though the traitor continued
his correspondence with Clive, his letters were of a very dubious
character, and Clive was in total ignorance as to his real intentions.
So doubtful, indeed, was he that, when only a few miles of ground and
the river Bhagirathi lay between him and the enemy, Clive felt the
position so serious that he called a council of war; and put to them
the question whether they should attack the nabob, or fortify
themselves at Katwa, and hold that place until the rainy season, which
had just set in with great violence, should abate.

All the officers above the rank of subalterns, twenty in number, were
present. Clive himself, contrary to custom, gave his vote first in
favour of halting at Katwa. Major Kilpatrick, who commanded the
Company's troops, Major Grant of the 37th, and ten other officers
voted the same way. Major Eyre Coote declared in favour of an
immediate advance. He argued that the troops were in high spirits, and
had hitherto been everywhere successful, and that a delay would allow
Monsieur Law and his troops to arrive. He considered that, if they
determined not to fight, they should fall back upon Calcutta. Charlie
Marryat supported him, as did five other officers, all belonging to
the Indian service.

The decision taken, the council separated, and Clive strolled away to
a grove, and sat down by himself. There he thought over, in his mind,
the arguments which had been advanced by both sides. He saw the force
of the arguments which had been adduced by Major Eyre Coote and
Charlie Marryat; and his own experience showed him that the daring
course is always the most prudent one, in fighting Asiatics. At last,
he came to a conclusion. Rising, he returned to the camp; and, meeting
Major Coote on the way, informed him that he had changed his mind, and
would fight the next day.

Charlie returned to his tent after the council broke up, disheartened
at the result. He was greeted by Tim.

"Shure, yer honor, Hossein is in despair. The water has filled up the
holes, where he makes his fires, and the rain has soaked the wood. Yer
dinner is not near cooked yet, and half the dishes are spoilt."

"It does not matter a bit, Tim," Charlie said. "You know I'm not
particular about my eating, though Hossein will always prepare a
dinner fit for an alderman."

"We are going to fight them tomorrow, yer honor, I hope," Tim said.
"It's sick to death I am of wading about here in the wet, like a duck.
It's as