Chapter 29: In which our hero does not win the Battle of Plassey:but, where all do well, gains as much glory as the rest.
Leaving Mr. Toley to bring the Good Intent up to Calcutta, Desmondhurried back in advance and remained in the town just long enough toinform Mr. Merriman of the happy result of his adventure and to changeinto his own clothes, and then returned to Chandernagore on horseback, ashe had come. He found Clive encamped two miles to the west of the fort.No reply having reached him from Monsieur Renault, Clive had read thedeclaration of war as he had threatened, and opened hostilities by anattack on an outpost.
"You've no need to tell me you've succeeded, Burke," he said when Desmondpresented himself. "I see it in your eyes. But I've no time to hear yourstory now. It must wait until we have seen the result of the day'sfighting. Not that I expect much of it in this quarter. We can't take theplace with the land force only, and I won't throw away life till theadmiral has tried the effect of his guns."
The French in Chandernagore were not well prepared to stand a determinedsiege. The governor, Monsieur Renault, had none of the military genius ofa Dupleix or a Bussy. With him were only some eight hundred fighting men,of whom perhaps half were Europeans. Instead of concentrating his defenseon the fort, he scattered his men about the town, leaving the weakestpart of his defenses, the eastern curtain, insufficiently manned.
He believed that Admiral Watson would find it impossible to bring hisbiggest ships within gunshot, and fancied that by sinking some vessels atthe narrowest part of the river he would keep the whole British fleetunemployed--a mistake that was to cost him dear.
By the night of March fourteenth Clive had driven in the outposts. Theimmediate effect of this was the desertion of two thousand Moors sent toRenault's assistance by Nandkumar the faujdar of Hugli. A continuousbombardment was kept up until the nineteenth, when Admiral Watson arrivedfrom Calcutta with the Kent, the Tyger, and the Salisbury.
Next morning an officer was despatched in a boat to summon Renault oncemore to surrender. Rowing between the sunken vessels, whose masts showedabove water, he took soundings and found that with careful handling themen-o'-war might safely pass. Once more Renault refused to surrender. Hisoffer to ransom the fort was declined by the admiral, who the same nightsent the master of the Kent to buoy the channel. Two nights later, inpitch darkness, several English boats were rowed with muffled oars to thesunken vessels. Their crews fixed lanterns to the masts of these in sucha way that the light, while guiding the warships, would be invisible fromthe fort.
Early next morning Clive captured the battery commanding the riverpassage, and the three British ships ran up with the tide. The Kent andTyger opened fire on the southeast and northeast bastions, and these twovessels bore the brunt of a tremendous cannonade from the fort. TheFrench artillery was well served, doing fearful damage on board theBritish vessels. On the Kent, save the admiral himself and onelieutenant, every officer was killed or wounded. One shot struck downCaptain Speke and shattered the leg of his son, a brave boy of sixteen,who refused to allow his wound to be examined until his father had beenattended to, and then bore the pain of the rough amputation of those dayswithout a murmur.
Meanwhile Clive's men had climbed to the roofs of houses near the fort,which commanded the French batteries; and his musketeers poured in agalling fire and shot down the gunners at their work. As the walls of thebarracks and fort were shattered by the guns from the ships, the Sepoyscrept closer and closer, awaiting the word to storm.
The morning drew on. Admiral Watson began to fear that when the tide fellhis big guns would be at too low a level to do further execution. Therewas always considerable rivalry between himself and Clive, fed by thestupid jealousy of some of the Calcutta Council. While Clive, foreseeingeven more serious work later, was anxious to spare his men, Watson wasequally eager to reap all possible credit for a victory over the French.
As it happened, neither had to go to the last extremity, for abouthalf-past nine a white flag was seen flying from the fort. LieutenantBrereton of the Kent and Captain Eyre Coote from the land force were sentto arrange the surrender, and a little later the articles of capitulationwere signed by Admirals Watson and Pocock, and by Clive.
Desmond was by no means satisfied with the part he played in the fight.In command of a company of Sepoys he was one of the first to rush theshore battery and take post under the walls of the barracks in readinessto lead a storming party. But, as he complained afterward to his friendCaptain Latham of the Tyger, the fleet had the honors of the day.
"After all, you're better off than I am," grumbled the captain. "Howwould you like to have your laurels snatched away? Admiral Pocock oughtto have remained on the Cumberland down the river and left the Tyger tome. But he didn't see the fun of being out of the fighting; and up hecame posthaste and hoisted his flag on my ship, putting my nose badly outof joint, I can tell you. Still, one oughtn't to grumble. It doesn'tmatter much who gets the credit so long as we've done our job. 'Tis allin the day's work."
The victory at Chandernagore destroyed the French power in Bengal. But itturned out to be only the prelude to a greater event--an event which mustbe reckoned as the foundation stone of the British Empire in India. Itsprang from the character of Sirajuddaula. That prince was a crueldespot, but weak-willed, vacillating, and totally unable to keep afriend. One day he would strut in some vainglorious semblance of dignity;the next he would engage in drunken revels with the meanest and mostdissolute of his subjects. He insulted his commander-in-chief, Mir Jafar:he offended the Seths, wealthy bankers of Murshidabad who had helped himto his throne: he played fast and loose with everyone with whom he haddealings. His own people were weary of him, and at length a plot washatched to dethrone him and set Mir Jafar in his place.
Mr. Watts, the British agent in Murshidabad, communicated this design toClive and the Council of Calcutta, suggesting that they should cooperatein deposing the vicious Nawab. They agreed, on the grounds that hisdishonesty and insolence showed that he had no real intention of abidingby the terms of his treaty, and that he was constantly interfering withthe French. A treaty was accordingly drawn up with Mir Jafar, in whichthe prospective Subah agreed to all the terms formerly agreed to bySirajuddaula. But Omichand, who was on bad terms with Mir Jafar and theSeths, threatened to reveal the whole plot to the Nawab and have Mr.Watts put to death, unless he were guaranteed in the treaty the paymentof a sum of money equivalent to nearly four hundred thousand pounds.
Clive was so much disgusted with Omichand's double dealing that, thoughhe was ready to make him fair compensation for his losses in Calcutta, hewas not inclined to accede to his impudent demand. Yet it would bedangerous to refuse him point blank. He therefore descended to a trickwhich, whatever may be urged in its defense--the proved treachery ofOmichand, the customs of the country, the utter want of scruple shown bythe natives in their dealings--must ever remain a blot on a great man'sfame.
Two treaties with Mir Jafar were drawn up; one on red paper, known as lalkagaz, containing a clause embodying Omichand's demand; the other onwhite, containing no such clause. Admiral Watson, with bluff honesty,refused to have anything to do with the sham treaty; it was dishonorable,he said, and to ask his signature was an affront. But his signature wasnecessary to satisfy Omichand. At Clive's request, it was forged by Mr.Lushington, a young writer of the Company's. The red treaty was shown toOmichand; it bought his silence; he suspected nothing.
The plot was now ripe. Omichand left Murshidabad; Mr. Watts slipped away;and the Nawab, on being informed of his flight, wrote to Clive andWatson, upbraiding them with breaking their treaty with him, and set outto join his army.
Clive left Chandernagore on June thirteenth, his guns, stores andEuropean soldiers being towed up the river in two hundred boats, theSepoys marching along the highway parallel with the right bank. Palti andKatwa were successively occupied by his advance guard under Eyre Coote.But a terrible rain storm on the eighteenth delayed his march, and nextday he received fr
om Mir Jafar a letter that gave him no littleuneasiness.
Mir Jafar announced that he had pretended to patch up his quarrel withthe Nawab and sworn to be loyal to him; but he added that the measuresarranged with Clive were still to be carried out. This strange messagesuggested that Mir Jafar was playing off one against the other, or atbest sitting on the fence until he was sure of the victor. It was seriousenough to give pause to Clive. He was one hundred and fifty miles fromhis base at Calcutta; before him was an unfordable river watched by avast hostile force. If Mir Jafar should elect to remain faithful to hismaster the English army would in all likelihood be annihilated. In thesecircumstances Clive wrote to the Committee of Council in Calcutta that hewould not cross the river until he was definitely assured that Mir Jafarwould join him.
His decision seemed to be justified next day when he received a letterfrom Mr. Watts at Khulna. On the day he left Murshidabad, said Mr. Watts,Mir Jafar had denounced him as a spy and sworn to repel any attempt ofthe English to cross the river. On receipt of this news Clive adopted acourse unusual with him. He called a Council of War, for the first andlast time in his career. Desmond was in Major Killpatrick's tent when thesummons to attend the Council reached that officer.
"Burke, my boy," he said, "'tis a mighty odd thing. Mr. Clive is notpartial to Councils; has had enough of 'em at Madras first, and lately atCalcutta. D'you know, I don't understand Mr. Clive; I don't believe anyone does. In the field he is as bold as a lion, fearless, quick to seewhat to do at the moment, never losing a chance. Yet more than once I'venoticed, beforehand, a strange hesitation. He gets fits of the dumps,broods, wonders whether he is doing the right thing, and is as touchy asa bear with a sore head. Well, 'tis almost noon; I must be off; we'll seewhat the Council has to say."
Desmond watched the major almost with envy as he went off to thismomentous meeting. How he wished he was a little older, a little higherin rank, so that he too might have the right to attend! He lay back inthe tent wondering what the result of the Council would be.
"If they asked for my vote," he thought, "I'd say fight;" and then helaughed at himself for venturing to have an opinion.
By and by Major Killpatrick returned.
"Well, my boy," he said, "we've carried our point, twelve against seven."
"For fighting?"
"No, my young firebrand; against fighting. You needn't look so chopfallen. There'll be a fight before long; but we're going to run no risks.We'll wait till the monsoon is over and we can collect enough men tosmash the Subah."
"Was that Colonel Clive's decision?"
"'Twas, indeed. But let me tell you, there was a comical thing to startwith. Lieutenant Hayter, one of Watson's men, was bid to the Council, butthe nincompoop was huffed because he wasn't allowed precedence of theCompany's captains. These naval men's airs are vastly amusing. He tookhimself off. Then Mr. Clive put the case; fight at once, or wait. Againstthe custom, he himself voted first--against immediate action. Then heasked me and Grant in turn; we voted with him. 'Twas Eyre Coote's turnnext; he voted t'other way, and gave his reasons--uncommonly well, I mustadmit. He said our men were in good spirits, and had been damped enoughby the rains. The Frenchman Law might come up and join the Nawab, andthen every froggy who entered our service after Chandernagore woulddesert and fight against us. We're so far from Calcutta 'twould bedifficult to protect our communications. These were his reasons. Iwatched Clive while Coote was speaking; he stuck his lips together andstared at him; and, have you noticed? he squints a trifle when he lookshard. Well, the voting went on, and ended as I said--twelve againstimmediate action, seven for."
"How did the Bengal men vote?"
"I'm bound to say, for--except Le Beaume. 'Twas the Madras men whooutvoted 'em."
"Well, with all respect, sir, I think the opinion of the Bengal men, whoknow the people and the country, ought to have outweighed the opinion ofstrangers. Still, it would be difficult to oppose Colonel Clive."
Further conversation was cut short by the arrival of a messengersummoning Desmond to attend the colonel.
"Where is he?" he asked.
"Under a clump of trees beyond the camp, sir. He's been there by himselfan hour or more."
Desmond hurried off. On the way he met Major Coote.
"Hullo, Burke," cried the major; "you've heard the news?"
"Yes, and I'm sorry for it."
"All smoke, my dear boy, all smoke. Colonel Clive has been thinking itover, and has decided to disregard the decision of the Council and crossthe river at sunrise tomorrow."
Desmond could not refrain from flinging up his hat and performing otherantics expressive of delight; he was caught in the act by Clive himself,who was returning to his tent.
"You're a madcap, Burke," he said. "Come to my tent."
He employed Desmond during the next hour in writing orders to theofficers of his force. This consisted of about nine hundred Europeans,two hundred Topasses, a few lascars, and some two thousand Sepoys. Eightsix-pounders and two howitzers formed the whole of the artillery. Amongthe Europeans were about fifty sailors, some from the king's ships, somefrom merchantmen. Among the latter were Mr. Toley and Bulger, whoseexcellent service in capturing the Good Intent had enforced their requestto be allowed to accompany the little army.
Shortly before dawn on June twenty-second Clive's men began to cross theriver. The passage being made in safety, they rested during the hothours, and resumed their march in the evening amid a heavy storm of rain,often having to wade waist-high the flooded fields. Soon after midnightthe men, drenched to the skin, reached a mango grove somewhat north ofthe village of Plassey: and there, as they lay down in discomfort tosnatch a brief sleep before dawn, they heard the sound of tom toms andtrumpets from the Nawab's camp three miles away.
"'Tis a real comfort, that there noise," remarked Bulger as he stirredhis campfire with his hook. Desmond had come to bid him good night. "Ay,true comfort to a sea-goin' man like me. For why? 'Cos it makes me feelat home. Why, I don't sleep easy if there en't some sort o'hullabaloo--wind or wave, or, if ashore, cats a-caterwaulin'. No, Mr.Subah, Nawab, or whatsomdever you call yourself, you won't frighten BillBulger with your tum-tum-tumin'. I may be wrong, Mr. Burke, which I neveram, but there'll be tum-tum-tum of another sort tomorrer."
The grove held by Clive's troops was known as the Laksha Bagh--the groveof a hundred thousand trees. It was nearly half a mile long and threehundred yards broad. A high embankment ran all round it, and beyond thisa weedy ditch formed an additional protection against assault. A littlenorth of the grove, on the bank of the river Cossimbazar, stood a stonehunting box belonging to Sirajuddaula. Still farther north, near theriver, was a quadrangular tank, and beyond this a redoubt and a mound ofearth. The river there makes a loop somewhat like a horseshoe in shape,and in the neck of land between the curves of the stream the Nawab hadplaced his intrenched camp.
His army numbered nearly seventy thousand men, of whom fifty thousandwere infantry, armed with matchlocks, bows and arrows, pikes and swords.He had in all fifty-three guns, mounted on platforms drawn by elephantsand oxen. The most efficient part of his artillery was commanded byMonsieur Sinfray, who had under him some fifty Frenchmen fromChandernagore. The Nawab's vanguard consisted of fifteen thousand menunder his most trusty lieutenants, including Manik Chand and Mir Madan.Rai Durlabh, the captor of Cossimbazar, and two other officers commandedseparate divisions.
Dawn had hardly broken on June twenty-third, King George's birthday, whenMir Madan with a body of picked troops, seven thousand foot, fivethousand horse, and Sinfray's artillery, moved out to the attack withgreat clamor of trumpets and drums. The remainder of the Nawab's armyformed a wide arc about the north and east of the English position.Nearest to the grove was Mir Jafar's detachment.
The English were arranged in four divisions, under Majors Killpatrick,Grant and Coote, and Captain Gaupp. These had taken position in front ofthe embankment, the guns on the left, the Europeans in the center, theSepoys o
n the right. Sinfray's gunners occupied an eminence near the tankabout two hundred yards in advance of the grove, and made such good playthat Clive, directing operations from the Nawab's hunting box, deemed itprudent to withdraw his men into the grove, where they were shelteredfrom the enemy's fire. The Nawab's troops hailed this movement with loudshouts of exultation, and, throwing their guns forward, opened a stillmore vigorous cannonade, which, however, did little damage.
If Mir Madan had had the courage and dash to order a combined assault,there is very little doubt that he must have overwhelmed Clive's army bysheer weight of numbers. But he let the opportunity slip. Meanwhile Clivehad sent forward his two howitzers and two large guns to check Sinfray'sfire.
Midday came, and save for the cannonading no fighting had taken place.Clive left the hunting box, called his officers together, and gave ordersthat they were to hold their positions during the rest of the day andprepare to storm the Nawab's camp at midnight. He was still talking tothem when a heavy shower descended, the rain falling in torrents for anhour. Wet through, Clive hastened to the hunting lodge to change hisclothes.
Scarcely had he departed when the enemy's fire slackened. Theirammunition, having been left exposed, had been rendered almost entirelyuseless by the rain. Fancying that the English gunners had been equallycareless, Mir Madan ordered his horse to charge; but the Englishmen hadkept their powder dry and received the cavalry with a deadly fire thatsent them headlong back. At this moment Mir Madan himself was killed by acannonball, and his followers, dismayed at his loss, began a precipitateretreat to their intrenchments.
Clive was still absent. The sight of the enemy retreating was too muchfor Major Killpatrick. Forgetting the order to maintain his position, hethought the moment opportune for a general advance. He turned to Desmond,who had remained at his side all the morning, and said:
"Burke, run off to Mr. Clive, and tell him the Moors are retreating, andI am following up."
Desmond hurried away, and reached the hunting box just as Clive hadcompleted his change of clothes. He delivered his message. Then for thefirst time he saw Clive's temper at full blaze. With a passionateimprecation he rushed from the lodge, and came upon the gallant majorjust as he was about to lead his men to the assault.
"What the deuce do you mean, sir, by disobeying my orders? Take your menback to the grove, and be quick about it."
His tone stung like a whip. But Killpatrick had the courage of hisopinions, and Desmond admired the frank manner in which he replied.
"I beg a thousand pardons, Mr. Clive, for my breach of orders, but Ithought 'twas what you yourself, sir, would have done, had you been onthe spot. If we can drive the Frenchmen from that eminence yonder wecommand the field, sir, and--"
"You're right, sir," said Clive, his rage subsiding as easily as it hadarisen. "You're too far forward to retire now. I'll lead your companies.Bring up the rest of the men from the grove."
Placing himself at the head of two companies of grenadiers he continuedthe advance. Sinfray did not await the assault. He hastily evacuated hisposition, retiring on the redoubt near the Nawab's intrenchments. It wasapparent to Clive that the main body of the enemy was by this time muchdemoralized, and he was eager to make a vigorous attack upon them whilein this state. But two circumstances gave him pause. To advance upon theintrenchments would bring him under a crossfire from the redoubt, and hehad sufficient respect for the Frenchmen to hesitate to risk losses amonghis small body of men. Further, the movements of the enemy's detachmentson his right caused him some uneasiness. He suspected that they were thetroops of Mir Jafar and Rai Durlabh, but he had no certain information onthat point, nor had he received a message from them. He knew that MirJafar was untrustworthy, therefore he was unwilling to risk a generalassault until assured that the troops on his flank were not hostile tohim.
The doubt was suddenly resolved when he saw them check their movement,retire, and draw apart from the remainder of the Nawab's army. Giving theword at once to advance, he led his men to storm the redoubt and themound on its right. For a short time Sinfray and his gallant Frenchmenshowed a bold front; but the vigorous onslaught of the English struckfear into the hearts of his native allies; the news that the Nawab hadfled completed their panic; and then began a wild and disorderly flight;horsemen galloping from the field; infantry scampering this way and that;elephants trumpeting; camels screaming, as they charged through therabble. With British cheers and native yells Clive's men poured into theNawab's camp, some dashing on in pursuit of the enemy, others delaying toplunder the baggage and stores, of which immense quantities lay open totheir hand.
By half-past five on that memorable twenty-third of June the battle wasover--the battle that gave Britain immediately the wealthiest province ofIndia and, indirectly, the mastery of the whole of that vast Empire. Theloss to the British was only twenty-three killed and fifty wounded.
Clive rested for a while in Sirajuddaula's tent, where he found on hisinkstand a list of thirteen courtiers whom, even in that moment of direextremity, he had condemned to death. From a prisoner it was learned thatthe Nawab had escaped on a camel with two thousand horsemen, fleeingtoward Murshidabad. All day he had been in a state of terror andagitation. Deprived of his bravest officer Mir Madan, betrayed by his ownrelatives, the wretched youth had not waited for the critical moment.Himself carried to his capital the news of his defeat.
Orders were given to push on that night to Daudpur, six miles north ofPlassey. But some time was occupied by Clive's commissariat in replacingtheir exhausted bullocks with teams captured in the Nawab's camp.Meanwhile Clive sent Eyre Coote forward with a small detachment to keepthe enemy on the run. Among those who accompanied him was Desmond, withBulger and Mr. Toley. Desmond hoped that he might overtake and captureMonsieur Sinfray, from whom he thought it likely he might wrestinformation about Mrs. Merriman and her daughter. Diggle had made use ofSinfray's house; it was not improbable that the Frenchmen knew somethingabout the ladies. As for the seamen, they were so much disgusted at thetameness of the enemy's resistance that they were eager for anything thatpromised activity and adventure. Their eagerness was no whit diminishedwhen Desmond mentioned what he had in his mind.
"By thunder, sir," said Bulger, "give me the chanst and I'll learn themounseer the why and wherefore of it. And as for Diggle--well, I may bewrong, but I'll lay my share o' the prize money out o' the Good Intentthat he's hatchin' mischief, and not far off neither. Show a leg,mateys."