CHAPTER THE TWENTY-THIRD
*In which there are many moving events; and our hero finds himself acadet of John Company.*
Diggle's escape passed unnoticed until it was too late to pursue him.At the sight of Toley and his messmates of the _Hormuzzeer_, Bulger hadlet fall his musket and dropped to the ground, where he sat mopping hisface and crying "Go it, mateys!" Desmond felt a strange faintness, andleant dizzily against one of the hackeris. But, revived by a draughtfrom Mr. Toley's flask, he thanked the mate warmly, and wanted to hearhow he had contrived to come up in time.
When Desmond's messenger arrived in Calcutta, Mr. Merriman was away upthe river, engaged in very serious business. The messenger had appliedto the Governor, to members of the Council, to Captain Minchin and otherofficers, and the reply of one and all was the same: they could donothing; it was more important that every man should be employed instrengthening the defences of Calcutta than in going up-country on whatmight prove a vain and useless errand. But Toley happened to be in thetown, and hearing of the difficulties and perils of his friend Burke,with the captain's consent he had hastily collected the crew of the_Hormuzzeer_, that still lay off the Fort, and led them, under theguidance of the messenger, to support him. Meeting Surendra Nath, andlearning from him that a fight was imminent, he had pushed on with allspeed, the Babu leading the way.
"It was well done," said Desmond warmly. "We owe our lives to you, andMr. Merriman his goods. But what was the business that took Mr.Merriman from Calcutta at this time of trouble?"
"Trouble of his own, Burke," said Mr. Toley. "I guess he'd better havelet the Nawab keep his goods and sent you to look after his women-folk."
"What do you mean? I left the ladies at Khulna; what has happened tothem?"
"'Tis what Mr. Merriman would fain know. They've disappeared, goneclean out of sight."
"But the peons?"
"Gone too. Nothing heard or seen of them."
This serious news came as a shock to Desmond. If he had only known!How willingly he would have let Coja Solomon do what he pleased with thegoods, and hastened to the help of the wife and daughter Mr. Merrimanheld so dear! While in Cossimbazar, he had heard from Mr. Wattsterrible stories of the Nawab's villainy, which no respect of personsheld in check. He feared that if Mrs. Merriman and Phyllis had indeedfallen into Siraj-uddaula's hands, they were lost to their family andfriends for ever.
But, eager as he was to get back to Calcutta and join Mr. Merriman insearching for them, he had a strange certainty that it was not to be.The faintness that he had already felt returned. His head was burningand throbbing; his ears buzzed; his limbs ached; his whole frame wasseized at moments with paroxysms of shivering which no effort couldcontrol. Unknown to himself the seeds of malarial fever had found alodgment in his system. While listening to Toley's story, he hadreclined on the ground. When he tried to rise, he was overcome bygiddiness and nausea.
"I am done up," he continued. "Mr. Toley, you must take charge and getthese goods conveyed to Calcutta. Lose no time."
Surendra Nath recognized the symptoms of the disease, and immediatelyhad a litter improvised for Desmond out of the linen covering of one ofthe carts and a couple of muskets. Mr. Toley at once made preparationsfor moving on with the convoy. The hackeriwallahs who had driven offthe cattle had not gone far; they had waited in the hope of getting thebakshish promised them--if not from the young sahib, at least from theleader of the attacking party, which from its numbers they believedwould gain the day. The oxen were soon yoked up. Mr. Toley would notwait to recover the loads of the carts that had toppled into the nullah,nor would he leave men for that purpose, lest another attack should bemade on them from Hugli. He set off as soon as the teams were ready.Half an hour after they started, Bulger, walking beside the litter, sawto his dismay that Desmond had lost consciousness.
It was nearly a fortnight later when Desmond came to himself in his oldbunk on board the _Hormuzzeer_. He was alone. Lying on his back,feebly trying to adjust his thoughts to his surroundings, he heard thefaint boom of guns. What was happening? He tried to rise, but allpower was gone from him; he could hardly lift an arm. Even the slighteffort was too much for him, and he swooned again.
When he once more recovered consciousness, he saw a figure by his side.It was Mr. Toley. Again the distant thunder of artillery fell upon hisears.
"What is happening?" he asked, feebly.
"Almighty be praised!" said Toley fervently, "you're coming safe toport. Hush! Lie you still. You'll want nussin' like a babby. Neveryou heed the pop-guns; I'll tell you all about them when you'restronger. Food, sleep, and air; that's my catechism, larned from thesurgeon. Bless you, Burke, I feared you was a done man."
With this Desmond had to be for the time content. But every day he heardfiring, and every day, as he slowly regained strength, he became moreand more anxious to know what it meant. Toley seemed to have left theship; Desmond was tended only by natives. From them he learned that theNawab was attacking Calcutta. How were the defenders faring? They couldnot tell. He knew how small was the garrison, how weak thefortifications; but, with an English lad's unconquerable faith in hiscountrymen's valour, he could not believe that they could fail to holdtheir own.
One day, however, he heard no more firing. In the afternoon Mr. Toleycame to his bunk, bringing with him Mr. Merriman himself. The merchanthad his head bound up, and wore his left arm in a sling. He was pale,haggard, the shadow of his former self.
"What has happened, sir?" cried Desmond the instant he saw him. "Arethe ladies safe?"
"God pity us, Desmond! I shall never see them again. My poor Dora! mysweet Phyllis! They are lost! All is lost! The Nawab has taken theFort. We are beaten, shamed, ruined!"
"How did it happen? I heard the firing. Tell me; it cannot be so badas that. Sure something can be done!"
"Nothing, nothing; we did all we could. 'Twas little; would that Drakehad heeded our advice! But I am rejoiced to see you on the road torecovery, dear boy; 'twould have been another nail in my coffin to knowthat you had lost your life in doing a service for me. I thank God forthat, from the bottom of my heart."
He pressed Desmond's hand affectionately.
"But tell me, sir; I want to know what has happened. How came you to bewounded? Sure I am strong enough to hear now; it will do me no harm."
"It cuts me to the heart, Desmond, but you shall know. I was absent whenyou were carried to my house--searching for my dear ones. But Dr. Graytended you; alas! the good man is now a prisoner. I returned three daysafter, driven back from up the river by the advance of the Nawab's army.I was worn out, distraught; not a trace had I found of my dear wife; shehad vanished; nor of my daughter; nor even of my peons; all had gone.And there was trouble enough in Calcutta, for me and for all. 'Twas thevery day I returned that news came of Siraj-uddaula's approach. And aletter from his chief spy was intercepted, addressed to Omichand,bidding him escape while there was yet time and join the Subah. Thatseemed to Mr. Drake clear proof that Omichand was in league with ourenemies, and he had him arrested and thrown into the Fort prison. ButMr. Drake never acts till 'tis too late. He gave orders next to arrestKrishna Das. The man barricaded himself in his house and beat our peonsoff, till Lieutenant Blagg and thirty Europeans drove in his gates. Theyfound a vast quantity of arms collected there. They stormed Omichand'shouse also, where three hundred armed domestics made a stout fightagainst 'em. When our men got in--'tis a horrid story--the head jamadarwith his own hands stabbed all his master's women and children, toprevent 'em falling into our hands, and then set fire to the place.
"Our men had already been driven out of Tanna fort by Manik Chand, whohad come up with two thousand men and a couple of field-pieces. Thencame up Mir Jafar, the Nawab's bakshi,[#] and began firing from theChitpur gate. We got all our women into the Fort; the poor creaturesleft all they had but their clothes and their bedding. You may guessthe confusion. The natives were flo
cking out of the town; most of ourservants fled with them; all our cooks were gone, so that though we hada great stock of food we were like to starve in the midst of plenty.But we filled their places with some of the Portuguese who came crowdinginto the Fort. Two thousand of 'em, men, women, and children, filledthe courtyard, sitting among their bundles of goods, so that we couldscarce move for 'em. The enemy was in the town; they had set light tothe Great Bazar, and were burning and plundering in the native parts.We fired the bastis[#] to the east and south, to deprive 'em of cover;and you may imagine the scene, Desmond--the blazing sky, the tears andscreams of the women, the din of guns. We wrote to the French atChandernagore begging 'em to lend us some ammunition, for the most ofours was useless; but they sent us a genteel reply saying they'd no morethan sufficient for their own needs; yet the wretches made the Nawab apresent of two hundred chests of powder, 'tis said.
[#] Commander-in-chief.
[#] Blocks of huts.
"Next day we were besieged in earnest. The Nawab had, we learnt, nigh50,000 men, with 150 elephants and camels, and 250 Frenchmen working hisartillery. Against 'em we had about 500 in all, only half of 'emEuropeans. What could so few do against so many? Our officers were allbrave enough, but they've had a slack time, and few of 'em are fit fortheir work. Ensign Picard, sure, did wonders, and Lieutenant Smythdefended the North battery with exceeding skill; but we had not menenough to hold our positions, and step by step we were driven back.'Twas clear we could not hold out long, and on Friday night we held acouncil of war, and decided to send the women on board the ships in theriver, to get 'em out of harm's way. Then by heaven! Desmond, two ofthe Council shamed 'emselves for ever. Mr. Manningham and Mr.Frankland, special friends of Mr. Drake, attended the ladies to theship--'twas the _Dodalay_, of which they are owners--and they stayed onboard with 'em--the cowards, to set such an infamous example! And well'twas followed. 'Tis scarce credible, but Captain Minchin, our gallantcommander, and Mr. Drake, our noble president, went down to the ghat andhad 'emselves rowed off to the shipping and deserted us: good God! dothey deserve the name of Englishmen? One of our gentlemen standing onthe steps was so enraged that he sent a bullet after the cravens; othersdid the same, and I would to heaven that one of their shots had tookeffect on the wretches! We made Mr. Holwell governor in the Quaker'splace; and I tell you, Desmond, had we done so before, there would havebeen a different story to tell this day.
"Mr. Holwell saw 'twas impossible to withstand the Nawab's hordes muchlonger, and spoke for an orderly retreat; but he was overrid by some ofthe military officers; and besides, retreat was cut off, for the shipsthat had lain in the river moved away, and though we hung out signalsfrom the Fort asking 'em to come back and take us off, they paid noheed; nay, they stood further off, leaving us to our fate. What couldwe do? Mr. Holwell sent to Omichand in his prison and offered torelease him if he would treat with the Nawab for us. But the Gentoorefused. All he would do was to write a letter to Manik Chand askinghim to intercede for us. Mr. Holwell threw the letter over the wallamong the enemy, and by heaven! Desmond, never did I suppose Englishmenwould be reduced to such a point of humiliation. But 'twas of noeffect. The enemy came on with the more determination, and broughtbamboos to scale the walls. We drove 'em off again, but with frightfulloss; twenty-five of our bravest men were killed outright and sixtywounded. 'Twas there I got my wounds, and 'twould have been all overwith me but for that fine fellow Bulger; he turned aside with his hook aslashing blow from a scimitar and gave my assailant his quietus. Bulgerfought like a hero, and the very look of him, black with powder andstained with blood, seemed to drive all the fight out of the Moors thatcame his way.
"All this time the shots of the Nawab's cannon annoyed us, not to muchharm, for they were most villainously served; their fire-arrows did usmore mischief, flying into the thick of the crowds of screaming womenand children. It made my heart sick to think of the poor innocent peoplesuffering through the weakness and incompetence and the guilty neglectof our Council. The heat and the glare, the want of food, the uproarand commotion--may I never see or hear the like again!
"Yesterday there was a lull in the fighting about mid-day. The enemywere still outside the Fort, though they had possession of all thehouses around. They showed a flag of truce, whereupon Mr. Holwell writa letter asking 'em for terms. But 'twas a trick to deceive us. Whilewe were resting, waiting the result of the parley, the Moors poured outof their hiding-places and swarmed upon the eastern gate of the Fort andthe pallisadoes on the south-west. In the interval many of our commonmen had fallen asleep, some, alas! were drunk, so that we had no forceto resist the invaders, who scaled the roof of the godowns on the northwall with the aid of their bamboos and swept over into the Fort.
"Most of us Europeans who were left collected in the veranda in front ofthe barracks--you know, between the great gate and the south-eastbastion. Scarce a man of us but was wounded. There we were unmolested,for the enemy, as soon as they burst into our private rooms, made busywith their spoil; and, as it appeared, the Nawab had given orders thatwe were to be spared. At five o'clock he came into the Fort in a gaylitter and held a durbar in our Council room, Mir Jafar salaaming beforehim and making fulsome compliments on his great victory. Then the wretchsent for Mr. Holwell. We bade him farewell; sure we thought we shouldnever see him more. But he returned to us presently, and told us theNawab was vastly enraged at the smallness of the treasure he had found;the stories of the French had led him to expect untold wealth. Omichandand Krishna Das had been took out of prison, and treated with greataffability, and presented by the Nawab with siropas--robes of honour, aprecious token of his favour. But the Nawab, Mr. Holwell told us, hadpromised no harm should befall us. A guard of 500 gun-men was set overus with matches lighted, and the sun being now nigh setting, men camewith torches, though sure they were not needed, a great part of thefactory being in flames, so that indeed we feared we should besuffocated. But we were shortly afterwards told to go into thebarracks, nigh the veranda where we stood. Then it was that I, by themercy of God, was enabled to escape. I was at the end of the veranda,farthest from the barracks. Just as I was about to move off after therest, one of the guards came in front of me, and whispered me to hidebehind the last of the thick pillars till he came for me. I recognizedthe man: 'twas an old peon of mine. Thank God for a faithful servant!More dead than alive I did what he said. For hours I lay there, fearingI know not what, not daring to stir lest some eye should see me, andsuffering agonies from my untended wounds. At last the man came to me.'Sahib,' he said, 'you were good to me. I will save you. Come quickly.'I got up and stumbled after him. He led me by dark ways out of theFort, past the new godown, across the burying-ground, down to Chandpalghat. There I found Mr. Toley awaiting me with a boat, and 'tis thanksto my old peon and him I now find myself safe."
"And do you know what became of Bulger?" asked Desmond.
"He is with the rest, sorely battered, poor man."
"What will happen to the prisoners? How many are there?"
"There are nigh a hundred and fifty. The Nawab has promised they shallsuffer no harm, and after a night in barracks I suppose he will let 'emgo. We shall drop down the river till we reach the other vessels atSurman's, and then, by heaven! I shall see what I can do to bring Mr.Drake to a sense of his duty, and persuade him to come back and take offthe Europeans. Sure this action of Siraj-uddaula's will not gounavenged. We have already sent letters to Madras, and within twomonths, I hope, succour will reach us from thence, and we shall chastisethis insolent young Nawab."
"Do you think he will keep his word?--I mean, to do the prisoners noharm."
"I think so. He has done no harm to Mr. Watts, whom he brought with himfrom Cossimbazar; and our people will be more valuable to him alive thandead. Yes; by this time to-morrow I trust Mr. Holwell and the otherswill be safe on board the ships, and I do not envy Mr. Drake his bitterexperience when the men he has deserted confront him."
Wh
ile Mr. Merriman was telling his story, the _Hormuzzeer_ was slowlydrifting down the river. At Surman's garden, about five miles south ofCalcutta, it joined the other vessels belonging to British owners, anddropped anchor. Several gentlemen came on board, eager to learn whathad been the last scene in the tragic drama. Mr. Merriman told them allhe knew, and every one drew a long breath of relief when they learntthat, though prisoners, Mr. Holwell and the gallant few who had stuck totheir posts had been assured of good treatment. During the day thevessel dropped still lower down the river to Budge Budge, running thegauntlet of a brisk but ineffective fire from Tanna Fort, now in thehands of the Nawab's troops.
When the _Hormuzzeer_ lay at anchor at Budge Budge, Mr. Merrimanexplained to Desmond the plans he had formed for him. The vessel nowhad her full cargo, and would sail immediately for Penang. Mr. Merrimanproposed that Desmond should make the voyage. In his weak state theclimate of Fulta, where the Europeans intended to stay until helpreached them from Madras, might prove fatal to him; while the sea airwould complete his cure.
His share of the sale-price of the _Tremukji_, together with the Gheriaprize-money, amounted to more than a thousand pounds, and this had beeninvested for him by his friend.
"For myself," added Merriman, "I shall remain. My wounds are notsevere; I am accustomed to the climate; and though India is now odiousto me, I shall not leave Indian soil until I find traces of my dear wifeand daughter. God grant that by the time you return I shall have somenews of them."
Desmond would have liked to remain with the merchant, but he knew thatin his weakness he could have done him no service, and he acquiesced inthe arrangement.
That same evening the fugitives received news that made their blood runcold. Two Englishmen, Messrs. Cooke and Lushington, who had remainedstaunchly by Mr. Holwell's side, came from the shore in a small boat andboarded the _Dodalay_. Their appearance struck every one with amazementand horror. Mr. Cooke was a merchant, aged thirty-one; Mr. Lushington awriter in the Company's service, his age eighteen; but the events of onenight had altered them almost beyond recognition. They said that whenthe order had been given to confine them in the barracks, the prisonershad all expected to pass the night in comparative comfort. What wastheir amazement when they were escorted to the Black Hole, a littlechamber no more than eighteen feet square, which was only used as a rulefor the confinement of one or two unruly prisoners. In vain theyprotested; their brutal guards forced them, a hundred and forty-six innumber, into the narrow space, and locked the door upon them. It was oneof the hottest nights of the year; there was but one small opening inthe wall, and before long the want of air and the intense heat drove thepoor people to fury. They trampled each other down in their mad attemptsto get near the opening for air and the water which one of theirjailers, less brutal than the rest, handed in to them. The horror of thescenes that passed in that small room baffles description. In theagonies of thirst and suffocation the prisoners fought like tigers.Many prayed their guards to shoot them and end their sufferings, only tomeet with jeers and laughter. Some of the native officers took pity onthem and would have opened the door; but none durst move without theNawab's permission, or brave his fury if they roused him from his sleep.From seven in the evening till six in the morning the agony continued,and when at length the order came for their release, only twenty-threeof the hundred and forty-six tottered forth, the ghastliest wrecks ofhuman beings. Mr. Holwell and three others were then conveyed asprisoners in a bullock-cart to Omichand's garden, and thence toMurshidabad; the rest were bidden to go where they pleased.
The news was kept from Desmond. It was not till weeks after that heheard of the terrible tragedy. Then, with the horror and pity he felt,there was mingled a fear that Bulger had been among those who perished.The seaman, he knew, had taken a stout part in the defence of the Fort;Mr. Merriman had not mentioned him as being among the prisoners; it waspossible that he had escaped; but the thought that the brave fellow hadperhaps died in that awful hole made Desmond sick at heart.
Though the season was now at its hottest, the fresh sea air proved awonderful tonic to him, and he rapidly regained his strength. Thevoyage was slow. The _Hormuzzeer_ beat down the Bay of Bengal againstthe monsoon now beginning, and it was nearly two months before she madePenang. She unloaded there: her cargo was sold at great profit, shebeing the only vessel that had for some time left the Hugli; and Desmondfound his capital increased by nearly a hundred per cent. She then tookon a cargo for Madras, where she arrived in the first week of September.
Desmond took the earliest opportunity of going on shore. The roads werestudded with Admiral Watson's fleet, and he learnt that Clive was in thetown preparing an expedition to avenge the wrong suffered by the Englishin Calcutta. He hastened to obtain an interview with the colonel.
"'Tis no conventional speech when I say I am glad to see you alive andwell, Mr. Burke," said Clive. "Have you come direct from Calcutta?"
"No, sir. I left there some ten weeks ago for Penang."
"Then I have later news of my friend Merriman than you. Poor fellow!He is distraught at the loss of his wife and girl. I have receivedseveral letters from him. He spoke of you; told me of what you had doneat Cossimbazar. Gad, sir, you did right well in defending his goods;and I promise myself if ever I lay hands on that villain Peloti he shallsmart for that piece of rascaldom and many more. Are you still mindedto take service with me?"
"I should like nothing better, sir, but I doubt whether I can think ofit until I see Mr. Merriman."
"Tut, man, that is unnecessary. 'Twas arranged between Mr. Merriman andme in Bombay that he would release you as soon as a vacancy occurred inthe Company's military establishment. There are several such vacanciesnow, and I shall be glad to have a Shropshire man as a lieutenant. Itrow you are not averse to taking a hand in this expedition?"
"No one who knows what happened in Calcutta can be that, sir."
"That is settled, then. I appoint you a cadet in the Company'sservice."
"Thank you indeed, sir," said Desmond, flushing with pleasure. "I havelonged all my life to serve under you."
"You may find me a hard task-master," said Clive, setting his lips inthe grim way that so many had cause to fear.
"When do we start, sir?"
"That I can't say. 'Tis not by my wish we have delayed so long. I willlet you know when I require your services. Meanwhile, make yourselfacquainted with the officers."
Desmond learnt from his new comrades that there was some disagreementamong the Madras Council about the command of the expedition. Clive hadvolunteered to lead it as soon as the news of the fall of Calcuttaarrived; but he was inferior in rank to Colonel Adlercron of the 39thRegiment, and that officer was a great stickler for military etiquette.The Council had some reason for anxiety. They might hear, at any moment,of the outbreak of war between France and England; and as the Frenchwere strong in Southern India, it required much moral courage to weakenthe force disposable for the defence of Madras.
One day, before the matter of the command had been definitely settled,Desmond received a summons from Clive. He found the great soldieralone.
"You have heard of the discussions in the Council, Mr. Burke," beganClive without ceremony. "I tell you this: I and no other will commandthis expedition. In that confidence I have sent for you. What I haveheard of you speaks well for your readiness and resource, and I thinkyou could be more useful to me in the Hugli than waiting here until ourrespected Council can make up their minds. The men here are notacquainted with Bengal. You are: you know the country, from Calcutta toMurshidabad, at all events, and you speak Hindustani with some fluency.You can serve me best by picking up any information you can getregarding the enemy's movements. You are willing, I take it, to runsome risks?"
"I'll do anything you wish, sir."
"As I expected. Well, you will go at once to Fulta. Not to Mr. Drake:I've no confidence in him and the other old women who are conducting theCompany's affairs in Bengal. Majo
r Killpatrick, an excellent officer,left here in June with a small reinforcement. He is now at Fulta. Youwill join him. I will ask him to give you a free hand in going andcoming and collecting information. You understand that in a sense youare on secret service. I want you to keep an eye particularly on themovements of the French. 'Tis reported that they are in league withSiraj-uddaula: find out whether that's the case: and gad, sir, if it is,I'll not be satisfied till I've turned 'em neck and crop out of Bengal.You'll want money: here are 5,000 rupees; if you want more, ask MajorKillpatrick. Now, when can you start?"
"The _Hormuzzeer_ is sailing in ballast to-morrow, sir. She'll go light,and aboard her I should get to Fulta as quickly as on any other vessel."
"Very well. I trust you: much depends on your work; go on as you havebegun and I promise you Robert Clive won't forget it. Good-bye.--By theway, your duties will take you through the parts where Mrs. Merrimandisappeared. Your first duty is to me, and through me to your King andcountry, remember that. But if you can get any news of the missingladies, so much the better. Mrs. Merriman is a cousin of my wife, and Iam deeply concerned about her fate."
Next day the _Hormuzzeer_ sailed, and by the middle of September Desmondhad reached Fulta, and reported himself both to Major Killpatrick and toMr. Merriman there.