, in those two.” He sighed. “They say no man is indispensable, don’t they? All the same, they will be hard to replace, Stuart Beatson in particular. He was one of the best organisers I’ve ever met in my life.”
    â€œHas anyone been appointed in his place?”
    â€œI heard that the general is to appoint his son, Harry, but I don’t know if that’s true.”
    Alex selected a shirt and two jackets. He waited, offering no comment, and Lousada Barrow went on, a thoughtful frown drawing his bristling dark brows together, “You haven’t asked about Harry Havelock but I’ll tell you anyway. He’s young and he’s a hothead but he’s as brave as a lion and I think he’ll go a long way. When he first came out, he ran himself into debt and, I’m told, caused his father a great deal of anxiety—he’s not well off, you know, the general. He could never afford to buy his steps in rank; he won them all on merit, and it took him a long time. You can’t blame him for giving his son a step up, in the circumstances … he’s devoted to the boy, in spite of those earlier scandals.”
    â€œI did not say I blamed him, Lou,” Alex pointed out mildly.
    â€œNo, you didn’t. But I could see you wondering.”
    â€œPerhaps I was. It’s an important job, adjutant-general to a force like this. I just hope young Havelock’s up to it.”
    â€œDon’t we all!” Barrow’s tone was dry. “Well, I’ve brought you up to date with the news, good and bad, so perhaps we’d better call it a day. Those are the things you’re taking? Good—then I’ll have you wakened at midnight. Unless you’re too tired and would rather sleep?”
    â€œNo.” Alex denied it. “I want to watch the crossing.”
    The Nana would almost certainly have crossed into Oudh, he thought, as he made his way, wrapped in Lousada’s cloak, to his own nearby tent. If, that was to say, the treacherous swine was still alive. His mouth twisted into a mirthless smile. The Nana, Azimullah, Tantia Topi, Jwala Pershad … all of them were still at large and all of them would have to be defeated and brought to justice. The Moulvi of Fyzabad also, for he, perhaps, was the evil genius on whom must rest responsibility for both the mutiny of the Oudh troops and the Nana’s betrayal.
    Alex groped his way over the recumbent forms of the two officers who shared the tent with him. They were sleeping deeply and neither stirred. Within a few minutes of casting himself down beside them, he was sleeping as deeply as they.

C HAPTER T HREE

    I T WAS STILL raining heavily when Lousada Barrow led his small party of Volunteer Cavalry to the Baxi Ghat just before midnight, to find General Havelock and his Staff already there and the scene one of feverish activity.
    The embarkation point was situated within sight of the wrecked pontoons of the old Bridge of Boats, which had once linked two small islands—both now under flood water—and carried traffic between Cawnpore and the Lucknow road. On a mound,