CHAPTER THE TWENTY-NINTH
*In which our hero does not win the Battle of Plassey; but, where all dowell, 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, whenDesmond presented himself. "I see it in your eyes. But I've no time tohear your story now. It must wait until we have seen the result of theday's fighting. Not that I expect much of it in this quarter. We can'ttake the place with the land force only, and I won't throw away lifetill the Admiral 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 geniusof a Dupleix or a Bussy. With him were only some eight hundred fightingmen, of whom perhaps half were Europeans. Instead of concentrating hisdefence on the fort he scattered his men about the town, leaving theweakest part of his defences, the eastern curtain, insufficientlymanned. He believed that Admiral Watson would find it impossible tobring his biggest ships within gunshot, and fancied that by sinking somevessels at the narrowest part of the river he would keep the wholeBritish fleet unemployed--a mistake that was to cost him dear.
By the night of March 14 Clive had driven in the outposts. Theimmediate effect of this was the desertion of 2,000 natives sent toRenault's assistance by Nandkumar the faujdar of Hugli. A continuousbombardment was kept up until the 19th, when Admiral Watson arrived fromCalcutta 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 mastsshowed above water, he took soundings and found that with carefulhandling the men-o'-war might safely pass. Once more Renault refused tosurrender. His offer to ransom the fort was declined by the Admiral,who the same night sent the master of the _Kent_ to buoy the Channel.Two nights later, in pitch darkness, several English boats were rowedwith muffled oars to the sunken vessels. Their crews fixed lanterns tothe masts of these in such a way that the lights, while guiding thewarships, would be invisible from the fort.
Early next morning Clive captured the battery commanding the riverpassage, and the three British ships ran up with the tide. The _Kent_and _Tyger_ opened fire on the south-east and north-east bastions, andthese two vessels bore the brunt of a tremendous cannonade from thefort. The French artillery was well served, doing fearful damage onboard the British vessels. On the _Kent_, save the Admiral himself andone lieutenant, every officer was killed or wounded. One shot struckdown Captain Speke and shattered the leg of his son, a brave boy ofsixteen, who refused to allow his wound to be examined until his fatherhad been attended to, and then bore the pain of the rough amputation ofthose days without a murmur. Meanwhile Clive's men had climbed to theroofs of houses near the fort, which commanded the French batteries; andhis musketeers poured in a galling fire and shot down the gunners attheir work. As the walls of the barracks and fort were shattered by theguns from the ships, the sepoys crept closer and closer, awaiting theword to storm.
The morning drew on. Admiral Watson began to fear that when the tidefell his big guns would be at too low a level to do further execution.There was always considerable rivalry between himself and Clive, fed bythe stupid jealousy of some of the Calcutta Council. While Clive,foreseeing even more serious work later, was anxious to spare his men,Watson was equally eager to reap all possible credit for a victory overthe French. As it happened, neither had to go to the last extremity,for about half-past nine a white flag was seen flying from the fort.Lieutenant Brereton of the _Kent_ and Captain Eyre Coote from the landforce were sent to arrange the surrender, and a little later thearticles of capitulation were signed by Admirals Watson and Pocock, andby 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 afterwards to hisfriend Captain Latham of the _Tyger_, the fleet had the honours of theday.
"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_to me. But he didn't see the fun of being out of the fighting; and uphe came post-haste and hoisted his flag on my ship, putting my nosebadly out of joint, I can tell you. Still, one oughtn't to grumble. Itdoesn't matter much who gets the credit so long as we've done our job.'Tis all in the day's work."
The victory at Chandernagore destroyed the French power in Bengal. Butit turned out to be only the prelude to a greater event--an event whichmust be reckoned as the foundation stone of the British Empire in India.It sprang from the character of Siraj-uddaula. That prince was a crueldespot, but weak-willed, vacillating, and totally unable to keep afriend. One day he would strut in some vainglorious semblance ofdignity; the next he would engage in drunken revels with the meanest andmost dissolute of his subjects. He insulted his commander-in-chief, MirJafar: he offended the Seths, wealthy bankers of Murshidabad who hadhelped him to his throne: he played fast and loose with every one withwhom he had dealings. His own people were weary of him, and at length aplot was hatched 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 shouldco-operate in deposing the vicious Nawab. They agreed, on the groundsthat his dishonesty and insolence showed that he had no real intentionof abiding by the terms of his treaty, and that he was constantlyintriguing with the French. A treaty was accordingly drawn up with MirJafar, in which the prospective Subah agreed to all the terms formerlygranted by Siraj-uddaula. But Omichand, who was on bad terms with MirJafar and the Seths, threatened to reveal the whole plot to the Nawaband have Mr. Watts put to death, unless he were guaranteed in the treatythe payment of a sum of money equivalent to nearly L400,000. Clive wasso much disgusted with Omichand's double-dealing that, though he wasready to make him fair compensation for his losses in Calcutta, he wasnot 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 defence--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 _lal kagaz_, containing a clause embodying Omichand's demand;the other on white, containing no such clause. Admiral Watson, withbluff honesty, refused to have anything to do with the sham treaty; itwas dishonourable, he said, and to ask his signature was an affront.But his signature was necessary to satisfy Omichand. At Clive's requestit was forged by Mr. Lushington, a young writer of the Company's. Thered treaty was shown to Omichand; it bought his silence; he suspectednothing.
The plot was now ripe. Omichand left Murshidabad; Mr. Watts slippedaway; 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 13, his guns, stores and Europeansoldiers being towed up the river in 200 boats, the sepoys marchingalong the highway parallel with the right bank. Palti and Katwa weresuccessively occupied by his advance guard under Eyre Coote. But aterrible rainstorm on the 18th delayed his march, and next day hereceived from Mir Jafar a letter that gave him no little u
neasiness.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 temporising until he was sure of the victor. It was serious enoughto give pause to Clive. He was 150 miles from his base at Calcutta;before him was an unfordable river watched by a vast hostile force. IfMir Jafar should elect to remain faithful to his master the English Armywould in all likelihood be annihilated. In these circumstances Clivewrote to the Committee of Council in Calcutta that he would not crossthe river until he was definitely assured that Mir Jafar would join him.
His decision seemed to be justified next day when he received a letterfrom Mr. Watts at Kalna. On the day he left Murshidabad, said Mr.Watts, Mir Jafar had denounced him as a spy and sworn to repel anyattempt of the English to cross the river. On receipt of this newsClive adopted a course unusual with him. He called a Council of War,for the first and last time in his career. Desmond was in MajorKillpatrick's tent when the summons to attend the Council reached thatofficer.
"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 latelyat Calcutta. D'you know, I don't understand Mr. Clive; I don't believeany one does. In the field he is as bold as a lion, fearless, quick tosee what to do at the moment, never losing a chance. Yet more than onceI've noticed, beforehand, a strange hesitation. He gets fits of thedumps, broods, wonders whether he is doing the right thing, and is astouchy as a bear with a sore head. Well, 'tis almost noon; I must beoff; we'll see what 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 theyasked for my vote," he thought, "I'd say fight;" and then he laughed athimself for venturing to have an opinion.
By and by Major Killpatrick returned.
"Well, my boy," he said, "we've carried our point--twelve againstseven!"
"For fighting?"
"No, my young firebrand; against fighting. You needn't look sochopfallen. There'll be a fight before long; but we're going to run norisks. We'll wait till the monsoon is over and we can collect enoughmen to smash 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,but the nincompoop was huffed because he wasn't allowed precedence ofthe Company's captains. These naval men's airs are vastly amusing. Hetook himself off. Then Mr. Clive put the case; fight at once, or wait.Against the custom, he voted himself first--against immediate action.Then he asked me and Grant in turn; we voted with him. 'Twas EyreCoote's turn next; he voted t'other way, and gave hisreasons--uncommonly well, I must admit. He said our men were in goodspirits, and had been damped enough by the rains. The Frenchman Lawmight come up and join the Nawab, and then every froggy who entered ourservice after Chandernagore would desert and fight against us. We're sofar from Calcutta that 'twould be difficult to protect ourcommunications. Those were his reasons. I watched Clive while Coote wasspeaking; he stuck his lips together and stared at him; and, have younoticed? he squints a trifle when he looks hard. Well, the voting wenton, and ended as I said--twelve against immediate 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 byhimself an 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 to-morrow."
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 900 Europeans, 200topasses, a few lascars, and some 2,000 sepoys. Eight six-pounders andtwo howitzers formed the whole of the artillery. Among the Europeanswere about fifty sailors, some from the King's ships, some frommerchantmen. Among the latter were Mr. Toley and Bulger, whoseexcellent service in capturing the _Good Intent_ had enforced theirrequest to be allowed to accompany the little army.
Shortly before dawn on June 22 Clive's men began to cross the river.The passage being made in safety, they rested during the hot hours, andresumed their march in the evening amid a heavy storm of rain, oftenhaving to wade waist-high the flooded fields. Soon after midnight themen, drenched to the skin, reached a mango-grove somewhat north of thevillage of Plassey: and there, as they lay down in discomfort to snatcha brief sleep before dawn, they heard the sound of tom-toms and trumpetsfrom the Nawab's camp three miles away.
"'Tis a real comfort, that there noise," remarked Bulger, as he stirredthe camp-fire 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 makesme feel at 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 Inever am, but there'll be tum-tum-tum of another sort to-morrer."
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 beyondthis a weedy ditch formed an additional protection against assault. Alittle north of the grove, on the bank of the river Cossimbazar, stood astone hunting-box belonging to Siraj-uddaula. Still farther north, nearthe river, was a quadrangular tank, and beyond this a redoubt and amound of earth. The river there makes a loop somewhat like a horseshoein shape, and in the neck of land between the curves of the stream theNawab had placed his intrenched camp.
His army numbered nearly 70,000 men, of whom 50,000 were infantry, armedwith matchlocks, bows and arrows, pikes and swords. He had in allfifty-three guns, mounted on platforms drawn by elephants and oxen. Themost efficient part of his artillery was commanded by Monsieur Sinfray,who had under him some fifty Frenchmen from Chandernagore. The Nawab'svanguard consisted of 15,000 men under his most trusty lieutenants,including Manik Chand and Mir Madan. Rai Durlabh, the captor ofCossimbazar, and two other officers commanded separate divisions.
Dawn had hardly broken on June 23, King George's birthday, when MirMadan, with a body of picked troops, 7,000 foot, 5,000 horse, andSinfray's artillery, moved out to the attack with great clamour oftrumpets and drums. The remainder of the Nawab's army formed a wide arcabout the north and east of the English position. Nearest to the grovewas Mir Jafar's detachment. The English were arranged in fourdivisions, under Majors Killpatrick, Grant, and Coote, and CaptainGaupp. These had taken position in front of the embankment, the guns onthe left, the Europeans in the centre, the sepoys on the right.Sinfray's gunners occupied an eminence near the tank, about two hundredyards in advance of the grove, and made such good play that Clive,directing operations from the Na
wab's hunting-box, deemed it prudent towithdraw his men into the grove, where they were sheltered from theenemy's fire. The Nawab's troops hailed this movement with loud shouts,of exultation, and, throwing their guns forward, opened a still morevigorous 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. MeanwhileClive had sent forward his two howitzers and two large guns to checkSinfray's fire.
Midday came, and save for the cannonading no fighting had taken place.Clive left the hunting-box, called his officers together, and gaveorders that they were to hold their positions during the rest of the dayand prepare to storm the Nawab's camp at midnight. He was still talkingto them when a heavy shower descended, the rain falling in torrents foran hour. Wet through, Clive hastened to the hunting-lodge to change hisclothes. Scarcely had he departed when the enemy's fire slackened.Their ammunition, having been left exposed, had been rendered almostentirely useless by the rain. Fancying that the English gunners hadbeen equally careless, Mir Madan ordered his horse to charge; but theEnglishmen had kept their powder dry, and received the cavalry with adeadly fire that sent them headlong back. At this moment Mir Madanhimself was killed by a cannon-ball, and his followers, dismayed at hisloss, began a precipitate retreat to their entrenchments.
Clive was still absent. The sight of the enemy retreating was too muchfor Major Killpatrick. Forgetting the order to maintain his position,he thought the moment opportune for a general advance. He turned toDesmond, 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 forthe first 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 yourmen back 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 yourcompanies. 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 wait the assault. He hastily evacuatedhis position, retiring on the redoubt near the Nawab's entrenchments.It was apparent to Clive that the main body of the enemy was by thistime much demoralized, and he was eager to make a vigorous attack uponthem while in this state. But two circumstances gave him pause. Toadvance upon the entrenchments would bring him under a cross fire fromthe redoubt, and he had sufficient respect for the Frenchmen to hesitateto risk losses among his small body of men. Further, the movements ofthe enemy's detachments on his right caused him some uneasiness. Hesuspected that they were the troops of Mir Jafar and Rai Durlabh, but hehad no certain information on that point, nor had he received a messagefrom them. He knew that Mir Jafar was untrustworthy, therefore he wasunwilling to risk a general assault until assured that the troops on hisflank were not hostile to him. The doubt was suddenly resolved when hesaw them check their movement, retire, and draw apart from the remainderof the Nawab's army. Giving the word at once to advance, he led his mento storm the redoubt and the mound on its right. For a short timeSinfray and his gallant Frenchmen showed a bold front; but the vigorousonslaught of the English struck fear into the hearts of his nativeallies; the news that the Nawab had decamped completed their panic, andthen began a wild and disorderly flight: horsemen galloping from thefield; infantry scampering this way and that; elephants trumpeting;camels screaming, as they charged through the rabble. With Britishcheers and native yells Clive's men poured into the Nawab's camp, somedashing on in pursuit of the enemy, others delaying to plunder thebaggage and stores, of which immense quantities lay open to their hand.By half-past five on that memorable 23rd of June the battle wasover--the battle that gave Britain immediately the wealthiest provinceof India and, indirectly, the mastery of the whole of that vast Empire.The loss to the British was only twenty-three killed and fifty wounded.
Clive rested for a while in Siraj-uddaula's tent, where he found on hisinkstand a list of thirteen courtiers whom, even in that moment of direextremity, the tyrant had condemned to death. From a prisoner it waslearnt that the Nawab had escaped on a camel with two thousand horsemen,fleeing towards Murshidabad. All day he had been in a state of terrorand agitation. Deprived of his bravest officer, Mir Madan; betrayed byhis own relatives; the wretched youth had not waited for the criticalmoment. 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 little time was occupied by Clive's commissariat inreplacing their exhausted bullocks with teams captured in the Nawab'scamp. Meanwhile Clive sent Eyre Coote forward with a small detachmentto keep the enemy on the run. Among those who accompanied him wasDesmond, with Bulger and Mr. Toley. Desmond hoped that he wouldovertake and capture Monsieur Sinfray, from whom he thought it likely hemight wrest information about Mrs. Merriman and her daughter. Digglehad made use of Sinfray's house; it was not improbable that theFrenchman knew something about the ladies. As for the seamen, they wereso much disgusted at the tameness of the enemy's resistance that theywere eager for anything that promised activity and adventure. Theireagerness was no whit diminished when Desmond mentioned what he had inhis mind.
"By thunder, sir," said Bulger, "give me the chanst, and I'll larn themounseer the why and wherefore of it. And as for Diggle--well, I maybewrong, but I'll lay my share o' the prize money out o' the _Good Intent_that he's hatchin' mischief, and not far off neither. Show a leg,mateys."