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 Suffolkwas 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.
‘I can assure you, sir, that the Governor General would never put his family above the needs of his nation. Nor would I actively seek preferment on such a basis.’
‘Of course not.’ North nodded. ‘Your achievement is a credit to you, young man. To have assumed such a command as your present one, while still only a colonel, is tribute enough to your talent. I can only imagine how many officers of superior rank serving in India must regard you as something of a prodigy and toast your continued success. However, experience would suggest that there might be some resentment at the positions of authority that have come your way.’
Admiral Rainier coughed. ‘Steady on, North.You go too far. I have it on good authority that Wellesley is the right man for the job. Of course there will be some old soaks who grumble about his success. There always are.’
‘Some?’
‘Enough of this!’ Rainier blustered, grabbing his glass. ‘It’s time for the toasts! Gentlemen! To His Royal Majesty, King George III!’
‘The King!’ the others responded.
‘I give you one more toast,’ Rainier continued. ‘To our good host, Colonel Wellesley, and may glorious victory attend him . . . wherever the bloody government decides to send him in the end!’
A few days later another message arrived from Richard. The situation in Calcutta was becoming more vexed, his brother told him. He had decided that if the expedition was to be sent to Egypt then it would need to be reinforced, in which case it would be extremely difficult for Richard to justify maintaining an officer of Arthur’s rank in command of so large a force.Worse still, Richard wrote, it seemed that General Baird had designs on securing the command for himself and had been busy canvassing all the senior military officers in India to support his application. Indeed, the Commander in Chief of the forces at Calcutta, Sir Alured Clarke, had strongly urged Richard to give the command to Baird. Arthur must prepare himself for the possibility that he would be required to hand over the command to a superior officer.