Team Seven of Heroes; Short Tales 1 Chapter 3 & 4

Sea Port at Dover, South of London

3.

Watson leaned against the wall with his legs holding him upright while his left hand was on the wound that was bleeding from the dagger thrust. He felt the blood rushing out there. His fingers touched the area and reckoned he will live. There was no major organs affected but the gash of he wound was wide. The dagger used was a serrated edge blade and tore the flesh there. He reached for the hanker chief in his right pocket of the vest. He stuffed the cloth there to hold the blood circulation before he looked at the three assailants that nearly took his life. The trio was not amateurs but he had evaded them after a short chase in the dark streets.

“Damn you.” Watson cursed at the incident. He was just back from Afghanistan two days ago and looking for a residence then. He recalled that afternoon when the three funnels steam ship reached Dover, the port of his disembarkation to return back to England. He had changed into the civilian suit of the tweed design with the bow tie. His previous uniform was packed into the two suitcases he had then alongside with the newly acquired ‘Penang Lawyer stick’; a walking stick made from the licuala wood with the solid leaded round head. He caught his fancy of that stick at Bombay before he boarded the ship home. He liked the feel of it and was not as prominent like his faithful Webley or the set of small daggers that he was proficient with.

“Carry your bags, guvnor?” A porter offered him the service which he had then secured with the exchange of nods and later the coins when the he was brought to the nearby tavern to rest his weary feet. He took the table at the corner with the sight of the doorway and the rear door to the kitchen. It was his trained instinct then from his stay at India. He made his order of the bitter beer and some roast beef. He then sat down to enjoy his meal before he was interrupted by the presence of another officer at his table.

“Doctor Watson, I presume.” The doctor lowered his fork but his grip was firm on it. He looked up and saw the person who greeted him. It was a familiar face to him.

“Duncan McLeod, Doctor. You saved my life at the hills.” The Highlander introduced his name which had slipped the doctor’s mind but the recognition of face was one of his better skills. The other was still in his uniform but it looked like it was unwashed for some days, and the man bearded look did not say much of his previous attitude towards his wellbeing.

“Aye, I remembered.” Doctor Watson smiled and was not in the mood to have any company but the later took it as a gesture to be seated then. The man was thinner from when Watson last saw him three years ago on the hills. He saved the Highlander then from the wound, and soon had the soldier shipped to the nearby infirmary. Watson recalled the man had an infection and was soon overcome by bouts of fever. Watson had then himself was sent to the same infirmary when he was shot at the leg. He was given the berth next to the Highlander and being a doctor, he nursed the man back to health despite his wound. They soon became friends but soon after the Highlander was sent back to the front while Doctor Watson went to Mysore to serve the Raj there prior to his discharge. It was with the Raj that he met the two loves of his life; Pasha the daughter of the Raj, and later Nina. He had to admit that he was not a faithful man but he was hoping to put all that behind.

“I heard you were…You got discharged too.” Duncan laughed out loud. “I am happy to see you here. When did you arrive?”

“Just an hour ago. I was having my long delayed meal.” Watson tried to act cordial and yet he was hoping to get a quiet meal.

“Well, excuse me but I am elated to see one more familiar face.” Duncan smiled before he motioned for another drink from the bartender.

“I thought you would have…” Watson was cut off by the other. “The Highlands was it?”

“Going home to the Highlands? Well, I would have but the calling of this place kept me here. Six months now and counting.”

Watson knew the man was lying from his days of attending to patients telling him those white lies. He decided to push the issue that he knew was at hand then.

“I can give you some coins to you.” Watson reached for the purse inside his jacket but the other took offence.

“Doctor, I don’t want your charity. I best be leaving you now.” Duncan picked up the drink served then and moved off. The bartender was staring at the departing soldier and was intercepted by Watson gesture that he will pay. He later asked for a place to stay the night.

The room was small but it faced the front to the port area which was unfortunately noisy to the late night but the doctor was fast asleep soon after his meal. He came about just past midnight and stood there by the window looking at the foggy night of the area. He was to step back to bed when he saw a tussle between two men at the street. He recognized the figure then throwing the punch was Duncan. The other one fell to the ground and soon yelled for help. Three more men rushed out from the darker corners and confronted Duncan. At then, Watson still in his tweed suit minus the jacket grabbed the walking stick before he rushed to the level below. He unbolted the door and rushed at the fight. Duncan was then on the ground and was given the sounding of kicks to his body. The soldier was curled up avoiding the kicks when Watson arrived.

Watson jabbed the stick leaded head into the nearest assailant in the rear of the left kidney and then he swung the stick into the second assailant in the face with the leaded head. Both assailants went down but Watson was then stepping over the fallen soldier to deliver another blow to the third assailant into the left armpit and threw a solid left punch to the last assailant. All four assailants were then away from Duncan and allowed Watson to glance at him. He was hurt bad with his forehead and mouth bleeding.

“Back off! I got a gun.” Watson warned the four assailants but they were not giving up that easily. They drew out daggers that were popular with sailors then. Watson backed off to face the four men when he heard the sound of more people joining in. That caused the four assailants to retreat and soon Duncan was seated in the tavern beings served another drink which irked the bartender who had to assist Watson.

“Thanks, Doctor. I could had handled them.” Duncan wiped at the blood on his mouth with the left sleeve of his uniform.  Watson handed some coins to the bartender which bought Duncan the bench to sleep on.

It was morning when they spoke once more.

4.

It was a sober morning when Watson sat across the soldier whom he had saved from a savage beating the night before. He was still reeling from the encounter. He had seen Duncan or many like him then back then, but Duncan was adamant to press it on. Duncan then having taken his bitter taste of black tea by the pot sat there with his head hung low. He was still suffering from the withdrawal of the alcohol and tipped by the bruises, the man was embarrassed to face the doctor.

“Duncan, tell me what ails your mind to stay here for so long? You got a home as I was told by you then in the infirmary back North?” Watson laid the question plainly towards the other.

“I do, Doctor. I do but a man can’t go back without his …. pride and …riches. I had lost both soon after I returned here.” Duncan sighed. “A mate of mine had absconded with my earnings and took my other….”

“Whom that may be?” Doctor Watson asked. He had seen men who had returned ashamed to go home for they held another on their arms.

“It….” Duncan corrected herself. “She was from the continent. Her name was Sushila. A fine woman who had took me into her comfort after my days in the cold days and those steep hill trails. I had fallen for her and meant to have her for my …missus but I could not.”

“You mean your other one on the Highlands won’t accept her?” Watson asked then.

“Narry that thought. My missus had died last summer and ….She was a fine woman but the sickness took her. I am left without one and the home empty. So I brought Sushila back but the Army won’t allow it. They say I was to return alone and make passage for her later but she did not arrive. Not ever since. I have spent my days and nights here waiting. I got some who offered me the opportunity to get her here but they were all liars. They took my coins and I ….”

“Those you fought were the same rogues that took your money?”

Duncan nodded. Watson then offered him some money for the fare to go back to India and retrieve his love, if she was still there.

“She may still be there Maybe she missed the ship. Maybe…”

“No, I have checked the ship list. She was on the list but the crew told she had disembarked. Form there she went busy.”

The later then refused citing that he was not to take charity but offered to tell Watson a secret that may benefit the other.

“I know of the going on here at the port. I know of the smuggler and their loots. They are part of our old mates; officers included. The ones who bring in the slaves and then from here to the farms.” Duncan seemed to beam up in spirits then. “Let me take you there.”

“Hols on! I am not the Military Police.”

“Yes, but you are an officer, Doctor Watson. One that they can believe in when we reveal this. Bear with me on this.” The duo took to the street with a stop at the tea house. They sat down at the table below the canopy watching the people doing their morning chores. It was then Duncan told him the name.

“They named him the Mad Fakir.” Duncan told Watson.

“Saidullah the Sartor, or the Mullah of Mastun. I heard of the name.” Watson replied. “He was the master of the assassins of snipers. He was also mounting the resistance against us.”

“I hear tales that they are operating at the docks.” Duncan took a sip of the tea served there. “I will…”

Duncan was to see the dagger that stabbed him in the back. He took two more stabs before Watson was able to move. The doctor stood up but he was stopped by the stan into his left waist. He had moved on instinct and avoided the dagger cutting his liver but the wound was painful. The doctor moved his left elbow on reaction and caught the stabber in the face. He then turned his body and landed the right punch into the stabber chest. He then turned to look at Duncan who was then stabbed in the throat. The stabbers have all escaped.

“Sergeant Lestrade, I can assure you that I do not know them. I also knew Duncan only yesterday.” The Sergeant seated across the desk in the building that doubled up as the police station. The junior officer was a tall man in the blue uniform with the three stripes on the left forearm. That was nothing distinct about the man but he sprouted a walrus moustache. He was proud of it for he was pulling at it every other moment.

“I was having tea there and these men attack us.” Doctor Watson stuck to his version of the tale. His insistent paid out and soon he was back at his hotel room. He freshened up and redressed his wound. He then reached for his suitcase in the cupboard. He reached in and took out the familiar leather bag. It contained a shoulder holster that was designed tom hold two daggers on each side. The daggers were small and curved in design for easier withdrawal. There was another waist that held two more daggers on each side.

“I am back, my friends.” Watson shed his healer ego to be the older one; the killer.