Mr Jardine stirred. ‘Quite the man, eh?’
Arthur looked up, lowering the newspaper on to his lap. ‘Sir?’
‘Nelson. Britain’s best chance of humbling the frogs. Once he’s given them a sound thrashing, that’ll be the end of any talk of an invasion.’
‘Yes, I suppose so.’
‘Damned lucky thing we have the Royal Navy standing between us and Monsieur Bonaparte. If not for it, we’d all be forced to parler frog and eat the damned things before the year was out.’
‘Yes, we are indeed fortunate to have Nelson and the Navy.’ Arthur smiled. ‘But one should not forget the part played by the army in defending Britain.’
‘Of course.’ Jardine nodded, his cheeks wobbling.‘Though I dare say that even you would admit that our, er, valiant redcoats have had little chance to distinguish themselves in this war.’
Arthur’s smile faded. ‘I can assure you, sir, that the army has played its part as much as the Navy.’
‘Oh, come now, I meant no offence. I merely desired to point out that the burden of the war has largely fallen on the shoulders of our jack tars.You cannot deny it, sir.’
‘Can’t I?’ Arthur thought back to his first campaign in the lowlands. Half of his men had died from want of food and the bitter cold of a terrible winter. Then there had been India, and the long marches through searing heat before taking on armies vastly superior in size and beating them. He fixed his eyes on the other man and cleared his throat. ‘I am sure that if you were in full possession of the facts, you would not judge the contribution of the army so harshly.’
Jardine shook his head briefly. ‘I am not being harsh. Forgive me if I appear to be. I merely point to the record of both services. On the seas our sailors have completely mastered the enemy, whereas our soldiers are no match for the French and have failed to secure the least foothold on the continent. Instead of taking the fight directly to the enemy they are merely nibbling away at his colonies, far from the heart of the struggle.’
‘It is hardly the fault of the soldiers if the government chooses to deploy them in such a fashion,’ Arthur protested.
‘Precisely, sir.Take yourself.’ Jardine gestured towards Arthur’s tanned face. ‘From your colour, I assume that you have been on service in the tropics, or some such?’
‘I have just returned from India.’
‘And what did you do there of any importance to this country?’
Arthur took a deep breath.The question was startling in terms of the breadth of the answer he could provide, but Jardine continued before he had a chance to begin.
‘I warrant that you and your men spent most of the time chasing the natives off the property of the East India Company.’
‘We achieved more than that, sir. It is thanks to the efforts of the army that Britain now rules over lands many times the size and population of the British Isles.’
‘India is a mere detail of our struggle against France,’ Jardine countered dismissively. ‘Besides, you were fighting savages, not proper civilised armies. How could you possibly lose in such an unequal contest?’
Arthur leaned back with a weary expression. The man was clearly ignorant of the campaigns that had been fought across the heart of the subcontinent over the last decade. He knew nothing of the bloody assault on the Sultan of Mysore’s fortress capital of Seringapatam. Nothing of the desperate march across the face of the vast Mahratta army at Assaye to attack their flank and defeat them. Nothing of the bold advance against the cannon and massed ranks of the enemy at Argaum. Nothing of the long months of bitter skirmishes with the bandit columns led by the bloodthirsty Dhoondiah Waugh. Clearly, the exploits of Arthur and his men had been overlooked back home in Britain. Almost as if they were a forgotten army led by a forgotten general. He sighed.
‘I can assure you that the troops I was honoured to command in India faced enemies every bit as dangerous as the French. When the time comes for our soldiers to face Bonaparte in pitched battle, they will be more than a match for him and his men.’
‘Of course, sir. Of course.’ Jardine nodded placatingly. ‘I am sure that you know your business. But from the point of view of the well-informed layman, such as myself, it would appear that our best hope of defeating the French lies in the Royal Navy.’
‘By God, you are wrong, sir. Quite wrong,’Arthur snapped.‘How can the Navy defeat Bonaparte? To be sure, Admiral Nelson can defeat his warships, but he can only pursue the French as far as their coast. And from there on, wherever there is solid ground, Bonaparte can defy his enemies. So it follows that the war between Britain and France can only be decided on land.When the time is right our soldiers will fight on the soil of Europe and there they will prove that they are more than a match for the very best of Napoleon’s men. Mark my words, sir.You will see the day.’
‘I hope so, sir. Sincerely I do. But that depends on our government’s being prepared to land a force large enough to make a difference.’
Arthur nodded. ‘And to keep it adequately supplied and reinforced when necessary. You are right, sir. The government has so far declined to commit to such an investment of its military power. But that will change. There are men with vision at Westminster. Men who can be persuaded to take the bold course.’
‘Who will persuade them, sir? Most of our generals seem to be the very fount of caution and, dare I say it, indecision.’
‘Then it will be down to men like myself to make the case for action.’
Jardine smiled.‘Pardon me, sir, but what makes you think that young officers will carry much weight in this affair?’
‘Because I shall speak the truth. I shall present the facts clearly and logically so that there can be no doubt as to the correct path to take.’
‘Ah, but you speak as a soldier. Those in Westminster are inclined to speak and listen as politicians. Facts and logic are as clay to their minds; soft and infinitely malleable. I fear you overestimate the influence of reason on such men.’
Arthur was quiet and still for a moment before he shrugged. ‘We shall see.’ He picked up the newspaper again. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, sir, I would like to finish this before the journey is over.’
Jardine nodded briefly and turned to look out of the window with a slight pout of piqued disapproval.
The coach soon emerged from the trees and entered the first of the villages that were slowly being swallowed up and overwhelmed by the sprawling capital. The cottages and small shops gradually gave way to dense housing that rose up on either side, crowding the cobbled streets. Occasionally the coach passed workhouses and the premises of small industries from whose chimneys smoke belched into the sky, adding to the brown pall hanging over London. At length they arrived at the yard of the coach station in Chelsea, and after a curt farewell to Mr Jardine Arthur tipped a porter to carry his travel case to one of the cabs waiting out in the street. The rest of his baggage was in the hold of the Indiaman and would be sent on to London as soon as it was unloaded.