Chapter 31: In which friends meet, and part: and our hero hints a proposal.
The fight was over. It was Diggle's quarrel; neither the Frenchmen northe natives had any concern in it, and when their leader was dead theyhad no more interest in continuing the struggle. They drew off; the wearydefenders collected the dead and attended to the wounded; and Desmondwent into the house.
"God bless you, Mr. Burke!" said Mrs. Merriman, tears streaming from hereyes as she met him and clasped his hands. "You are not hurt?"
"Just a scratch or two, ma'am: nothing to trouble about."
But the ladies insisted on bathing the two slight wounds on head and armwhich in the heat of the fight he had not noticed. And then Mrs. Merrimantold him all that had happened since the day he left them in such merryspirits at Khulna. How they had been trapped by Diggle, pretending to bea Monsieur de Bonnefon: how he had conveyed them to the house of hisfriend Sinfray: how after many months their whereabouts had been revealedto Surendra Nath by one of his numerous relatives, a man who had adistant cousin among Sinfray's servants: how the Babu, displayingunwonted energy, had come with a number of friends and fallen unawaresupon their captors, afterward taking them to a house of his father's inthis village: how the old man and his son had both been stricken withjungle fever, and the father died, and when the Babu lay helpless andunconscious on his sickbed they had found no means of communicating withtheir friends.
Mrs. Merriman shuddered as she spoke of the terrors of their captivity.They had been well treated, indeed; Monsieur de Bonnefon, or Diggle, asshe afterward learned to call him, had visited them several times andseen that their wants were supplied. But their enforced seclusion andinactivity, their dread of the unknown, their uncertainty as to whatmight have befallen Mr. Merriman, had told heavily upon their health andspirits. Rumor brought news of the tragedy of the Black Hole: they heardthat the few survivors were prisoners of the Nawab; and they feared theworst. From Surendra Nath they learned that they need not despair; andsince then they had lived on in the hope that, when the Babu hadrecovered from his illness, he would find some means of restoring them tothe husband and father from whom they had so long been parted.
"Surendra Nath has a heart of gold, Mr. Burke," said Mrs. Merriman inconcluding her story. "Poor man! he has been very ill. We must dosomething to show our gratitude for his devotion when we get back toCalcutta."
Desmond then in his turn told them all that had happened since theirdisappearance. When they learned of the result of the Battle of Plassey,and that Clive was marching toward Murshidabad, they were eager to setoff at once.
"Yes, ma'am," said Desmond, "we shall start as soon as possible. I shallleave you to make your preparations. It may not be possible to startbefore night, the country being so disturbed, so that if you can sleepthrough the day you will be fitter for the journey."
He left them, and going into the compound, found Bulger and Toley lookingwith curiosity at the body of Diggle.
"Hi, sir!" said Bulger as Desmond came up to them: "this here bit o'velvet is explained at last. Mr. Toley, he slit it with his cutlass, sir,and never did I see a man so down in the mouth when he knowed what wasunder it. 'T'ent nothing at all, sir; just three letters; and what for hewent and burnt them three letters into the back of his hand 'twould beata Daniel to explain.
"'F u r,' sir, that's what they spells; but whether 'tis rabbit skin orfox I can't say, though 'tis most likely fox, knowing the man."
Desmond stooped and looked at the unclad right hand. The letters F U Rwere branded livid below the knuckles.
"He was always quoting Latin, Bulger," he said. "'Fur' is a Latin word:it means 'thief.'"
"Which I might have knowed it, sir, only I think as how the man that didthe stampin' might have done it in plain English. I don't hold with theseforeign lingos, sir; there allers seems something sly and deceivin' aboutem. No right man 'ud ever think 'fur' meant 'thief'! Thief an' all, sir,he's dead. Mr. Toley and me'll put him away decent like: and it won't dohim no harm if we just says 'Our Father' over the grave."
Desmond was turning away when three of his men came into the compound,two grasping a Frenchman by the arms, the third a black boy. The formerDesmond recognized as the man whom he had seen expostulating with Diggle;the latter was Scipio Africanus, looking scared and miserable.
The men explained that, pursuing the fugitives, they had captured theirprisoners in the grove. The Frenchman at once addressed Desmond in brokenEnglish. He said that he had tried in vain to dissuade Diggle from hisattempt to capture the ladies. The party had been sent in advance byMonsieur Law to announce his coming. He was at Patna with a considerablebody of French corps designed for the support of the Nawab. As he wasspeaking the Frenchman caught sight of Diggle's exposed hand. He started,with an exclamation of surprise. Then in answer to Desmond's question herevealed the secret that had so long perplexed him.
Seven years before, he said, in December, 1750, there was a brilliantforeigner named Peloti among the officers of Major de la Touche, a youngsoldier who had been singled out by Dupleix, the French Governor ofPondicherry, as a military genius of the first order. Peloti was with theFrench army when, less than four thousand in number, it fell upon thevast hordes of Nadir Jang near Gingi and won the battle that set MuzaffarJang on the throne of the Deccan and marked the zenith of Dupleix'ssuccess. The new Nawab, in gratitude to the French for the servicesrendered him, sent to Dupleix a present of a million rupees, and a casketof jewels worth half as much again. This casket was given to Peloti todeliver: he had abused his trust by abstracting the gem of thecollection, a beautiful diamond; and the theft being accidentallydiscovered, Dupleix in his rage ordered the thief to be branded on theright hand with the word 'fur,' and drummed him out of the Frenchservice.
The identity of Peloti with Diggle was not suspected by the French, andwhen Diggle a few months back offered his services to Bussy, theircommander, they were eagerly accepted, for his evident knowledge ofClive's movements and of affairs in Calcutta promised to be exceedinglyvaluable. None of the French then in the Deccan knew him: and though theyremarked his curious habit of wearing a fingerless glove on his righthand, no one connected it with the half-forgotten story of the stolendiamond.
Desmond thanked the Frenchman for his information.
"I am sorry to keep you a prisoner, Monsieur," he said; "but I musttrouble you to return with me to Murshidabad. I can promise you goodtreatment from Colonel Clive."
The Frenchman smiled, shrugged, and exclaimed: "Eh bien! La guerre est laguerre!"
Remembering Coja Solomon, Desmond asked Toley to search Diggle's bodybefore burying it. But nothing was found, except a little money. TheArmenian's property had evidently been left under guard in the grove, andwas doubtless, by this time, far away, in the possession of one or otherof Diggle's runagate followers.
At nightfall the party set off. Closed chairs had been provided for theladies, and these were carried in the midst, Bulger on one side, Toley onthe other, and Desmond behind. One person whom Desmond had expected totake with him was absent: Scipio Africanus, on seeing the dead body ofhis master, had uttered one heartrending howl and fled. Desmond never sawhim again. He reflected that, villainous as Diggle had proved to be, hehad at least been able to win the affection of his servant.
On the way they met Coja Solomon, who, on learning of the disappearanceof his valuables, heaped abuse upon Desmond and went away wringing hishands. Traveling slowly, by easy stages, and only by night, it took theparty three days to reach Murshidabad. Desmond found that Clive hadentered the city two days before and taken up his abode at the MurdaBagh. Mir Jafar had been accepted as Nawab, and nothing had been heard ofSirajuddaula.
Desmond first sought out Major Coote.
"By George, Burke!" said that officer, "Colonel Clive is in a toweringrage at your long absence; he expected your return long ago. And youought to know that Colonel Clive in a rage is not quite as mild as milk."
"I'm afraid I must brave his
anger," said Desmond. "I've found Mr.Merriman's ladies."
"You have?"
"Yes, and brought them back with me. And Peloti will trouble us no more:we had to fight for the ladies, and Bulger killed him. Won't Mr. Cliveforgive me?"
"I can't answer for Mr. Clive; no one can say what he will do. But I tellyou one thing: you'll put Warren Hastings' nose out of joint. You know hewas sweet on Merriman's daughter."
"No, I didn't know it. I don't see what that has to do with me."
"Don't you, egad!" said Coote with a laugh. "Sure, my boy, you'll see itbefore long. Well, I won't keep you to hear your story. Go to Mr. Cliveat once; and let me know what happens."
Desmond found Clive in company with Mr. Watts, and Rai Durlabh, Mr.Scrafton and Omichand. He had some difficulty in obtaining admittance;only his representation that he bore important news prevailed with thedarwan. He learned afterwards that the great bankers, the Seths, had justleft the meeting, after it had been decided that, owing to the depletionof the treasury, only one-half of the immense sums promised to Clive andthe English in Mir Jafar's treaty could be paid at once, the remainder tofollow in three years.
Desmond entered the room just in time to hear Clive say to Scrafton:
"It is now time to undeceive Omichand."
Mr. Scrafton went up to the Sikh, and said quietly in Hindustani:
"Omichand, the red paper is a trick: you are to have nothing."
Omichand stood for a moment dazed: then he fell back in a faint and wascarried by his attendants from the room. The shock had unhinged the poorman's reason: he lingered insane for eighteen months and died.
At the time Desmond knew nothing of the deceit that had been practised onhim; but in the light of his after knowledge he understood the strangeexpression that clouded Clive's face as the old man was carried away: alook of pity mingled with contempt. Catching sight of Desmond, the greatsoldier flashed out:
"What do you mean, sir, by absenting yourself so long? I sent you inadvance because I thought you would be speedy. A snail would have gonemore quickly."
"I am sorry, sir," said Desmond; "I was unexpectedly delayed. I had gotnearly as far as Rajmahal when I learned the whereabouts of Mrs.Merriman. She was in hiding with Surendra Nath, one of Mr. Merriman'smen. I heard that Diggle--Peloti, sir--was about to attempt herrecapture, and I felt that you yourself, had you been in my place, wouldhave tried to save the ladies."
Clive grunted.
"Go on, sir," he said.
"We found the place just in time, sir. Diggle came up with a couple ofFrenchmen and a troop of native horse. We beat them off, and I havebrought the ladies here."
"And forgotten your instructions?"
"No, sir. Monsieur Law was advancing from Patna: Diggle was coming aheadto inform the Nawab of his approach. But the whole country knows of yourvictory, and I fancy Monsieur Law will come no further."
"And Diggle?"
"He was killed in the fight, sir."
"Indeed! And how many did his men muster?"
"Nearly sixty, sir."
"And yours?"
"A score of Sepoys, sir; but I had two seamen with me: Bulger, whom youknow; and Mr. Toley, an American, mate of one of Mr. Merriman's ships.They were worth a dozen others."
Clive grunted again.
"Well, go and tell Mrs. Merriman I shall be glad to wait on her. And lookhere, Burke: you may consider yourself a captain in the Company's servicefrom this day. Come now, I'm very busy: go and give Mrs. Merriman mymessage, and take care that next time you are sent on special service youare not drawn off on any such mad expedition. Come to me tomorrow."
Desmond trod on air as he left the house. Clive's impulsiveness had neverbefore seemed to him such an admirable quality.
As he went into the street he became aware, from the excited state of thecrowd, that something had happened. Meeting a Sepoy he inquired, andlearned that Sirajuddaula had just been brought into the city. Theluckless Nawab had arrived in his boat close to Rajmahal, and with therecklessness that characterized him, he had gone ashore while hisservants prepared a meal. Though disguised in mean clothes he had beenrecognized by a fakir, who happened to be at the very spot where helanded. The man had a grudge against him; his ears and nose had been cutoff some time before at the Nawab's order. Hastening into Rajmahal he hadinformed the governor, who sent a guard at once to seize the unhappyprince and bring him to Murshidabad.
Before the next morning dawned Sirajuddaula was dead. Mir Jafar handedhim to his son Miran with strict orders to guard him. Acting on a mockingsuggestion of Miran, a courtier named Muhammad Beg took a band of armedmen to the Nawab's room, and hacked him to death. Next morning hismutilated body was borne on an elephant's back through the streets, andit was known to his former subjects that the prince who had ruled them soevilly was no more. Such was the piteous end, in his twenty-sixth year,of Sirajuddaula.
Immediately on arriving in Murshidabad, Desmond had sent a kasid toCalcutta to inform Mr. Merriman that his wife and daughter had been foundand were safe. The merchant set off at once on horseback and arrived inthe midst of preparations for the return of the army to Calcutta. Desmondwas present at his meeting with the ladies; the scene brought a lump intohis throat; and his embarrassment was complete when one and alloverwhelmed him with praise and thanks.
A few days later a long procession of three hundred boats, laden with themoney, plate and jewels that had been handed over to the British, set offwith colors flying, amid strains of martial music, down the river toCalcutta. Every man who had taken part in the expedition had a share ofthe vast treasure. Desmond found himself richer by three thousand pounds.
Calcutta was en fete when the expedition returned. Desmond was surprisedto see how much had already been done to repair the ruin wrought by theNawab. A new city was rising from the ruins. Congratulations were pouredon the victors; and though now, as always, Clive had to contend with thejealousies of lesser men, there was none but had to admit that he was agreat man who deserved well of his country.
Mr. Merriman at once completed the winding up of his business, begunmonths before. His recent troubles had much aged him; India was to himnow a hateful country, and he decided to return to England immediatelywith his wife and daughter. He tried to persuade Desmond to accompanyhim, but in vain.
"'Tis very good of you, sir," said Desmond warmly; "you have done so muchfor me. But Mr. Clive has made me a captain: his work is not yet done;and I do not feel that I can leave him until I have done something tojustify his confidence in me."
"Well, boys will be boys. I have made a fortune here: I suppose you wantto do the same. 'Tis natural. But don't stay in India as long as I have.I don't want to lose sight of you. You have done me the best service manever did: you have avenged my brother and restored to me all that I helddearest in the world. I love you as a son, Desmond; I wish you were myson, indeed, my boy."
Desmond looked a little uncomfortable.
"May I venture--" he began hesitatingly; "do you think, in some years'time, if I get on here, I might--"
"Well?"
"Do you think I might--in short, that I might have a chance of becomingyour son, sir?"
"Eh? Is that it? Mr. Warren Hastings asked me the same question the otherday, Desmond. You can't both have her, you know. What does Phyllis say?"
"I--I haven't asked her, sir."
"Quite right. You're only a boy. Well, Hastings is to remain as assistantto Mr. Scrafton, our new agent at Murshidabad. You remain asassistant--or is it rival, eh--to Mr. Clive. You're both out of the way.Phyllis may prefer Bulger."
"Bulger?"
"Yes. Didn't you know? Phyllis has taken a fancy to him; that hook of hisappears to be a most fascinating feature; and he will accompany us home."
Desmond laughed a little awkwardly.
"I hope--" he began.
"He won't hook her? But there, I mustn't make sport of such a seriousmatter. Go on as you have begun, my dear lad, and I promise you, when y
oucome home, that if Phyllis hasn't found someone already to her liking,you shall have all the influence I can exert with the minx."
"Thank you, sir: I couldn't ask for more. There's another thing: do youthink you could do anything for Mr. Toley? He's a capital fellow."
"I know it. I have anticipated you. Toley is appointed captain of theJane, an Indiaman that arrived the other day; her captain died of scurvyon the way out. She'll sail for England next week; we go with her; and sodoes that villain Barker, who'll get his deserts when he reaches London.The Good Intent is broken up; her interloping is over for good and all.
"But come, my boy, sure 'tis time we dressed: Admiral Watson likespunctuality, and I promise you he'll give us a capital dinner. A word inyour ear: Phyllis is to sit between you and Hastings. You can't eat him,at any rate."
A week later Desmond went down to the Company's ghat to see the Janesail. Mr. Toley in his brand new uniform looked more melancholy thanever, and Phyllis Merriman made a little grimace when she saw for thefirst time the captain under whose charge she was to sail for home.
"Don't be alarmed," said Desmond, laughing. "The sadder he looks, Ibelieve the happier he is. Silas Toley is a fine seaman and a truegentleman.--
"I wonder if we shall ever meet again, Miss Merriman?"
"I wonder, Mr. Burke."
"I shall hear about you, I hope."
"Dear me; it is very unlikely. Father hates putting pen to paper. 'Tisfar more likely I shall hear of you, Mr. Burke, doing terrible thingsamong these poor Indians--and tigers: I am sure you must want to shoot atiger."
"You shall have my first skin--if I may send it."
"Mamma will be charmed, I am sure; though indeed she may have too many ofthem, for we have the same promise from--let me see--Mr. Lushington, andMr. Picard, and Mr. Hastings, and--"
"All aboard!" sang out a voice from the deck of the vessel.
Phyllis gave Desmond her hand, and looked at last into his eyes. What heread in hers filled him with contentment. She ran across the plank andjoined her father and mother, to whom Desmond had already said hisadieux. At the last moment Bulger came up puffing, a miscellaneouscollection of curiosities dangling from his hook.
"Goodby, sir," he said, giving Desmond a hearty grip. Then he shut oneeye and jerked his head in the direction of the vessel. "Never you fear,sir: I'll keep my weather eye open. Missy have taken an uncommon fancy tothis here little fishhook o' mine, and 'tis my belief I'll keep herhanging on to it, sir, nevertheless and notwithstandin' and all that,till you comes home covered with gore and glory. I may be wrong."
He tumbled on deck. Then amid cheers, with flags flying and handkerchiefswaving, the good ship moved from the ghat into the swelling river.
Chapter 32: In which the curtain falls to the sound of wedding bells: andour hero comes to his own.
It was a mellow day in October 1760, a little more than six years sincethe day when Market Drayton gave rein to its enthusiasm in honor ofClive. From a flagstaff newly erected on the roof of the Four Alls on theNewport Road, a square of bunting flapped in the breeze. Inside the innthe innkeeper was drawing a pint of ale for his one solitary customer, ashambling countryman with a shock of very red hair, and eyes of innocentblue.
"There, that makes a quart, Tummus Biles, and 'tis as much as your turniphead can safely carry."
He passed the can across the bar on a hook that projected from a woodensocket in his sleeve.
"Why, now, Mr. Bulger," said Tummus, the tranter, "what fur do you go furto miscall me like other fowk? I've been miscalled ever since that day Idrove a stranger into Market Drayton six year ago. I mind me he had a redfeather in his cap, and not knowing my name was plain Tummus, he calledme Jehu, he did, and I never forgot it. Ay, and I tell ya what, Mr.Bulger: it took me two year to find out why he give me such an uncommonname. I mind I was sittin' by a hayrick of Mr. Burke's--that was longafore he was lamed by that terrible horse o' his--and ponderin' on thatheathen name, when all at once it comed to me like a flash o' lightnin'.
"'Jehu!' says I to myself. 'I've got ya at last.' Ya see, when thatstranger saw me, I were drivin' a horse. Well, I says to my horse,'Gee-ho!' says I. Not knowing my true chrisom name, the stranger takes upmy words an' fits 'em to me. 'Gee-ho!' says I; 'Gee-ho!' says he; onlybein' a kind o' furriner he turns it into 'Jehu'; an' the name fits meuncommon. Hee hee!"
"I may be wrong," said Bulger, "but 'tis my belief 'Hee haw!' would fityou a big sight better. But hark! en't them the bells a-ringin'?"
The two hastened to the door, and stood looking down the road towardMarket Drayton. From the distance came the faint sounds of a merry peal.By and by a four-horsed open carriage with outriders appeared on thecrest of the hill. Amid the dust it raised another could be seen, andbehind this a long line of vehicles. Every coachman's whip was decoratedwith a wedding favor. The cavalcade approached rapidly. As the firstcarriage drew nearer Bulger became more and more excited, and when itdashed past the inn he raised his hook and shouted "Hurray! hurray!" withthe full force of his lungs.
"Give 'em a cheer, Tummus," he cried. "Hee haw will do if you knows nobetter. Hurray for Major Desmond Burke and his madam--the purtiest gal Iever did see, east or west. Hurray for her father and mother: there theyare, with old squire an' the major's mother. And there's Mr. Clive, allalone by himself 'cos his leg's stiff wi' rheumatics; but he would cometo see the deed done, which I may be wrong, but the new King George'llmake him a live lord afore he's much older.
"Open your mouth, Tummus, an' if you hee haw loud enough, I'll draw youanother pint for nothing."
Desmond, now a major, had returned home in company with Clive. During thethree years that had passed since he witnessed the sailing of the Jane hehad seen much service. He had been with Colonel Forde when that finesoldier expelled the French from the northern Sirkars. He was with thesame officer when he thrashed the Dutch at Biderra. He had been in closetouch with Clive when these successful operations were planned, and thenearer he saw him, the more he admired the great man's courage in takingrisks, promptitude in dealing with sudden emergencies, sagacity in seeingto the heart of a difficult situation. Thus, during those three years, hegained much knowledge of the science of war, and much experience indealing with men. He became rich also, not by questionable means, but byreaping the legitimate rewards of good and faithful service.
Before leaving India, Desmond learned of changes that had happened athome. His brother had been thrown by a young and mettlesome horse, and sobadly trampled that he must remain a helpless invalid for the rest of hislife. Sir Willoughby Stokes, even before he heard of the death of hisnephew Peloti, had made Desmond his heir. Mr. Merriman had bought anestate near his father's old friend, and settled down to the life of acountry gentleman. A year after his return, Job Grinsell, the landlord ofthe Four Alls, had been sentenced to a long term of imprisonment forpoaching, and Mr. Merriman had no difficulty in persuading Sir PhilipChetwode to let his inn to Bulger.
After an interview with Mr. Merriman, Desmond found the courage to put toPhyllis the question which he had not ventured to ask before she leftIndia. What the answer was may be inferred from the fact that SirWilloughby insisted on the wedding taking place at once. It was time forthe return of his old enemy the gout, he said; he was going to Buxton toend his days, and wished to see the Hall in the hands of his heir beforehe left.
Mr. Burslem, Desmond's old schoolmaster, performed the ceremony, andClive, though suffering from rheumatism, came down for the occasion. Theonly familiar form that Desmond missed was that of old Dickon, who haddied a few months after Desmond's departure from home.
Desmond settled down for a time at the Hall, cheering his mother'sdeclining years, repaying good for ill to his invalid brother, andwinning golden opinions from all his neighbors high and low. He eagerlywatched the further career of his old hero, now Lord Clive; learned toadmire him as statesman as well as soldier; sympathized with him throughall the attacks made upon him; and mourned him sincerely when, in 1774
,the great man, preyed upon by an insidious disease, died by his own hand.
Five years later he felt the East calling, bought a commission, andsailed with General Sir Eyre Coote, to take part in the "frantic militaryexploits," as some one called them, of Warren Hastings against Haidar Aliand Tippu in Mysore. He came home a colonel, and was made a baronet forhis services in the war. Finally retiring from public life, he lived forthirty years longer on his estate, happy in the careers of his two sons,who became soldiers like himself. He died, an old man, in the year afterWaterloo, at which his eldest grandson, a lieutenant in the guards,behaved with a gallantry that attracted the notice of the Iron Duke.
Visitors to Sir Desmond Burke's house were amused and interested to see abattered wooden stump with an iron hook hanging in a conspicuous place inthe hall amid tigers' heads, Indian weapons, and other trophies from theEast.
"That?" Sir Desmond would say, in answer to their question. "Thatbelonged to one of the best friends I ever had, a fine old salt namedWilliam Bulger. I met him when I was sixteen, and buried him when I wasforty: and my wife and I have felt ever since a blank in our lives. Ifyou can put up with an old man's stories, I'll tell you something of whatBulger and I went through together, when I was a youngster with Clive inIndia."
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