Finally, when the bottle of gin drew near empty, the soldier stopped speaking and asked why the good man wanted to know so much about Twet Nga Lu. The heady feeling of camaraderie and acceptance overrode concerns of confidentiality, and Edgar told them that he had come to tune the piano of a certain Surgeon-Major named Carroll.
At the sound of the Doctor’s name, the other men, who had been playing cards, stopped and stared at the piano tuner.
“Carroll?” shouted one in a rough Scottish accent. “Bloody hell, did I just hear the name Carroll?”
“Yes, why?” asked Edgar, surprised by the outburst.
“Why?” the Scotsman laughed, and turned to his comrades. “You hear this, we have been on this boat for three bloody days, begging this chap for football scores, and today he tells us he is friends with the Doctor himself.” They all laughed and exchanged a clinking of glasses.
“Well, not a friend, well…yet…” corrected Edgar. “But I don’t understand. Why all the excitement? Do you know him?”
“Know him?” guffawed the soldier. “The man is as legendary as Twet Nga Lu. Hell, the man’s as legendary as the Queen.” More clinking of glasses, more gin.
“Really?” asked Edgar, leaning forward. “I didn’t think he was so…notorious. Maybe some of the officers knew of him, but I perceive many of them aren’t so fond of him.”
“Because he is so bloody competent compared to them. A true Man of Action. Of course they don’t like him.” Laughter.
“But you like him.”
“Like him? Any soldier who has had to serve in the Shan States loves the bastard. If it wasn’t for Carroll, I would be stuck in some stink of a jungle covered in mud and fighting a bloodthirsty band of Shan. God knows how he does it, but he has saved my pale arse, I’m certain of that. If we have a full-scale war in the Shan States, each one of us will be strung up within days.”
Another soldier raised a glass. “To Carroll. Damn his poetry, damn his stethoscope, but God bless the bloody bastard, because he saved me for my dear mum!” The men roared.
Edgar could hardly believe what he was hearing. “God bless the bastard,” he cried, and raised his glass, and when they had drunk, and then drunk again, the stories began.
You want to know about Carroll? I haven’t met the man, Nor I, Not I, just stories, Well none of us have met the man, hell raise your glasses to that, the man is but a fairy tale, That’s right, a fairy tale, They say he stands seven feet tall and breathes fire, Really, I haven’t heard that one, Well I’ve heard that your mum stands seven feet tall and breathes fire, Come on, Jackson, be serious you bastard, this fine gentleman wants True stories about Carroll, Truth, raise your glass to Truth then, hell I would be less in awe if the man did stand seven feet tall and breathed fire, Have you heard the story of the building of the fort? That’s a wild one, You tell it, Jackson, you tell it, Well then, I’ll tell it, Quiet, you bastards, Mr. Drake, pardon my French, bit tipsy you know, Get on with the story, Jackson, Fair enough, the story, I’ll get fast to it, where does it start? No, you know what? What? I am going to tell the story of the journey, that’s a better one, Tell it then, All right I will, The Story, ready boys? Carroll arrives in Burma, he’s been here a couple of years, medical stuff, couple of trips into the jungle, but still this fellow’s pretty fresh, I mean, I don’t think he has ever fired a gun or anything, but still he volunteers to set up camp in Mae Lwin, secret stuff at the time, God knows why he wants to go, but he goes anyway, Not only is the country overrun with armed bands, but this is long before we annexed Upper Burma, so if he needs reinforcements, we may not even be able to get there to help him, but still he goes, why, no one knows, every man has his own theory, me, I think the chap was maybe running away from something, wanted to get away, you know, far away, but that’s just my opinion, I don’t know, What do you boys think? Glory maybe, Girls! the bastard likes Shan girls, Thanks, Stephens, I should have expected as much from your mind, this is a fellow who will skip church to sneak down to the Mandalay bazaar to chase the painted mingales, How about you, Murphy? Me, hell, maybe the chap just believes in the cause, you know, civilize the uncivilized, make peace, bring law and order to an untamed land, not like us drunken bastards, Poetic, Murphy, real poetic, Listen you wanted my opinion, All right, how long is this story going to take, Where was I? Carroll heads into the bloody jungle, Yeah, Carroll heads into the jungle, under escort, maybe ten soldiers, that’s it, that’s all he will allow, says it isn’t a military expedition, Well, military expedition or not, before they even reach the site they are attacked, they are crossing a clearing, and suddenly an arrow whizzes past and hits a tree above his head, The soldiers, they take cover in the trees and ready their rifles, but Carroll just stands in the clearing, not moving, mad as a hatter I tell you, all alone, but calm, real calm, calm that would make a card dealer jealous, and another arrow flies by him, faster this time, nicking his helmet, Crazy bastard! Crazy all right, and what does Carroll do? Tell us, Jackson, Yeah tell us you bastard, All right all right, I’ll tell it all right, what does he do? The crazy bastard takes off his helmet, where he had tied a little flute that he likes to play on the marches, and he puts the damn thing to his mouth and begins to play, He’s mad I tell you! Bloody nuts if you ask me! You going to let me finish the story? Yeah go on, go on, finish the bloody story! So Carroll begins to play, and what does he play? “God Bless the Queen”? Wrong, Murphy, “The Woodcutter’s Daughter”? Damn it, Stephens, nothing dirty please, Sorry for my friend Mr. Drake, and sorry, boys, but Carroll starts to play some crazy song that none of the soldiers has ever heard, a weird little ditty, and I met a soldier once who had served in the escort, and he told me about it, says he never heard the song in his life, nothing fancy, maybe twenty notes, and then Carroll stops and looks around, and the troops are all kneeling, rifles to their cheeks, ready to fire if a bird chirps, but nothing happens, everything’s still, and Carroll plays the tune again, and when he finishes he waits, and then plays it again, and he stares into the forest around the clearing, Nothing, not a peep, no more arrows, and Carroll plays again, and from the bushes comes a whistling, the same damn tune, and this time when the song finishes Carroll doesn’t stop but repeats it, and now there’s more whistling and he plays three more times, and then they are bloody singing together, Carroll and their attackers, and the men can hear laughter and cheering from the forest, but it is dense and dark and no one can be seen, At last Carroll stops and motions his men to stand, and they do so slowly, they are scared, you can imagine, and they climb back onto their mounts, and they continue their march, and never see the attackers again, although the soldier who told me the story said he could hear them the entire way, they were there, guarding the party, guarding Carroll, and this way Carroll passes through some of the most dangerous territory in the Empire without firing a shot, and they reach Mae Lwin, where the local chief is waiting, expecting them, and takes the men’s ponies and offers them warm rice and curries, and gives them shelter, and after three days of conferring, Carroll announces to the party that the chief has granted them permission to build a fort at Mae Lwin, in exchange for protection from dacoits, and the promise of a clinic. And more music.
The soldier stopped. There was silence. Even the rowdiest of the soldiers had quieted, awed by the story.
“What was the song?” asked Edgar, finally.
“Sorry?”
“The song. What was the song that he played on his flute?”