Jon Cleary - The Faraway Drums

‘It could be midnight before they get a train up here, sir.’

‘Just so long as they get here. I may have to take this train back up the line, but I’ll leave someone here to meet the Kalka train. Good luck.’

The two soldiers looked sourly over their shoulders at him when he said that, but Farnol had given the trolley a push and it went rolling down the track, gathering speed on the slight decline that led to the next bend. It disappeared round the bend and Farnol stood for a moment wondering why the dacoits, or whoever had caused the landslide, still had not shot at him and the train. He felt that eyes were watching him, but there was no way of guessing how close the watchers were. He clambered up the slope into the trees above the slide and worked his way across through the thick forest. He was stiff with tension, his breath hissing as he forgot to breathe steadily in the high thin air; for a moment he seemed to have lost all the animal skills that had been natural to him for so long. He was no stranger to danger, but he had never before been responsible for a train-load of civilian men, women and children. He watched every tree as if it hid an assassin, but no one jumped out at him with gun or knife and at last he slid down on to the railway line.

‘Driver, could you reverse the train as far back as Simla?’

‘Not with all these carriages and wagons, sir. If they was empty, yes, but not with all them elephants and horses. It’s a pretty heavy load for an old engine like this one.’

Farnol nodded, glancing up at the ancient engine that looked as if it had had trouble getting the train this far downhill . Then the Nawab said, ‘There’s the trolley, across there on that far bend. I say, they’re going fast!’

Farnol looked beyond the near bend round which the trolley had disappeared a few minutes ago, saw it now in view on a far shoulder of the mountain that towered above the railway line. The foreman was working the driving lever up and down as fast as he could, speeding the trolley along, as if once he was out of range of Farnol he was as determined as the soldiers with him to get out of the danger zone as soon as possible. The trolley was a hundred yards short of the far bend when the foreman fell forward over the see-sawing arm of the lever. It swung up, lifting him sideways, and he toppled off the trolley and went hurtling down the sheer cliff-face below the track. One of the soldiers straightened up, then he, too, fell off the trolley, hit the permanent way and rolled over the edge of the cliff and followed the foreman down into the green surf of trees far below. The other soldier just lay back as if going to sleep and as the sound of the three rifle shots reached the watchers beside the engine, the trolley disappeared round the far bend, its see-sawing driving lever still going up and down in a stiff-armed farewell.

Farnol acted at once. ‘Back into the train! Get us back as far as you can, driver! Hop to it!’

But the driver couldn’t budge the old engine. It gasped and wheezed and its wheels spun with a thin screech on the rails; but none of the carriages or wagons behind it moved even a yard.

‘Ain’t no use, sir. She’ll just bust her boiler.’

Farnol, still standing beside the track, looked at the Nawab. ‘I’m afraid all your animals have to come off, Bertie. Mala’s too. Will you organize it while I tell the passengers what’s happening? I’m going to have to send them all back up to Simla. They’ll be safer there than down here.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘I’m not sure, but I think I’ll try to get down to Kalka somehow. I have to get on the telegraph to Delhi. Now hop to it, will you?’

The Nawab went hurrying down the train and Farnol followed him, stopping beside each carriage and telling the curious passengers what he intended doing. They had heard the echoes of the shots and most of the faces that hung out of the windows and doors were frightened and puzzled. One didn’t expect this sort of thing in the hills south of Simla, this wasn’t the Khyber Pass or the North-West Frontier.

There was also chagrin and disappointment. ‘But we may never get to the Durbar in time! We can’t possibly go back up to Simla!’ She was a formidable woman who filled a window of her own, like an oversized portrait in a too-small frame. ‘We shall wait here till they send up another train!’

‘You’ll do nothing of the sort, madam. I can’t be responsible for the lives of all of you. I’ll have a man stay here and bring a message up to Simla when a relief train arrives.’

But he had no faith that that would happen. When the Durbar Train did not arrive down in Kalka on time there would be worried questions, especially since it was known that the telephone and telegraph lines had been cut. He could imagine the argument and indecision that would occur as to whether another train should be risked.

He left the woman and went on down the train.

‘I’m not going back up to Simla,’ said the Ranee. ‘Have them take my elephants and horses and coach down to the cart road down there. I’ll go down to Kalka by road.’

‘Mala, you can’t –’

But one of her servants was already helping her down. ‘Clive, don’t tell me what I cannot do – as I told you before, I’m not one of your little base wallah wives. Coming, Baron?’

‘Of course.’ The Baron, heavily-built and one-armed, also had to be helped down to the ground.

Then the Nawab came back. ‘Shouldn’t be long. I’m having my chaps take everything down to the cart road – Hello, Mala old girl. Where are you going?’

‘She’s going down to Kalka by road, so she says.’

‘I say, what a topping idea! Why didn’t I think of that?’

‘Bertie, for God’s sake – ! It’ll take four or five days at least, those blighters could take pot-shots at you all the way –’

‘Perhaps, old chap. But what’s the alternative? Leave everything here and have them pick my chaps off one by one and then steal the lot? What sort of show would I be able to put on down at the Durbar then?’

But Farnol saw behind the smile, knew that Bertie was concerned for something more than his vanity, his image as a prince in the parade of princes. He looked to the rear of the train, saw the first of the elephants already being led back between the railway tracks to the path that led down to the narrow road cutting through the trees several hundred feet below.

‘All right, get everything down there. See that your guards have their rifles loaded, keep two of them on the alert all the time. I’m coming with you.’

‘I hoped you’d say that,’ said the Ranee right behind him.

‘Be jolly glad to have you,’ said the Nawab.

‘You’ll be excellent company, Major,’ said the Baron.

Farnol looked at the three of them, suddenly uneasy again; but this time he was not looking for some distant rifleman to take a shot at him. He was surrounded by hospitable smiles, but all at once he trusted none of them. Especially the Ranee’s, the widest smile of all.

‘Get everything down to the road, Bertie. I’ll join you as soon as I’ve got the train under way.’

But his arguments were not over yet. Bridie O’Brady and Lady Westbrook were on the platform of the Nawab’s carriage and as soon as Farnol told them what was happening they said they would be travelling down to Kalka by road.

‘Miss O’Brady and I can ride in the Ranee’s coach. For twenty years I travelled up and down this road by tonga – I know every bump and dip in it. We’ll go down in style, Miss O’Brady, pretending we’re princesses. We may even throw a penny or two to the peasants –’

‘Lady Westbrook –’

‘No more discussion, Clive. Just see that my bearer gets my things off the train. What is going on, anyway?’