They wore no uniform, but a handful of the sixty men possessed breastplates and most had metal helmets that were crested with feathers or horsehair plumes. Their officer, a dragoon captain, fell in alongside
McCandless and reported seeing a white-coated battalion on the far side of the River Godavery.
“I didn’t try and cross, sir,” the Captain said, ‘for they weren’t exactly friendly.”
“But you’re sure they had white coats?”
“No doubts at all, sir,” the Captain said, thus confirming that Dodd must have crossed the river already. He added that he had questioned some grain merchants who had travelled south across the Godavery and those men had told him that Pohlmann’s compoo was camped close to Aurungabad. That city belonged to Hyderabad, but the merchants had seen no evidence that the Mahrattas were preparing to besiege the city walls. The Captain tugged his reins, turning his horse southwards so he could carry his news to Wellesley.
“Bid you good day, Colonel. Your servant, Ma’am.” The dragoon officer touched his hat to Simone, then led his brigands away.
McCandless decreed that they would camp that night on the south bank of the River Godavery where Sharpe rigged two horse blankets as a tent for Simone. Sevajee and his men made their beds on the bluff above the river, a score of yards from the tent, and McCandless and Sharpe spread their blankets alongside. The river was high, but it had still not filled the steep-sided ravine that successive monsoons had scarred into the flat earth and Sharpe guessed that the river was only at half flood. If the belated monsoon did arrive the Godavery would swell into a swirling torrent a full quarter-mile wide, but even half full the river looked a formidable obstacle as it surged westwards with its burden of flotsam.
“Too deep to wade,” McCandless said as the sun fell.
“Current looks strong, sir.”
“It’ll sweep you to your death, man.”
“So how’s the army to cross it, sir?”
“With difficulty, Sharpe, with difficulty, but discipline always overcomes difficulty. Dodd got across, so we surely can.” McCandless had been reading his Bible, but the falling dark now obscured the pages and so he closed the book. Simone had eaten with them, but she had been uncommunicative and McCandless was glad when she withdrew behind her blankets.
“Women upset matters,” the Scotsman said unhappily.
“They do, sir?”
“Perturbations,” McCandless said mysteriously, ‘perturbations.” The small flames of the campfire made his already gaunt face seem skeletal.
He shook his head.
“It’s the heat, Sharpe, I’m convinced of it. The further south you travel, the more sin is provoked among womankind. It makes sense, of course. Hell is a hot place, and hell is sin’s destination.”
“So you think that heaven’s cold, sir?”
“I like to think it’s bracing,” the Colonel answered seriously.
“Something like Scotland, I imagine. Certainly not as hot as India, and the heat here has a very bad effect on some women. It releases things in them.” He paused, evidently deciding he risked saying too much.
“I’m not at all convinced India is a place for European women,” the Colonel went on, ‘and I shall be very glad when we’re rid of Madame Joubert.
Still, I can’t deny that her predicament is propitious. It enables us to take a look at Lieutenant Dodd.”
Sharpe poked a half-burned scrap of driftwood into the hottest part of the fire, provoking an up draught of sparks.
“Are you hoping to capture Lieutenant Dodd, sir? Is that why we’re taking Madame back to her husband?”
McCandless shook his head.
“I doubt we’ll get the chance, Sharpe.
No, we’re using a heaven-sent opportunity to take a look at our enemy.
Our armies are marching into dangerous territory, for no place in India can raise armies the size of the Mahratta forces, and we are precious few in number. We need intelligence, Sharpe, so when we reach them, watch and pray! Keep your eyes skinned. How many battalions? How many guns? What’s the state of the guns? How many limbers? Look hard at the infantry. Matchlocks or fire locks In a month or so we’ll be fighting these rogues, so the more we know of them the better.” The Colonel scuffed earth onto the fire, dousing the last small flames that Sharpe had just provoked.