Flashman Papers 3-Book Collection 4: Flashman and the Dragon, Flashman on the March, Flashman and the Tiger. George Fraser MacDonald
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arms and men, we’d ha’ had a half dozen Taiping places by now, and Lee’d never get within twenty miles o’ the coast! But all I get is Imps, and they don’t fight – you saw that mess just now? And I had to lay there and watch! Say, I sure hope Ned Forrester got out, though!”
I said, if Bruce wasn’t helpful, why didn’t he try his own American consulate, and he hooted and said they were even more timid than the British or French. “They’re all glad enough to hide behind us, though, preserving their darned neutrality – and counting their dividends! Ain’t they, though? Oh, I reckon not!” He lay back, gasping and stirring to try to ease his wounds. “God, but I’m tired!”
We were out on the paddy by now, threading along the causeways, and on either side the plain was dotted with groups of fugitives, streaming away from Chingpu – Imps, mostly, but a few in green caps, white men and little dark-skinned chaps who I guessed were Filippinos. They hailed Ward whenever we came within earshot, and he shouted back, although his voice was weak, calling: “All right, boys! Good for you! See you in Sungkiang! Pay-day’s coming, you bet! Hurrah!” And they hurrah-ed back, waving their caps, and trudged on through the paddy.
There was no sign of pursuit, and now we called a halt to eat and rest Ward’s bearers. The picnic basket proved to contain enough for a banquet, with hams, cold roasts and fowls, fruit, chocolate, and even iced champagne, but Ward contented himself with a loaf of bread which he ate in handfuls, soaking each bite in rum. The rest went in no time, for a party of green-cap stragglers came up, and Ward waved them to pitch in; they were Filippinos under a most ill-assorted pair, a huge broken-nosed American with his shirt open over his hairy barrel chest, who looked and talked like a hobo, and a slim little Royal Navy chap with a wing-collar and a handkerchief in his sleeve; Ward called them Tom and Jerry. And now came Spitz, trotting his near-foundered horse, with the news that Ned Forrester was slightly wounded, but that casualties had been heavy.
“There voss a huntret killed, and ass many wounded,” says he, pulling a cold fowl to pieces in his great hands and stuffing it down. Tom swore and Jerry tut-tutted, but Ward just laid down his loaf, closed his eyes, and recited the Lord’s Prayer aloud, while we all left off eating and stood about with bowed heads, holding drumsticks and glasses.
“Ay-men,” says Ward at last, “so we’ve got a hundred fit to fight. All right, Jerry – you and Tom make for Shanghai, tell Vincente Macanana I need two, three hundred recruits, and I don’t mean Imp deserters. American and British, Russki, French, and all the Filippinos he can raise; kit ’em out at the camp, ten bucks apiece to sign on – no more or they’ll take it an’ quit right there. Force march to Sungkiang – and see here, Tom, I want ’em there in three days, no later, comprenny?”
“Dunno, old boy,” drawls Jerry, shaking his head. “The well’s pretty dry; may have to take some odd customers.”
“Ticket-o’-leave men,” growls Tom. “Bums. Dagoes.”
“I don’t give a hoot how odd they are so long as they can stand up and shoot! That’s all they’ll have to do when Lee lays siege to Sungkiang.” Ward was looking more chipper now; he laughed at their glum faces and struggled up in his sedan to clap Tom on the back with his good hand. “No room for drills on the parapet, old fellow! Just bang and reload and knock down chang-maos like ninepins! Who knows an easier way of making a hundred a week, eh? That’s the life in the Green-headed Army!”
“Will t’ree hunnert hold the place, I ask?” grumbles Spitz, and Ward rounded on him, grinning.
“Why, how you talk! Easy as pie! Tumble over their black bannermen and they’ll run as fast as … as we did that first time we attacked Sungkiang. ’Member, Jerry? I know you don’t, Tom, ’cos you were blind drunk an’ snoring in the bottom of a sampan. Yes, you were, too! Oh, you needn’t smirk so virtuous, either, Jerry! Who ran the boat aground?” He laughed again, eagerly. “But we came back, didn’t we? Threw the Long-Hairs clear out o’ the place, didn’t we? And we’re not giving it up, no, sir! Not while I can lay in a sedan chair an’ give orders!”
Just listening to him, shot full of holes and chortling like a schoolboy, I could see Brooke on that rusty little steamer on Skrang river, slapping the table bright-eyed and urging us to sing, because we were only outnumbered a hundred to one by head-hunting pirates, and weren’t we going to give ’em what for in the morning? They were a matched pair of madmen, Ward and Brooke, the kind who don’t think a cause worth fighting unless it’s half lost to start with, pumping their own crazy optimism into their followers by sheer force of will – for now Jerry was smiling and Tom grinning, and even Spitz, the surly Switzer, was looking less sour, while the Filippinos were laughing and chattering as Ward joked and harangued their officers.
I can’t stand ’em, myself, these happy heroes; they’ll do for us all if we don’t watch out. Brooke damned near did for me, and F. T. Ward was just the man to have finished the job, as appeared presently when the others had gone off, and I said I must be pushing on to Shanghai myself. He lay quiet a moment, and cleared his throat.
“You wouldn’t feel like taking some furlough, would you … colonel? I mean … oh, fellows like Tom and Jerry are just grand, you know, but … well, it’ll take more’n pluck to hold Sungkiang, after today, and I could sure use a good man.”
“Come, Fred,” says I, “you know quite well I’m a Queen’s officer, not a wild goose.” Being tactful, you see; I’d sooner have gone on a polar expedition with Cetewayo.
“Oh, sure!” cries he airily. “I know that! I didn’t mean anything permanent, just …” He gave me his cocky urchin grin, so young in that worn, pain-creased face. “Well, you took time off to run opium, didn’t you? An’ this job pays five hundred bucks a week, and commission on every town we take –”
“Like Chingpu, you mean? My, how you tempt a fellow …”
“Listen, I’ll take Chingpu, don’t you fret!” cries he. “Chingpu an’ twenty more like it, you’ll see! Once I get rested up, an’ get a good bunch of fellows together, an’ lick ’em into shape –”
“Frederick,” says I, because for some reason I’d conceived an affection for the young idiot, “listen to me, will you? I’ve been twenty years in this game, and I know what I’m saying. Now, within the limits of raving lunacy, you’re a good sort, and I don’t want to see you come to harm. So my advice to you is … retire. The money ain’t worth it; nothing’s worth it. You’re lying there like a bloody colander, and if you don’t see sense, why, you’ll finish up under the paddy, sure as fate …”
“I’ll finish up in Pekin!” cries he, and his black eyes were shining fit to sicken you. “Don’t you see, this is just a beginning! I’m learning my trade here – sure, I’m making mistakes, and sure, I don’t know one little bit about soldiering compared to you! But I will. Yes, sir. I’ve got the most important thing behind me – a bankroll from the China merchants, and the longer I stay in the field, the better I’ll get, and I’m going to build me the Green-headed Army into something that’ll sweep the Taipings out of China! And then I’ll have won the Emperor’s war for him. And then …” he laughed and sat back against his cushions, “…Šthen, mister, you’re going to dine out on how you ran poppy an’ fought pirates with Frederick Townsend Ward!”
I watched his sedan jogging away across the plain in the wake of his tatterdemalion regiment, and thought, well, there’s another damned fool gone to collect the wages of ambition. I was right – and wrong. He found his bed in the paddy, as I’d foretold, and hardly anyone remembers even his name nowadays, but you may say that without him Chinese Gordon might never have had a look-in. You can read about ’em both in the books, and shudder (I’ll tell you my own tale of Gordon another time, if I’m spared); for the moment I’ll say only that while Gordon finished the Taiping business, it was young happy-go-lucky Fred who broke the ground for him, and turned that drunken mob of green caps into one of the great free companies: the Ever-Victorious Army. Aye, Ward and Gordon: a good pair to stay away from.