Guns to the Far East by V. A. Stuart Page B

possesses and made a most impressive and dignified speech, in which he never once alluded to himself. The Court were almost apologetic when they returned his sword to him … you should have seen Elliott’s face! Our Commodore is the hero of the hour and yet—” Goodenough’s face clouded over—“and yet he talks of going home.”
    â€œGoing home? For heaven’s sake, Jim, why?” Phillip was stunned.
    â€œHe hasn’t taken me into his confidence,” his visitor confessed. “But I gather that, for some reason the First Lord has expressed official disapproval of his being appointed Second-in-Command—and I believe the loss of our poor Raleigh is being made the excuse. She’s been written off, you know—the Admiral felt he couldn’t accept any tender to raise her.”
    â€œBut if the court martial exonerated Keppel—” Phillip began indignantly, “Then surely—”
    â€œQuite so, Phillip.” Goodenough’s tone was dry. “But it seems the First Lord didn’t wait for the findings of the court martial. I could be wrong, of course, but during the past few days I’ve had the impression that the Chief had made up his mind that he intends to throw his hand in out here. He obviously can’t serve under Elliott—he’s the senior Captain on the Navy List, due for his step up to Flag-rank … unless the First Lord queers his pitch.”
    â€œPerhaps he feels he’ll have a better chance of setting matters to rights if he goes home. Or he may regard it as the honourable thing to do—you know what he’s like on the subject of honour.”
    Lieutenant Goodenough nodded. “Indeed I do. And he is being stabbed in the back. I—” he hesitated. “Strictly between ourselves, Phillip, it did occur to me to wonder whether Elliott might have put his oar in … what do you think?”
    Phillip considered the question, frowning. Commodore Elliott certainly hadn’t liked relinquishing his command but … He shook his head decisively. “I’m quite sure he wouldn’t stoop to such tactics. In any case, Jim, our Chief and Admiral Seymour have been friends all their lives—their families too. The Admiral wouldn’t allow it and I don’t imagine he wants Keppel to go home.”
    â€œNo, he doesn’t, that’s very true. You should have seen the letter he wrote the Chief after the Fatshan affair. It was positively glowing! And immediately after the court martial, he left Keppel in command of the Canton River, when he came back here to consult with Sir John Bowring and Consul Parkes.”
    â€œThen the back-stabbing is being done at home,” Phillip asserted.
    â€œIt does look that way,” Goodenough agreed regretfully. “And if it means the Chief really is going then I, for one, won’t feel much like staying, I can tell you. Perhaps, if this trouble in India gets worse, we may have the chance to volunteer for service there. Or even—”
    Phillip stared at him blankly. “Trouble in India— what trouble in India, Jim?”
    â€œYou haven’t heard?”
    â€œNo—for God’s sake, one hears nothing incarcerated in this blasted sick bay! Tell me about it, please.”
    â€œThere’s not a lot to tell,” Jim Goodenough confessed. “But rumour is rife—how reliable it is I have no idea. From what I can gather, the sepoys in the Bengal Army are threatening mutiny—some regiments have had to be disbanded and some, it appears, have actually murdered their officers and attacked British stations. They—”
    â€œIn Oudh?” Phillip put in sharply.
    â€œI don’t know about Oudh, Phillip. You have married sisters there, haven’t you?”
    â€œYes, two. They’re both in Lucknow, I believe.”
    Goodenough eyed him sympathetically. “I’ve heard nothing specific about