Why, I've lost thirty-two officers and men
in less than a couple of months, and I'll be lucky if I've fifty fit for
service by the time Mr. Clive arrives. When may we expect him, sir?"
"He couldn't tell me, sir. The Madras Council can't make up their minds
who is to command the expedition, and they're waiting for ships from
home."
Major Killpatrick laughed.
"Why, I know how that will end. With Mr. Stringer Lawrence laid up there
is only one man fit to do this job, and that's Mr. Clive, and the sooner
the gentlemen on their office stools at Madras see that, the better in
the end for everybody.
"Now you're strong again, eh? Got rid of that touch of fever?"
"Yes, sir; I'm as well as ever."
"And want to be doing something, I'll be bound. Well, 'twill need some
thinking, what you've to do. We're badly served with news. We've got
spies, of course; but I don't set much store by native spies in this
country. We've information by the bushel, but when you come to sift it
out there's precious little of it you can trust. And the enemy has got
spies, too--hundreds of 'em. I'll bet my boots there's a regular system
of kasids for carrying news of us to Manik Chand and from him to the
Nawab. If the truth was known, I dare say that rascal knows how many
hairs I have on my bald crown under my wig--if that's any interest to
him.
"Well, I suppose you'll join Mr. Merriman on board one of the ships.
Better chance of escaping the fever there. I'll turn over a thing or two
I have in my mind and send for you when I've done turning.
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