CHAPTER THE TWELFTH
*In which our hero is offered freedom at the price of honour; and Mr.Diggle finds that he has no monopoly of quotations.*
Next morning, when Desmond left the shed with his fellow-prisoners, hetook with him, secreted in a fold of his dhoti, a small piece of clay.It had been given him overnight by the Babu. An hour or two later,happening to be for a moment alone in the tool-shop, he took out theclay and examined it carefully. It was a moment for which he had waitedand longed with feverish impatience. The clay was a thin strip, oval inshape, and slightly curved. In the middle of it was the impression,faint but clear, of a key. A footstep approaching, he concealed theclay again in his garment, and, when a workman entered, was busilyplying a chisel upon a deal plank.
Before he left the tool-shop, he secreted with the clay a scrap of steeland a small file. That day, and for several days after, whenever chancegave him a minute or two apart from his fellow-workmen, he employed theprecious moments in diligently filing the steel to the pattern on theclay. It was slow work: all too tedious for his eager thought. But heworked at his secret task with unfailing patience, and at the week's endhad filed the steel to the likeness of the wards of a key.
That night, when his "co-mates in exile" were asleep, he gently insertedthe steel in the lock of his ankle-band He tried to turn it. It stuckfast; the wards did not fit. He was not surprised. Before he made theexperiment he had felt that it would fail; the key was indeed a clumsy,ill-shapen instrument. But next day he began to work on another pieceof steel, and on this he spent every spare minute he could snatch. Thistime he found himself able to work faster. Night and morning he lookedsearchingly at the key on the warder's bunch, and afterwards tried tocut the steel to the pattern that was now, as it were, stamped upon hisbrain.
He wished he could test his second model in the morning light before thewarder came, and correct it then. But to do so would involve discoveryby his fellow-captives; the time to take them into his confidence wasnot yet. He had perforce to wait till dead of night before he couldtell whether the changes, more and more delicate and minute, made uponhis key during the day were effective. And the Babu was fretful; havingdone his part, admirably, as Desmond told him, in working the key intohis story, he seemed to expect that the rest would be easy, and did notmake account of the long labour of the file.
At length a night came when, inserting the key in the lock, Desmond feltit turn easily. Success at last! As he heard the click, he felt anextraordinary sense of elation. Quietly unclasping the fetter, heremoved it from his ankle and stood free. If it could be calledfree--to be shut up in a locked and barred shed in the heart of one ofthe strongest fortresses in Hindustan! But at least his limbs were atliberty. What a world of difference there was between that and hisformer state!
Should he inform the Babu? He felt tempted to do so, for it was toSurendra Nath's ingenuity in interpolating the incident of the key intoa well-known story that he owed the clay pattern of the warder's key.But Surendra Nath was excitable; he was quite capable of uttering a yellof delight that would waken the other men and force a prematuredisclosure. Desmond decided to wait for a quiet moment next day beforetelling the Babu of his success. So he replaced his ankle-band, lockedthe catch, and lay down to the soundest and most refreshing sleep he hadenjoyed for many a night.
He had only just reached the workshop next morning when a peon came witha message that Angria Rao[#] required his instant attendance at thepalace. He began to quake in spite of himself. Could the prince havediscovered already that the lock of his fetters had been tampered with?Desmond could scarcely believe it. He had made his first test incomplete darkness; nothing had broken the silence save the one momentaryclick; and the warder, when he unloosed him, had not examined the lock.What if he were searched and the precious key were found upon him? Itwas carefully hidden in a fold of his dhoti. There was no opportunity offinding another hiding-place for it; he must go as he was and trust thatsuspicion had not been aroused. But it was with a galloping pulse thathe followed the peon out of the dockyard, within the walls of the fort,and into the hall where he had had his first interview with the Pirate.
[#] A chief or prince.
His uneasiness was hardly allayed when he saw that Angria was in companywith Diggle. Both were squatting on the carpeted dais; no other personwas in the room. Having ushered him in, the peon withdrew, and Desmondwas alone with the two men he had most cause to fear. Diggle wassmiling, Angria's eyes were gleaming, his mobile lips working as withimpatience, if not anxiety.
The Pirate spoke quickly, imperiously.
"You have learnt our tongue, Firangi[#] boy?" he said.
[#] Originally applied by the natives to the Portuguese, then to anyEuropean.
"I have done my best, huzur," replied Desmond in Urdu.
"That is well. Now hearken to what I say. You have pleased me; myjamadar[#] speaks well of you; but you are my slave, and, if I will it,you will always be my slave. You would earn your freedom?"
[#] Lieutenant.
"I am in your august hands, huzur," said Desmond diplomatically.
"You may earn your freedom in one way," continued Angria in the samerapid impatient tone. "My scouts report that an English fleet haspassed up the coast towards Bombay. My spies tell me that in Bombay alarge force is collected under the command of that soor ka batcha[#]Clive. But I cannot learn the purpose of this armament. The dogs maythink, having taken my fortress of Suvarndrug, to come and attack mehere. Or they may intend to proceed against the French at Hyderabad.It is not convenient for me to remain in this uncertainty. You will goto Bombay and learn these things of which I am in ignorance and comeagain and tell me. I will then set you free."
[#] Son of a pig.
"I cannot do it, huzur."
Desmond's reply came without a moment's hesitation. To act as a spy uponhis own countrymen--how could Angria imagine that an English boy wouldever consent to win his freedom on such terms? His simple words rousedthe Maratha to fury. He sprang to his feet and angrily addressedDiggle, who had also risen, and stood at his side still smiling. Digglereplied to his vehement words in a tone too low for Desmond to catchwhat he said. Angria turned to the boy again.
"I will not only set you free; I will give you half a lakh of rupees;you shall have a place at my court, or, if you please, I will recommendyou to another prince, in whose service you may rise to wealth andhonour. If you refuse, I will kill you; no, I will not kill you, fordeath is sweet to a slave; I will inflict on you the tortures I reservefor those who provoke my anger: you shall lose your ears, your nose,and----"
Diggle again interposed.
"Pardon me, bhai[#]," Desmond heard him say, "that is hardly the way todeal with a boy of my nation. If you will deign to leave him to me, Ithink that in a little I shall find means to overcome his hesitation."
[#] Brother.
"But even then, how can I trust the boy? He may give his word to escapeme; then betray me to his countrymen. I have no faith in the Firangi."
"Believe me, if he gives his word he will keep it. That is the way withus."
"It is not your way."
"I am no longer of them," said Diggle with consummate aplomb. "Dismisshim now; I will do my best with him."
"Then you must hasten. I give you three days: if within that time hehas not consented, I will do to him all that I have said, and morealso."
"I do not require three days to make up my mind," said Desmond quietly."I cannot do what----"
"Hush, you young fool!" cried Diggle angrily in English. Turning to thePirate he added: "The boy is as stiff-necked as a pig; but even a pigcan be led if you ring his snout. I beg you leave him to me."
"Take him away!" exclaimed Angria, clapping his hands. Two attendantscame in answer to his summons, and Desmond was led off and escorted bythem to his workshop.
Angry and disgusted as he was with both the Maratha and Diggle, he wasstill more an
xious at this unexpected turn in his affairs. He had butthree days! If he had not escaped before the fourth day dawned, hisfate would be the most terrible that could befall a living creature.The tender mercies of the wicked are cruel! He had seen, among theprisoners, some of the victims of Angria's cruelty; they had sufferedtortures too terrible to be named, and dragged out a life of unutterabledegradation and misery, longing for death as a blissful end. With hisquick imagination he already felt the hands of the torturers upon him;and for all the self-control which his life in Gheria had induced, hewas for some moments so wholly possessed by terror that he couldscarcely endure the consciousness of existence.
But when the first tremors were past, and he began to go about his usualtasks, and was able to think calmly, not for an instant did he waver inhis resolve. Betray his countrymen! It was not to be thought of. Givehis word to Angria and then forswear himself! Ah! Even Diggle knewthat he would not do that. Freedom, wealth, a high place in someprince's court! He would buy none of them at the price of his honour.Diggle was false, unspeakably base; let him do Angria's work if hewould; Desmond Burke would never stoop to it.
He scarcely argued the matter explicitly with himself: it was settled inAngria's presence by his instinctive repulsion. But it was not in a boylike Desmond, young, strong, high-spirited, tamely to fold his handsbefore adverse fate. He had three days: it would go hard with him if hedid not make good use of them. He felt a glow of thankfulness that thefirst step, and that a difficult one, had been taken, providentially asit seemed, the very night before this crisis in his fate. His futureplan had already outlined itself; it was necessary first to gain overhis companions in captivity; that done, he hoped within the short periodallowed him to break prison and turn his back for ever on this place ofhorror.
It seemed to his eager impatience that that day would never end. It wasNovember, and the beginning of the cold season, and the work of thedockyard, being urgent, was carried on all day without the usual breakduring the hot middle hours, so that he found no opportunity ofconsulting his fellows. Further, the foremen of the yard were speciallyactive. The Pirate had been for some time fearful lest the capture ofSuvarndrug should prove to be the prelude to an assault upon hisstronger fort and headquarters at Gheria, and to meet the danger he hadhad nine new vessels laid down. Three of them had been finished, butthe work had been much interrupted by the rains, and the delay in thecompletion of the remaining six had irritated him. He had visited hisdispleasure upon the foremen. After his interview with Desmond hesummoned them to his presence and threatened them with such direpunishment if the work was not more rapidly pushed or that they had usedthe lash more furiously and with even less discrimination than ever.Consequently when Desmond met his companions in the shed at night hefound them all in desperate indignation and rage. He had seen nothingmore of Diggle; he must strike while the iron was hot.
When they were locked in, and all was quiet outside, the prisoners gavevent, each in his own way, to their feelings. For a time Desmondlistened, taking no part in their lamentation and cursing. But when thetide of impotent fury ebbed, and there was a lull, he said quietly:
"Are my brothers dogs that, suffering these things, they merely whine?"
The quiet level tones, so strangely contrasting with the tones offierceness and hate that were still ringing in the ears of the unhappyprisoners, had an extraordinary effect. There was dead silence in theshed: it seemed that every man was afraid to speak. Then one of theMarathas said in a whisper:
"What do you mean, sahib?"
"What do I mean? Surely it must be clear to any man. Have we not satlong enough on the carpet of patience?"
Again the silence remained for a space unbroken.
"You, Gulam Mahomed," continued Desmond, addressing one of the Biluchiswhom he considered the boldest--"have you never thought of escape?"
"Allah knows!" said the man in an undertone. "But he knows that Iremember what happened a year ago. Fuzl Khan can tell the sahibsomething about that."
A fierce cry broke from the Gujarati, who had been moaning upon hischarpoy in anguish from the lashings he had undergone that day. Desmondheard him spring up; but if he had meant to attack the Biluchi, theclashing of his fetters reminded him of his helplessness. He cursed theman, demanding what he meant.
"Nothing," returned Gulam Mahomed. "But you were the only man, Allahknows, who escaped the executioner."
"Pig, and son of a pig!" cried Fuzl Khan, "I knew nothing of the plot.If any man says I did he lies. They did it without me; some evil jinmust have heard their whisperings. They failed. They were swine ofCanarese."
"Do not let us quarrel," said Desmond. "We are all brothers inmisfortune; we ought to be as close-knit as the strands of a rope. Hereis our brother Fuzl Khan, the only man of his gang who did not try toescape, and see how he is treated! Could he be worse misused? Would notdeath be a boon? Is it not so, Fuzl Khan?"
The Gujarati assented with a passionate cry.
"As for the rest of us, it is only a matter of time. I am the youngestof you, and not the hardest worked, yet I feel that the strain of ourtoil is wearing me out. What must it be with you? You are dyingslowly. If we make an attempt to escape and fail we shall die quickly,that is all the difference. What is to be is written, is it not so,Shaik Abdullah?"
"Even so, sahib," replied the second Biluchi, "it is written. Who canescape his fate?"
"And what do you say, Surendra Nath?"
"The key, sahib," whispered the Babu in English; "what of the key?"
"Speak in Urdu, Babu," said Desmond quickly. "Don't agree at once."
Surendra Nath was quick-witted; he perceived that Desmond did not wishthe others to suspect that there had been any confidences between them.
"I am a coward, the sahib knows," he said in Urdu. "I could not giveblows; I should die. It was told us to-day that the English are aboutto attack this fort. They will set us free; we need run no risks."
"Wah!" exclaimed one of the Mysoreans. "If the Firangi get into thefort we shall all be murdered."
"That is truth," said a Maratha. "The Rao would have our throats cut atonce."
The Babu groaned.
"You see, Surendra Nath, it is useless to wait in the hope of help frommy countrymen," said Desmond. "If there is fighting to be done, we cando all that is needed: is it not so, my brothers? As for you, Babu, ifyou would sooner die without--well, there is nothing to prevent you."
"If the sahib does not wish me to fight, it is well. But has the sahiba plan?"
"Yes, I have a plan."
He paused; there was a sound of hard breathing.
"Tell it us," said the Gujarati eagerly.
"You are one of us, Fuzl Khan?"
"The plan! the plan! Is not my back mangled? Have I not endured thetank? Is not freedom sweet to me as to another? The plan, sahib! Iswear, I Fuzl Khan, to be true to you and all; only tell me the plan."
"You shall have the plan in good time. First, I have a thing to say.When a battle is to be fought, no soldier fights only for himself, doingthat which seems good to him alone. He looks to his captain for orders.Otherwise mistakes would be made, and all effort would be wasted. Wemust have a captain: who is he to be?"
"Yourself, sahib," said the Gujarati at once. "You have spoken; youhave the plan; we take you as leader."
"You hear what Fuzl Khan says. Do you all agree?"
The others assented eagerly. Then Desmond told his wondering hearersthe secret of the key, and during several hours of that quiet night hediscussed with them in whispers the details of the scheme which he hadworked out. At intervals the sentry passed and flashed his lightthrough the opening in the wall; but at these moments every man waslying motionless upon his charpoy, and not a sound was audible save asnore.
Next day when Desmond, having finished his mid-day meal of rice andmangoes, had returned to his workshop, Diggle sauntered in.
"Ah, my young friend," he said in his quiet
voice and with his usualsmile, "doubtless you have expected a visit from me. Night bringscounsel. I did not visit you yesterday, thinking that after sleepingover the amiable and generous proposition made to you by my friendAngria you would view it in another light. I trust that during thenocturnal hours you have come to perceive the advantages of choosing thediscreet part. Let us reason together."
There were several natives with them in the workshop, but none of themunderstood English, and the two Englishmen could talk at ease.
"Reason!" said Desmond in reply to Diggle's last sentence. "If you aregoing to talk of what your pirate friend spoke of yesterday, it is merewaste of time. I shall never agree."
"Words, my young friend, mere words! You will be one of us yet. Youwill never have such a chance again. Why, in a few years you will beable to return to England, if you will, a rich man, a very nawab.[#] Myfriend Angria has his faults; 'nemo est sine culpa': but he is at leastgenerous. An instance! The man who took the chief part in the captureof the Dutchman two years ago--what is he now? A naib,[#] a man ofwealth, of high repute at the Nizam's court. There is no reason why youshould not follow so worthy an example; cut out an Indiaman or two, andDesmond Burke may, if he will, convey a shipload of precious things tothe shores of Albion, and enjoy his leisured dignity on a landed estateof his own. He shall drive a coach while his oaf of a brother perspiresbehind a plough."
[#] Governor.
[#] Deputy-governor.
Desmond was silent. Diggle watched him keenly, and after a slight pausecontinued:
"This is no great thing that is asked of you. You sail on one ofAngria's grabs; you are set upon the shore; you enter Bombay with alikely story of escape from the fortress of the Pirate; you are a hero,the boon fellow of the men, the pet of the ladies--for there are ladiesin Bombay, 'forma praestante puellae.' In a week you know everything,all the purposes that Angria's spies have failed to discover. One dayyou disappear; the ladies wail and tear their hair, a tiger has eatenyou! in a week you will be forgotten. But you are back in Angria'sfortress, no longer a slave, down-trodden and despised; but a free man,a rich man, a potentate to be. Is it not worth thinking of, my youngfriend, especially when you remember the other side of the picture? Itis a dark side; an unpleasant side; even, let me confess, horrible: Iprefer to keep it to the wall."
He waved his gloved hand deprecatingly, watching Desmond with the sameintentness. The boy was dumb; he might also have been deaf. Diggledrew from his fob an elaborately chased snuff-box and took a pinch offine rappee, Desmond mechanically noticing that the box boreornamentation of Dutch design.
"If I were not your friend," continued Diggle, "I might say that yourattitude is one of sheer obstinacy. Why not trust us? You see we trustyou. I stand pledged for you with Angria; but I flatter myself I know aman when I see one: 'si fractus illabitur orbis'--you have already shownyour mettle. Of course I understand your scruples; I was young myselfonce; I know the generous impulses that rule the hearts of youth. Butthis is a matter that must be decided, not by feeling, but by hard factand cold reason. Who benefits by your scruples? A set of hard-livingmoney-grubbers in Bombay who fatten on the oppression of the ryot, whotithe mint and anice and cummin, who hoard up treasure which they willtake back with their jaundiced livers to England, there to become peststo society with their splenetic and domineering tempers. What's theCompany to you, or you to the Company? Why, Governor Pitt was aninterloper; and your own father: yes, he was an interloper, and aninterloper of the best."
"But not a pirate," said Desmond hotly, his scornful silence yielding atlast.
"True, true," said Diggle suavely; "but in the Indies, you see, we don'tdraw fine distinctions. We are all buccaneers in a sense; some with thesword, others the ledger. Throw in your lot frankly with me; I willstand your friend----"
"You are wasting your breath and your eloquence," interrupted Desmondfirmly, "and even if I were tempted to agree, as I never could be, Ishould remember who is talking to me." Then he added with a whimsicalsmile, "Come, Mr. Diggle, you are fond of quotations; I am not; butthere's one I remember--'I fear the Greeks, even----'"
"You young hound!" cried Diggle, his sallow face becoming purple. Hisanger, it seemed to Desmond afterwards reflecting on it, was out ofproportion to the cause of offence. "You talk of my eloquence. ByHeaven, when I see you again I will use it otherwise. You shall hearsomething of how Angria wreaks his vengeance; you shall have a foretasteof the sweets in store for an obstinate recalcitrant pigheaded fool!"
He strode away, leaving Desmond a prey to the gloomiest anticipations.
That evening, when the prisoners were squatting outside the shed for theusual hour of talk before being locked up for the night, a new featurewas added to the entertainment. One of the Marathas had somehowpossessed himself of a tom-tom, and proved himself an excellentperformer on that weird instrument. While he tapped its sides, hisfellow Maratha, in a strange hard tuneless voice, chanted a song,repeating its single stanza again and again without apparently wearyinghis hearers, and clapping his hands to mark the time. It was a songabout a banya[#] with a beautiful young daughter-in-law, whom heappointed to deal out the daily handful of flour expected as alms byevery beggar who passed his door. Her hands being much smaller than hisown, he pleased himself with the idea that, without losing hisreputation for charity, he would give away through her much less grainthan if he himself performed the charitable office. But it turned outbad thrift, for so beautiful was she that she attracted to the door notonly the genuine beggars, but also many, both young and old, who haddisguised themselves in mendicant rags for the mere pleasure ofbeholding her and getting from her a smile and a gentle word. It was apopular song, and the warder himself was tempted to stay and listenuntil, the hour for locking up being past, he at last recollected hisduty and bundled the prisoners into the shed.
[#] Hindu merchant.
"Sing inside if you must," he said, "but not too loud, lest the overseercome with the bamboo."
Inside the shed, reclining on their charpoys, the men continued theirperformance, changing their song, though not, as it seemed to Desmond,the tune. He, however, was perhaps not sufficiently attentive to themonotonous strains, for, as soon as the warder had left the yard, he hadunlocked his fetters and begun to work in the darkness. Poised on oneof the rafters, he held on with one hand to a joist, and with the otherplied a small saw, well greased with ghi. The sound of the slow carefulmovements of the tool was completely drowned by the singing and thehollow rat-a-pan of the tom-tom. Beneath him stood the Babu, extendinghis dhoti like an apron, and catching in it the falling shower ofsawdust.
Suddenly the figure on the rafter gave a low whistle. Through the windowhe had seen the dim form of the sentry outside approach the spacelighted by the rays from the lantern, which he had laid down at a cornerof the shed. Before the soldier had time to lift it and throw a beaminto the shed (which he did as much from curiosity to see the untiringperformers as in the exercise of his duty) Desmond had swung down fromhis perch and stretched himself upon the nearest charpoy. The Babumeanwhile had darted with his folded dhoti to the darkest corner. Whenthe sentry peered in, the two performing Marathas were sitting up; therest were lying prone, to all appearance soothed to sleep.
"Verily thou wilt rap a hole in the tom-tom," said the sentry with agrin. "Better save a little of it for to-morrow."
"Sleep is far from my eyes," replied the man. "My comrades are all atrest; if it does not offend thee----"
"No. Tap till it burst, for me. But without sleep the work will behard in the morning."
He went away. Instantly the two figures were again upon their feet, andthe sawing recommenced. For three hours the work continued, interruptedat intervals by the visits of the sentry. Midnight was past beforeDesmond, with cramped limbs and aching head, gave the word for the songand accompaniment to cease, and the shed was in silence.