The Old Man

Farley was behind his desk in his office, in the middle of the steaming tropical morning, with a gin and tonic sitting in front of him, with a dash of bitters. His eyes were half closed, and he was starting to nod off, sweating in his whites.....outside, the fort was small and frail looking, stuck as it was in the immensity of the green throbbing jungle.....strange birds made strange calls in the heavy air.....beasts slinked and darted here and there.....drums throbbed in the distance, unceasing for days now.....Bentworth, the aide-de-camp, stood in the doorway with a piece of paper in his hand, trying to decide if the Brigadier was asleep or awake....Bentworth finally clicked his booted heels and said "Sir!"

Jerking back to life, the Old Man focused on his aide, and asked him what news?

"Sir," replied Bentworth "The word from Captain Spaulding is that the natives have risen in force all along the Kumbazzie.....Fort William is over-run, no word of survivors." Bentworth refers to his piece of paper....."Telegraphic report from River Station North is that the garrison there is under siege as it were, surrounded by hostiles.....but the lines are still up, as of a half-hour ago anyway.....and Mr. Beacker managed to get his steamboat under way before the savages could capture it, and he is on his way down river, with some of the settlers on board....I don't have a list of names....."

Farley struggled to get a grasp on what he was being told.....the drums kept pounding out in the jungle..... the relentless heat and light flooded through the windows and door.....he drained off his gin and tonic.....

"Well then Bentworth, let's have the troops called to the ready and we'll show these locals what's what, eh?"