The Flashman Papers: The Complete 12-Book Collection. George Fraser MacDonald

supported by the Frog doctor, was still so faint, either from fatigue or all this male attention, that she could only gesture limply, and Boudancourt squawked his indignation at Kennedy.

      “Do not raise the voice above the half, if you please! Ah, but see, you have returned madame to a decline!”

      “Shut your trap!” cries Kennedy, and then, to a seaman who was tugging at his sleeve, “What the h--l is it now?”

      “Beggin’ your pardon, sir, Mister Heseltine’s compliments, an’ the blacks is makin’ a sally, looks like, sir.”

      He was pointing up the beach: sure enough, black figures in white loin-cloths were emerging through the broken palisade, braving the shot from the ships and our rearguard’s musketry. Some of them were firing towards us; there was the alarming swish of bullets overhead.

      “H--l and d--nation!” cries Kennedy. “Frogs, women, an’ niggers! It’s too bad! Mister Cliff, I’ll be obliged if you’ll get those men off the beach! Cover ’em, sharpshooters! Russell, run to the boat – tell Mister Partridge to load the two-pounder with grape and let ’em have it if they come within range! Fall back, there! Get off the beach!”

      Boudancourt was yelling similar instructions to his own people; among them, the médecin-major and a matelot were helping Elspeth down to the nearest boat.

      “Well, go with her, you fool!” cries Kennedy to me. “You know what these b----y Frogs are like, don’t you?” He was limping along on his injured leg, the Malagassy flag trailing from his hand, little Boudancourt snapping at his heels.

      “Ah, but a moment, monsieur! You forget, I think, that you still carry that which is the rightful property of Madame la République! Be pleased to yield me that flag!”

      “I’ll be d--ned if I do!”

      “Villain, do you defy me still? You shall not leave this shore alive!”

      “Shove off, you little squirt!”

      I could hear their squabbling above the din as I reached the gunwale of the French boat, with men floundering about her knee-deep in water. Elspeth was being helped to the stern-sheets through a jabbering, groaning, shouting crowd of Frenchmen – some were standing in the bows, firing up the beach, others were preparing to shove off, there were wounded crying or lying silent against the thwarts, a midshipman was yelling shrill orders to the men at the sweeps. There was a deafening explosion as the British cutter nearby fired her bow-gun; the Malagassies were streaming out of the fort in numbers now, skirmishing down the beach, taking pot-shots – they’d be forming up for a charge in a moment – and Kennedy and Boudancourt, the last men off the beach, were splashing through the shallows, tugging at the flag and yelling abuse at each other.

      “Let go, G-d rot your boots!”

      “English bully, you shall not escape!”

      I think of them sometimes, when I hear idiot politicians blathering about “entente cordiale” – Kennedy shaking his fist, Boudancourt blue in the face, with that dirty, useless piece of calico stretched taut between them. And I’m proud to think that in that critical moment, with confusion all around and disaster imminent, my diplomatic skill asserted itself to save the day – for I believe they’d have been there yet if I hadn’t snatched a knife from the belt of a matelot beside me and slashed at the flag, cursing hysterically. It didn’t do more than tear it slightly, but that was enough – the thing parted with a rending sound, Kennedy swore, Boudancourt shrieked, and we scrambled aboard as the bow-chasers roared for the last time and the boats ground over the shingle and wallowed in the surf.

      “Assassin!” cries Boudancourt, brandishing his half.

      “Pimp!” roars Kennedy, from the neighbouring boat.

That was how we came away from Madagascar. More than a score of French and British dead it cost, that mismanaged, lunatic operation,⁴⁵ but since it saved my life and Elspeth’s by sheer chance, you’ll forgive me if I don’t complain. All that I could think, as I huddled beside her in the stern, my head swimming with fatigue and my body one great throbbing ache, was – by Jove, we’re clear. Mad black queens, Solomon, Brooke, Hovas, head-hunters, Chink hatchetmen, poison darts, boiling pits, skull ships, tanguin poison – they’re all gone, and we’re pulling across blue water, my girl and I, to a ship that’ll take us home …

      “Pardon, monsieur,” Boudancourt, beside me, was frowning at the piece of sodden flag in his hands. “Can you say,” says he, pointing at the black script on it, “what these words signify?”

      I couldn’t read ’em, of course, but I’d learned enough of Malagassy heraldry to know what they were.

      “That says ‘Ranavalona’,” I told him. “She’s the queen of that b----y island, and you can thank your stars you’ll never get closer to her than this. I could tell you—” I was going on, but I felt Elspeth stir against me and thought, no, least said soonest mended. I glanced at her; she was awake, all right, but she wasn’t listening. Her eyes appeared to be demurely downcast, which I couldn’t fathom until I noticed that her dress was so torn that her bare legs were uncovered, and every libidinous Frog face in that boat was leering in her direction. And didn’t she know it, though? By George, thinks I, that’s how this whole confounded business started, because this simpering slut allowed herself to be ogled by lewd fellows—

      “D’ye mind?” says I to Boudancourt, and taking the torn banner from his hand I disposed it decently across her knees, scowling at the disgruntled Frogs. She looked at me, all innocent wonder, and then smiled and snuggled up to my shoulder.

      “Why, Harry,” sighs she. “You take such good care of me.”

      [Final extract from the journal of Mrs Flashman, July—, 1845]

… to be sure it is very tiresome to be parted again so soon from my dear, dear H., especially after the Cruel Separation which we have endured, and just at a time when we supposed we could enjoy the repose and comfort of each other’s company in Blissful Peace at last, and in the safety of Old England. But H.E. the Governor at Mauritius was quite determined that H. must go to India, for it seems that there is growing turmoil there among the Seekh people, and that homeward bound regiments have had to be sent back again, and every Officer of proved experience is required in case of war.⁴⁶ So of course my darling, being on the Active List, must be despatched to Bombay, not without Vigorous Protest on his part, and he even went so far as to threaten to send in his Papers, and quit the Service altogether, but this they would not permit at all.

      So I am left lamenting, like Lord Ullin’s daughter, or was it her father, I don’t perfectly remember which, while the Husband of my Bosom returns to his Duty, and indeed I hope he takes care with the Seekhs, who appear to be most disagreeable. My only Consolation is the knowledge that my dearest would rather far have accompanied me home himself, and it was this Dear Concern and Affection for me that caused him to resist so fiercely when they said he must go to India (and indeed he grew quite violent on the subject, and called H.E. the Governor many unpleasant things which I shan’t set down, they were so shocking). But I could never have him forsake the Path of Honour, which he loves so well, for my sake, and there really was no reason why he should, for I am extremely comfortable and well taken care of aboard the good ship Zelée, whose commander, Captain Feiseck, has been so obliging as to offer me passage to Toulon, rather than await an Indiaman. He is most Agreeable and Attentive, with the most polished manners and full of consideration to me, as are all his officers, especially Lieutenants Homard and St Just and Delincourt and Ambrée and dear little Boudancourt and even the Midshipmen …

      [End of extract – Humbug, vanity and affectation to the last! And a very proper wifely concern, indeed!!! – G. de R.]

      (On this note of impatience from its original editor, the manuscript of the sixth packet of the Flashman Papers comes to an end.)

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