XXV

The Race to the Quick

That evening

‘There’s nothing more I can do for him, I fear, Colonel. His lungs are quite certainly full of blood. He can’t last the night.’

Milne spoke softly. He was as fond of Garratt as he supposed Hervey was.

The major lay unconscious. The hospital was a fine haveli, which on Milne’s orders the dragoons had cleared downstairs of all but a few chairs and instead brought in straw – better, he said, to ‘muck out’, like a stable, and as comfortable as a bed to men still in the remains of uniform. They’d stripped and washed those in the beds upstairs, the lesser wounded. Clean sheets for them were practicable as well as decent.

Milne had not been short of assistance. ‘Annie and Miss Hervey haven’t slept, I’d say. Nor the wives. I tell you, they’ve not spared themselves the filthiest chore.’

Hervey nodded. Whores and harridans the dragoons had called the camp-followers in Portugal and Spain – even some of the wives – but regular ‘Magdalens’ when it came to this.

‘And the Indian women too,’ Milne added. ‘They’ve done fine service.’

‘Capital,’ said Hervey, trying hard to maintain the mask of the soldier steeled to the price of his profession. ‘And Armstrong?’

Milne raised an eyebrow. ‘I fancy a surgeon faced with a bigger bill would have amputated – so much blood – but the wound’s clean enough. Not all agree, but I swear by permanganate. I’ve closed it with a great many stitches, I might add. But he kept insisting he’d return to duty, so I’ve trussed him like a lunatic to restrain the limb – and himself. A fortnight’s light duties. I can’t be held responsible if it’s any less.’

‘I shall see to it. And St Alban?’

‘He too insisted on returning to duty, but I’ve strictly forbidden it. The wound’s deeper than Armstrong’s and he has crushed ribs. I believe he’ll be well, but there’s a risk of oedema of the lungs, which can be fatal. Indeed, it more usually is. I’ve dosed him with laudanum to reduce the respiratory distress. Miss Hervey’s been tending him with especial care.’

Hervey nodded again. ‘Twelve dead, and some I can scarcely afford.’

‘I’m sorry. They were dead, or as good as, by the time I reached them.’

‘The Nizams fared better, and they have a good surgeon.’

‘Yes, a fine fellow. And what of your infantry, Colonel? I’ve not heard.’

‘The Dorsets and the Westmorelands barely a dozen dead between them. They really were most skilfully handled. The Somersets none at all, except to the hornets. Extraordinary that a thing so small should be so deadly.’

‘Omnes feriunt, ultima necat …’

Hervey sighed. ‘Indeed. And one of the Thirteenth’s succumbed to a krait, and another may do so yet.’

‘Indeed? Were I not occupied here I’d see him for myself – to observe the symptoms; their surgeon’s admirable.’