Flashman on the March. George Fraser MacDonald
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Название: Flashman on the March
Автор: George Fraser MacDonald
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Приключения: прочее
isbn: 9780007325627
isbn:
Not so in the Abyssinian War of 1868, surely the strangest of all imperial campaigns, when a British Indian army invaded one of the least known and most dangerous countries on earth, and in the face of apparently insuperable hazards, and predictions of certain failure, marched and fought their way across a trackless wilderness of rocky chasm and jagged mountain to their goal, did what they had come to do, and marched out again with hardly a casualty. There has never perhaps been a success like it in the history of war. It took twelve thousand men, a mighty fleet, nine million pounds (a staggering sum at that time), a meticulous if extravagant organisation, and a remarkable old soldier – and all to rescue a tiny group of British citizens held captive by a mad monster of an African king. Those were, to quote Flashman, the days.
But if he bore no share in the campaign proper, Flashman’s was still the vital part on which success or failure hung – the intelligence mission which was to take him into a series of fearful perils (some of them new even to him) in a war-torn land of mystery, treachery, intrigue, lonely castles, ghost cities, the most beautiful (and savage) women in Africa, and at last into the power of the demented tyrant in his stronghold at the back of beyond. All of which he records with his customary shameless honesty, and it may be that along with the light he casts on a unique chapter of imperial history, he invites a comparison with a later and less glorious day.
For Flashman’s story is about a British army sent out in a good and honest cause by a government who knew what honour meant. It was not sent without initial follies and hesitations in high places, or until every hope of a peaceful issue was gone. It went with the fear of disaster hanging over it, but with the British public in no doubt that it was right. It served no politician’s vanity or interest. It went without messianic rhetoric. There were no false excuses, no deceits, no cover-ups or lies, just a decent resolve to do a government’s first duty: to protect its people, whatever the cost. To quote Flashman again, those were the days.
As with previous Papers, I have merely corrected his spelling, which in this instance meant introducing consistency into his bizarre renderings of Abyssinian names.
G.M.F.
‘Half a million in silver, did you say?’
‘In Maria Theresa dollars. Worth a hundred thou’ in quids.’ He held up a gleaming coin, broad as a crown, with the old girl double-chinned on one side and the Austrian arms on t’other. ‘Dam’ disinheritin’ old bitch, what? Mind, they say she was a plum in her youth, blonde and buxom, just your sort, Flashy—’
‘Ne’er mind my sort. The cash must reach this place in Africa within four weeks? And the chap who was to have escorted it is laid up in Venice with yellow jack?’
‘Or the clap, or the sailor’s itch, or heaven knows what.’ He spun the coin, grinning foxy-like. ‘You’ve changed your mind, haven’t you? You’re game to do it yourself! Good old Flash!’
‘Don’t rush your fences, Speed, my boy. When’s it due to be shipped out?’
‘Wednesday. Lloyd packet to Alexandria. But with Sturgess comin’ all over yellow in Venice, that won’t do, and there ain’t another Alex boat for a fortnight – far too late, and the Embassy’ll run my guts up the flagpole, as though ’twas my fault, confound ’em—’
‘Aye, it’s hell in the diplomatic. Well, tell you what, Speed – I’ll ride guard on your dollars to Alex for you, but I ain’t waiting till Wednesday. I want to be clear of this blasted town by dawn tomorrow, so you’d best drum up a steam-launch and crew, and get your precious treasure aboard tonight – where is it just now?’
‘At the station, the Strada Ferrata – but dammit, Flash, a private charter’ll cost the moon—’
‘You’ve got Embassy dibs, haven’t you? Then use ’em! The station ain’t spitting distance from the Klutsch mole, and if you get a move on you can have the gelt loaded by midnight. Heavens, man, steam craft and spaghetti sailors are ten a penny in Trieste! If you’re in such a sweat to get the dollars to Africa—’
‘You may believe it! Let me see … quick run to Alex, then train to Cairo and on to Suez – no camel caravans across the desert these days, but you’ll need to hire nigger porters—’
‘For which you’ll furnish me cash!’
He waved a hand. ‘Sturgess would’ve had to hire ’em, anyway. At Suez one of our Navy sloops’ll take you down the Red Sea – there are shoals of ’em, chasin’ the slavers, and I’ll give you an Embassy order. They’ll have you at Zoola – that’s the port for Abyssinia – by the middle of February, and it can’t take above a week to get the silver up-country to this place called Attegrat. That’s where General Napier will be.’
‘Napier? Not Bob the Bughunter? What the blazes is he doing in Abyssinia? We haven’t got a station there.’
‘We have by now, you may be sure!’ He was laughing in disbelief. ‘D’you mean to tell me you haven’t heard? Why, he’s invadin’ the place! With an army from India! The silver is to help fund his campaign, don’t you see? Good God, Flashy, where have you been? Oh, I was forgettin’ – Mexico. Dash it, don’t they have newspapers there?’
‘Hold up, can’t you? Why is he invading?’
‘To rescue the captives – our consul, envoys, missionaries! They’re held prisoner by this mad cannibal king, and he’s chainin’ ’em, and floggin’ ’em, and kickin’ up no end of a row! Theodore, his name is – and you mean to say you’ve not heard of him? I’ll be damned – why, there’s been uproar in Parliament, our gracious Queen writin’ letters, a penny or more on the income tax – it’s true! Now d’you see why this silver must reach Napier double quick – if it don’t, he’ll be adrift in the middle of nowhere with not a penny to his name, and your old chum Speedicut will be a human sacrifice at the openin’ of the new Foreign Office!’
‘But why should Napier need Austrian silver? Hasn’t he got any sterling?’
‘Abyssinian niggers won’t touch it, or anythin’ except Maria Theresas. Purest silver,1 you see, and Napier must have it for food and forage when he marches up-country to fight his war.’
‘So it’s a war-chest? You never said a dam’ word about war last night.’
‘You never gave me a chance, did you? Soon as I told you I was in Dickie’s meadow,2 with this damned fortune to be shipped and Sturgess in dock, what sympathy did dear old friend Flashy offer? The horse’s laugh, and wished me joy! All for England, home, and the beauteous Elspeth, you were … and now,’ says he, with that old leery Speedicut look, ‘all of a sudden, you’re in the dooce of a hurry to oblige … What’s up, Flash?’
‘Not a dam’ thing. I’m sick of Trieste and want away, that’s all!’
‘And can’t wait a day? You and Hookey Walker!’
‘Now, see here, Speed, d’ye want me to shift your blasted bullion, or don’t you? СКАЧАТЬ