A BRUSH WITH MUTINEERS AND A CLUE TO THE FUGITIVES
Again we must let the Rajah's Heir tell his story in his own words. The
exact date of the following extracts is not given; but, from internal
evidence, I judge that they were written in the month of August.
It was a critical time for the country, for rebellion was still at
large, and no decisive step had been taken to check it; but the
gathering of enormous masses of rebels in and about the great centres
of mutiny, such as Delhi, which was still in the hands of the disloyal
troops, and Lucknow, where the gallant little band of Europeans
were holding at bay untold hosts of enemies, and the marching down
into Central India of a Goorkha army from Nepaul, kept the country
districts, over most of which the wave of insurrection had swept,
comparatively free from disorder. In many places English magistrates
had actually resumed their ordinary jurisdiction, and, although the
mails were subject to interruptions, and had to travel by a more
circuitous route than formerly, while the robber tribes and vagrants
were more troublesome and insolent to travellers, it was still
possible, even for a European, with pluck and readiness of wit, to
pass safely through the land. The villagers, moreover, and scattered
peasantry, having seen what the rule of a disorderly army meant,
showed less animosity against the English. In some few cases they were
actually friendly, while there can be no doubt that in others they
magnified the difficulties of the road to fugitives to magnify the
reward which they hoped to earn by hiding them.
Tom travelled, as he had done before, in an Eastern disguise, and he
did not, therefore, undergo the same perils as his compatriots. But
that his journey was not without its perils this record will show.
* * * * *
'How many days and nights have gone by since I left the fort? I cannot
tell, and, in fact, it seems to me sometimes that I have lost the
power of recording time. One day is much the same as another. But this
morning something happened, and we have decided, in the little council
which we hold daily--Ganesh and Hoosanee and I--that it will be wise
to halt in this village for a few hours. So, to still my impatience,
and to regain, if I can, the balance of mind which deserted me so
strangely after my awful experiences at the fort, I am trying to put
down upon paper the things that have happened to us, and the things
that we expect. I do not despair yet. That seems strange, even to my
two devoted servants, who, I can see, though they do all they can to
help me, have themselves given up hope of anything but disaster. Ganesh
desires me to return to Gumilcund. The days at the fort have caused
him to change his politics, and he is very sorry now that he carried
Dost Ali Khan's message to me at all. If he only knew how fervently I
thank him in my heart! for, sad and dispiriting as this life is, I know
very well that at Gumilcund it would have been worse. Now I have hope,
at least. Every night, as we start on our journeys, I say to myself,
to-morrow morning we shall hear of them! And I feel that I am doing
something.
'It has come to our ears, through one of Hoosanee's many spies, that
a party of rebels, carrying with them English prisoners, will pass
through this village to-day, and we have reasons for thinking that
Grace and Kit may be amongst them. If they are--but I dare scarcely
think of it. The thought unnerves me.
'It has gone round that I am a great man--not a rajah--I dare not
give myself that title lest I should be detained--but an Ameer of
great wealth. How Hoosanee manages Heaven only knows: his resource and
readiness are marvellous: but he always keeps me provided with good
mounts, fine trappings for the horses, and fresh garments. I second
his efforts as well as I can by preserving, in my face and manner, the
dignity of a king's envoy, and we meet with respect everywhere. In this
large and populous village, I have been given the whole of the serai
to myself, and the chief men amongst the villagers have brought beds
and padded quilts, and water and food for my entertainment. We arrived
between night and morning. It is full noon now--the awful, burning noon
of this terrible season. I occupy a pavilion lifted high above the
court of the serai. Ever since early morning the people of the village
have been crowding in to see me; but, thank Heaven, the heat has driven
them away at last. While my good Hoosanee prowls about, picking up what
information he can, and Ganesh is making arrangements for our further
supplies, I can draw down my blinds and rest.
'I have slept--actually slept. I dreamt that we were together again
in England, Grace and I. Is this a good omen? God grant it. Hoosanee,
who has just been in, tells me that he has gained over the villagers.
They will not attempt to fight the rebel escort, but if the sepoys halt
here for a few hours, as it is supposed they will do, it is proposed to
take the prisoners from them by subtlety. He asked what I would promise
them, and I left him free to make any conditions he pleased. I think he
has been obliged to tell more than he intended, for I hear a great buzz
as of many voices in the serai, and I can see through my blinds that
the people are gathering together in their multitudes. If they will
have me as a leader I am ready to put myself at their head. Ah! how my
heart bounds as I think of it! Once--once to see myself face to face
with these villains! But we must be prudent. We must remember Cawnpore.
Subtlety first, till the captives are in our hands, and then force!'
* * * * *
'It is all over! Not for me, for my task is not done; yet, sad and
hopeless as I feel, there is in my soul a certain wild springing up of
exultation which prevents me from being utterly cast down. It is for
them--for the torturers of women and the slaughterers of unarmed men
and helpless children--that the end has come. Fifty rebel sepoys with
their leader lie slain in the narrow streets of this quiet village.
Their prisoners--two young English officers, fearfully attenuated, who
had been walking under the sun of this August day with chains on their
limbs, and a lady in a cart whose face I have not seen, though I know
to my sorrow that she is not Grace--are under the care of my excellent
Hoosanee in the house of the headman of the village.
'How did it all come about? This I must try to remember and put down.
That we--the assailants of this valiant fifty--were only about twelve
men all told I know, for Hoosanee counted them out before me. It was
a fortunate circumstance for us that we had anyone at all to help us,
for the villagers, though sympathetic and willing to earn the large
reward I offered, had no wish to put their skins in jeopardy by trying
conclusions with armed and disciplined soldiers. But, as it happened, a
little band of Bheels, on their way to fill up the gaps made daily by
sword and pestilence in one of the newly formed native regiments, were
halting in the village, and some of these were ready to flesh their
swords on the persons of the hated Poorbeahs to whom, as Hoosanee had
represented, the English prisoners' escort belonged.
'They marched in early in the evening. The village was complaisant,
and an enormous quantity of food, with good liquor to wash it down,
was brought to them, while the serai which I had vacated was allotted
to them for the long rest that would be sure to follow their heavy
meal. They entered and disposed themselves for sleep, sentinels being
posted at every entrance to give notice of danger. Night fell. My few
men and I were close by, watching. The sentinels, who had feasted as
luxuriously as their comrades, kept on the alert for a short time,
and then, seeing that everything was quiet, addressed themselves to
sleep. Some of our friends amongst the villagers slipped in softly,
set the prisoners free and brought them out, whereupon our little
body of sturdy hill-men ran into the serai with shouts and the fierce
clattering of arms. From outside these shouts were echoed by the
villagers, and the unhappy wretches in the serai, thinking, no doubt,
that an army was upon them, were completely paralysed. Numbers were
slain. The remainder rushed out. It was deep night now, and they
could not see the number of their assailants. I stood at the entrance
alone, and I cut them down one after the other. God forgive me if I
sinned, not in killing, but in the awful spirit of exultation which
possessed me as I plied my fearful task. Ten men must have fallen to
my sword. Some who had caught up their weapons in their abject flight
tried to resist me, but I was too swift for them. I was not a man, I
was an avenging fate. Those who escaped me fell into the hands of the
villagers, and they, with yells of derision, drove them back into the
serai, so that in a brief hour it was all over. Every one of the rebel
escort was slain, and their prisoners--who, we hear, were to have been
taken to Lucknow and there most foully put to death--are safe in our
hands.'
* * * * *
'The exultation which followed my easy victory did not last long. What
does the slaughter of one or two matter in this great saturnalia of
blood and wretchedness? Grace has not been found, and till my hair
turns grey, and my limbs wither from age and disappointment, I will
search for her. So we--Hoosanee, Ganesh, and I--are on the march again.
The little party of prisoners is left in the village. I was surprised
and deeply touched to find that the lady in the cart was Mrs. Lyster,
my travelling friend of the "Patagonia." She and her companions,
supposing me to be a native potentate who had interfered in their
behalf, sent as soon as the struggle was over to thank me for their
rescue, and to beg for the favour of an interview. I sent back word by
Hoosanee, who was their messenger, that I would wait upon them, and,
dressed as usual in my Indian disguise, I entered the inner court of
the headman's house where they were resting.
'I had resolved not to make myself known as an Englishman, but the
sight of Mrs. Lyster's sorrowful face and neglected dress--she who had
always been so gay and trim!--was almost too much for my resolution. It
gave me a little pang to find that she had not the least suspicion of
my being anything but what I gave myself out to be; and how strange it
was to me to receive her humble thanks! Evidently she had been chosen
to speak, for the young fellows with her were too much exhausted to
be capable of carrying on a conversation. Sad as it all was, I could
have smiled at her careful speech. She had never been very strong in
Hindostani, and she was fearful of not speaking to the great Indian
lord in a sufficiently respectful manner. Over and over again I longed
to turn everyone out, and to speak to her in our own English tongue.
But this I knew would have been the height of imprudence.
'I hope I replied becomingly to her thanks.
'And now came the question of what they were to do next. They wished to
reach, as soon as possible, a place where they could feel themselves
secure, and I was anxious to have them in Gumilcund with my other
fugitives; but I could not, even for their sakes, give up my search,
and I was afraid of allowing them to travel alone. The two young men,
moreover, who as I presently found out were subalterns in the army, and
mere boys, were so much prostrated by the hardships they had undergone
that to take them on at once might have endangered their lives. Mrs.
Lyster told with tears that one of them had been tied to a tree in a
village through which they had passed, and flogged in the presence of a
hooting crowd of villagers, and that both of them had been put in irons
and forced to walk for miles under the burning sun. Taking all these
things into consideration, we thought it best that they should run the
risk of staying where they were for a few days. I, in the meantime,
would send messengers to Gumilcund, which was within three days' march
of the village, and an escort strong enough to take them there safely
would be sent out.
'Mrs. Lyster showed some animation when Gumilcund was mentioned.
'"I have heard of the little State as one of the happiest and quite the
most wisely governed in India. Are you," looking at me doubtfully, "the
Rajah?"
'I drew back from the light and put on all my dignity. "Madam," I said,
bowing low, "I have at least great influence in Gumilcund, and that,
with everything else I possess, is at your service."
'"Everything, except your Excellency's time," said Mrs. Lyster, with a
touch of her old spirit which enchanted me.
'Keeping myself well in hand, I made another ceremonious reverence. "My
gracious lady must know," I said, "that my time is not my own. If it
were, she would be welcome to it."
'"To whom does your Highness's time belong?" she asked.
'"To the God whom I have worshipped from my birth," I answered. "I will
speak to you frankly, for you are of those who can understand. I have
bound myself under a solemn vow to find and rescue an English lady from
whom I have received many kindnesses."
'"Is she in danger?" asked Mrs. Lyster.
'"I have reason to believe so," I answered.
'"A prisoner? English?" she asked eagerly.
'For an instant I forgot everything, and if Hoosanee, who was always
on the watch for these mistakes, had not interposed, I should certainly
have betrayed myself by dashing into English. Bowing himself almost to
the ground, he stepped forward.
'"Will my master pardon me?" he said. "I have a question to ask the Mem
Sahib."
'"Say on, Hoosanee," I said, withdrawing into the shadow, and letting
him continue the conversation. I did not, in fact, speak again--a
circumstance which annoyed Mrs. Lyster, for when, Hoosanee having
obtained all the information she could give us, we retreated to the
courtyard, I heard her say, in English, "He is the nicest native I ever
met. But what a pity to see him so completely in the power of that
deceitful-looking servant!" I thought, as I crossed the court, how, if
God spares us to see some of this dreadful tangle straight, Mrs. Lyster
and I will laugh over it by-and-by.
'We saw our host, who was perfectly agreeable, vowing, by all he held
sacred, that the fugitives whom the courage of his lords had rescued
should be well treated while they were in the village.
'Ganesh now came in, and informed us before him that my letters had
been sent to Gumilcund. These were to Chunder Singh and Lutfullah,
requesting that men and money should be sent to the village at once.
The money was to reward those who had stood by us. The men were to
escort Mrs. Lyster and her companions to Gumilcund. When he heard of
soldiers and treasure, the headman became more and more abject. I
believe he will be loyal. Fortunately, no one of the prisoners' escort
is left to tell the tale of their destruction to the rebel army.
'This over, we retired to the hut that had been allotted to me, and
discussed our further proceedings, which were to be moulded on the
information given to Hoosanee by Mrs. Lyster, and which, with the
object of seeing things more clearly, for I am still like one wandering
in a maze, I shall write down here.
'It was by the merest chance that it all happened. For the latter
part of their miserable journey--it had lasted a week when we rescued
them--she had been given a small covered bullock-cart, such as native
women travel in. At the last stage, when a halt was called, the cart
was drawn into what seemed to her to be a large market-place. It was
mid-day, she said, and their escort and the people of the village
where they were halting appeared to be asleep, for there was no noise.
She tried to sleep too. She thinks she did drop into a doze; but she
always slept with one ear open, and the sound of low whispering close
under the cart aroused her. One of the side curtains was lifted, and a
face peered in. It was not an angry face. It was an inquisitive face.
The face withdrew, and another took its place. This one gazed at her
with considerably more attention. But it, too, withdrew. She was now
thoroughly awake, and a little startled. She crept to the side of
the cart where she had seen the faces, and laid her ear against the
curtain. An altercation was going on. Words that might be rendered in
English as, "She is!" "She is not!" "I'm certain," "So am I;" "You are
a fool!" "I'm not: you are!" were being bandied from mouth to mouth.
All she could gather at first was that both of the men had thought
they recognised her, and that they did not take her to be the same
person. But why this interest? She continued to listen, and it seemed
to her presently that the man who spoke in negatives had convinced his
companion. His name was Tikaram. When they settled down to confidential
talk, she heard him say distinctly that he was in search of an English
girl and a fair-haired boy, who, he was led to believe, had been
taken prisoners by Dost Ali Khan. A third man joined the conference,
who, from the way in which he spoke, she judged to be a disarmed and
fugitive sepoy. He was working his way into Nepaul, and appeared to
be in great dread of the swamps that have to be crossed before the
mountain kingdom is reached. In the course of conversation he mentioned
having heard of English fugitives going that way.
'I can write of it calmly now--too calmly--for I am becoming
accustomed to cruel shocks, and my heart, I think, is growing callous;
but, when I heard it first, when I tried to realise that my tender and
delicate Grace might be entangled in the meshes of the pestilential,
tiger-haunted district which I had crossed in the winter, my heart, I
confess, nearly failed me.
'But to return. On hearing of fugitives, Tikaram roused himself and
asked for particulars. The conversation became very swift now, so that
Mrs. Lyster could not quite follow it; but she is certain that the
sepoy convinced Tikaram of the identity of the fugitives of whom he had
heard with those he was seeking. He went off presently in search of
an ekka with a swift pony, and returned to bid his friends good-bye.
Mrs. Lyster thinks that the sepoy joined him, but of this she cannot be
quite sure. She believes, however, that their designs were friendly.
'Now this, it will be said, was not much to go upon, but we have to
make the best we can of it, for we have no other clue. Hoosanee builds
much, I find, on Tikaram's name. This Tikaram, if he is the same man,
was a servant in the house where Grace was staying at Nowgong, and
seems to have been deeply attached to her. There was besides some
whisper of a reward if he could bring her safely out of Nowgong. The
mystery lies in his knowing that she is not with the other fugitives
at Gumilcund. Hoosanee says that he advised him not to follow them out
of Nowgong, but it is quite possible that he may have been upon their
heels and have witnessed the capture of Grace and Kit. Conjecture,
however, is of little use. We have determined in any case to follow
Tikaram, and early in the morning of the day after the rescue we made
a forced march to the village where Mrs. Lyster and her friends halted
last. There, Hoosanee being as clever as usual in picking up news,
we heard that Tikaram had been heard of at Ghazeapore. That district
is comparatively quiet, as my good friends the Ghoorkas, under their
gallant captain, Gambier Singh, are holding Azimgurh in force. It would
be curious if Grace could have wandered so far, but Hoosanee says it is
not at all impossible. Since the day when she was said to have been put
out of the fort held by Dost Ali Khan more than three weeks have gone
by. I tremble as I write the words. I scarcely dare to credit them.
Three weeks! She may have died long since. If she is alive still--Ah! I
cannot write! I cannot think! God help me! Let me preserve my reason,
at least until I know! Then do with me as Thou wilt. I will be dumb!'
* * * * *
'Three more days of rapid travelling have gone by. We are going night
and day. When our horses are knocked up Hoosanee, by some miraculous
means only known to himself, gets us fresh ones. He tells me that he is
drawing largely upon the future. Let him! So long as we are moving--so
long as I have still this little ray of hope to carry me on--I care for
nothing else.
'We are resting in a small dak bungalow on the banks of a canal, which
was occupied I suppose formerly by an English engineer, and which is
within a few hours' ride of Azimgurh. I wished to ride on without
drawing rein, but our horses gave in altogether, and we find that we
must let them rest for a few hours. I write because I dare not think.
Every day my love and agony seem to increase, and I feel sometimes as
if I could not bear it much longer. In spite of the fatigue we are
undergoing, I am afraid to sleep, for the dreams that haunt me are
worse than my waking thoughts. Oh, what horror! What misery! Talk of
the hideous visions of a maniac! They can be nothing to mine. Time
after time my good Hoosanee has come with tears and cried out to me to
awake, for he could not bear to hear my sobs.
'We have heard of Tikaram again. I trust indeed that we are almost on
his heels. He seems to have visited Azimgurh. Some one heard that he
was given a little band of Ghoorka soldiers to help him in his search.
If that is so, he must have made Gambier Singh very sure of his good
will. I shall hear all about it presently from himself.'
* * * * *
'I feel as if I ought to have been far from this hours ago. It is
Gambier Singh's fault that I am not. He has beguiled me to remain by
the promise of such help as it would not be prudent of me to refuse. I
have slept for two good hours: such a sleep as I have not known since
I left Gumilcund: and now, while the last preparations for our march
are being made, I will write down in my book the strange events of
yesterday.
'I had no difficulty in finding the head-quarters of the fine little
Ghoorka army; my difficulty was in having speech of their captain.
Fortunately, however, while I was standing at one of the outposts
begging that a note from me might be taken in to him, there passed
by a man who had often seen me during my visit to Jung Bahadour at
Katmandoo. He ran in with my note, and in ten minutes' time Gambier
Singh himself appeared upon the scene. I shall never forget the warmth
of his welcome, or the passionate sympathy and interest with which he
threw himself into the history of my misfortunes. I really think he
almost regretted for a moment the responsible position he occupied,
which prevented him from joining me in my search.
'We held a long and earnest consultation. I find that the rumour
concerning Tikaram is true. He came to the camp with his story, which
was that he was in search of a young Englishwoman and a child with long
fair hair, travelling as it was supposed alone, who had been heard
of last in these districts, and were said to be making for Nepaul.
He wished to follow and help her; but his resources were completely
exhausted, he had no arms, and he feared to penetrate the jungle alone.
So Gambier Singh gave him a body of trusty men to accompany him. This
happened yesterday only, so we shall soon be on their track.'