In the meantime, he did his best to repair relations with the Governor and his staff by hosting a dinner aboard his ship for the senior officers of his command, those of the garrison at Trincomalee and Admiral Rainier and the captains of the squadron assigned to support the expedition. The warships were anchored slightly further offshore where they would be free to put to sea in the event that any French vessels appeared on the horizon. Arthur was aware that there was a strong animosity between the Governor and the admiral, but he braced himself to doing his best to repair relations all round. It frequently surprised Arthur how often personal differences of opinion were permitted to stand in the way of the vital interests of the state, as if such men felt that they were more important than the nation they professed to serve.
On the morning of the appointed date, Arthur’s mood was not improved by the receipt of a private message from Richard, which had crossed the letter he had sent to Calcutta. Once he had decoded the message Arthur’s brow creased into a frown. There was a possibility that the Java expedition would once again have to be cancelled. The situation in the Mediterranean was such that the expeditionary force might be enlarged and redeployed to Egypt instead. Arthur was told to make the force ready to sail either to the east, towards Java, or west, towards the Red Sea. The final decision would be communicated to him as soon as possible.
The message made Arthur uneasy. The last news he had had of the situation in Egypt was that the French still had a considerable army there. If Arthur and his men were sent to Egypt they would be outnumbered and would have to face a well-trained and well-armed enemy. Arthur did not doubt that his men were a match for any French soldiers that lived, and he was confident enough in his abilities to confront them, but a campaign in Egypt was a more uncertain prospect than the capture of Java, and it would have to be tackled with great care. He could not help but be scornful of the politicians back in London who could redirect thousands of men from one theatre of war to another on a whim.
The air in the great cabin of the East India Company ship Suffolk was hot and humid, despite the attempt to create a through draught by using windscoops over the skylights and opening all the stern windows. The officers of the army and Navy were in their best uniforms and the Company officials in their best coats, and everyone attempted to endure the heat with stolid indifference. A long table had been laid with spotless cloths and gleaming silverware and cut glasses, and the odours of the cooking wafted through from the captain’s galley.
‘What’s that, Wellesley?’ Admiral Rainier sniffed.
‘A saddle of mutton, sir. My steward, Vingetty, cooks it in a rich sauce and serves it with a salad. Accompanied by a Madeira.’
‘Salad?’ Rainier frowned. ‘I don’t know about a salad. Mutton deserves something more wholesome, like boiled vegetables.’
Arthur stopped himself from wincing at the idea. He nodded tactfully. ‘Of course, sir, but Vingetty makes a better salad than he boils a vegetable, so there we are.’
‘Hmmm. Well, needs must.’
‘Yes, sir. Now would you care to take your seat?’
As the guests took their places Arthur made sure that the Governor was seated at the head of the table with Rainier on one side while Arthur sat opposite. Frederick North was a stout, sour-faced man with a pale complexion despite the years he had served in Ceylon. Once everyone was seated he picked up a soup spoon and rapped the table until the other diners fell silent.
‘Grace . . .’ North clasped his hands and shut his eyes and some of the others followed suit. Rainier caught Arthur’s eye and looked to the heavens with an exasperated expression, but said not a word as North began.
‘Divine Lord, who watches over us all, bless us here today that we might serve our King and country well, and prosper by the fruits of our own efforts. Amen.’
‘Amen,’ echoed round the table, as North picked up his napkin and tucked it into his neck cloth.
‘An interesting grace,’ said Rainier. ‘One of your own?’
‘Yes. And suitable to the occasion, given that you and Colonel Wellesley will soon be sailing off to war.’
‘If ever the order comes,’ Rainier grumbled. ‘Been telling ’em for years that we have to take Java.’
‘I know,’ North replied tartly. ‘As you keep telling me. And as I keep telling you, we should be concentrating our efforts on Mauritius. As your superior, I would expect you to carry out my orders.’
Admiral Rainier shrugged his shoulders wearily and Arthur realised that this had long been a bone of contention between the two men. Rainier replied in a bored tone,‘You are the senior civil authority with power over all forces stationed here, but the moment the squadron leaves these waters control of the vessels reverts to me. I will only carry out operations against Mauritius under Admiralty orders.’
‘Which I am certain are on the way. Assuming my powers of persuasion have made their lordships see reason.’
‘We shall have to wait and see, won’t we?’ Rainier smiled, then looked across the table at Arthur. ‘What’s the first course?’
‘Turtle soup.’
‘Fish, or as near as.’ Rainier wrinkled his nose.
‘I’d have thought a sailor would be fond of fish, sir.’
‘And I’d have thought a soldier would be fond of bloody boiled vegetables. Especially a man from Ireland. That is where your family is from, ain’t it?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Once again Arthur felt the implied slight, and wondered if the family would ever shake off its history.
‘That’s right,’ North added. ‘And I am sure that your brother must be delighted with the peerage conferred on him following the victory in Mysore. But I forgot, the news reached here only yesterday. He will not know yet.’
‘A peerage, sir?’ Arthur felt his breast lift with pride for his brother, and at the same time there was a tinge of jealousy that no reward had come his way.
‘Oh, yes. He has been given a title, in the Irish peerage.’ North spoke the last words with emphasis and some relish. ‘But still, a peerage is a peerage, eh? I am sure your brother will be delighted with the honour.’
Arthur knew that Richard would see the reward as a very poor second to the British peerage he aspired to, but he smiled at North. ‘Of course, sir. Delighted.’
‘And I imagine that you look forward to emulating his triumph. Though I dare say you will admit that your path to success is being smoothed by having a brother who is the highest authority in India.’
Arthur felt his cheeks flush at the naked accusation that he was benefiting from nepotism. It was a charge that he knew had been levied against him in the past by other officers, and no doubt was still bandied about to explain his various appointments. But had he not proved worthy of every task that had been assigned to him? He had ably commanded one wing of General Harris’s army. He had brought peace and prosperity to Mysore, and thanks to his system of supplying his forces in the field he had led his forces further into the heart of India, and marched faster, than any British commander before him. And still his accomplishments were written off as the product of family connections. Good God, when will this end, he thought furiously. He forced himself to keep a calm exterior as he turned to North.