As Arthur read this, a sense of bitter betrayal entered his soul. Had not Richard himself told him that he prized Arthur above all officers in India? Now, here he was, buckling under the pressure of opinion from men motivated by little more than professional jealousy, and, in the case of Baird, a more personal rivalry. The same evening Arthur sat down to write a reply with a heavy heart. He told Richard that he must make a clear and final decision on the matter. Either he must confirm Arthur’s command of the expeditionary force, or he must choose another officer. Any doubts about his ultimate authority would only serve to hamper Arthur’s attempts to collect the supplies he required, and undermine his standing with subordinate officers. He asked Richard to respond as soon as possible and resolve the matter.
The days passed slowly as he waited for a reply, and the more he reflected on the situation the more he realised that Richard had staked more than was sensible, or at least politically wise, on the appointments he had given him. If an official as far from Calcutta as Frederick North was aware of the resentment arising from Arthur’s preferment, then such a feeling must be widespread indeed. And who knew, perhaps the envious muttering of those in India had already reached the ears of Parliament and the board of directors of the East India Company back in London? After the prosecution of Warren Hastings, all subsequent Governor Generals had to be wary of being seen to wield power too partially, or for personal gain. Richard had already risked enough in making Arthur Governor of Mysore. Elevating him over the heads of military officers of higher rank and greater experience would be to court political ruin. Richard’s hands were tied, Arthur realised, and he gloomily awaited the inevitable news of his replacement from Calcutta.
But before any such message could arrive, a frigate docked at Trincomalee bearing a dispatch from London. Arthur was summoned to the office of the Governor shortly afterwards. As he entered the room, he saw that Rainier was already seated opposite North’s desk.The Governor waved him towards a spare chair, and began the meeting at once.
‘Dundas has decided to send the expedition to Egypt,’ he said bluntly. ‘The transports, and Admiral Rainier’s squadron, are to sail to Bombay to meet up with other forces before making for the Red Sea. Are your men and your ships ready?’
Arthur had taken the news to be confirmation of the loss of his command. But almost at once he realised that it raised another problem. One that could do untold damage to his reputation.
‘Sir, there are still a few supply issues to resolve, but nothing that can’t be settled once we reach Bombay. However, I am waiting for the Governor General to make a final decision over the command of the force. If he has decided to replace me, then I can hardly quit Trincomalee before the new commander arrives . . .’
Admiral Rainier nodded as soon as he got the point. ‘No. I can see how that would look. You going off in high dudgeon, taking your army with you. I know that’s what the orders say, but it won’t count for much once tongues start wagging.’
‘Precisely, sir.’ Arthur turned to North. ‘I should wait until I hear from Calcutta.’
‘But you can’t wait.’ North tapped the dispatch.‘It says you are to set sail immediately.’ He smiled. ‘Whatever the cost to your reputation.’
Chapter 61
The fleet set sail early in February and arrived at Bombay in March. During the voyage the fleet was overhauled by one of the fast packet ships used to carry dispatches. Arriving too late at Trincomalee, the ship had set off after the fleet. There was a message from Richard to inform his brother that Major General Baird was now in command of the expedition. Arthur hurriedly wrote a dispatch to Baird explaining his actions and sent the packet ship back to Ceylon. For the rest of the voyage he slipped into a melancholy mood and upon reaching Bombay began a detailed report of his preparations and advisory notes for his replacement.
Baird finally caught up with the expeditionary force at the beginning of April. He immediately summoned Arthur to meet him in the Governor’s residence. Arthur took his reports with him, and entered the ornate entrance to the building with a sense of foreboding. His mood was not helped by an itching sensation that had begun a few days earlier and now affected most of his body. The army surgeon he had consulted had served long enough in India to recognise the symptoms at once.
‘It’s the Malabar Itch, I’m afraid, sir,’ Dr Scott said as Arthur buttoned up his shirt. ‘You’re in for an uncomfortable time over the coming weeks.’
‘How does this Malabar Itch develop?’
‘Once the skin irritation covers your body you can expect blisters to follow.They will erupt and spread the infection which will make sleep all but impossible.’
Arthur swallowed. ‘And then?’
‘Well, if it doesn’t drive you mad enough to kill yourself, you can expect the blistering to recede after two or three weeks. Full recovery will take some months and you will need to rest, sir. No soldiering.’
‘Damn it, man, I’m supposed to be leaving to fight in Egypt within a month.’
‘A month?’ Dr Scott shook his head. ‘Believe me, sir, in a month’s time you will be bed-bound.There’s no question of your embarking on a campaign for a long time.’
‘We’ll see about that,’ Arthur snapped as he pulled on his coat and made for the door. He paused, and turned back. ‘Is there anything to do to treat the illness?’
‘The usual treatment is an ointment composed of lard and sulphur.’ Dr Scott pursed his lips. ‘I’ve heard that some of my colleagues have had more success by having their patients bathe in diluted nitric acid.’
Arthur winced. ‘Sounds painful.’
‘It is, sir. But you might want to consider it.’
‘I might,’ Arthur muttered as he left the dispensary.
Now, a few days later, he felt the hot prickle of the blisters chafing against his clothes and it took a great effort to resist the urge to scratch viciously at the irritation. He took a deep breath and entered the office assigned to Baird.There were a number of men present, some of whom Arthur recalled from the day he had assumed control of Seringapatam. One or two of them glanced at him with barely concealed smugness in their expressions. Baird was seated behind a large desk and looked up the moment Arthur closed the door behind him.
‘Wellesley. How are you?’
‘I’m well, sir.’ Arthur considered asking if Baird’s voyage had been pleasant, but thought better of the impulse, under the circumstances. ‘I take it you received my letter, sir.’
‘Yes,’ Baird replied. There was a silence and Arthur braced himself for a harsh dressing down. ‘As far as I am concerned you did the right thing, Wellesley. If you had left it any longer the winds would not have been favourable for the Red Sea.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Arthur felt the relief wash through his body at the general’s words. He approached the desk and handed his document folder over. ‘My report, sir. And the plans and documents pertaining to the campaign.’
Baird took the folder and placed it on his desk. ‘I’ll read through that as soon as possible, and consult you again then. In the meantime, I have one question for you.’
‘Sir?’
‘I know that there have been some differences of opinion between us in the past, Wellesley, but I’m not foolish enough to bear a grudge. I’d be grateful if you would serve as my chief of staff. Well, will you do it?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Arthur replied. ‘Of course. I’d be honoured.’
‘Good!’ Baird smiled genuinely. ‘I’d hoped you’d agree. Now then, I’ll read through your report and then we’ll talk again.’
The chance did not arise, as the illness took its hold on Arthur. The blisters spread across his skin until his whole body was encrusted in white protrusions the size of peas. If he scratched at them, the blisters burst and spread their foul contents, and left him in even more discomfort. Arthur attempted to distract himself by reading as much as possible, and writing a long letter each day to Kitty. As Dr Scott had said, sleep became impossible since every point of his body that was in contact with the bedding felt as if it was on fire. After a few days Arthur finally consented to try the nitric baths and substituted one kind of agony for another as the treatment left his skin feeling almost unbearably sore and tender.