The Temple of Ill Omens: A Novel of British India

By James Baehler

Historical fiction at its best! A page-turner that transports the reader into India at the time of the Sepoy Mutiny with fidelity to the historical record and a vivid portrayal of the people involved. The reader follows the Logsdon family as they live through the tumultuous times of the Mutiny with penetrating insights into life In India as seen by native Indians and their British rulers. The writing style is both lyrical and fast-paced leading the reader to constantly wanting to see what happens next. This is one of those rare books whose characters live in the reader's mind long after the book is finished.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBookIt.com
• Release date: Apr 26, 2016
• ISBN: 9781456603717

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review.

UNSOLICITED TESTIMONIALS

Dear Mr. Baehler:

I just finished reading The Temple of Ill Omens and I was happily surprised because I really didn’t know what to expect..

The story is fascinating and superbly told. All the while I wondered how you knew so much about India…did you grow up there?

I know a story is affecting me when I either look forward to or don’t look forward to reading more. Some of the images about the war were difficult to read (emotionally for me), in fact I think I cried when (a principal character) was shot. I should have seen it coming!

Many thanks for such a beautiful and memorable book.

Marianne Lau, Architect

Mr. Baehler:

You have a marvelous capacity for story telling. You weave a fascinating tapestry of British life in India during the middle of the 19th century, albeit against a background of horrific tragedy.

Your facility to paint your characters with a brush so insightful, so rich and vibrant kept me constantly compelled to keep reading, filled with suspense and needing to know my family would be safe.

I felt as though I were there in India for a short time. Your faithfulness to history, in terms of people and events lends such credence to the book and a gift to the reader beyond measure.

Burton Pollack, Art Director

FOREWORD

Heat. India is heat. It is hot in the summer. It is hot in the winter. It is hot during the monsoon. It is hot during the day. It is hot at night. And burning beneath the heat of the sun is the heat of passion. The passion of sexual emotions repressed. The passion of religious hatred. The passion of a subjugated people chafing under the rule of their masters. But to the British rulers of India the only heat visible was that of the sun, burning overhead, baking the land and enervating the people. Those who could, sought shelter during the day, remaining indoors under punkahs, ceiling fans propelled by native boys, and sipping drinks cooled by ice shipped to India from far away Boston or brought down from the Himalayas and preserved in ice houses.

In the hottest months when English ladies could not leave their homes for fear of sunstroke they corresponded by chits – notes carried from house to house by native boys. Many opted for the relative coolness of the hill stations on the slopes of the Himalayas. Those too poor or too overworked to escape endured the heat with gin, gambling and infidelity.

Unknown to the British Raj there was to be no escape from the heat surging in the hearts of the Indian natives who served him in his home and in his army. One day that heat would burst forth and spread throughout Bengal, sweeping all before it, laying waste to the countryside and bringing death to tens of thousands. Those few who foresaw the tempest to come were helpless to forestall it; like Cassandra, their warnings were ever true and ever fated to be disbelieved. The price of that disbelief in lives and property would never be fully measured.

BOOK ONE

BANDA

CHAPTER 1: 1852

What do you gentlemen know of the Marathas? Colonel Arthur Ramsgate leaned back in his chair and gazed expectantly at his three aides. The punkah above their heads, propelled by a cord attached to the foot of a young boy in an adjoining room, waved slowly back and forth imparting a suggestion of a breeze to the room, already warm in the early morning air. The windows were shut tight against the daily build up of heat in south central Bengal. The four men were dressed formally in the attire of British army officers serving the East India Company with high collars, red jackets and black trousers. Colonel ‘Rammer’ Ramsgate liked his officers and enlisted men to look smart at all times. (A carelessly dressed soldier thinks carelessly and acts worse.)

The two junior officers turned to their senior, Captain George Logsdon, for a response. He thought for a moment and said, As I recall, sir, the Marathas are a loose collection of tribes to the west of us, quite warlike and devoutly Hindu. About two hundred years ago they united under Shivaji Bhonsle and took on the Moghul Empire, assaulting their caravans and the Moghul strongholds. They were quite successful and eventually reached an accommodation whereby the Moghul rulers were allowed to remain in place while the Marathas collected the taxes and provided the armies that safeguarded the Moghul territories.

Ramsgate nodded approvingly. Quite so, Captain, quite so. Unfortunately, the Marathas like many warlike peoples were inept administrators and thoroughly antagonized the indigenous peoples whom they ruled. As a consequence, when the Afghans invaded northern India in 1761 the Marathas were faced with both internal dissent and external assault. The Marathas were defeated and lost control of the Northern Frontier.

Lieutenant Winters broke in, eager to demonstrate his knowledge of Indian history. The Moghuls were originally from Afghanistan, were they not, Major?

Indeed they were, Ramsgate said. However, the founders of the Moghul Empire were not Afghans, they were Mongols who conquered Afghanistan. They adopted the Muslim religion they found there. Babur, the first Moghul emperor, was descended from Genghis Khan on his mother’s side and Tamerlane on his father’s side, so it is not surprising he looked to the south and saw India as a place to extend the conquests of his progenitors.

Not to be left out, Lieutenant Summers said, Given a bit more time, sir, I believe Babur would have conquered all of India after he defeated the Sultan of Delhi in 1621.

Ramsgate said, In all probability you are correct, Lieutenant. The rulers who followed Babur and his son were far less talented and allowed themselves to sink into a life of pleasure and debauchery. The Marathas took advantage of this weakness and gained control of the Moghul lands.

Logsdon said, Colonel, from this discussion I infer that the Marathas are again a cause of concern.

You are quite right, Captain, Ramsgate said grudgingly, not pleased his subordinate had spoiled the surprise. As you know, from 1803 to 1805 we engaged the Marathas in a series of battles that were extremely hard fought. It was then that the Duke of Wellington first gained prominence as military aide to his brother, the Marquess Richard Wellesley, Governor-General of British lands in India. Eventually, under Wellington’s leadership the Treaty of Rajpurghat was signed in which the Marathas recognized British rule over their lands. Since then sporadic Maratha uprisings have occurred that were put down without too much difficulty. It now appears that the Marathas are once again on the move and we are assigned the enviable task of stopping them before things get out of hand. Past experience shows if they have an initial success, the wavering tribes will quickly join the rebellion. Lord Dalhousie, has commissioned us to engage the Maratha army south of Jhansi and deal them a decisive defeat.

Summers said, Decisive until the next time, right, sir?

Ramsgate smiled expansively, Quite so, Lieutenant, for which we can be eternally grateful. If the natives did not rise up occasionally, there wouldn’t be an opportunity for us to distinguish ourselves. In which case we wouldn’t be an army, just an assemblage of tax collectors. A moment of silence while Ramsgate thought to himself, ‘If plain Arthur Wellesley could win his spurs in India against the Marathas, move on to asuccessful campaign in Spain against Napoleon’s army and then defeat the Corsican at Waterloo to become the legendary Duke of Wellington, there was no reason why with some luck, similar good fortune might not adhere to me.’

How soon do we march, sir? Winters asked eagerly breaking the silence.

We don’t march – far too time consuming. The Maratha are on the march and will be at the gates of Jhansi in less than a week. Lord Dalhousie has placed two river steamers at our disposal. They will arrive here the day after tomorrow. At which time our regiment will board the vessels and we will steam up the River Ken to the Yamuna River, west to the Betwa River and south to Jhansi. Two days of steaming will save us two weeks of marching and place us between the Marathas and Jhansi.

Logsdon contemplated the plan as Summers said, Can we get four companies and all their equipment on board the steamers, sir?

It will be a bit tight but it can be done. In fact, it must be done. The Marathas cannot be allowed time to defeat the Raja of Jhansi’s army and gain supporters.

Logsdon said, I don’t see how there will be room for the cavalry horses and the artillery if there are only two steamers available to us.

Ramsgate waved his hand dismissively. This will be a simple infantry assault, no cavalry and no artillery. We will arrive fresh and ready for battle. As soon as the enemy is in sight, we’ll have at them. Three volleys and a taste of the bayonet will scatter them back to their villages.

Logsdon tried to keep skepticism from his voice as he said, Will we be supported by the Raja of Jhansi’s army, sir?

No. No. This is to be an entirely British campaign. We mustn’t give the impression that native troops are needed to put down a minor uprising.

Logsdon was compelled to say, But, sir, half of our troops consist of Native Infantry.

Coldly, Ramsgate replied, They are part of the British Army, Captain Logsdon, and not to be considered as natives.

I recognize that, sir, but the five thousand troops of the Rajah might be quite useful in that we will be without cavalry or artillery.

I shall not repeat myself again, Logsdon; this is to be a British military operation. There will be no more discussion along that line.

Logsdon replied evenly, Very good, sir. May we then discuss the battle plan?

Of course, Ramsgate said, rubbing his hands in anticipation and rising to his feet. His officers quickly joined him at the large map of Central and Western Bengal that occupied much of one wall.

Ramsgate pointed to the map and said, As you can see, the Red Fort of Jhansi is about one mile south of the city itself. It sits on a bluff overlooking the river commanding the approaches to the west and the south. The Maratha troops – I hesitate to call them an army – will approach from the south and must cross the Chambal River, approximately ten miles to the south and west of the fort. I propose we attack as soon as they have crossed the river and are still in a state of disarray.

Logsdon said, Do we have any intelligence as to their numbers?

The reports I have is that they will outnumber us by two or three to one.

Just about even then, said Winters with a smirk of youthful pride.

Are they supplied with cannon or cavalry? Logsdon persisted.

Neither, Ramsgate replied. We’ll run straight at them with three volleys at seventy-five yards and then a final dash at them with bayonets. I have never seen a band of natives able to stand against a determined bayonet attack.

Logsdon recalled that Ramsgate had acquired his nickname, ‘Rammer’ in service on the Northern Frontier prior to his being assigned to command the garrison at Banda. His impatient nature made it difficult for him to accept the traditional British method of fighting a battle by walking steadily toward the enemy in a solid mass of scarlet-coated soldiers, kneeling and firing volleys at prescribed distances before closing with their foe in hand-to-hand combat. Encountering hastily fortified positions against the Pathans in Punjab, he had his men race toward the enemy, stop at seventy-five yards to fire three volleys and catch their breath and then resume their charge at a full run. The intent was to expose his men to enemy fire for the shortest period of time and thereby reduce casualties. The tactic was eminently successful, resulting in two splendid victories with minimum casualties. The final charge had been preceded by the commanding voice of Ramsgate shouting, Ram it down their throats, lads!

Having heard only second-hand accounts of the Pathan battles, Logsdon was in no position to evaluate the battle plan against the Marathas. He did know that Ramsgate had gained fame with acts of almost heedless bravery as he advanced from captain to colonel in his twelve years in India. After consideration, Logsdon could not fault the basic approach to dealing with the Marathas. However, the lack of artillery and cavalry and the uncertain numbers and disposition of the enemy troops concerned him. What was most worrying was the insistence that the upcoming battle be an entirely British effort. It seemed foolish not to call upon troops of the Raja of Jhansi who were reputed to be both well armed and well trained.

Logsdon also considered that they would have their backs to the Betwa River with no retreat possible. If something went wrong, the British would be forced to move into the Red Fort and be subject to a siege, the outcome of which could not be foreseen. Having served for six months under Ramsgate, Logsdon knew better than to offer a dissent to the plan. Ramsgate would simply brush aside such utterances and mark down the man who offered them.

After some further discussion, Ramsgate dismissed his officers and they left to prepare the regiment for battle. The regiment was two lieutenants short on its duty roster so Logsdon was assigned temporary command of the two Native Infantry companies in addition to his duties as aide to Col. Ramsgate. Winters and Summers commanded the two companies of British soldiers. Ramsgate referred to his two lieutenants as The Seasons and regularly scanned the Army lists looking for a Fall and Spring to fill out his roster.

Ramsgate remained standing, looking at the map and visualizing the battle to come. After some time and finding no fault with his plan, he returned to his desk to write out formal orders for his officers and a report to Lord Dalhousie. Ramsgate was the third son of the Earl of Exeter. As such, he had little chance of inheriting the title and the estates, those were reserved for the first born son. As the third son of an earl, Ramsgate’s life choices were limited to the church, the law or the military. Being neither religious nor scholarly and with his older brother the second son already in the navy, Arthur Ramsgate, at the age of fifteen, opted for the army. His father purchased a position for him as a cadet in a smart company of fusiliers and upon reaching the age of twenty-one, Ramsgate was rewarded with a purchased commission as a lieutenant in the famed Black Watch regiment.

Two years of marching and parading left him chafing at the dullness of military life. He appealed to his father who found an available captaincy in a regiment in India, paid the required amount, and sent his son off to enhance his reputation in the service of the East India Company, that most remarkable of British institutions, half commercial enterprise and half colonial ruler.

In 1613, the Great Moghul granted permission for a ‘factory’ (trading station) to be established at Calcutta and the East India Company began its legendary march to eventual rule over all of India. Soon cargoes of cotton, indigo and spices began reaching London in a steady stream, with profits of two hundred percent per ship, per voyage not unusual. Young men were sent out from England as ‘writers’ to copy letters and keep accounts of the ships and their cargoes. In two or three years they could become ‘factors’ with greater responsibility and, more importantly, an opportunity to trade for their own personal accounts. Fortunes were there for the taking and many an enterprising lad took advantage of what was offered. In 1671, youthful Elihu Yale became a writer and after his promotion to factor developed a three-way trade, in which cotton he purchased in India was exchanged for spices in Java and subsequently sold at great profit in London. He eventually acquired four ships and expanded into the diamond trade. After serving as governor of Madras from 1687 to 1692 he returned to America where he had been born and founded Yale University with a portion of the vast fortune he had accumulated.

Pleased with the enormous revenues pouring into London, Parliament bestowed upon John Company the sole right to all trade with India. With the expansion of trade came the necessity to protect that trade, requiring the stationing of British army units in India. Parliament, not wanting to soil its hands in commercial ventures and equally loath to pay the cost of maintaining an army in a foreign land, assigned the army to the East India Company which paid the troops and directed their actions. In 1813, under pressure from other merchants, the monopoly of trade enjoyed by John Company was rescinded by Parliament, except for tea, and competitors were licensed to import other products from India. With its trading profits reduced, the Company turned to the collection of taxes in the lands it controlled, thus restoring the flow of income back to Leadenhall Street in London, home office of the East India Company.

Colonel Ramsgate understood his primary responsibility, like that of every other British officer in India, was to ensure that the flow of tax revenues to London did not diminish. To that end, any uprising of natives had to be quickly quashed lest the fires of Indian independence burst forth. At the same time, Ramsgate was certain that one more decisive defeat inflicted on a native rebellion by troops under his command would result in the promotion to brigadier general he craved. His advancement to colonel had been slower than he wished and he was impatient to make up for the perceived lost time. With the recent completion of a telegraph system linking all the army posts in Bengal, he would have his dispatches ready as soon as the battle was won. They would be read by Lord Dalhousie and then sent by steam packet to London where Parliament and the populace would have a new military hero to brighten the dull, antebellum days since the defeat of Napoleon.

As a brigadier with an army to command he intended to invade Afghanistan, pacify the northern tribes, and claim the land for Queen Victoria. Such a coup must result in a peerage or at the very least, a knighthood. Thence back to England, an introduction into politics with the assistance of his father and then, who could say? In ten years or so, Prime Minister seemed not out of the question. An ambitious plan for a man in his late thirties but it had happened before and there was no reason why history should not repeat itself.

He studied himself in the mirror, a man of average height but faultlessly dressed, with a straight back and head held high to give the impression of added height. His long neck was emphasized by the high collar of his starched shirt, changed thrice daily to maintain its pristine whiteness. A fair complexion, piercing blue eyes, aquiline nose, and light brown hair swept straight back presented a pleasing picture of an army officer and future member of Parliament. Ramsgate turned away from the mirror well satisfied with his plans, his appearance and his prospects. He knew Lord Dalhousie was testing him with the expedition to Jhansi and was determined to succeed with a flourish that would make it impossible to deny him promotion to brigadier, regardless of those on the Governor-General’s staff who considered him too ambitious and brusque in his dealings with them.

***

Captain George Logsdon, a tall man with a wiry build, a narrow moustache and dark hair and eyes, hurried across the parade ground to his quarters. There was much to be done. As second in command of the garrison at Banda, a British military post on the River Ken, Logsdon was ultimately responsible for ensuring that his commanding officer’s orders were carried out to complete satisfaction. Not an easy task when the notoriously hard-to-please commander was ‘Rammer’ Ramsgate. Logsdon’s first task was to inform his two motherless children that he would be leaving in two days for a military expedition and issue orders to his steward for the maintenance of the household while he was away.

He climbed the four steps to the shaded porch and entered his front door, noting with approval the closed windows and the neat interior of the large common room that lay just inside the front entrance. Logsdon and his two children lived in a large rambling one-story home with a frame exterior painted white; a covered verandah surrounded it on three sides. The house had a high, thatched roof and punkahs in each room to maintain some movement of the warm air. The doors and windows were all screened with hanging scented grasses kept wet to cool the night air that penetrated but it was always necessary to sleep under netting as a protection against mosquitoes. The insect life of India was prodigious with cockroaches the size of small mice skittering across the floors, lizards scaling the walls, bats flying into bedrooms at night, flies everywhere in abundance and a multitude of other flying and crawling forms of life. To the Logsdon children who had been born in India the insects were part of everyday life and were barely noticed although to many Anglos they were a source of constant complaint.

In the heat of day the windows were never opened before sundown. To do so would invite a blistering gust of air heated by temperatures that exceeded one hundred and ten degrees in the months preceding the monsoon. The house was surrounded by an area of packed dirt that was swept clean twice each day. Four steps led up to the verandah and the front entrance, which opened directly into a large common room with comfortable rattan chairs, tables, and desks scattered about. On the walls were photographs of military assemblies and groups of officers. Scattered about were muskets, swords, whips, spears and other military objects. Opening off the common room were a number of bedrooms and Logsdon’s library.

There were no mattresses on the beds; it was too hot for such items and they were likely to harbor fleas. Each bed was constructed of knotted ropes strung tautly across a stout wooden framework. Cotton quilts spread on top of the ropes provided a relatively cool and comfortable sleeping accommodation. A separate room served as a bathing area and had a brick floor with a drain in the center. It contained a large wooden tub where the children bathed every afternoon before dinner. The toilet facility was in a separate structure in the rear of the property. In effect, they lived in a military billet for officers, used as a private home. The children enjoyed the spacious accommodations and the many hiding places available when they had played hide-and- seek as youngsters. A multitude of servants lived in small, white- washed mud huts at the rear of the property next to the kitchen and laundry areas.

"Ravi’ Logsdon called out as he entered.

Here, sir, came the response from another room as Ravi Patel, the steward, quickly came into view. A forty-year-old lean, dark man of medium height with slicked back hair and a long straight nose; he gave the appearance of a ferret in human guise. Logsdon had employed Patel for five years and while he had not developed affection for the man, he could not question his efficiency. Patel managed the household with strict adherence to Logsdon’s wishes and was valued for that service.

Logsdon quickly informed Patel that he would be away for two weeks without discussing the details of the expedition. He knew his caution was pointless as every move the British made or planned in India was quickly known to all; Indian servants were everywhere and overheard everything that was discussed. Logsdon often thought that all British plans should be immediately published in the Delhi Times as soon as decisions were made. At least that way misinformation could be reduced to a minimum. Nevertheless, the caution about open discussion of military plans that had been bred into him during his stint at the Royal Military Academy at Sandhurst still guided his conduct. Logsdon quickly gave Patel his instructions and then left to ensure that The Seasons were leaving no detail of their preparations to chance.

Logsdon reviewed the work of The Seasons and reminded them that although there would be no cavalry as part of the expedition, a mount was still needed for Colonel Ramsgate. Space for the animal had to be found, as a British commanding officer could not be allowed to enter battle on the same level as the other combatants. Ordinarily, it would take much more than two days to ready the regiment for battle but the use of river steamers precluded the customary horde of camp followers who accompanied a British army unit when it took to the field.

Usually, a regiment on the move was accompanied by four or five servants for each British soldier, officer and enlisted man alike, a half dozen or more family members for each sepoy and a multitude of commissary agents, vendors, water carriers, prostitutes, ammunition carts, wagons with field rations, and assorted other entities all traveling in oxcarts or on foot. All of which meant that an enormous amount of food and water had to be purchased or appropriated each day and that the speed of travel was limited to that of an oxcart. Logsdon appreciated that, for once, the regiment would be able to move with alacrity and efficiency and without the distractions of family, servants, and courtesans.

After reviewing the efforts of his lieutenants for an hour, Logsdon was satisfied that all was being done as it should be and returned to his home for lunch or ‘tiffin’ as the English wives referred to it. He knew his twelve-year-old daughter Leticia and fourteen-year-old son James would be home after attending their lessons in the garrison’s school. Entering the door he saw them already seated at the table in the center of the large room. His daughter leaped up and rushed to hug her father. He laughed and said, Ah, Lettie, I always know there is someone who is glad to see me.

Clinging to him, Lettie said in a protesting voice, But, Father, you are going away again.

Ruefully, Logsdon said, I see that the servant’s information system is as efficient as always.

His son said, Everyone at school was talking about it, Father. The Marathas are rather fierce fighters, aren’t they?

There was no worry in James’s voice, only the anticipatory thrill of one who had committed himself to army service at an early age. His father was his hero and he could not imagine anything grander than serving in his father’s regiment.

Are they very fierce? Leticia asked with a worried frown.

Not half so fierce as the Northern Tribes, Logsdon replied with a comforting smile. I’ve faced the Pathans any number of times and returned unharmed so there’s no need to worry this time.

Unharmed! his daughter replied indignantly. What about the musket ball in your leg that left such a nasty scar?

Oh, Lettie, her brother said reprovingly, for a soldier that was nothing. Why it didn’t even shatter the bone.

Logsdon said, Well, I wouldn’t say it was nothing but you’re right, Jamie, as battle wounds go, it wasn’t considered serious.

Lettie said, I don’t care what you both say, I’ll be sick with worry every minute Father is away.

Logsdon gave his daughter another reassuring hug. You mustn’t fret needlessly, Lettie. Remember, as the Colonel’s aide I am there to transmit his orders and ensure his plans are being carried out, not to engage in any actual fighting. Logsdon chose not to mention his responsibility to lead the Native Infantry companies in battle.

Somewhat mollified, Lettie said, All right, Father, but you must promise me not to do anything heroic. You already have enough medals.

With a laugh, Logsdon gave the requested promise and the three sat down to lunch. Cold cucumber soup was brought in by a servant, followed by curried chicken left over from the previous night’s dinner. Iced tea with lemon was served as the beverage. Jamie said excitedly, Father, do you have time after lunch to show me the terrain at Jhansi and the battle plan?

Half an hour, no more, then I have to return to the commissary to make sure that everything needed will be available. I also want to review the battle plan and the preparations. As I’ve told you many times, more battles are won or lost during the planning than during the actual fighting.

Thank you, Father, Jamie said with satisfaction. His favorite occupation was sketching out battle scenes with his father and going over the sequence of events, identifying mistakes that were made and how things could have been done better.

One more thing, children. I expect you to keep up with your schoolwork while I am away. I don’t want to return to find a note from Reverend Wilkerson that you were negligent in studies because there was no one to supervise you while I was gone.

We promise, Father, they chorused and lunch proceeded to its conclusion. Logsdon spent the promised half hour with his son and returned to his duties, where the next day and a half were totally occupied in preparations for the expedition. When the two river steamers arrived it was apparent that while the troops might be accommodated on them, there was no room for their equipment. Logsdon quickly commandeered a collection of cargo barges from those being pulled along the river by oxen. The supplies and equipment of the regiment were loaded onto the barges and tied down. Long towlines were attached to the barges from the rear of the steamers.

Ramsgate was not pleased at the unmilitary appearance of the barges but accepted that they were a necessary element of the expedition. Logsdon checked the roster of those men marked unfit for duty and saw nothing exceptional. Among the British troops there were the usual cases of dysentery, malaria, venereal disease and acute alcohol poisoning. The sepoys had some sprained ankles and pulled muscles (they took their cricket games quite seriously) but nothing unusual. The regiment was more than ninety percent fit for duty, a rather uncommon occurrence in British India where disease, drink, indolence and prostitutes exacted a heavy toll on the fitness of the army.

***

The day of departure arrived and the troops marched to the tree-lined River Ken, narrow and clear running, just a few hundred yards south of the army post. With a minimum of confusion the men boarded the steamers, British troops in the lead vessel and Native Infantry in the rear vessel. The sepoys separated themselves into two sections on their steamer, Hindus to one side and Muslims to the other. There was some difficulty in getting Col. Ramsgate’s horse stabled below decks but eventually all was in place and with a hurried hug to his children, Logsdon went on board, checked that all was in order and gave the signal to cast off. The giant paddlewheel at the rear of each vessel ponderously began to turn and they slowly inched away from the dock and into the middle of the narrow river. Pushing against the current, the steamers gradually gathered speed until a rate of eight knots per hour was reached. Jamie and Lettie stood on the dock with other family members, native and British alike, waving their handkerchiefs until the ships passed a bend in the river and were lost to sight.

Jamie and Lettie turned, and holding hands, walked back along the narrow path that led through the trees lining the river bank. Jamie would not admit it but he felt as bereft as his sister whenever their father left on an army assignment. Lettie wished for the hundreth time that their mother who had died shortly after Lettie’s birth had lived to provide comfort in their father’s absence.

Lettie adored her brother who was eighteen months her elder and as such, her mentor in everything. Their favorite game was to march along with their father’s troops, performing the rifle drills with sticks, and learning the correct way to about face, dress right, quick time march, and all the other commands of the havildars, the native drill sergeants.

***

The British troops lived in long, rectangular wooden barracks, stifling hot, unsanitary, and conducive to the spread of diseases. The native sepoys lived in mud brick huts, one to each family in long rows behind the barracks. Each hut contained an extended family of wives, children, grandparents, in-laws and assorted other relatives. Each hut had a garden in the rear where vegetables were grown, providing a better diet than that enjoyed by the British soldiers. A sepoy and his family slept outside the hut, except during the monsoon season, a far more healthful repose than the fetid air of the barracks.

A striking anomaly was the difference in the size and stature of the two groups of soldiers; the native troops were, almost without exception, taller and fitter than the British. A position in the British army was a valued appointment for a native Indian, with many applicants for each slot, allowing the commanders to choose only the healthiest and heartiest. The British troops were drawn from the lower reaches of society. They enlisted in the army to escape urban or rural slums where an inadequate diet stunted their physical development. Some were ruffians and near-criminals but most went about their duties with a cheerful attitude. They observed Lettie’s and her brother’s efforts to play soldier with amused tolerance, often correcting mistakes in their rifle drill or marching maneuvers.

Across the vast expanse of British-occupied India, the army’s effectiveness depended upon the loyalty of the Native Infantry, who outnumbered their British overseers by a ratio of eight to one. In a land of pervasive poverty, the assured pay of a sepoy was a powerful attraction for a young man, enabling him to afford a wife and raise a family. For one hundred years the sepoys had faithfully served the British, with sons following fathers into service; their loyalty was unquestioned. Many British soldiers, officers and sergeants alike, developed a real affection for their sepoys but it was the affection of a father for his children, not the mutual respect of equals.

On Lettie’s ninth birthday her father had presented her and Jamie with regulation havildar uniforms made by one of the Indian seamstresses in Banda. Logsdon also had two muskets carved of wood for them. Now they were properly dressed when playing their war games and the children were ecstatic. Except for Sunday, when church attendance was required, Jamie and Lettie wore their uniforms every day, marching and drilling with great seriousness. They practiced charging an enemy redoubt, firing their weapons, spiking the enemy cannons and capturing hordes of enemy soldiers. Throwing themselves into the dirt to escape enemy fire was a necessary part of each military attack and their uniforms were daily covered with the dust of India. Neither thought it unusual that each morning the uniforms would appear at their bedsides, cleaned and neatly pressed.

Like every British soldier, even the lowest-ranking privates, Logsdon enjoyed the attentions of a large staff of servants, a staff so numerous that an indolent British officer need never lift a finger should he choose not to. Part of the justification for this excessive coddling was that employment was provided for many thousands in a land where any job was a priceless treasure. The fact that a servant’s pay was barely enough to rent a tiny shack and buy a meager food ration each day was of little consequence.

***

Late in the day of departure, the river steamers reached the Jumna River, broader than the Ken and with a more sluggish current. Just before dark the ships docked and the troops disembarked for the night. Dinner fires were lit along the river bank and food purchased from local farmers who swarmed about the unusual sight of an army unit being transported by steamer. The colonel’s horse was brought up from below decks and allowed to canter up and down the towpath along the edge of the river between the trees and the water. A tent was set up for Col. Ramsgate and another for his three officers who, seated under a giant mosquito netting, enjoyed a round of drinks, iced gin with bitter lemon, before dinner. The upcoming battle was discussed in some detail. During the slow movement up the river, Ramsgate had decided upon a change in tactics. In his zeal to make the battle an entirely British affair, Ramsgate informed his officers that the two native companies would be held in reserve; the attack would be mounted using only the two British companies. Logsdon could not remain silent, Colonel, One of the axioms of war is to hit the enemy with everything one has. To attack with less than full strength does not seem warranted in this situation.

Ramsgate replied coolly, Captain Logsdon, are you not familiar with the principle that a commander should always keep a force in reserve in the event of unforeseen occurrences?

In most situations I would agree with that, sir, because more often than not a battle is a fluid series of events and a contingency force is needed to deal with the unexpected. But in this case there does not appear to be much that cannot be anticipated. We know where the enemy will be and he knows where we will be. We have two choices - to attack or to defend. If we choose to defend, we cannot predict how the battle will unfold and a reserve force available for emergencies would be appropriate. In this instance we have decided to attack and thereby establish the nature of the battle. There is little that we cannot predict; the enemy will dig in and throw up some sort of barricade. We will assault the barricade and drive them from their position. I think it is imperative that all our might be brought to bear at the point of attack.

In an even tone Ramsgate said, Captain Logsdon, you are not familiar with the larger picture here. Lord Dalhousie has personally impressed upon me the importance of delivering a message to the Marathas and any other natives who might entertain the idea of mounting a rebellion. The message will be that British troops in India are capable of putting down any insurrection quickly and efficiently, and then hanging the ringleaders as an example to others who might be of a like mind. To accomplish that task with a mixed force of British and native troops would dilute the message and negate much of the value of this expedition.

I can appreciate the political ramifications, sir, but with a reduced force in the attack are we not risking a defeat that would send an entirely contradictory message?

A defeat? A defeat? Ramsgate sputtered in disbelief. "Have you taken leave of your senses, Captain Logsdon? I never thought to hear that word issue from the mouth of