CHAPTER THE TWENTY-THIRD
Ordeal
The underground chamber in which Ahmed was confined was perfectly dark.The floor was damp; the air stuffy. He leant for a while against thewall, ruminating on this sudden check in his fortunes. That Minghal Khanhad not killed him at once showed that he was reserved for a worse fate.And what had Minghal meant by the reference to Rahmut Khan? His wordsseemed to imply that he supposed father and son to have entered Delhitogether, and to be engaged in some scheme against him. Ahmed was for atime at a loss to understand what had given rise to this belief. WasMinghal unaware that Rahmut was a prisoner of the English? But then heremembered the conversation he had overheard in the room above. This"old rogue," this Asadullah, of whom the officers had spoken--could itbe that he was Rahmut Khan? He was a Pathan--so much all Delhi knew; wasit possible that the old chief had been released, or had escaped fromprison, and had come into the city to wreak vengeance on the sahibs?This was a course he was very likely to follow: yet Ahmed hoped that itwas not so; he did not like to think of his adoptive father and himselfbeing on opposite sides.
Then he fell a-wondering how long he was to remain thus mewed up. Andremembering the talk of a great onslaught to be made on the Britishlines on the morrow, he was dismayed. If Minghal Khan went out to fighthe might remain absent for a whole day or more; he might, indeed, nevercome back; and then, unless a way could be found out of this dungeon, orsome one came to release him, he might starve to death. The thought madehis blood run cold, and in a sudden frenzy he began to strain at hisbonds, trying to tear the staple from the wall and to snap the links ofthe chain. But from this he soon desisted; his struggles were useless;he only bruised himself. His exertions and the stuffiness of the roomhad made him hot; he was parched with thirst.
He sank down upon the floor, and squatted there, trying to calm himself.There was perfect silence. By and by he fell into a doze, and woke witha start in confusion of mind, from which he was roused by the clank ofhis chain as he moved. How long had he been asleep? Was it night or day?The profound stillness oppressed him; if he could but have heard someslight sound he would not have felt so utterly desolate. Schoolinghimself to patience, he tried to kill time by repeating aloud all thewords of English he could remember, attempting to copy the accent ofHodson Sahib. He was surprised to find how many words came to his tonguewith the effort. But speech was difficult to a dry throat. He lay downand slept again: maybe presently Minghal would relent so far as to bringhim food.
Thus between sleeping and waking he passed the long hours--he knew nothow many; and was vividly conscious of his discomforts, when at last heheard the light shuffling of feet in the corridor outside the room. Thena light shone through the thin crack at the bottom of the door; the keyturned in the lock, and three figures entered. The first was MinghalKhan; then came the darwan with a lamp; the other was a stranger. Andeven Minghal wore a different look. His eyes were haggard; a hugebandage swathed his head; one arm was in a sling.
"Thou art yet alive, thou son of a dog," said Minghal. "It is well."
He bade the darwan hold the light nearer to Ahmed.
"Now hearken to me, and do my bidding," said Minghal again. "I have herea munshi, who will write the words thou sayest. Thou wilt send a messageto Rahmut Khan, the rogue that calls himself thy father, and say to himthat thou art in the hands of enemies. The bearer of thy letter is a manto be trusted, and if thy father will accompany him, he will bring himto the place where thou art, so that a plan of escape may be devised."
"And how shall my father know that this is a true letter from me, seeingthat it will be written by a hand he knows not?" said Ahmed. It waswell, he thought, that Minghal should still believe him to have come tothe city with his father.
"Thou canst at least write thy name, or make some mark that he willknow."
"I can do so much, it is true. And what if I do this thing?"
"I will set thee free before another sunrise."
"And dost thou think I do not see through thy wile, nor know thenaughtiness of thy heart? Let thy munshi write; I will set no hand toit."
"Dog, dost thou deny me? Knowest thou not that I can slay thee wherethou standest, or keep thee without bread to eat and water to drinkuntil thou diest?"
"I know; but I have said."
"Thou fool! I will bring thee to a better mind; aye, or so serve theethat thy mind will utterly go from thee. Shall a whelp defy me? Go,darwan, bring bread and water."
The darwan set his lamp on the floor and went out. When he returned withthe bread and water, Minghal bade him put them down just beyond Ahmed'sreach with his chain at full length.
"See!" cried the furious man. "There is bread, but thou canst not eatit; water, but thou canst not drink it. Chew thy thoughts, for thou wilthave nought else to chew until thou dost bend thy stubborn neck and doeven as I have commanded. I will come again in the morning; perchancethy rumination in the dark will give thee counsel."
And having struck Ahmed across the face, he went away with the two men,and locked the door after him.
For a time Ahmed was so much enraged at the indignity he had sufferedthat he could think of nothing else. But when calmness returned hereflected on what had happened. Minghal must be mad to suppose that hewould lend himself to so transparent a trap. And yet could he endure? Hestrained towards the food, but stretching his full length on the floorhe could not touch it; yes, the tips of his fingers just touched the jarof water. He scratched at it, hoping that it would turn and come alittle nearer; but his movements had the opposite effect, and soon hislongest finger could not even feel the vessel.
He drew back, and huddled on the damp stones. The torture in storeterrified him; could he withstand it? His tongue was parched; he feltgnawing pains; his brow was damp with fear. He closed his eyes, perhapsdeath would come in sleep. But now he could not even sleep; there seemedto be a hammering at his brow; wild thoughts chased one another throughhis brain. He got up and walked about at the utmost tether of his chainuntil the clank of the metal became itself a torture. Then he moved hisarms in the motions of drill; he felt that only by action could he wardoff madness.
So the hours dragged on. Surely the sun had now risen. Why had notMinghal returned? When he did return Ahmed would beg as a boon to beslain at once. He listened for footsteps. There was none. He walkedabout again; then stopped, fancying he heard another sound besides theclanking of the chain. But the stillness was as of the grave. He laydown, covering his head with his arms; if he could but sleep! And he wasat last falling into the slumber of exhaustion when a slight soundstruck upon his ear. Or was it a dream sound? Every sense was strung tothe highest tension. He strained his ears; he must have been mistaken.But no; that was a sound, a creak. Minghal was returning. He got up, andhis chain clanked. He stood motionless. Why did not the door open? Therewas another creak, and another interval of silence; and then he felt asudden slight gust of fresher air strike his cheek; surely the door wasopen. Next moment there was a click, a spark, and in the sudden flash hethought he saw a figure in the room. Another spark, followed by a redglow, that grew brighter, and then a low bluish flame. It was thekindling of a lamp, and behind it he saw Kaluja Dass.
"Hush!" said the khansaman in a whisper. "Here is food and drink."
Ahmed seized upon the jar of water and drank his fill, then upon thebread covered with honey, and ate ravenously.
"I cannot set you free," said the khansaman, still in a whisper. "Thetyrant has sworn he will dismiss us all if you escape, and I have tothink of the master. I took the vile one's keys from his raiment as heslept. I must go back lest he wakes. I will come again. The sahib knows:we will try to think of some plan."
"What is doing?" whispered Ahmed. "Why is Minghal swathed?"
"He fought and was wounded. And, moreover, he is shamed before the king.His men assailed the serai of Asadullah, and the king is wroth withhim."
"This Asadullah--who is he?"
"A warrior that serves the king, with three hundred m
en."
"What manner of man?"
"An old man with white beard, of good stature and noble presence. Hewears a red turban; he is from the hills."
"He is my father."
"Sayest thou? Then will I go to him and acquaint him with thy plight.Verily he will know how to deal with the evil man."
Ahmed was tempted to agree; but with second thoughts he saw that thekhansaman must not do what he had said. Rahmut Khan was among themutineers: he could not assist Ahmed without compromising them both.Only if Ahmed threw in his lot with the rebels would it be fair to askthe old chief to intervene in his behalf. And Ahmed was one of Lumsden'sGuides; he had eaten the sahibs' salt; he was of the sahibs himself: theGuides were true to their allegiance.
"It may not be, good khansaman," he said. "Presently, thou wiltunderstand."
"Allah be with thee!" said the khansaman.
"And with thee, khansaman."
The servant took away the vessels in which he had brought the food, andwent out with stealth as he had entered. There was left no trace of themeal. Ahmed laid himself down again; his body was comforted, the lightof hope soothed his mind, and at last he slept.
Some hours later he was wakened by the entrance of Minghal. The sameproposition was put to him: he rejected it with scorn. Minghal wasamazed to find him still obdurate. The food was untouched on the floor.Would nothing quell the spirit of this youth? He tried to beat down hiscaptive's resolution, and failing, went away in a rage, declaring thathe would yet starve him into submission.
Ahmed found it easier to endure the slow-dragging hours of the long day.In the dead of night the khansaman again came to him with food. He saidthat the doctor sahib had bidden him release the prisoner, even at therisk of compromising his own safety. But Ahmed refused to allow it. Hehad been sent into Delhi to help the doctor, and could not consent toanything that would endanger him. His refusal gave the khansaman evidentrelief. Once more the servant offered to inform Asadullah of his son'splight, and Ahmed, in declining, thought it well to explain his reasons.The khansaman scoffed at them; he did not understand such scruples; andthough he did not say so, he went away with the determination to seekout the old chief the next day when he went to market.
He left with Ahmed a file with which he might so far cut his fetters asto be able to break loose if occasion offered, and he advised him tofeign exhaustion at Minghal Khan's next visit. After so many hourswithout food even the strongest must collapse, and if the captive werestill found unaltered Minghal's suspicion would certainly be aroused.
Meanwhile Minghal had been occupied with his own concerns. He had nointention of paying the fine inflicted on him, and at a privateinterview with the king, with the assistance of Mirza Akbar Sultan andthe eloquent testimony of his own wounds, he talked the old man over,and the sentence was remitted. When this reached the ears of RahmutKhan, the old chief was furious, and resolved to take matters into hisown hands. He had not only his old quarrel with Minghal to settle: therewere the two fierce attacks made upon him during the short time he hadbeen in Delhi; there was also the attempt to betray him to the enemy. Itwas not Rahmut Khan's way to instigate attacks which he was not himselfprepared to carry through. His men were incensed against Minghal'sregiment, and that Minghal feared reprisals was shown by the fact thathe had now garrisoned his house with a score of men.
Rahmut planned an attack on the house after sunset with a hundred of hisfollowers. Their approach was spied by the darwan before they actuallyreached the house. He promptly bolted the gates and ran to give thealarm. Minghal took advantage of the breathing space to beat a hastyretreat through the back entrance, and hurried to Bakht Khan with thenews.
It was some time before Rahmut's men forced an entrance, so solid werethe doors. They had scarcely broken in when the commander-in-chiefarrived on the spot at the head of a considerable body of picked men.There was a stormy scene between him and Rahmut, who, however, could notbut yield to superior force. He was more enraged than ever, especiallybecause during the short time they had been in the house his men hadgained little plunder, all the valuables having been sold to supply thewants of Minghal Khan. The old chief was led away under arrest, andcarried straight to the palace. The king was in no mood to overlook thisdirect transgression. All day he had been harassed by reports of theill-treatment of residents by the sepoys. It was intolerable, he cried,that his peaceable subjects should be harassed and threatened bysoldiers who had come to the city with the avowed object of destroyingthe English. Still more intolerable was it that the soldiers shouldattack one another.
"I see clearly," said the wretched monarch, "that the English will takethe city, and kill me."
"Be of good cheer, illustrious one," said one of his officers. "Do thouput thy hand on our heads, and without doubt we shall be victorious."
And then, to the number of a hundred and fifty, they filed past him, andas he placed his hand on the head of each he said, "Go thou with hasteand win victory on the Ridge." And they begged him to lay a severepenalty on this Pathan stranger, Asadullah, who had come to trouble thecity. Then up spoke Bakht Khan, ever blunt of address.
"Punish Asadullah," he said, "it is but right; but punish Minghal also.They are arrows of one quiver. The Arab horse gets whipped and theTartar is fondled. I am weary of Minghal Khan."
But the covetous officials knew that Minghal was poor, whereas rumourascribed to Asadullah the possession of great treasures of plunder. Thetreasury was empty. That very day a message came from Gwalior to theeffect that the whole army there was willing to place itself at theking's service, and he petulantly made answer: "I say there is no moneyfor their support. We have here in the city 60,000 men, but they havenot been able to win one clod of dirt from the English." The opportunityof gaining something for the treasury was too good to be thrown away. Atthe instance of his sycophants the king demanded a heavy fine fromRahmut. The chief, curbing his wrath, begged until morning to get themoney. Before morning dawned, he had his men saddled up, and the momentthe gates were opened he dashed through the streets at the head of hisforce, rode out by the Ajmir gate, and fled away into the open country.Before the news reached the palace, before any one could think ofpursuit, the old Pathan was out of sight.
Night being as day to Ahmed in his dungeon, he set to work at once withthe file the khansaman had given him. The links of his chain were ofsoft iron, and with ready wit he thought of a way by which he might fora time disguise the fact that his fetters were loosed. He filed throughone of the links, and then a portion of the next one, until he was ableto pass this thinned portion through the gap he had made in the first.If, therefore, he should be suddenly disturbed, he could at once replacethe links, and, by turning one of them round so that the portion yetunfiled was brought against the part that was cut, the chain mightappear to be still unbroken.
As soon as he was free he made a tour around his dungeon, rather by wayof distraction and to stretch his legs than with any idea of making adiscovery that would further his escape.
The vault was pitch dark. He had seen it by the light of the oil-lampduring the visits of Minghal and the khansaman, but taken no particularnote of it. He now went round it, feeling the walls with his hands. Theywere of rough-hewn stones; there was no variation except at the door. Heshook that: it was locked fast. He went back to the staple and sat down;after a time, having nothing better to do, he started again, andexamined the door by touch more carefully. There was no handle, not evena keyhole on the inside. Thinking he heard footsteps, he retreated sohastily that he narrowly escaped overturning the pitcher of water. Itwas a false alarm. Once more he went round the walls, this time in theopposite direction.
And now, as he drew his hand along the wall, he fancied that one of theslabs of stone protruded a little further into the room than the others.All the stones were rough and ill-fitting, but this protuberance awokehis curiosity. Had he detected a slight movement as he first pressed it?He pushed hard at it--upwards, downwards, sideways, but without result.Surely he had
been mistaken. He would try again. This time he pushedgently, and thrilled all through when he felt an indubitable movement,though very slight. Now, instead of pushing, he pulled outward. Thestone yielded. He pulled harder; it moved reluctantly, but it did move,and by and by he was able to get his fingers round the edge of the slab.Another pull, and it came a few inches from the wall, then stopped.
He was puzzled. He pushed at the stonework immediately around the slab.There was no result. He tried a few feet to the right--in vain; then tothe left. Something seemed to give slightly. A harder push, and the slabmoved inward, slowly revolving on a vertical axis until it stoodperpendicular to the surface of the wall.
With beating heart he crawled through the opening, and found himself ina stone passage, so low that he had to stoop, so narrow that there wasnot an inch to spare on either side. In a dozen paces he reached theend--a dead stone wall. There must be an outlet, but where? He felt overthe wall and discovered a protuberance similar to that in the room hehad left. He pushed and pulled in the same way; the slab moved; a lightshone through the crack between it and the wall. He peeped through.There was Craddock Sahib reading at his little table by the light of alamp.
The doctor was amazed, delighted, perplexed, at once. Ahmed rapidlyexplained the discovery he had made, then hurried back through thepassage, closed the slab opening into his cell, and returned. He learntfrom the doctor of the recent attack on the house by Asadullah, and thatthe khansaman, in spite of his wishes to the contrary, had gone off thatmorning to find the old chief, and inform him of his son's plight. Ahmedseized on the attack as affording an explanation of his escape. Minghalwould believe readily enough that the prisoner had been rescued by hisfather, even though the fact that the door was still locked shouldsavour of mystery. Thus the khansaman would be in no danger ofdismissal.
The question was: how was Ahmed to escape from the house and the city?There was no longer any safety in his disguise, even if the khansamancould procure a beard to replace that of which Minghal had stripped him.It was the khansaman himself who, when he returned, suggested a way.Sepoys' uniforms were easily to be got; he would obtain one at his nextvisit to the bazar; clad in that and provided with arms, Ahmed mustmarch out with a mutinous regiment and take an opportunity of escapingfrom them. He would, it was true, run the risk of being shot himself asa rebel; but among risks there was little to choose. The khansaman wouldacquaint him with a favourable time for making the attempt.
Ahmed remained for several days in the doctor's company. They heard fromthe khansaman of Minghal's fury when he discovered the disappearance ofhis prisoner. As Ahmed had guessed, he imputed it to the agency ofRahmut Khan, and regarded the locked door merely as an additional proofof the malicious cunning of the old chief. At last the uniform and thearms were provided, and one morning very early, before the household wasastir, Ahmed was cautiously let out of the house by the khansaman. A fewhours later he joined himself unquestioned to a body of troops made upof many different components, ordered to reinforce the mutineers holdingthe suburb of Kishenganj. There was some delay as they marched past theMosque. Some one had told the king that the sepoys, clamorous for pay,were about to attack him in his palace, and orders were sent through thecity that not a soldier should move until the report had beeninvestigated.
While the soldiers stood at ease near the Mosque, Ahmed noticed Fazl Hakmoving leisurely among the onlookers, occasionally addressing a word ortwo to the sepoys he passed. As he came near, Ahmed accosted him.
"Salaam, worthy maulavi, what is the news?"
Fazl Hak stopped; he looked surprised, then took Ahmed a little apart.
"There is no news, sepoy," he said in a low tone, "later than thiscommand of the king."
"Hast thou not heard of the fifteen elephants taken from the Englishyesterday?"
"Nay, I had not heard of that."
"Hai! that is strange. Nor that a fakir departed from the city yesterdayto travel to Peshawar, and cut the throat of Jan Larrens?"
"Sayest thou?"
"Nor that a black-bearded banijara selling shawls was lately stripped ofhis beard and shown to be as smooth of cheek as I myself--a wretched spyof the Feringhis?"
"Hai! I know of such a banijara, and I could have said he would provebut a broken reed as a spy."
"And dost thou not know that our great Bakht Khan has driven a hundredmines beneath the Ridge, and when the moon is full the Feringhis willall be blown to little pieces?"
Fazl Hak threw a keen sidelong look at this informative sepoy.
"Though I would not counsel thee to write word of that on thy littlescrolls to Hodson Sahib," added Ahmed, lowering his voice to a whisper.
The maulavi started; an angry flush suffused his cheeks.
"Thou misbegotten son of----!" he exclaimed; but Ahmed interrupted him.
"Let it be peace, good maulavi," he said. "There is little thou dost notknow; thou knowest now that the Pathan trader was not such a sorry spy,since I am he. It is pardonable for a man to prove himself, to one ofsuch honoured merit as thou."
"Thou sayest well," said the maulavi, somewhat mollified. "When thetroubles are over, come to me; I will pay thee well."
"Nay, I have other service. But if thou hast aught now that thou wouldstsend to Hodson Sahib, deliver it to me; I go to him."
Without hesitation Fazl Hak took from beneath his thumbnail a tinyscroll of paper, which he handed secretly to Ahmed, and then with anegligent salutation he walked slowly away.
Ahmed's conversation with the maulavi attracted little attention amongthe sepoys. And when, after a delay of two hours, the order came tomarch, he went with them out from the Ajmir gate, and into Kishenganj.
At dead of night he crept out very stealthily, stole along thetree-shaded road until he reached the Jumna canal, then stripped off histell-tale red coat, and swam across. Hastening along the further bankfor half-a-mile, he struck northward through the gardens on theoutskirts of Sabzi Mandi, and just before dawn reached a picket ofIrregular Native Cavalry. Half-an-hour later he was in Hodson's tent,relating his discovery of Craddock Sahib, and much more that Hodsonregarded as of greater importance.