The sepoys were fortunate in that they had been issued greatcoats before the winter chill set in. The fifers and drummers were also lucky for they too had received woollen capes; although these were not as warm as the sepoys’ coats, they had the advantage that they could be spread out at night. Nor did the banjee-boys have any reason to complain for they were well-off compared to the camp-followers, many of whom had not received any cold-weather clothes at all. The woollens were meant to be provided by the sirdars of every group, but only the honest ones, of whom there were very few, were willing to defray the costs — and even they offered no more than a blanket or two, to be used as garments during the day and coverings at night. For the most part, the sirdars were skinflinting kanjooses who thought only of their own pockets: they gave their followers nothing more than a few moth-eaten lengths of cheap, cotton cloth — these men were left with no option but to spend their own meagre earnings on locally made quilted jackets.
But when icy blasts lashed the treeless island, even the best clothing offered little protection. Predictably, dozens of men fell ill and the field-hospital was soon filled to capacity.
Through much of the time that the weather was at its worst — the first days of January — Captain Mee was on leave in Macau. It was not till 6 January that he came back to Saw Chow, and within minutes of his return Kesri received a summons to report to his tent.
The captain offered no explanations for his absence and nor was it Kesri’s place to ask questions: they got briskly down to business.
The expedition’s high command had at last come to a decision, said the captain: an attack was to be launched on the fortifications of the Tiger’s Mouth. It would be a complex, amphibious operation involving ships, soldiers, marines and small-arms’ men from the warships.
Rolling out a chart, the captain pointed out the fortifications and gun-emplacements that encircled the Tiger’s Mouth. Their configuration was such that an attack from the seaward side would necessarily have to commence by neutralizing the two outermost forts — Chuenpee on the right bank of the channel and Tytock on the left. The operation would therefore start with simultaneous assaults on both positions: the Bengal Volunteers were to be a part of the force that would attack Chuenpee. The Enterprize would transport them to the landing-point — a beach, some two miles east of the island’s gun-emplacements.
There would be an early reveille and the sepoys were to be ready to embark by 7 a.m. the next day, said the captain. This time they would deploy in full marching order, with drummers, fifers, gun-lascars, runners, golondauzes, bhistis and, of course, medical attendants; their baggage was to be packed accordingly.
‘Better get to it, jaldee havildar.’
Ji, Kaptán-sah’b.
*
It took only a few minutes for the whole camp to learn that B Company was to go into action the next day, with a full complement of supporters.
In the fifers’ tent the weather was quickly forgotten as the boys got down to checking their equipment and taking inventory of the contents of their knapsacks. This would be Raju’s first deployment and he was careful to follow Dicky’s lead in making his preparations, down to details like stuffing a few sugary sweets into his pockets: ‘You’ll see, men — when the fighting starts it helps to have something sweet in your mouth. Adds to the fun.’
Having experienced battle before, Dicky was full of bravado — yet Raju could sense a change in his mood. That night, huddled together under their shared blankets, Dicky was very restless, thrashing about and moaning in his sleep. He woke not just Raju but several others as well, earning himself volleys of curses, fisticuffs and kicks.
‘Shut your gob, bugger, and let us sleep — there’s fighting ahead tomorrow. You can cry all you like then.’
The next day Kesri was up long before dawn. Accompanied by two lance-naiks he went from tent to tent, lantern in hand, carrying out random inspections to make sure that the sepoys had packed their knapsacks exactly as required by Heavy Marching Orders: with a spare uniform, including a second koortee and another pair of shoes; a durree to sleep on and a ‘cumbly’ blanket, the last being neatly rolled up and strapped under the brass lota that sat atop every knapsack.
The fifers and drummers also rose early and they were among the first to take up stations on the beach, to provide accompaniment for the sepoys as they paraded. It was a cold morning and a thick mist had risen off the surface of the water, dimming the glow of the sun.
The tide crested just before the Enterprize arrived. Because the water was high, the unit was spared the bother of using lighters for the embarkation: the steamer was able to nudge her bows so close to the shore that a gangplank was all that was required to go on board.
The followers went first and while they were boarding the ‘bell of arms’ was rung to summon the sepoys to roll-calclass="underline" it turned out that so many were in hospital that the company was at three-quarters its usual strength.
After roll-call the sepoys fell in line in front of the gangplank, their tall, black topees receding into the mist. Then, with drums beating and fifes trilling, they went marching up to the steamer, their Brown Besses slung over their shoulders. After the sepoys came the banjee-boys, and then the officers, in ascending order of seniority. Captain Mee was the last to board, and the steamer’s paddle-wheels began to churn even as the gangplank was being pulled in after him. With water foaming around the hull, the vessel turned her head slowly northwards.
The fifers and drummers were seated between the bows. As the steamer built up speed they were hit head-on by the wind. They huddled together, teeth chattering, and Raju buried his face between his knees; he was sleepy enough to fall into a doze. When he looked up again he found, to his surprise, that the mist had lifted and the skies had cleared. The steamer was cruising through a miles-wide wedge of water, a deep, iridescent blue in colour. Looming on either side were ranges of serene grey-green mountains.
Dead ahead lay the twin hills of Chuenpee: the larger of the two was crowned by an impressive set of ramparts and towers, with hundreds of colourful pennants and banners fluttering on the battlements: some were long strips of cloth, with ideograms imprinted on a crimson background; some were shaped like doubled flames, with green and yellow edges; some were immense streamers on which dragons undulated as if in flight.
As they came closer they saw that the battlements were bristling with guns and gun-ports. Only one part of the island lay beyond the reach of the hilltop battery: this was the section that was sheltered by the second hill. There lay the landing-point.
The waters around the landing-point were thronged with vessels of many sorts. Three steamers, Madagascar, Queen and Nemesis had pushed close in to shore and were discharging their detachments directly on to the beach. The larger warships were at anchor in deeper water: these consisted of two frigates — the forty-four-gun Druid and the twenty-eight-gun Calliope — and four smaller warships. Their contingents were in the process of being ferried ashore in cutters and longboats.
Such was the congestion that the Enterprize had to hold back for a bit. As a result Raju was able to observe the debarkation as though it were an exercise staged specially for his benefit. The spectacle was mesmerizing: the complex manoeuvres were carried out with clockwork precision, soldiers and sailors working in synchronized co-ordination as one cutter after another pulled up to the beach to offload its men and munitions.