The horrendous deaths of those who had been poisoned by the river water left a bitter warning to the other members of the regiment. All walked on through the jungles on paths that barely resembled roads anymore. At different times, often totally without warning, huge temples soared over them, their pinnacles climbing higher than any building the men had seen since arriving in India. Here, there were wells and the men would drink thirstily, trying to fill their flasks from the large buckets. The barrels would be filled and the men journeyed on. It was hoped that they would reach Calcutta before the monsoon season began, but each man present wished that the heavens would open and pour down any amount of rain upon them.

“I do not understand why we did not return to the port in the south,” Fotherby mutt...

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