Chapter 17: The Pride Of Burma Humbled.

As soon as the victory was completed, the troops piled arms; and were allowed two hours' rest. Then they marched back, to the point where General Campbell's division had forded the Nawine river in the morning. From this point, a path led towards the enemy's centre; this it was determined to attack, at daybreak on the following morning, before the news of the defeat of its left could reach it.

The day had been a long and fatiguing one, and it was late before the troops all reached their halting place. A meal was served out, and then all lay down to rest. A messenger was sent to Prome, to announce the success that had been gained; and to request the commander of the flotilla to open fire, in the morning, as soon as the foe was seen to issue from the jungle in front of the Wongee's main position at Napadee.

Long before daylight, the troops were in motion. General Campbell's division led the way, along the narrow track leading towards the river; while General Cotton, who followed, was ordered to break off at any path which led towards the Burmese division, to make his way through the forest, and to attack the stockades directly he reached them. The main division would attack, as soon as they heard his guns.

After a two hours' march, the first division came out on open ground by the river side, signalled their arrival to the flotilla, and formed up in front of the stockaded heights of Napadee. The position was an extremely strong one. The enemy occupied three ranges of hills, rising one behind the other, and each commanding the one in front of it. One flank of these hills was protected by the river, the other by the almost impenetrable forest. The hills were all covered with stockades and, as they moved forward, the troops were exposed to so heavy a fire from an enemy entrenched at the edge of the jungle on the right that, before they could advance further, it was necessary to first drive them from this position. Six companies of the 87th were sent back into the forest and, making their way through this, came down in the rear of the stockades, speedily cleared them of their defenders, and compelled the advance force of the enemy to join their main body.

The troops then moved forward to the foot of the first hill, where two strong redoubts had been erected by the enemy. The fleet opened fire; but the column was halted, for a time, awaiting the sound of firing that should tell them General Cotton's column was engaged. No sound, however, was heard, for this force had been unable to make its way through the dense forest; and General Campbell, at last, gave the order for the attack.

It was commenced by the 47th and 38th Native Infantry, under Colonel Elvington; who pushed through the jungle and forest, until they reached some of the flanking outworks on the hill. These they attacked with such dash and determination that they speedily obtained possession of them, and thus produced a favourable diversion for the main attack.

This, consisting of the 13th, 38th, and 87th Regiments, advanced steadily, without returning a shot to the incessant fire from the enemy's various entrenchments; captured the two redoubts at the bottom of the hill; and then pressed upwards, carrying position after position at the point of the bayonet, till they arrived at the summit of the first hill.

The Burmese fugitives, as they fled to the next line of defence, shook the courage of the troops there; and the British, pushing forward hotly on the rear of the flying crowd, carried work after work until, in the course of an hour, the whole position, nearly three miles in extent, was entirely in their possession. Between forty and fifty guns were captured, and the enemy's loss in killed and wounded was very great while, by desertion alone, the Wongee lost a third of his army. While the attack had been going on, the flotilla had passed the works protecting the river face of the hills, and had captured all the boats and stores, filled with supplies for the use of the Burmese army.

Thus, two of the three Burmese divisions had now been completely routed; and there remained only that of Sudda Woon, on the other side of the river. The troops were allowed two days' rest and, on the morning of the 5th, a force advanced on board the flotilla. Their passage across the river was covered by the fire of a rocket brigade and a mortar battery--which had on the previous night been established on an island--and they landed at some distance above the enemy's stockades. They then marched round and attacked these in flank and rear, while the batteries and boats of the flotilla cannonaded them in front.

The enemy's troops were already disheartened, by the defeat they had seen inflicted upon the Wongee's army and, after a feeble resistance, fled to a second line of stockades in the jungle to their rear. The troops, however, pressed so hotly upon them that they were unable to make any effectual opposition here. Numbers fell, while endeavouring to pass through the narrow entrances of the work; and the rest fled, in terror, into the woods.

These extensive operations had been carried out with the loss of six officers, and some seventy or eighty men, only.

It was known that the enemy had very strongly fortified several positions, in and around Meaday; and it was determined to push forward, at once, on the long march of three hundred miles to Ava, before the enemy could rally from their defeat, and gather for the defence of these positions. On the 9th the first division, under General Campbell himself, started from Prome. The roads were extremely bad, and they were able to move but slowly.

Their course was first directed inland; as it was intended to turn the enemy's position at Meaday, by following a road several miles from the river, and thus forcing them to fall back as we advanced. On the next day the force reached the spot where Colonel M'Dowall had been killed, in the unsuccessful attack upon Maha Nemiow; and it then turned north, and followed the road parallel to the river.

On the 12th tremendous rains, for some hours, converted the road into a morass and, although the march was but five miles long, the greater portion of the column failed to reach its destination. This, however, was not the worst. Cholera broke out at once, and carried off a large number of victims--two of the British regiments being rendered almost unfit for service by its ravages.

On the 14th the division encamped on dry ground, on a ridge of wooded hills, and waited for a couple of days to allow the baggage train to come up. The change greatly benefited the health of the troops, and amusement was afforded by the partridges, jungle fowl, and deer which abounded in the neighbourhood of the camp.

Up to this point, no single native had been seen. The villages were all destroyed, and the country was completely deserted. On the 16th a strong Burmese fortification was taken, it being unoccupied save by a small picket, which retired on our advance. This had evidently been erected for the purpose of preventing the river fortifications from being turned, and its abandonment proved that the object of the land march had been gained; and that the enemy had abandoned the positions they had, with so much care, prepared for the defence of the river.

On the 18th they joined General Cotton's column and, the next day, entered Meaday. Here a terrible spectacle was met with. The town and the ground within the stockades was strewn with dead and dying; some from wounds, others from cholera--for the ravages of this plague had been as great, among the Burmese, as in the British force. A number of men were found crucified on gibbets, doubtless as a punishment for attempting to desert. The air was pestilent; and the force was glad, indeed, to march on the next morning from the locality.

They gained something, but not much, from the change. For the next fifty miles, dead bodies were met with at very short intervals and, each day before camping, many corpses had to be removed before the tents could be fixed.

It was now known that the Burmese army, in its retreat, had been concentrated at Melloon, where the reserve of 10,000 men had been posted. On the 27th, the division encamped within four miles of that town. They had now marched a hundred and forty miles, from Prome, without meeting a single inhabitant of the country, or being enabled to obtain any cattle, whatever, for the supply of the troops, so effectually had the enemy wasted the country as they retired.

Melloon stood on the opposite bank of the Irrawaddy; and letters had arrived from that town saying that a commissioner had arrived, from Ava, with full powers from the king to conclude a treaty of peace. Colonel Adair and Stanley, accordingly, were sent off the next morning to Melloon, to arrange for an immediate meeting for the commissioners. However, they could come to no arrangement, the Burmese leaders insisting that so important a business could only be carried on when a favourable day arrived; and that no time could, at present, be stated. Seeing that the principal object of the Burmese was to gain time, the colonel informed them through Stanley that, as no arrangements had been made, the troops would recommence their advance as soon as he returned to the camp and, accordingly, the next morning the division moved forward to a town immediately opposite Melloon.

That place stood on the face of a sloping hill and, as the Irrawaddy was here but 600 yards broad, a good view was obtained of the fortifications. The principal stockade was in the form of a square, about a mile on each face, mounting a considerable number of guns--especially on the side facing the river; and a succession of stockades extended for a mile farther along the banks. The great work was crowded with men. In front of the town lay a large fleet of war boats, and larger craft with stores.

A short time after the troops reached the spot, a great noise of gongs, drums, and other warlike instruments arose on the other side, and crowds of boatmen were seen running down to the vessels. These were soon manned, and oars got out, and they began to row up the river. As, owing to the intricacy of the channel, the steamboat and flotilla had not yet arrived, a few shots were fired at the boats by the field guns. This had the desired effect, many of the boatmen jumping overboard, leaving their craft to drift down the river; while the great bulk hastily turned their vessels about, and anchored in their former position.

As soon as the steamer with the flotilla came up, two war boats pushed off from shore, saluted the steamer, and rowed alongside of her until she and the flotilla were safely anchored above the town. This was so evidently a mark of a real desire for the suspension of hostilities that the two officers were again sent across the river. A truce was agreed upon, and an arrangement made for the meeting of the negotiators, upon the following day.

Four meetings were held, between the two commissioners and those appointed by the British general, the meetings taking place on boats moored in the centre of the river. At length the treaty was accepted and signed, by the Burmese, and fifteen days' truce allowed for the ratification of the treaty by the king. As the end of that period approached, the Burmese protested that they had not yet received an answer, and asked for further time; which was refused, unless on the condition that Melloon was evacuated, and the Burmese army fell back until the ratification of the treaty reached them. As had been for some time strongly suspected, the negotiations were simply a device to arrest our advance; and the treaty was afterwards found in the Burmese camp, it never having been forwarded to Ava.

At midnight on the 18th, when the armistice came to a conclusion, the troops began throwing up earthworks, the heavy guns were landed from the flotilla and, at ten o'clock the next morning, twenty-eight guns were in position ready to open fire. In spite of remonstrances that had been made, the Burmese had, night after night during the armistice, continued to work surreptitiously at their entrenchments. It was hoped for a moment that, when they saw the speed with which our batteries had been thrown up and armed, they would offer no farther resistance. As, however, they were evidently preparing for action, our guns opened fire at eleven o'clock.

This was kept up for two hours. While it was going on, the troops intended for the assault were embarked in boats, some distance up the river, so as to ensure their not being carried by the force of the stream across the face of the Burmese works, and exposed to the concentrated fire of the enemy. They were divided into four brigades; the first of which--consisting of the 13th and 38th Regiments, under Lieutenant Colonel Sale--were to land below the stockade, and to attack its south-western angle; while the other three brigades were to land above it, to carry some outworks there, and to attack the northern face.

A strong northerly wind, and the violent current, prevented the assaults being made simultaneously. The first brigade was carried too far across and, as it passed the stockade, was exposed to the fire of the guns and musketry of the river defences; while the three other brigades were unable, for some time, to reach their intended landing places. Colonel Sale was among those wounded by the Burmese fire but, directly the first brigade reached the shore, they formed up under the partial cover of a shelving bank and, led by Lieutenant Colonel Frith, moved forward to the assault in admirable order. When within a short distance there was a forward rush, in spite of the storm of shot. The ladder party gained the foot of the stockade and, placing the ladders, climbed up, and leapt down among the surging crowd of the enemy. Others followed and, soon, a firm footing was obtained in the works. Then the men of the two regiments--whose total strength did not exceed five hundred--advanced steadily, drove before them some 10,000 armed men, and expelled them from the works that the Burmese had deemed impregnable.

While this was going on, the other three brigades had landed above the stockade and, now falling upon the enemy as they poured out from their works, completed their defeat. All the stockades were carried, and the whole of the artillery and stores fell into our possession.

Four days later, the army again began its advance. They were met by four Englishmen, who had been taken prisoners; and an American, who had also been held in confinement. These had been sent to assure the English general that the king was in earnest in his desire for peace. It was but too evident, however, that no confidence could be placed in Burmese negotiations; and it was, moreover, known that another army was being assembled, in the greatest haste, to bar the advance.

On the 14th of February the British reached Pakang-Yay, having passed Sembeughewn on the opposite shore. This was the point where the road from Aracan reached the Irrawaddy, and it had been arranged that the force that had been operating in Aracan should, if possible, effect a junction with Sir Archibald Campbell here. A message brought down by a native was, however, received; stating that the force had suffered very severely from fever and cholera, and that the natural obstacles were found to be too great to be overcome by troops debilitated by disease--that the attempt had, therefore, been abandoned. Fortunately, the English general was well able to do without this addition to his strength. He had already proved that his command was perfectly capable of defeating any Burmese force that could be brought against him, and an addition would only have increased the difficulty of transport.

On the 9th of March the British force which, owing to the necessity for leaving strong bodies to hold Melloon and other points that had been captured, now mustered less than 2,000 fighting men, advanced to attack the enemy, whose numbers were estimated at 16,000.

The new commander of the Burmese adopted other tactics than his predecessors. His stockaded position was in front of the town of Pagahn, but he occupied the jungle in great force, and attacked our advance guard, five miles from the town. As the enemy occupied the hills on both sides of the main road, Sir A. Campbell divided his force and led half of it through the jungle on the right, while General Cotton led the other half through the woods on the left.

The Burmese fought with considerable obstinacy. General Campbell and his staff, with thirty-eight troopers and fifty men of the 13th, were somewhat in advance of the column; when the enemy closed in on both flanks, and even got in their rear. These were, however, dispersed by the rest of the 13th and, driving back the Burmese on the flanks, the advance was continued. Presently, however, as the British issued from the jungle, a mass of the enemy's horse charged down, drove back the skirmishers and, for a time, the position of the general and his staff was one of great peril. His little body of troopers, however, dashed boldly at the assailants and held them in check, until the guns that had followed the staff were brought forward from the jungle. Then the troopers divided and rode right and left; and the guns, opening fire, checked the assailants until the infantry came up.

The Burmese army was now seen, drawn up in the form of a semicircle, in the open. The two British columns were united and, together, moved forward to attack the centre of the crescent, disregarding the fire from its wings. When within charging distance, they went forward with a rush and, cheering lustily, fell upon the Burmese; and broke their centre, thus isolating the two wings. The Burmese at once retreated, with the greatest haste, to the stockaded position in their rear. As usual, the narrow entrances to the stockades caused great delay; and the British were upon them before they were, in any way, prepared to resist the assault.

Heralding their advance by sweeping volleys, they fell upon the Burmese with the bayonet, and drove them out of their works. The enemy made an attempt to rally, behind the walls and in the pagodas of the town, but the effort was vain. They were driven out with great slaughter, hundreds were drowned in endeavouring to swim the river, and the army was finally dispersed in all directions.

The effect of this victory was at once apparent. The country people--who had, on the advance of the British force from Prome, been cleared out from the villages along the whole line of route--being now freed from the restraint of their troops, came flocking back in great numbers--some by the roads and some in boats--and it was evident that they regarded the struggle as definitely terminated. There was, indeed, no possibility of further resistance; as the armies of Burma, raised with immense difficulty and by heavy bounties and the promises of great reward, were hopelessly scattered, and Ava lay open to the British advance.

In other directions their position was equally desperate. Aracan had been wholly rescued from their grasp. A British force in Pegu had marched up the river Sitang and, after the repulse of a party of a hundred and fifty men, imprudently sent to attack Sitang itself, captured the place after a sharp fight and, receiving reinforcements from Rangoon, continued their way up the river and captured Toungoo; while the northern force had driven the Burmese out of Manipur, and had reached the river Ningti by the 2nd of February, and were in a position to advance direct upon Ava.

After a halt of two days, General Campbell advanced on the 12th of February. Mr. Price, the American who had been sent down after the capture of Melloon, went forward to Ava with the treaty that had been drawn up before the capture of that place; and the king had no longer any hesitation in complying with its terms--and was, indeed, delighted to find that the recent victory of the invaders had not increased their demands. He at once sent down to accept them but, as no official ratification was sent, the march continued; while Mr. Price again returned to Ava. When the force was within four days' march of the capital, the latter returned with the Burmese commissioners and other high functionaries, with the ratified treaty, and the first instalment of the money that was to be paid.

It was a disappointment to the army that, after their long march and many sufferings, they were not to be allowed to enter the enemy's capital in triumph. Undoubtedly, however, the course taken was the wisest. Ava was regarded as a sacred city, and it was to save it from the humiliation of being occupied by the invaders that the king had brought himself to accept the terms of the treaty. Had the English general insisted upon entering the capital, and signing the treaty there, he would have found no one to meet him. The population would have been driven out, the king and court would have retired farther up the country, and the war might have continued for an indefinite time.

Already its cost had been enormous, exceeding 5,000,000 pounds sterling. During the first eleven months after landing at Rangoon, nearly half of the Europeans died and, from the time they advanced from that town with fresh reinforcements from India, to the arrival near Ava, a similarly heavy loss was sustained. Four percent of the number engaged was killed in action. The climate of Aracan was still more deadly, as three-fourths of the white troops employed there died, and very few of the survivors were ever fit for service afterwards. The sepoys suffered less in Aracan, losing only ten percent of their number, though nearly half the force were in hospital for some time.

According to agreement the Burmese, as soon as peace was concluded, sent down a large number of boats for the conveyance of the troops down the river. As they descended it, the garrisons left at Melloon and other places were withdrawn. One of the native regiments, with some elephants and guns, left the force at Sembeughewn; and marched thence to Aracan, for the purpose of investigating the country, and proving whether it was practicable for the passage of troops in case another advance upon Ava should ever be necessary. They found the road unexpectedly good, and met with no resistance whatever, except in the passage of some passes over the mountains.

At Melloon, Stanley was very glad to meet his cousin again, for the 47th had been left in garrison there. Harry had been down again, with a sharp attack of fever, but was now recovering.

"So it is all over, Stanley, and your chances of an earldom have nearly slipped through your fingers."

"I am glad, indeed, that it is so," Stanley laughed, "in the first place, because I could only have succeeded to it at your death; and in the second place, because I have no ambition, whatever, for a title. I am not nineteen yet, and should greatly prefer to make my own way, than to find myself with nothing whatever to do, except to spend money as it dropped into my lap.

"Now that everything is settled, and that Aracan has become English, and we have the seaports on the Tenasserim coast, trade will increase tremendously. You may be sure that the Burmese will be only too glad to flock into our provinces, and to live under a fair rule, to escape the tyranny of their own officials; and my uncle is just the man to take advantage of the new openings. I don't say that I want to live out here all my life. At any rate, I hope by the time that I am thirty, to be able to come home for a year's holiday; and it is just possible that, by then, we may have grown into such a big firm that we may establish headquarters in London, instead of getting all our goods from Calcutta.

"There is certain to be a very big trade here, in teak alone. The price in Pegu is a great deal below that in India and, if we had a house in London, we should avoid having to pay commissions, and perhaps get better prices for our wood. Of course, my uncle may by that time think of retiring himself and, in that case, I might have to stay somewhat longer out here; but I know that he likes the climate, and I have heard him say that, as he has very few acquaintances in England, he thinks that he should prefer a life in Calcutta to one in London."

"I should not wonder if I go home, very shortly," Harry said. "My last letter told me that my uncle was in failing health, and that he would like to have me at home with him. If the next letter confirms that, I am afraid I shall have either to resign my commission, or exchange into a regiment at home. Of course, at his death I should have to leave the army, anyhow. It would be ridiculous for a subaltern to be an earl; besides, there are things one would have to do. I suppose there are estates to be looked after, and all sorts of nuisances.

"Anyhow, I shall always be glad I have had my share in this expedition. I have learned what campaigning is; and I must say that, under such circumstances as we have gone through, it is not quite so pleasurable as I had expected. Half one's friends are dead or invalided home; and one never knows, when one wakes in the morning, whether one may not be down with cholera before night. The fighting is all well enough but, after all, that takes up but a very small portion of one's time; and marching and, I may say, living generally in this hot, sweltering climate, with its six months of rain, is not enviable work. However, I have gone through one regular campaign, and that as severe a one as British troops have ever performed; and above all, old man, I have met you, and we have come to be great friends, and I have learned what one fellow will do for another."

"I am sure I am very glad to have gone through it, too. I have been fortunate, indeed, in never having been laid up for a single day; and there is no doubt that having served on the staff will be of great advantage to me, even as a trader. I own that I should like to have retired a captain. Of course, promotion has been tremendously fast, owing to the death vacancies, but I have still two lieutenants over me."

"You are sure to get the step, Stanley. You have been in general orders twice, besides that notice you got for my rescue. Also, the doctors say that a number of the men who have been sent down to the coast are not likely to live many weeks and, as five of your seniors have been invalided, you may get your step, in the natural course of things, at any moment.

"If I were you, I should ask for three months' leave before rejoining your regiment. There will be no difficulty about that, after you have been upwards of two years in constant work; and the general will certainly not refuse. Before the end of that time you will have seen your uncle, and talked matters over. Then, if you choose to resign your commission, you can of course do so but, as you are pretty sure to get your step, by death, before the end of the three months; and as the general's despatches strongly recommend your services, you may get your brevet majority before your resignation reaches England. A man who has been mentioned two or three times in despatches, and is specially recommended for honours, is sure to get his brevet majority directly he gets his company."

On reaching Rangoon, Stanley learned that two of the invalids had died, either on the way down or before they could be put on board a ship; and that one of the majors, who had been sent to India for change, four months before, had also succumbed; so that he had already obtained his company--a promotion which would have been, at any other time, extraordinary; but which, in a campaign where half those engaged were carried off, was nothing remarkable. Being still on the headquarter staff, he embarked with Sir Archibald Campbell.

"You still hold firm to your determination to leave the service, Captain Brooke?" the general said, in the course of the passage to Calcutta.

"Yes, sir. I am sure that it is best for me."

"I think it is, Brooke. Of course, you have been exceptionally fortunate in getting such rapid promotion. Still, a good business is a great deal better than soldiering. I wrote very strongly in your favour, when I sent off my despatches the day we came down to the coast; and you are certain of your brevet. Still, it is just as well that the news of your resignation should not get home before the Gazette comes out, with your name in it. I think the best thing that I can do is to give you leave, for a time, as soon as we get to Calcutta. I am sure that you deserve a rest, for your work has been terribly heavy."

"Thank you, sir; that was just the favour that I was going to ask you. I shall find out, as soon as I get there, where my uncle is; and join him. My own mind is quite made up, but he has certainly a right to be consulted, before I take any final step."

"Quite right. I feel no doubt that his opinion will agree with yours; and I think that you are showing a good deal more wisdom than most fellows would do, to give up the service when you have distinguished yourself, and have a much better chance than falls to the lot of one man in a hundred. Still, there can be no real doubt that a man in a good business, out here, can retire early and go home with a fortune; while in the army you are liable at any time, after you get to the rank of colonel, to be laid on the shelf for years.

"Besides, you will be your own master, which is more than anyone in the army can say. You can go home when you like, either for a stay or for a permanency; and you are not liable to have to run the risk of another campaign such as this has been."

"If one was sure of campaigns, I don't think that I could possibly bring myself to leave the service; but it is the probability of being kept, for three or four years at a time, doing nothing at Calcutta or Madras that decided me."

The general nodded.

"You are quite right, Brooke; on active service a soldier's life is, indeed, a stirring one; but there is nothing more dull and monotonous than garrison life, in peace time."

Accordingly, as soon as they landed in Calcutta, Stanley was put in orders for absence on leave, for three months. He learned, from his uncle's agent, that they had heard from him only a few days before, at Chittagong; and that he was then on the point of leaving for Aracan, whither he had ordered a large consignment of goods to be forwarded to him, by the next ship.

Three days later, Stanley started to join him, leaving his address at Aracan with Sir Archibald Campbell, in case there should be need to recall him before the three months' leave expired. The vessel in which he was sailing carried the consignment of goods to his uncle; and he had, therefore, no fear of finding that the latter had left Aracan before his arrival. Meinik was still with him. He had left the army after the last battle had been fought, and had travelled to the spot where he had buried his money before embarking with Stanley in the canoe and, after an absence of three days, rejoined the force. On the way down to Rangoon, Stanley had a long talk with him as to his future plans.

"I have only one plan, master, and that is to stay with you, as long as I live."

"But you will have plenty to live comfortably upon now, Meinik. For, after all that you have done for me, of course I shall arrange for you to have a sum that will keep you in comfort."

Meinik shook his head.

"Burma is a bad country, master. After living with the English, I would not go back to live under the king's officers, in any case. Any money that I had would be squeezed out of me, before long. No, master, I will go with you, unless you drive me from you; if you do, I will go to Chittagong, and live there, but I do not think that you will do that."

"Certainly not, Meinik. As long as you are willing to remain with me, I shall be very glad, indeed, to have you; but if, at any time, you wish to marry and settle down on land of your own, I shall give you five hundred pounds--which is only a small portion of the sum those rubies, which you got your band to give me, brought me in."

"I daresay I shall marry," Meinik said, "but that will make no difference. As long as I live, I shall stay with you."

Meinik had been astounded at Calcutta; which presented a strong contrast, indeed, to the city which, as a Burman, he had regarded as the most important place in the world.

"The Burmese are fools, master. They should have sent two or three men here, before they made up their minds to go to war. If they had been truly told what Calcutta was like, they would never have ventured to make war with the English."

Chapter 18: In Business Again.

When the vessel arrived at the mouth of the Aracan river, a canoe was seen coming out from Akyah--a town situated at the entrance to the principal of the several channels by which the river makes its way, through a number of sand banks and islands, into the sea. As it approached, Stanley recognized his uncle sitting in the stern.

"Well, uncle, how are you?" he called out, as the boat approached the side.

"What, is it you, Stanley? I am glad, indeed, to see you. I have watched the papers anxiously, to see if your name appeared among those who have been killed or have died; not seeing it, I hoped that you were all right. Of course we heard, from the Madras regiment that came across from Sembeughewn, that it was all over; and that all the troops would be shipped off, as soon as they went down to Rangoon; but I have not seen any papers lately, and so have not had a chance of learning any news of you. I fancied, though, that you would be back at Calcutta by this time; and thought that I might get a letter from you, by this ship."

By this time he was on deck, and after a hearty shaking of hands, Stanley asked what he was doing here.

"I did not expect to see you until we got to Aracan."

"I have been up there, lad. It is a decaying old place, and the stream is in many places shallow; so that it would be very difficult to take up a ship of any size. I foresee, therefore, that this is going to be the chief port of the province--timber will be floated down here, and rice brought down in native boats--so I shall make my headquarters here, as far as this district is concerned, and put Johnson in charge. I doubt whether, for a time, we shall do as much trade as we shall higher up the coast; but everyone expects a great Burmese immigration, and a large trade is likely to spring up, in time.

"I have not quite determined on my next move, and it is not improbable that I shall go down in this ship and establish myself, for a time, at Martaban; and open a trade in Tenasserim. If I decide on that, I shall only get on shore a portion of my goods, and take the rest on with me there.

"Now, what are you going to do, Stanley?"

"Just what you think best, uncle. I should have thought that, as I speak the language, it would be better for me to go on to Martaban; and for you to work Chittagong, and the district up to Assam."

"Then you are going to stay with me, lad!" his uncle exclaimed, in a tone of much satisfaction. "I was afraid that you would have got so fond of soldiering that you would have thrown this over, altogether."

"Not a bit of it, uncle. I am on three months' leave at present and, at the end of that time, I shall resign. You know I am a captain, now--that is to say, that I have got my rank by death vacancies, though until the Gazette comes out from England, I can hardly be said to be a pucka captain; and, what is more, the general himself assured me that, after being mentioned in despatches two or three times, and at his strong commendation of my services, I was sure of the brevet rank of major."

His uncle took off his hat, gravely.

"I must apologize to you," he said, "for addressing you as 'lad.' I had no idea that you were a full-grown captain, still less that you might soon be a major."

"I don't care a snap for the title, uncle," Stanley said, laughing, "except that it may be an advantage to me, in places where there are garrisons; and indeed, generally where there are white officials."

"A very great advantage, Stanley.

"Well, lad, I have been coining money, since I saw you at Rangoon. I have been sending a consignment of bullocks down there, every week; and have done almost as much with the Manipur force. I have also got the contract regularly, now, for the supply of the troops at Calcutta. Other trade has, of course, been at a standstill. Now that everything has quieted down, there will be a perfect rush; and I have been sorely troubled, in my mind, whether it would be best to stay up here and take advantage of it, or to be one of the first to open trade at these new ports. Of course, if you are ready to take Martaban, that will decide me; and I shall take passage in the first ship going up to Chittagong. My own boat and the dhow are both there, and I shall at once work up all the rivers, and set things going again.

"I have a capital fellow, a native, who is carrying on the cattle business for me and, at Chittagong, I shall try and get hold of three or four more trustworthy fellows, to take charge of depots. I see a big future before us, and that before long. I did well with those gems of yours--they fetched 3500 pounds, which I used, besides what you handed over to me--for there was no buying up the cattle without cash and, as I generally have to wait two months after they are shipped, before I get paid, ready money was invaluable and, indeed, I could not have gone into the thing on anything like the same scale, if it had not been for your money. The Calcutta people would have helped me, to a certain point; but they would never have ventured upon such advances as I required. Your 5000 pounds has doubled itself since I met you at Rangoon. I calculate that our stores at the different depots are worth 4000 pounds so that, at the present moment, the firm of Pearson & Brooke have at their command a capital of 14,000 pounds."

A portion of the cargo was landed at Akyah. Stanley went down with the rest to Martaban, and his uncle sailed for Chittagong. A few months later, a store was opened at Rangoon. Parsee store-keepers were sent from Calcutta, by Tom Pearson; and these were placed in control of the stores there, and at Martaban--Stanley being in charge of these two stations, and Akyah; and having a native craft of his own, and a boat for river work similar to that of his uncle.

A year later he received a letter from Harry, saying that his uncle had died, a month after his return to England; and that he was now established as one of the pillars of the state.

"As I went through London, on my arrival," he said, "I looked up your mother at the address you gave me, at Dulwich. I found her very well, and very comfortable. She was full of your praises and, as I was equally so, your ears ought to have tingled while we were together. Of course they wanted to hear all about you, and most of it was new to them; for you had said nothing of your adventure with that leopard, and only a few lines about the rescue of your humble servant; though you had told them that I stood in your way of the earldom. Your mother said that she was prouder of you than if you were an earl, only that she would have liked to have you at home. I told her that you and your uncle were shaking the pagoda tree, and that you would come home as yellow as a guinea and as rich as a nabob, in the course of a few years.

"Your sisters are older than I expected to find them. Of course, you always spoke of them as when you saw them last. They are both growing into very pretty girls, the elder especially. I made your mother promise to bring them down to stay with me, for a bit, when I came into the title; which I knew could not be long, for I had called that morning on my uncle's solicitors, and they told me that he was not expected to live many weeks. As it is only a month since he died, I suppose I ought not to have visitors, just yet; but in a few weeks I shall go up to town, and bring them down with me. I cannot help thinking that it is a little selfish for, when they see this place, they would not be human if they did not feel that it would have been yours, if it had not been for your getting me out of the hands of those Burmese.

"I see that you are gazetted captain, this week. I suppose, long before this, you have settled down to your old work of going up sluggish streams; and trying to stir up the equally sluggish native to a sense of the advantages of British goods. At present, I am quite content to do nothing particular--to ride and drive about, return calls, and so on--but I expect, before very long, I shall get restless, and want to be doing something. However, there is the Continent open to one, and decent hotels to stop at. No fevers there, and no Burmese brigands."

A month later he had a letter from his mother, which had been written before that of Harry, but had been sent to Calcutta and thence to Akyah; and had there lain until his return, two months later, from a boat journey up to Pegu. She said how kind it was of his cousin to come in, to give them news of him, the very day he arrived in London.

"Of course, we were delighted with all that he told us about you; but it made us anxious to think of your running into so many dangers. We like him very much. We could not help laughing, because he seemed quite concerned that you should not have the peerage, instead of him. He seems likely to come into it soon, for he tells us that the earl is very ill. He says that we must come down and pay him a visit, as soon as he is master there; but I don't know whether that can be. Of course it would be a nice change, and I believe that it is a very fine place. I said that it would seem strange our going there, when there are no ladies, and that bachelors did not generally entertain; but he said that, in the first place he should have his sisters there, who were about the same age as my girls; and that as we were his nearest relations, and you were at present his heir, it would be quite the right and proper thing for us to come down. He seemed quite in earnest about it, and I should not be surprised if we go."

Three months later, Stanley heard that the visit had been paid, and that they had stayed a fortnight there.

"It feels quite funny, settling down here again after being in that big house, with all those servants and grandeur; not that there is any grandeur about Harry. He insists, being relations, that we shall call him by his Christian name. Everything was delightful. Every afternoon we used to go driving and, of a morning, he generally rode with the girls. He had a very pretty, gentle horse for Agnes; and a gray pony, a beauty, for Kate. I have a strong suspicion that he had bought them both, on purpose. I should not be surprised--but no, I won't say anything about it."

Stanley puzzled over this sentence, which was followed by:

"His sisters are very nice girls."

"It is evidently something about Harry," he said to himself; "possibly she has taken the idea into her head that he may fall in love with Agnes. That, certainly, would be a very nice thing; but I don't suppose it is anything more than an idea of mother's."

However, four months later he received a letter from Harry, announcing his engagement.

"I told your mother that she must let me write by the mail, before she did; as it was only right that I should have the pleasure of telling you the news, myself. It is splendid, old man; upon my word, I don't know which I ought to feel most grateful to you--for saving my life, or for getting me to know your sister. It seems to me a regular dispensation of Providence. You did everything you could to prevent yourself from coming into a title; and now your sister is going to take it, and me. It is quite right that we should come to be brothers-in-law, for we are quite like brothers, already.

"We are to be married in the spring. How I wish you could be with us. Your absence will be the only thing wanting, to make everything perfect. I do hope you don't mean to stay, grilling out there, many years. It seems to me monstrous that I should be having estates and a big income, and all that sort of thing, when I have done nothing to deserve it; and that you should be toiling in that beastly climate. If I thought that there was the least chance of your rushing home, when you get this letter, I declare that I would put off the marriage for a month or so, so that you should be here in time; but as I feel sure that you won't do anything of the sort, it will be of no use for me to make such a noble sacrifice."

Stanley had received the news that he was gazetted brevet-major, a month after he was promoted to the rank of captain, and two months before his name appeared as having retired from the army. He derived, as he expected, much benefit from his connection with the army in his position at his three receiving ports, as it placed him on a very pleasant footing with the military and civil officials; and it rendered his occasional visits to Calcutta and Madras exceedingly pleasant, for in both towns he found many officers whose acquaintance he had made, during the expedition. He was always made an honorary member of the messes and clubs, during his stays there.

The business grew rapidly. The work of the earlier years had so well paved the way for larger operations that they were able to more than hold their own against other traders who, after the troubles were at an end, sought to establish themselves at various points on the western coast of the peninsula; and after six more years of hard and continuous work, the business came to be a very large and important one.

"I think it more than probable," Stanley wrote to his mother, "that before very long I shall be returning home. My uncle spoke about it, the last time that I saw him; and said that we were outgrowing Calcutta, and ought to establish ourselves in London.

"'We can hold on a bit longer,' he said, 'but we must come to that, sooner or later and, when it does, you must be the one to go to England and take charge. I may go home before that for a few months, but I have no wish or desire to stop there. We have now got a good staff; and I shall probably fix myself, permanently, at Calcutta.'"

Two years later Tom Pearson, on his return from England, brought back a wife with him, and established himself at Calcutta. Stanley joined him there, three weeks after his return. They had a long talk together, that evening.

"I see, Stanley," his uncle said, "that things have gone on improving, since I have been away; and that our turnover last year was 150,000 pounds, and the profits close upon 15,000 pounds. I think, now, that it is high time we opened a place in London. We have almost a monopoly of the teak trade, in Burma; and it would be much more advantageous for us to make our purchases in England, instead of here. We should save in carriage and in trans-shipment, besides the profits that the people here make out of their sales to us. I have made a great many inquiries, at home, as to the prices for cash in Manchester and Birmingham; and find that we should get goods there some fifteen percent cheaper than we pay at Calcutta, even after putting on the freights. So you see, it is an important matter. Besides, there would be a better choice of goods, and you know exactly the sort of thing that we require, and the quantities that we can get rid of; and would be able, therefore, to send consignments each month, without waiting for advices from me; and so we should get the things just as readily as we do now, from here.

"I will give you the names of some of the firms that I have visited, and with whom I have already paved the way for opening extensive transactions. During the eighteen months that I have been away, you have learned all about the banking business; and will find no more difficulty in managing, in London, than here. Your brother-in-law Netherly went with me to the Bank of England, and introduced me to one of the directors. I told him that we intended to open a house in London, and that as soon as we did so, we should open an account with them by paying in 30,000 pounds; and that we should, of course, require some facilities, but probably not to a large extent, as our payments for teak there would fairly balance our exports from England; and that I reckoned our trade to be, as a minimum, 50,000 pounds, each way.

"The matter was made extremely easy by Netherly saying, to my astonishment:

"'You can let them draw what they like, Mr. Townshend, for I will give my personal guarantee, up to 50,000 pounds.'

"I remonstrated, but he would not hear anything said.

"'Ridiculous,' he exclaimed, hotly; 'Stanley is my brother-in-law. He risked his life for me, and you don't suppose that I should mind risking 50,000 pounds for him.

"'Not,' he went on, turning to the director, 'that there is any risk in the matter. I know all about the business they do in India, and that there is not a shadow of risk in it. I know that my guarantee will be a mere form but, as it may put them on a better footing with you, to begin with, I shall be very pleased to do it.'

"Of course, we know that there will be no risk in it. The greater portion of our business is a ready-money one and although, of late, we have been dealing more with native local firms instead of selling direct from our own stores, the amounts are never large and, so far, we have never lost a penny. Of course, I shall let you know, by every mail, how things are going on at all our depots; and you will then be able to form an estimate as to the amount of goods you will have to despatch to each--sending them direct, of course, if there happens to be a ship going.

"But all these things, of course, we shall go into, at length, before you start for England."

"Did you go down to Harry's place?"

"Yes, I stopped there a week. Your sister seems perfectly happy, and plays the part of queen of the county admirably. The four youngsters are jolly little things. As to your mother, you will find very little change in her. I really don't think that she looks a day older than when we saw her off, at Calcutta, something like ten years ago. Of course, then she was cut up with her loss; but quiet and comfort have agreed with her, and the climate is a good deal less trying than it is out here. At any rate, I should not take her for a day over forty, and she is something like five years older than that."

Three months later, Stanley sailed for England. There was the same argument between him and Meinik that there had been when Stanley first left Rangoon, but this time it terminated differently.

"You would be out of your element in England, Meinik. Of course, my life there will be very different from what it is here. I shall go away from home to business, every morning, and not get back until perhaps seven o' clock in the evening. As a consequence, there would be nothing for you to do for me, and we should see very little of each other. You know I should like to have you with me, and would do all that I could to make you comfortable; but I am sure that you would not like the life. Here you have always been on the move, and there is always something for you to do, and think of.

"I have spoken to my uncle about you, and he will be glad to appoint you to the position of purchaser, for our house, of teak and other native products in these provinces. Besides being buyer, you would go up the country, and see to the felling and getting the timber down to the coast, as you have often done before. He knows how absolutely I trust you, and how much you have done for me, and he said that he should be very glad to have you in charge of the buying side of the work, here. Besides, you know you have now a wife and children and, even if you could make yourself comfortable in England, they would never be able to do so; and the bitter cold that we sometimes have, in winter, would try them terribly, and might even carry them all off."

To these arguments Meinik had reluctantly yielded. He was somewhat proud of the position that he occupied, as one of some authority in the establishment of the principal merchants on the coast. He was fond of his wife and little children; and felt that to be established among strangers, of different habits and race, would be very terrible for them. Stanley bought him a nice house at Rangoon and, as his rate of pay, which had been gradually increased, was now sufficient to cause him to rank high among the native population, he himself came to feel that he had done wisely in accepting Stanley's advice.

The voyage to England was an uneventful one; and to Stanley, after the active life he had had for ten years, the five months spent at sea seemed almost interminable.

"I should not have known you, in the least," his mother said, after the first joyful greetings were over. "How much you have gone through, since we parted at Calcutta."

"I had a pretty rough time of it for two years, mother, during the war but, with that exception, my life has been a very pleasant one; and I have had nothing, whatever, to grumble about.

"This is a pretty house that you have chosen, mother, and the garden is charming. How I have longed, sometimes, for the sight of an English garden. Of course I have never seen one before, but I have heard you talk of them, and thought how delightful the green grass must be. Of course we had flowers in Burma--plenty of them--and shrubs; but it was not green, like this. It is charming."

"Yes, it is a pretty house, Stanley. We moved in here five years ago--thanks to you, dear boy--and it has been a very quiet, happy time. We have a good many friends now, among our neighbours; and have quite as much society as I care for.

"I suppose you have not yet decided whether you will live here, with us," she said, a little anxiously, "or set up an establishment of your own."

"Of course I shall stay here, mother. I never thought of anything else. I see that you have some stables. I shall get a couple of horses, and drive into town, in the mornings. I have got out of the way of walking, altogether.

"And where is Kate?"

"You will see her presently. She will be here to dinner, with Agnes and Harry. I sent her off, because I wanted to have you all to myself, for the first hour. The others came up to town, three days ago, on purpose to be here when you arrived. Of course, we heard when your ship called at Plymouth. We had been looking for her, for your last letter told us the name of the vessel that you were coming by; so I wrote to them, and they came up at once. They wanted us to go and dine with them, but I would not hear of it. I was sure that you would much rather dine quietly, here, than in state in Portman Square, with three or four footmen behind our chairs."

"Ever so much better, mother. I suppose I shall hardly know Agnes, but Harry cannot have altered much; besides, I have seen him four years later than her."

Harry's greeting was of the heartiest kind. Stanley's sisters felt, at first, a little strange with this brother of whom they had but a faint remembrance.

"It does not seem to me, Harry, that your dignities have tamed you down much."

"No, indeed," Harry laughed. "I find it, sometimes, very difficult to act up to my position. I never quite feel that I am an earl, except on the rare occasions when I go to the House of Lords--which I only do when my vote is wanted, on an important division.

"The gloom of that place is enough to sober anyone. I can assure you that, when I heard of the fire, I felt absolutely pleased. Of course, they will build another one, perhaps grander than the last, and as gloomy but, thank goodness, it must be years before it can be finished and, until then, we shall have to put up with temporary premises.

"Your chances of an earldom are getting more and more remote, Stanley. There are three boys barring the way, already. I had proposed to myself not to marry--in which case you or a son of yours would have followed me--but your sister overpersuaded me."

Agnes tossed her head, as she said:

"At any rate, Harry, if you made that resolution, it was not worth much, as you gave it up at the first opportunity. I was the first girl you met, when you arrived in England; and I doubt whether you had seen another, before we came down to stay at Netherly. I had not been there two days before you began to make love to me."

"The temptation would excuse anything, my dear," Harry laughed. "Besides, you see, I saw at once that it was but fair and right to Stanley that, if he could not get the peerage himself, he might some day have the satisfaction of being uncle to an earl.

"And so you are home for good, old fellow?"

"Yes, and just at present I feel very much at sea as to how to get to work, as Tom Pearson arranged nothing except as to the banking account. Everything else he has left to me. I know nothing of London, and have no idea of the situation where I should look for offices."

"I will put you up to all that, Stanley. I don't know anything about it myself, as you may suppose; but if you will go with me to my solicitors, tomorrow, they will be able to tell you. But I do know that Leadenhall Street is the centre of the Indian trade, and it's somewhere about there that you will have to fix yourself.

"Of course, when you have taken a place, you will have to get hold of some clerks. If you put an advertisement in the paper, you will get any number of applicants; or possibly my men may, through their connection with merchants, be able to hear of some to suit you. Anyhow, I am sure that you will find no difficulty."

Thanks to Harry's introductions, Stanley was established in a handsome suite of offices, with three clerks, with much greater ease than he had anticipated. Being thoroughly versed in business, he was not long before he was at home in his new life.

Three years after his return, he married Harry's youngest sister. The firm flourished greatly, and became one of the leading houses in the Eastern trade. At the age of sixty, Stanley retired from business with a large fortune. He could do this comfortably, as his eldest son and a nephew had become active partners in the firm. He still lives, at the age of eighty-six, in a noble mansion near Staines; and retains all the faculties, even at advanced age.