Windrush: Blood Price (Jack Windrush Book 3) by Malcolm Archibald

Author:Malcolm Archibald [Archibald, Malcolm]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Creativia
Published: 2017-02-02T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

'He's quite the hero, is Lieutenant Windrush.' The news travelled around the British camp at Middle Ravine. 'He must be promoted for his actions, or be given some sort of award.'

Jack heard the rumours spread, growing in the telling as each exploit of the now famous Lieutenant Windrush was repeated and magnified until the young officer became a mixture of Hector and Wellington, a paragon of military virtues, a man who only needed to draw his mighty sword to send the Russians running back to St Petersburg.

'Have you heard the shave?' A night's sleep had restored some of the bounce to Elliot's voice although there were still dark bags beneath his eyes and new deep grooves from the corners of his mouth to his nose.

'I heard it,' Jack finished oiling his revolver. He knew that most officers relied on their servant to do such menial work but he preferred to take care of his weapons himself. His life depended on them.

Elliot sighed and settled onto the three legged stool he had bought for far too high a sum in Balaklava. 'They say that Lieutenant William Windrush is a hero who nearly captured the Redan single handed.'

'I heard that,' Jack slipped the chamber back into his revolver. It whirred reassuringly as he spun it.

'They say he is to be promoted to Captain with immediate effect.'

'I heard that too,' Jack fastened his revolver back into its holster. It sat there, snug and comfortable.

'They say the Queen was pleased with him.'

'They would say that,' Jack slid his sword from its scabbard and checked it for rust. Wilkinson made excellent weapons but even they were not immune from the vagaries of Crimean weather. 'Although how Her Majesty has got to hear about it, and how her comments have reached us in so short a time I cannot imagine.'

'Oh now.' Elliot looked up. 'Do I detect jealousy in your voice? A touch of the sour grapes perhaps because your half brother is getting recognition that you have so far been denied?'

'Oh go to hell!' Lifting a boot, Jack threw it at Elliot, who caught it deftly with his left hand.

'Oh temper temper, little soldier!' Elliot was grinning now. 'You must admit that your brother is of the stuff of heroes, attacking the Redan like he did.' He tossed the boot back, underhand and gently. 'Of course it's not fair and it's not right, Jack, but either you laugh at fate or it kicks you up the breech. Listen: this war is not going to plan; we've been stuck here in front of Sebastopol for months; our men are dying of cholera and fever, and even the navy is not exactly covering itself with glory. The good people in Britain need some good news to cheer them up at the breakfast table, and your young brother has given them that.'

'I am not jealous,' Jack said. He did not try to analyse his feelings. Anger, yes; hurt, yes; definitely frustration that his life and career was stuck in a rut while his half brother seemed to have all the luck that fate could shower.

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