In all, perhaps twenty minutes, twenty-five at most. And then the return, as carefully as they’d swum across, with Askew leading to make sure the bank was clear; and crawling out just as silently; and then, crouching, to the champak bush where they’d hid their clothes. And still not a word.

Only when they were back at the place where the tunnel emerged, a simple bustee fifty yards on and just below the moat, did Fairbrother break silence.

‘Shabash, Abhina! Shabash!’ he beamed, shaking hands heartily. ‘Aap ka shukria.’

And likewise with Askew.

‘I conclude the tunnel’s sealed,’ said Hervey stepping from the shadows.

‘Caca faat!’ (Only rarely did Fairbrother allow himself his island patois.) ‘General: I’d not thought you’d be here. It is sealed, well and truly!’

‘And your hijda was with you.’

‘Yes, indeed. And Askew.’

Hervey nodded.

‘It was nothing but a pleasant bathe,’ said Fairbrother, airily.

‘If in the present danger of muggurs,’ suggested Hervey.

Fairbrother shook his head, smiling.

Abhina gabbled something, which neither he nor Hervey could catch.

Hervey smiled benevolently.

Abhina’s head shook side to side.

‘With your leave, General,’ said Captain Hart, holding up a hand to Abhina.

‘By all means.’

‘The hijda asks Captain Fairbrother if he didn’t see the python.’

Fairbrother quickened. ‘What python? Where?’

Captain Hart asked Abhina for details.

More strange words, much gesturing and waving of the knife.

‘It was swimming towards you as you returned. He cut off its head.’

Silence.

Hervey sighed. What a place was this India, where a man mayn’t put his hand in the grass without fear of a krait, or swim without fear of a multitude of deadly agents. And soon there’d be yet more storm and steel. Was there ever end of it?

XXVI

The Walls of Jericho

Evening the following day

‘My God, Hervey, but that dragoon’s been worth his weight in gold. I thought we were confounded.’

Fairbrother looked like a sodden chimney sweep, but his eyes were bright.

‘How so? What dragoon?’

‘Didn’t you know? The enginemen bolted, damn their eyes. Your sappers were no help – said they’d never seen a steam engine – and I myself couldn’t fathom it, though I tried every valve and pipe, and then Collins said there was a dragoon who’d been an engineman. Shaw. And he’s damn-well done it. Both engines. There’s only a foot of water left.’

‘And you’re certain it can’t be flooded again?’

‘Nothing’s certain, Hervey, but I’d risk my life on it.’

‘The remaining water – how long will it take?’

‘An hour, I reckon. Two, perhaps. Not more, certainly, at the rate they’ve pumped so far.’

Hervey turned to Captain Hart. ‘The sappers are ready?’

‘They are, General. They’ve brought down sixty barrels from the arsenal. And if I might add, given more time to fathom its workings, I’m confident we ourselves could have got the engines working.’

Hervey had better things to do, but soothing Hart’s wounded amour propre was probably in the circumstances worth his effort. Officers trained in scientific methods at Woolwich were invaluable in their way, but could be decidedly prickly. And dragging barrels of gunpowder the length of a submarine tunnel was a dismal prospect. ‘I’m certain of it, Captain Hart. And I commend your sappers for the enterprise.’ He turned to Fairbrother. ‘And I’m obliged once again for your address. And Shaw’s.’