The Flashman Papers: The Complete 12-Book Collection. George Fraser MacDonald
cut me off with a grimace and a jerk of his head towards the door. “I believe it was on the suggestion of her majesty’s secretary that I was called to audience,” says he clearly. “He was much impressed by your qualifications, and wished me, as a loyal servant of the Queen’s, to add my recommendations to his own. I told her what I could – that you were a distinguished officer in the British service – which does not compare, of course, to the glorious army of Madagascar – and that you were full of zeal to serve her in a military capacity.” He winked heavily at me, nodding, and I cottoned on.
“But of course!” cries I, ringing tones. “It is my dearest ambition – has been for years. I don’t know how many times the Duke of Wellington’s said to me: ‘Flash, old son, you won’t be a soldier till you’ve done time with the Malagassies. G-d help us if Boney had had a battalion of them at Waterloo.’ And I’m beside myself with happiness at the thought of serving a monarch of such graciousness, magnanimity, and peerless beauty.” If some eavesdropper was taking notes for the awful black b---h’s benefit, I might as well lay it on with a shovel. “I would gladly lay down my life at her feet.” There was a fair chance of that, too, if we had many gallops like that afternoon’s.
Laborde looked satisfied, and launched into raptures about my good fortune, and how blessed lucky we were to have such a benevolent ruler. He couldn’t say enough for her, and of course I joined in, writhing with impatience to hear what news he might have of Elspeth. He knew what he was doing, though, for while he talked he fiddled with a gourd on the table, and when he took his hand away there was a slip of paper under the vessel. I waited five minutes after he’d gone, in case of prying eyes, palmed it, and read it surreptitiously as I stretched out on the bed.
“She is safe in the house of Prince Rakota, the Queen’s son” (it read). “He has bought her. Have no fear. He is only sixteen, and virtuous. You shall see her when it is safe. Meanwhile, say nothing, as you value her life, and your own. Destroy this message instantly.”
So I ate the d----d thing, speculating feverishly on the thought of Elspeth helpless in the hands of a nigger prince who had probably been covering every woman within reach since he was eight. Virtuous, eh? Just like his dear mama? If he was such a b----y paragon, why had he bought her – to iron his linen? Laborde must be off his head – why, when I was sixteen, I know what I’d have done if I’d seen Elspeth in a shop window with a sale ticket on her. It was too horrible to contemplate, so I went to sleep instead. After all, whatever was happening to Elspeth, I’d had a trying day myself.
[Extract from the diary of Mrs Flashman, October—, 1844]
Madagaskar is the most Singular and Interesting Isle, and I count myself most fortunate to have been so kindly received here – which is due entirely to the Sagacity and Energy of my darling H., who somehow contrived most cleverly to slip ashore from Don S.’s ship and make arrangements for our Enlargement and reception. Oh, happy, happy deliverance!! I know not how he accomplished it, for I have not seen my Brave Hero since we landed, but my Love and Admiration for him know no bounds, as I shall make plain to him when once again I know the Rapture of being enfolded in his arms!
I am at present residing in the Palace of Prince Rakoota, in the capital city (whose outlandish name I cannot attempt to reproduce, but it sounds like a dinner bell being rung!), having been brought here yesterday after a journey of many Starts and Adventures. I was brought ashore from Don S.’s ship by some Black Gentlemen – so I must call them, for they are people of consequence, and indeed, everybody’s black here. Don S. protested most violently, and became quite distracted, so that the black soldiers had to restrain him – but I was not much moved, for his Importunities of late had been most marked, and his conduct quite wild, and I was Heartily Sick of him. He has behaved odiously, for despite his protestations of Devotion to me, he has put me to the greatest inconvenience, very selfishly – and dear H. also, who received a horrid Graze on his person.
I shall say no more of Don S., except that I am sorry so Refined and Agreeable a gentleman should have proved so wanting in behaviour, and been a deep Disappointment to me. But while glad to be shot of him, I was a trifle Uneasy with our Black hosts, the chief of whom I did not like at all, he was so Gross and Offhand, and stared at me in a horrid, familiar fashion, and even forgot himself so far as to handle my hair, growling to his friends in their Language (although he speaks tolerable French, for I heard him), so I addressed him in that Tongue, and said: “Your behaviour to a Gentlewoman is not becoming, sir, especially in one who wears the tartan of the 42nd, but I’m sure I suspect you have no right to it, for my Uncle Dougal was in the 93rd, and I never heard from him that any persons of your Colour were mustered in the Highland Brigade, not in Glasgow in any event. But if I am wrong I’m sure I apologize. I am very hungry, and where is my Husband?”
This being received in discourteous silence, they put me in a sedan or palankeen, and brought me into the Country, although I objected strenuously and spoke quite sharply, but to no avail. I was in such distress of mind at having no word of dearest H., or knowing where I was being taken, and the people we passed came to Stare at me, which was disagreeable, although they seemed to be in some awe, and I decided that it was, that they had never seen a Lady of fair Hair and Complexion before, they are that Primitive. But I bore this Insolence with Dignity and Reserve, and boxed one of them over the lugs, after which they kept a more respectful distance. To help compose my fears I gave myself into Tranquil Contemplation of the marvels I saw en route, the Scenery being beyond description, the flowers of Brilliant Colours, and the Animal life of boundless variety and interest – especially a darling little beastie called the Eye-Eye, which is half-monkey, half-rat with the drollest wistful eyes – which I suppose is why they call it Eye-Eye, and they won’t kill it. Its antics are diverting.
However, I shall write later at leisure on the Attractions of this singular countryside, when the Descriptive Muse is upon me. Also about the great city of Madagaskar, and my Introduction to his RH Prince Rakoota, by a French resident, M. La Board, who is on terms of Intimacy with the Prince. From him I learnt that dear H. has been engaged on Military Business of Importance by no less a Personage than HM The Queen of Madagaskar – and I jalouse that my darling very cleverly offered them his Services in exchange for our reception here. They, naturally, would be Eager to avail themselves of so Distinguished an Officer, which doubtless explains the Haste with which he left from the Coast, without even seeing me – which caused me some pique, although I am sure he knows best. I don’t quite understand it, but M. La Board impressed on me the delicate nature of the work, and since he and the Prince are insistent that nothing must prejudice it, I resign myself with Good Humour and composure to wait and see, as a good wife should, and only hope my Hero will soon be spared from his Duties to visit me.
I am v. comfortable in the Prince’s delightful Palace, and receive every Consideration and Kindness. The Prince is just a laddie, but speaks good French with a pretty hesitation, and is all amiability. He is v. black, well-grown and handsome, smiling readily, and I flatter myself he is more than a little fetched by me, but he is so young and boyish that an expression of Admiration which might be thought a little forward in a person more mature, may be excused in him as a natural youthful gallantry. He is a little shy, and has a wistful regard. I could wish that I had my proper wardrobe, for I am in some hope that, when dearest H. returns, he may take me to visit the Queen, who seems from all I have heard to be a Remarkable Person and held in great Esteem. However, if I am so Honoured, I shall make do with what I have, and rely on my natural breeding and appearance to uphold my Country’s credit among these People, for as our Beloved Bard has it, the rank is but the Guinea Stamp, and I’m sure that an English Lady may move Unashamed in any Society, especially if she has the Grace and Looks to carry it off.
[End of extract – “natural breeding”, indeed! And where did you come by that, miss? Paisley, like the rest of us!! – G. de R.]
a This spear was known as the “Hater of Lies”.