CHAPTER IX
_THE SPY_
So many accounts have been written of the events which took place inBengal about this time, that I shall omit as much as possible of thepublic transactions in which I was concerned, dealing rather with myown particular adventures in the midst of them.
Of Surajah Dowlah, at the time of his accession, I knew only what wasreported about him by common rumour in the settlement, which was thathe was a young man of cruel and vicious propensities, ill-disposedtowards the English in his country, and greedy for plunder. This wasenough to make me share the uneasiness about his intentions towardsus, which I found to prevail in the minds of Mr. Holwell, Mr. Byng,and other prudent persons. On the evening of the day on which I heardthis news, therefore, I went round to Mr. Rising's house, to speakwith Marian about her situation.
It was not quite dusk when I arrived, being the month of April. To mysurprise I found the outer gate leading into the garden close shut,and it was not till after knocking and shouting for many minutes thatthe Indian porter condescended to come and open it. Being angry withthe man for this unreasonable delay, I cuffed him as I passed in--forwithout some severities of this kind there is nothing to be done withthe natives of Bengal. The fellow, instead of cringing before me as isthe wont of these people, gave me a black look, and mutteredsullenly--
"The lord is harsh to his servant, but another may be harsher to thelord."
Not knowing at this time the wonderful intelligence which prevailsamong the Indians, so that news of all kinds travels about among themby underground channels of which Europeans are not permitted to know,I did not sufficiently understand the gravity of this threat.Dismissing it as a mere piece of insolence, however unusual, I walkedup to the house and opening the door for myself, came into the roomwhere Marian usually received me and which was the same I have alreadydescribed.
I found her sitting alone by the open window, in the dusk, looking outinto the river. As I walked in she turned with the uneasy start I hadremarked on former occasions, and rising hurriedly, came to meet me.
"Good evening, Marian," I said, taking her by the hand. "I should havebeen here sooner but for that surly gardener of yours, who kept mewaiting at the gate."
"I will speak to him about it," she answered.
It was not light enough for me to see her face, but I observed thatshe spoke in a tone of indifference, as if scarcely heeding what shesaid. At the same time she took her seat on the divan, and asked me tosit by her.
"Is your father well?" I asked, putting the question out of courtesy,for by this time we both knew that the poor man was ruined by hisdreadful habit, from which it was impossible he should ever bereleased.
"Yes, I think so. I have not seen him lately," she said, still withthe same distracted air.
I will confess, plainly, that I had begun to have fears for her, lesteither the ravages of the climate, or the sufferings she hadundergone, had wrought upon her mind.
"I come to bring you bad news," I went on. "The Nabob has died."
"So I have understood," Marian replied in the same listless way. Then,seeming to recollect herself, she added quickly--"I learnt the newsthis afternoon from a friend."
Since her arrival I knew that some of the ladies of the settlement hadshown Marian some kindness, inviting her to their houses occasionally.One of these ladies, I concluded, had been beforehand with me in myintelligence.
"I am glad to see you so easy under the circumstances," I said,feeling perhaps a little jealous. "I suppose you know that the newNabob is no friend to the Company, and that we may have trouble withhim before many months are past."
"I suppose it may be so. But though Surajah Dowlah may have groundsfor complaint against the Council here, I can't think he will carryhis resentment so far as to injure the peaceable inhabitants ofCalcutta."
I turned towards her, amazed.
"What do you say?" I cried. "You speak as though you were in theNabob's interests! Have you been listening to the talk of some Moor orother? If so, let me tell you that they are nothing but liars andtraitors, every mother's son of them!"
"You needn't be so fierce!" she returned, more warmly than she had yetspoken. "I have had no conversation with any Moor, or Gentoo either,upon the subject. Surely I may have leave to think as I choose,without being bound to take my opinions from Mr. Athelstane Ford!"
"Oh Marian, Marian!" I exclaimed bitterly, wounded by these unkindwords. "What have I done to forfeit your confidence? Have I not beenfaithful and true to you from the first hour of our acquaintance tillnow? You know that I am the best friend you have, and one who woulddie to serve you. Yet these several days past you have behaved to meas if you had plans which you wished to keep from me. Do you doubt ofmy being ready to do anything you should bid me, even if it were to goto Moorshedabad and enlist with Surajah Dowlah himself? Why are we notto be open with each other? You know I love you; I have told you sooften enough before we ever came out to this dreadful land; and Ithink I have shown myself ready to prove it as well. Even now I havecome here simply to provide for your safety. In a few days theunfavourable monsoon will set in, after which no ship can leave thecoast, but this week there is a vessel sailing for Madras, on which Iam able to secure a passage for you, and for Mr. Rising as well, if hewill go. I have come to offer you this opportunity, and entreat you toaccept of it. And if there are any who would persuade you to remain,depend upon it, they are your enemies and not your friends."
She heard me out, sitting quite still and showing no sign ofimpatience. But when I had finished she said--
"I thank you, Athelstane, for your kind intentions, and for yourgoodness in the past, of which I do not need to be reminded. As forwhat you say about your love for me, since you have spoken so plainly,I must needs tell you that I am not able to return it. I have tried,both on the voyage hither and since; and I have failed. Your lovingfriend I am, and hope to remain always, no matter what may happen topart us for a time. Nevertheless, I don't share your fears of whatthe Moors may do against us, and I will not leave Calcutta, though Ithank you for your offers."
She seemed as if about to say more, but stopped abruptly. Of the deepdistress which I felt to hear her declare that my love for her washopeless, I say nothing, for what can be said? There are some to whomthat great prize, the chief that life affords, namely the love of thewoman they have chosen, is granted, but to most men, I suppose, it isdenied; and I but shared the common lot. These things are the mostimportant in our lives, they leave bruises whose marks are never quiteeffaced; yet all passes secretly; the business of life goes on, theworld sees our actions, our outward triumphs and losses, and knows ofnothing else. There was not a soul in Calcutta who ever knew what hadpassed between Marian and me on this occasion, and yet those few wordswere a worse grief to me than all the other sufferings I had toendure; and in that single hour I was changed from a boy into a man.
After this I dared not press her again on the subject of leavingCalcutta. With a heavy heart I watched the last ship go down theHooghley on the way to England, and the very day after it had gone Ireceived a message in writing from Mr. Holwell, in these words--
"Haste to the Council meeting, and ask for me. We are in receipt of threatening letters from Moorshedabad, and need your services."
Not a little agitated, I thrust the letter into my pocket, andhastened round to Mr. Drake's, the Governor's house, where the Councilwas assembled, he being confined indoors by an illness. I sent in myname to Mr. Holwell, who immediately came out and fetched me into theroom where they were met.
Mr. Drake lay on a couch against one of the windows, while the othergentlemen were seated around in a circle, facing him. He was a stoutman with a red face, who had spent many years in the East Indies, andby dint of an important manner and never having been placed in anysituation of real difficulty, had passed down to this time for a veryprudent and capable person. On my entrance he spoke to me ratherperemptorily--
"You are Mr. Ford, are you not?"
/> I nodded.
"I am told that you speak the Indostanee language. Is that so?"
"Yes, sir," I said. "Mr. Holwell and Mr. Byng are aware of it."
"Very good." He nodded his head once or twice. "Those gentlemen haverecommended you to the Council as a discreet, intelligent young man,which I do not doubt you are. There is an employment which I have topropose to you, one which calls for those qualities, and also forcourage. The question is, young man"--he fixed his eyes on me verysternly--"do you think you possess courage?"
"I don't know," I answered bluntly, not much liking his manner ofquestioning me.
"Ha!" He gave a sort of sniff, and looked about him scornfully.
"But I have fought one duel, and am ready to fight another with anyone who doubts me," I said, speaking in a modest voice. And some ofthe gentlemen laughed and clapped their hands.
The Governor frowned severely.
"I believe, Mr. Ford, that you intend no disrespect to this Council byyour answer?" To this challenge I made no response. "Very good, Idaresay you may be equal to the commission we have to offer you. Youmust know that we have received letters from the newly proclaimedNabob of Bengal, complaining of certain improvements we have made inour defences. Those improvements were made in the prospect of theFrench war, but the Nabob chooses to regard them as directed againsthim. Now the point is this, that we believe information has beensupplied to Surajah Dowlah by some person in this town, not one of theIndians, but a European, who must have some means unknown to us ofcoming to and fro. We have set a watch, but are unable to detect him.Mr. Holwell has suggested that you might undertake this task, and byreason of your ability to communicate with the Gentoos in their ownlanguage, succeed in discovering this person; in which case we areprepared to pay you a very handsome reward."
I did not feel much inclined to this proposal at the first blush,considering that it carried little honour with it. But Mr. Holwell,who no doubt divined my objections, set himself to remove them.
"You will render the Company and the whole settlement a great serviceif you are able to effect this, Ford," he said. "The fact is that thepresence of a European spy, most probably a Frenchman, is a source ofvery great danger. There are many weak points in the fort, forinstance, which would be overlooked by a Moor, but of which fataladvantage may be taken if they are communicated to an enemy by anintelligent observer. I think it is your plain duty to assist theCouncil if you can."
"That is enough, sir; I will do my best," I replied.
The Governor then dismissed me, and the Council broke up. I believeletters were sent to Surajah Dowlah, to explain the circumstanceswhich had awaked his suspicions, but without any good effect.Meanwhile Mr. Holwell carried me to his house, where we laid our plansfor the detection of the spy.
It was settled that I should assume the dress of a Moor, and in thatcharacter should pass my time about the fort and adjacent grounds,that being the place to which a person seeking information would bemost likely to repair. Mr. Holwell provided me with a turban, jacket,and blue trousers, and I stained my face with a pigment which heassured me would not easily come off. At the same time I wore ascymetar in my belt, and put a pair of pistols in my bosom. Thusdisguised I went out for a walk through the bazaars, and had thesatisfaction to observe that I was everywhere taken for a Moor. Butwhen I spoke I was not so successful, my practise in the language notbeing sufficient to impose upon the Indians.
As soon as I had satisfied myself by this experiment that my disguisewas accurate, I returned towards the fort, and commenced walking aboutit, observing the persons who came in and out on their business. Butthough my suspicions were once or twice attracted to different ones,yet I found nothing to go upon. In this way not only one day passed,but several others, and I began to despair of success.
On the fourth day of my watch, however, about seven o'clock in theevening, as I happened to be looking abroad of the river, which ishere pretty wide, and contained a good deal of small shipping, Inoticed a man in a boat, which he rowed himself, who appeared to belurking about for no very honest purpose. Instead of either landing orgoing off in some fixed direction, this man plied to and fro, closeunder the wall of the fort, which he seemed to examine very closelyfrom time to time. As well as I could make out he was a Moor, and myinstructions were to watch for a Frenchman, yet I was rendered souneasy by the movements of this individual that I resolved to go outon the water, and examine him more closely. Accordingly I left theplace where I was, near the north gate of the fort, and strolled downto a small flight of stairs on the river bank, where some boats layfor hire. Stepping into one of these, I cast off, and taking the oars,which I had learned to handle during my term of service on board the_Talisman_, rowed slowly out towards the spy, as I believed him to be.
When he saw me coming towards him, he at first pulled a few strokes asif to make away, but being, as I suppose, reassured by the sight of mycostume, he ceased rowing and waited for me to come up alongside.Glancing round from time to time as I drew near, I soon perceived thatI had no Frenchman to deal with, or at least that, if I had, he hadtaken the same precaution as myself in assuming the dress of thecountry. Feeling desirous to test him, I hailed as soon as I came up,in the native tongue.
"Does my lord seek for anything that his servant may procure him?" Isaid, using their fulsome style.
He at once replied, in what was evidently a phrase learnt by rote--
"I cannot speak your language, but I am a friend of Omichund."
Now this Omichund was a great, rich Gentoo, a banker and merchant who,having made huge profits as a broker in the matter of the Company'sinvestment for many years, had recently had his services dispensedwith, and was believed to be disaffected on that account, and incorrespondence with the Moorish Court. I needed no more to convince methat this was most likely the man whom I had been employed toapprehend. Not daring to speak English, and it being useless toaddress him in the Indostanee, I made signs that he should follow me,and commenced to row to the shore.
But here I was disappointed, for the fellow, instead of following me,at once began to move off in the opposite direction. Seeing this I atonce turned, shouting after him, and pointing where I would have himgo. He merely grinned and rowed further off, nor was it any betterwhen I showed him one of my pistols, for he then merely increased hisspeed, so that I was obliged to pick up my oars again pretty quicklyin order to pursue him.
Seeing that it was become a race between us, he bent to his oars, andI did the same, so that the two boats flew down the river, one abouttwelve lengths behind the other. But taking advantage of a string ofbarges which lay anchored out in the stream, he presently dodged me,running in round the tail of the line, and so altering his course upthe stream. If I had not turned my head constantly to watch him, Ishould soon have lost him among the shipping, and these frequentturnings hindered my rowing, so that I could not gain on the otherboat so fast as I should otherwise have done. For I soon perceivedthat I was the better rower of the two, or else had the quicker boat;and the spy seemed to perceive it too, for after taking me somedistance up the middle of the river, he suddenly struck off towardsthe bank, rowing hard for a house which had come in sight, standing onthe river's edge.
As we approached this house I could just see (for it was growing dark)a large window standing open, not above a man's height from the water.To this my fellow rowed, and having brought his boat beneath it, threwdown his oars, stood up on the gunwale, and with a desperate leapwhich nearly sunk the boat, gained the sill of the window anddisappeared inside.
But I was close behind, running up against the side of his boat at themoment when he passed in at the window, so that by imitating histactics I was able to leap through immediately after him. I stumbledin alighting, picked myself up, and glanced round, to perceive the manI had been pursuing standing over against me with a pistol in hishand. The next moment I had recognised the room, and there was Marianstanding up with a distressed face, one hand on her bosom and theother stretched out b
etween us.
"Stand back!" shouted the spy to her in English, in a voice that Icould have recognised anywhere in the world. "This is a damned Indianspy, whom I will kill as soon as I have questioned him."
"You lie, Rupert Gurney," says I, quite calm and cold, as I drew outmy own pistols and stood facing him. "'Tis you are the spy, in theservice of a vile, treacherous, Moorish tyrant, to whom you wouldbetray your countrymen."
I do not think I have ever seen a man so overwhelmed as was Rupert bythose words, though the surprise of this encounter must in realityhave been less to him than it was to me, since Marian had of coursetold him of my being in Calcutta. His jaw dropped, and he ceased topresent his pistol at me, no doubt being well aware that I would nottake him at a disadvantage.
"Yes," I continued, "not satisfied with your piracies and murders, forwhich you are justly afraid to show your face in any Englishcommunity, you are now become a traitor and a public enemy. You havehired yourself out to that bad man, Surajah Dowlah, and go about todeliver your fellow Christians into the hands of Mussalmans andheathen."
"Not so fast, young man," says Rupert, resuming his natural insolence."Your reproaches are unfair in one particular at least. I am no longera Christian, having exchanged that religion for the more convenientand profitable one of the Alcoran."
He added a coarse jest which I am ashamed to write down, and which ayear or two before I believe he would have been ashamed to utter. Ihave heard that residence in the East Indies has this effect upon somemen, to change their characters to evil, so that when they return toEurope they are no longer fit for the decent society of their owncountry. And though my cousin Gurney was an unscrupulous and daringyoung man before ever he left Norfolk, yet I believe he was alteredfor the worse after his visiting those parts.
Marian, standing terrified between us, now interfered to say--
"Be silent, Rupert, if you please. And you, Athelstane, since youperceive your cousin is here under my father's roof, I entreat you toretire as you came."
"I cannot, Marian," says I, very firm. "I am charged to take thattraitor and villain, and I will do it, dead or alive."
In spite of his bravado I could see Gurney wince under these words,though he affected to make light of them.
"Leave us together, girl," he said to Marian. "I will tame this youngcockerel, as I would have done before if he had fought me fairly, withthe weapons agreed to be used by us."
My blood boiled to hear this shameful taunt.
"You coward!" I cried, "I spared your life once, as you well know, andthen you would have murdered me in cold blood because the cutlassbroke that I had of a Jew! But I will fight you now with sword,pistol, or both, and this time I swear that you shall not escape withyour life."
But Marian would not consent to this.
"You are not to fight," she exclaimed. "Do you hear me, AthelstaneFord? Your cousin wants nothing but to be allowed to go away insafety; and would you be the one to deliver your own blood up tojustice? For shame!"
"Shame, indeed!" I retorted bitterly, all the anguish that was pent upin my heart breaking out. "Shame that I who have loved and served you,and delivered you out of the prison where this very man had put you,should be asked to spare him now by you, whom he has never trulyloved, whom he has betrayed and slighted, and is ready to betrayagain. I know not, though I can guess, by what wheedling tale he hascozened you to forgive him, and to lend him shelter and protection inhis base designs; but do you think, Marian, that that villain standingthere will care for you one moment longer than you can be of use tohim, and that he will not leave you to a worse fate than before whenhe has done with you, and that without the least compunction? I haveloved you a long time, Marian, but I have never understood you, and ifthis is your intention then I think you cannot be in your true mind."
I looked to see her break out and weep, but she did not. She cast hereyes to the ground, and said, when I had finished, speaking low--
"I think you are right, and that perhaps I am not in my true mind. Forthere are times when I know and see all the falsehood and wickednessof this man's heart as well as ever you can tell it me, and yet I tellyou, to my own bitter shame, that I love him so that if he bids mefollow him into any disgrace or crime, God help me, I cannot refuse!"