‘Then I can’t get back,’ Jason remonstrated.
‘I’ll bring you back. They’ll let you in all right.’
‘If that is really so I’ll have to tell my senior Gurkha officer where I’m going to and that I’ll be away for an hour or so and then I’ll be ready to go with you.’
That done the four of them went down the gangway and walked to where the car was. They got in, both women sitting in the back. They drove along the main roads through the town, Jason seeing how much dirtier and poorer Rangoon was than towns in both India and Malaya were and no different from when he had seen it at the end of the war. They reached an enclosed area dotted with wooden huts surrounded by a wire fence which he recognised from when he had been there after the Japanese had surrendered. There was a sign hanging from a metal archway, ‘66 Transit Camp’ and underneath that sign another, smaller one, with ‘Nepalese Consulate’ written on it,
They drove on in, came to and stopped at one of the huts. The ladies got out and disappeared. The Vice Consul took Jason inside and told him to sit down and wait.
The furniture was simple, a few chairs. small tables and a cupboard. Before much longer two men entered and the Vice Consul said, ‘Captain, this is the Consul, Mr Dhruba Kumar Oli.’
Jason stood up and said, ‘Consul saheb, I am Captain Rance, OC Troops on the Eastern Queen.’
Namastés were exchanged as were introductory remarks also. Then, unexpectedly harshly, the Consul said, ‘Captain saheb, why have you spoken incorrectly?’
Jason took a step back. ‘Incorrectly? I am so sorry. I have never spoken to a Consul before. If I have used a wrong word, please forgive me.’
The two Nepalis looked at each other, almost in dismay. ‘Sit down,’ Jason was told. The Vice Consul went to the cupboard and pulled out a bottle of whisky. He called a servant to bring three glasses and a jug of water. He poured one to the brim, put it on a table by their guest’s chair. Jason looked at it in dismay and left it untouched. The other two, with glasses more normally filled and watered, sat down. ‘Cheers!’ said the Consul.
Jason lifted his glass, raised it to his lips to satisfy hospitality protocol then put it on the table, where it remained, untouched. The two Nepalis glanced at it but said nothing inappropriate. That was not their way, but they spoke with each other quietly, taking no notice of their guest. ‘You say none of the soldiers looked unhappy or threatening,’ Oli said to Basnet, loud enough for Jason to hear.
‘Not one of them did’ Basnet replied. ‘They behaved normally. Polite and respectful. Nobody could take them for anything but typical passengers.’
‘And the families, the womenfolk? None offensive?’
‘No, none. The little ones went for the Captain saheb and clutched his knees, not our women’s.’
‘Could the message have been wrong?’ A terrible thought: challenging the King!
‘Oli-ji. Ask our guest, listen to his answer and make your own mind up.’
The Consul turned his gaze on Jason and said, ‘I asked you why you had spoken incorrectly, not because you addressed me incorrectly, which you didn’t, but because you had told my Vice Consul, Basnet-jyu, that you were in charge of a leave party.’
Jason stared, almost rudely, at the Consul. ‘But what else should I have called them when that is what they are? We no longer use the word “furlough” as in British Indian days. Sorry, I don’t understand you, Hajur. Where am I wrong? Using the English name, not the Nepali one, for them?’ His dismay was palpable.
The two Nepalis looked at each other again, baffled it seemed, and the senior openly asked his junior, ‘Shall we tell him?’
‘Yes, on balance, I think we should.’
The Consul faced Jason. ‘Why I queried you was because we are under the firm impression that the Gurkha soldiers on board are not leave men but a whole battalion that has mutinied so have been dismissed by the British government as unsuitable for any further service and therefore are being returned to Nepal in disgrace for discharge. Are you saying that is incorrect?’
Jason laughed as politely as derision permitted. ‘Oli saheb, that is outrageous nonsense. How and where did that come from? Please tell me.’
The Consul gritted his teeth, wheezed rather than sighed and said, ‘The battalion was recently in northeast Malaya. The information we had said some place called Kelantan.’
That was too much for Captain Rance. He put his head back and, to the astonishment of both the others, laughed out loud. ‘No, no, no, Hajur Consul saheb. There’s been a dreadful mistake, a misunderstanding quite how or why I have no idea. Let me explain: until this very last month, there had been no Gurkha troops serving in that part of Malaya. During that time, I, with my A Company, 1/12 Gurkha Rifles, were sent there in place of a Malay Regiment unit, from the 7th to the 23rd of October. In fact it was all rather a rush to get to Singapore docks on time to be OC Troops. So with that you can make up your own minds about that report being genuine or not.’
At such an obviously truthful answer there was no reply. Blank looks were on each face as they shook their heads in bewilderment. Never had either of them been in such a mental whirl.
‘Can you tell me from where this nonsense came from, please?’ Jason asked. ‘See if you can track it down. Deliberate or accidental?’
‘It was a personal message from the King of Nepal,’ said the Consul, wheezing heavily. ‘I can only presume, a guess mind you, he had to take it at face value and, being afraid of having so many Communists in Nepal and wanting to find out, warned us about it because, by then, the boat would have left Singapore.’ He looked at his Vice Consul, with a lift of his eyebrows. A nod. ‘I was told not to visit the soldiers on the boat but we were so appalled by something like this happening I felt we had to find out. That is why we’ve invited you here. I took a risk in sending Basnet saheb …’ He broke off and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief.
Jason saw he was worried. ‘When I get back to Malaya I’ll try and arrange for a copy of our monthly newspaper for the soldiers, Parbate, to be sent to you. That way you will be able to keep track of events.’ He had a disturbing thought. ‘How many other people do you think have had similar wrong reports? There was no suspicion of anything like this when we were in Singapore.’
‘I can’t tell you. I have no idea at all.’
‘What would be your reaction if I asked you for permission to tell the British embassy here in Rangoon about it?’
The Consul looked uneasy, pondered, then said, ‘Only if you say you have heard it as a rumour from the Burmese and do not, I say again, not mention us or the King.’
‘Hajur, you can trust me, one hundred per cent. Please may I use your phone once you have given me the embassy number?’
It was given, grudgingly. After a delay in getting through, Jason asked to speak to the Defence Attaché.
‘Lieutenant Colonel James Heron speaking,’ came the crisp answer.
Jason recognised the voice of his first CO in 1/12 GR when they were made into a Gunner Regiment. ‘Colonel, you’ll never believe it. It is Captain Rance this end.’ He tilted the phone so that the two Nepalis could hear what was being said.
‘Where are you calling from?’
‘From a phone outside the dock area.’ On hearing that the Consul looked at Jason with renewed respect.
‘And what might you be doing in Rangoon, may I ask?’ The question was asked almost in fun.
‘I am OC Troops of a Gurkha leave party, sir. There will be some men who’ll know you. Could you come to SS Eastern Queen for a chat later on today or maybe tomorrow? We sail early morning on Friday.’
‘Yes, I’ll do that. It’s slack now and I’ll enjoy meeting up with you and hearing all your news.’
