On the other hand, in Cantonese there are no tenses, no plurals and no articles. “Me go ship yesterday” is exactly what a Cantonese speaker would say in his own tongue. Who are you, by the way?’
Jack had almost fallen asleep. ‘Lieutenant Jack Crossman, of the 88th Foot, a regiment raised in Connaught in Ireland.’ He had told the truth, not necessarily the right thing to do in such circumstances, but inventiveness had failed him.
‘I thought you Catholic Irish didn’t like the Protestant English?’
‘I’m not Irish. In any case, you can’t blame an entire nation for the actions of a few. There are those in England – and Scotland – who deserve to be hated by the Irish, but not the majority of the population. There are Catholics in England and Protestants in Ireland too.’
‘Well,’ said the other, ‘are you an Honourable East India Company man? Are you one of those warrior-clerks?’
‘No, I’m Queen’s Army, not Indian Army.’
‘You won’t get rich that way. It’s better to be a John Company man, then you rise quickly, fleece the natives, and build yourself an empire out here. Then you can go home when you’re fed up and buy a huge estate in the country, a townhouse in London and live like a king. I know a man who was just a Company writer ten years ago and now he’s a resident. Led a few border skirmishes, squeezed revenues from some unwilling tribes, rose from lieutenant to colonel in a few months. That’s the sort of career you should be chasing, not this Queen’s Army stuff. Have you no ambition?’
Jack gritted his teeth. He was beginning to become exasperated with this Dutchman who ran off at the mouth all the time.
‘Not that kind of ambition. I’ll have you know I’m a baronet’s son and have no need of such an unsavoury career.’
‘Younger son, I’ll wager.’
‘Yes, but . . .’
‘Ha, I thought so. Choice of two careers only. Army and Church. Too restless to be a pasty-faced pastor, so the only thing left open was to purchase a commission in the army. Did Daddy put up the money?’
‘I’ll have you know,’ spluttered Jack, ‘that I joined as a private and worked my way up through the ranks.’
‘And Daddy’s peerage rank had nothing to do with it?’
‘Not in the slightest. In fact my father tried to block my promotion. He did not approve, you see, of a son with an iron will of his own.’
‘I don’t blame him. I’d have cut you off without a penny. What nonsense. Who gave you these idiotic principles? A mother, I suppose? They’re a woman’s work, principles like those.’
‘I swear if I ever get out of this,’ growled Jack, ‘I’ll plant you a facer so hard you’ll need a new nose.’
‘It’s no use getting frustrated with me,’ protested the indignant Dutchman, ‘it’s your mother you should be angry with.’
At that moment one of the sepoy sentries came over and demanded that they stop talking. Both captors sat fuming silently until the rest of the rebels woke. Then they were on their way again. Towards the evening they approached a village. The rebels, with one or two badmashes amongst them, were heavily armed. Jack heard them talking in Hindi about raiding the village for supplies. One or two said they ought to kill any men they saw, but leave the women and children alone. The havildar who had first spoken to Jack was against any killing, he said, while he was in charge.
‘Why are you the leader?’ asked a scruffy-looking fellow with one eye and a hawkish nose. ‘There is no rank here now. You are not in the army any more.’
‘I am the leader because I am the most senior and also the most intelligent,’ replied the havildar, ‘which was why I was given my chevrons in the first place.’ He took a pistol from his belt. ‘Also I will punish you badly if you defy my authority. I have around me men from my regiment who are loyal to me. You are new to our company and I forgive you for not knowing this, but if you speak to me
Jack had almost fallen asleep. ‘Lieutenant Jack Crossman, of the 88th Foot, a regiment raised in Connaught in Ireland.’ He had told the truth, not necessarily the right thing to do in such circumstances, but inventiveness had failed him.
‘I thought you Catholic Irish didn’t like the Protestant English?’
‘I’m not Irish. In any case, you can’t blame an entire nation for the actions of a few. There are those in England – and Scotland – who deserve to be hated by the Irish, but not the majority of the population. There are Catholics in England and Protestants in Ireland too.’
‘Well,’ said the other, ‘are you an Honourable East India Company man? Are you one of those warrior-clerks?’
‘No, I’m Queen’s Army, not Indian Army.’
‘You won’t get rich that way. It’s better to be a John Company man, then you rise quickly, fleece the natives, and build yourself an empire out here. Then you can go home when you’re fed up and buy a huge estate in the country, a townhouse in London and live like a king. I know a man who was just a Company writer ten years ago and now he’s a resident. Led a few border skirmishes, squeezed revenues from some unwilling tribes, rose from lieutenant to colonel in a few months. That’s the sort of career you should be chasing, not this Queen’s Army stuff. Have you no ambition?’
Jack gritted his teeth. He was beginning to become exasperated with this Dutchman who ran off at the mouth all the time.
‘Not that kind of ambition. I’ll have you know I’m a baronet’s son and have no need of such an unsavoury career.’
‘Younger son, I’ll wager.’
‘Yes, but . . .’
‘Ha, I thought so. Choice of two careers only. Army and Church. Too restless to be a pasty-faced pastor, so the only thing left open was to purchase a commission in the army. Did Daddy put up the money?’
‘I’ll have you know,’ spluttered Jack, ‘that I joined as a private and worked my way up through the ranks.’
‘And Daddy’s peerage rank had nothing to do with it?’
‘Not in the slightest. In fact my father tried to block my promotion. He did not approve, you see, of a son with an iron will of his own.’
‘I don’t blame him. I’d have cut you off without a penny. What nonsense. Who gave you these idiotic principles? A mother, I suppose? They’re a woman’s work, principles like those.’
‘I swear if I ever get out of this,’ growled Jack, ‘I’ll plant you a facer so hard you’ll need a new nose.’
‘It’s no use getting frustrated with me,’ protested the indignant Dutchman, ‘it’s your mother you should be angry with.’
At that moment one of the sepoy sentries came over and demanded that they stop talking. Both captors sat fuming silently until the rest of the rebels woke. Then they were on their way again. Towards the evening they approached a village. The rebels, with one or two badmashes amongst them, were heavily armed. Jack heard them talking in Hindi about raiding the village for supplies. One or two said they ought to kill any men they saw, but leave the women and children alone. The havildar who had first spoken to Jack was against any killing, he said, while he was in charge.
‘Why are you the leader?’ asked a scruffy-looking fellow with one eye and a hawkish nose. ‘There is no rank here now. You are not in the army any more.’
‘I am the leader because I am the most senior and also the most intelligent,’ replied the havildar, ‘which was why I was given my chevrons in the first place.’ He took a pistol from his belt. ‘Also I will punish you badly if you defy my authority. I have around me men from my regiment who are loyal to me. You are new to our company and I forgive you for not knowing this, but if you speak to me
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