CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FOURTH
*In which the danger of judging by appearance is notably exemplified.*
"Sure 'tis a most pleasant engaging young man," said Mrs. Merriman, asher boat dropped down the river towards Chandernagore. "Don't you thinkso, Phyllis?"
"Why, mamma, it does seem so. But 'tis too soon to make up my mind inten minutes."
"Indeed, miss! Let me tell you I made up my mind about your father infive. La, how Merriman will laugh when he hears 'twas Mr. Burke gavehim that scar!--What is the matter, Munnoo Khan?"
The boat had stopped with a jerk, and the boatmen were looking at oneanother with some anxiety. The serang explained that ill luck hadcaused the boat to strike a snag in the river, and she was taking inwater.
"You clumsy man! The Sahib will be angry with you. Make haste, then;row harder."
"Mamma, 'tis impossible!" cried Phyllis in alarm, "See, the water iscoming in fast; we shall be swamped in a few minutes!"
"Mercy me, 'tis as you say! Munnoo Khan, row to the nearest ghat: yousee it there! Sure 'tis a private ghat, belonging to the house of oneof the French merchants. He will lend us a boat. 'Twill be vastlyannoying if we do not reach home to-night."
The men just succeeded in reaching the ghat, on the left bank of theriver about a mile below Chandernagore, before the boat sank. When theparty had landed, Mrs. Merriman sent her jamadar up to the house to askfor the loan of a boat, or for shelter while one was being obtained fromChandernagore.
"Tell the Sahib 'tis the bibi of an English sahib," she said. "He willnot refuse to do English ladies a service."
The jamadar shortly returned, followed by a tall dark-featured Europeanin white clothes. He bowed and smiled pleasantly when he came down tothe ghat, and addressed Mrs. Merriman in French.
"I am happy to be of service, madam. Alas! I have no boat at hand, butI will send instantly to Chandernagore for one. Meanwhile, if you willhave the goodness to come to my house, my wife will be proud to offeryou refreshments, and we will do our best to entertain you until theboat arrives. Permit me, madam."
He offered his left hand to assist the lady up the steps.
"I had the mischance to injure my right hand the other day," heexplained. "It is needful to keep it from the air."
It was thrust into the pocket of his coat.
"The Frenchman is vastly polite," said Mrs. Merriman to her daughter, asthey preceded him up the path to the house. "But there, that is the waywith their nation."
"Hush, mamma!" said Phyllis, "he may understand English. I do not likehis smile," she added in a whisper.
"La, my dear, it means nothing; it comes natural to a Frenchman. Helooks quite genteel, you must confess; I should not be surprised if hewere a somebody in his own land."
As if in response to the implied question, the man moved to her side,and, in a manner of great deference, said--
"Your jamadar named you to me, madam; I feel that I ought to explain whoI am. My name is Jacques de Bonnefon--a name, I may say it withoutboasting, once even better known at the court of His Majesty King Louisthe Fifteenth than in Chandernagore. Alas, madam! fortune is a ficklejade. Here I am now, in Bengal, slowly retrieving by honest commerce apatrimony of which my lamented father was not too careful."
"There! What did I say?" whispered Mrs. Merriman to her daughter asMonsieur de Bonnefon went forward to meet them on the threshold of hisveranda. "A noble in misfortune! I only hope his wife is presentable."
They entered the house and were shown into a room opening on theveranda.
"You will pardon my leaving you for a few moments, mesdames," said theirobliging host. "I will bring my wife to welcome you, and send toChandernagore for a boat."
With a bow he left them, closing the door behind him.
"Madame de Bonnefon was taken by surprise, I suppose," said Mrs.Merriman, "and is making her toilet. The vanity of these French people,my dear!"
Minutes passed. Evening was coming on apace; little light filteredthrough the jhilmils. The ladies sat, wondering why their hostess didnot appear.
"Madame takes a long time, my dear," said Mrs. Merriman.
"I don't like it, mamma. I wish we hadn't come into the stranger'shouse."
"Why, my love, what nonsense! The man is not a savage. The French arenot at war with us, and if they were, they do not war with women.Something has happened to delay Monsieur de Bonnefon."
"I can't help it, mamma; I don't like his looks; I fear something, Idon't know what. Oh, I wish father were here!"
She got up and walked to and fro restlessly. Then, as by a suddenimpulse, she went quickly to the door and turned the handle. She gave alow cry under her breath, and sprang round.
"Mamma! mamma!" she cried. "I knew it! The door is locked."
Mrs. Merriman rose immediately.
"Nonsense, my dear! He would not dare do such a thing!"
But the door did not yield to her hand, though she pulled and shook itviolently.
"The insolent villain!" she exclaimed. She had plenty of courage, andif her voice shook, it was with anger, not fear. She went to the windowopening on the veranda, loosed the bars, and looked out.
"We can get out here," she said. "We will go instantly toChandernagore, and demand assistance from the Governor."
But the next moment she shrank back into the room. Two armed peons stoodin the veranda, one on each side of the window. Recovering herself Mrs.Merriman went to the window again.
"They will not dare to stop us," she said. "Let me pass, you men; Iwill not be kept here."
But the natives did not budge from their post. Only, as the angry ladyflung open one of the folding doors, they closed together and barred theway with their pikes. Accustomed to absolute subservience from her ownpeons, Mrs. Merriman saw at once that insistence was useless. If thesemen did not obey instantly they would not obey at all.
"I cannot fight them," she said, again turning back. "The wretches! Ifonly your father were here!"
"Or Mr. Burke," said Phyllis. "Oh, how I wish he had come with us!"
"Wishing is no use, my dear. I vow the Frenchman shall pay dearly forthis insolence. We must make the best of it."
Meanwhile Monsieur de Bonnefon had gone down to the ghat. But he didnot send a messenger to Chandernagore as he had promised. He told thejamadar, in Urdu, that his mistress and the chota bibi would remain athis house for the night. They feared another accident if they shouldproceed in the darkness. He bade the man bring his party to the house,where they would all find accommodation until the morning.
In the small hours of that night there was a short sharp scuffle in theservants' quarters. The Merriman boatmen and peons were set upon by ascore of sturdy men who promptly roped them together and, hauling themdown to the ghat and into a boat, rowed them up to Hugli.
There they were thrown into the common prison. In the morning a chargeof dacoity[#] was laid against them. The story was that they had beenapprehended in the act of breaking into the house of Monsieur Sinfray.Plenty of witnesses were forthcoming to give evidence against them; suchcan be purchased outside any cutcherry[#] in India for a few rupees.The men were convicted. Some were given a choice between execution andservice in the Nawab's army; others were sentenced off-hand to a term ofimprisonment, and these considered themselves lucky in escaping withtheir lives. In vain they protested their innocence and pleaded that amessenger might be sent to Calcutta; the Nawab was known to be so muchincensed against the English that the fact of their being Company'sservants availed them nothing.
[#] Gang robbery.
[#] Court-house.
About the same time that the men were being condemned, a two-ox hackeri,such as was used for the conveyance of pardahnishin[#] women, left thehouse of Monsieur de Bonnefon and drove inland for some five miles. Thecurtains were closely drawn, and the people who met it on the roadwondered from what zenana the ladies thus screened from the public gazehad come. The
team halted at a lonely house surrounded by a high wall,once the residence of a zamindar, now owned by Coja Solomon ofCossimbazar, and leased to a fellow Armenian of Chandernagore. It hadbeen hired more than once by Monsieur Sinfray, the Secretary to theCouncil at Chandernagore and a _persona grata_ with the Nawab, for _alfresco_ entertainments got up in imitation of the fetes at Versailles.But of late Monsieur Sinfray had had too much important business on handto spare time for such delights. He was believed to be withSiraj-uddaula at Murshidabad, and the house had remained untenanted.
[#] Literally, sitting behind screens.
The hackeri pulled up at the gate in the wall. The curtains were drawnaside; a group of peons surrounded the cart to fend off prying eyes; andthe passengers descended--two ladies clad in long white saris[#] andclosely veiled. A sleek Bengali had already got out from a palanquinwhich had accompanied the hackeri; in a second palanquin sat Monsieur deBonnefon, who did not take the trouble to alight. With many salaams theBengali led the ladies through the gate and across the compound towardsthe house. They both walked proudly erect, with a gait very differentfrom that of the native ladies who time and again had followed the samepath. They entered the house; the heavy door was shut; and from behindthe screens of the room to which they were led they heard the hackerirumbling away.
[#] Garment in one piece, covering the body from head to foot.
Monsieur de Bonnefon, as his palanquin was borne off, soliloquized,ticking off imaginary accounts on the fingers of his left hand; theright hand was partly hidden by a black velvet mitten. His reckoningran somewhat as follows--
"In account with Edward Merriman--
"Credit--to the hounding out of the Company by his friend Clive:nominal: I made more outside; to scurrilous abuse in public and private:mere words--say fifty rupees; to threat to hang me: mere wordsagain--say fifty rupees. Total credit, say a hundred rupees.
"Debit--to ransom for wife and daughter: two lakhs.
"Balance in my favour, say a hundred and ninety-nine thousand ninehundred rupees.
"In a few weeks, Mr. Edward Merriman, I shall trouble you for asettlement."