The day after, the Khan’s Risala halted at Bangalore, from whence it was
ordered to escort some treasure, military stores, and many English
prisoners to the capital.
The Khan having now taken the command, he was enabled to employ Kasim in
many useful offices, both as a scribe and in the execution of his
orders; and he was delighted to find in him one whom he could trust, and
whose advice was often of use in matters that perplexed his own
uninventive mind. And although he held no situation as yet in the
Government service, nor was enrolled in the regiment, yet he gradually
became looked up to, even during the few days he had been with it, by
the subordinate officers, who naturally wished to curry favour with one
so much in association with their chief; accordingly Kasim was courted
by almost all—feasted and made much of. Some, indeed, regarded him with
jealousy, at the head of whom was the person we have already named,
Jaffur Sahib; and as their opinions became known to one another, they
gradually formed a party, which, though its numbers were small, made up
for that deficiency in bitter dislike.
The most prominent of these, besides Jaffur Sahib himself, was
Naser-oo-deen, the chief accountant and secretary of the regiment,—one
of those corrupt and wily scoundrels so often to be found in the persons
of those who have been educated in the daily observance of schemes and
fraud: for his father had filled a high situation as moonshee or
secretary near the person of Hyder Ali; and it is impossible for any one
to fill a similar place in any native court, without having daily
opportunities of improvement in the arts of intrigue, falsehood, and
corruption. He was also a constant associate of Jaffur Sahib; and in
many a plan for cheating the Government by false musters of men, and
extra charges for grain and forage, they had been nearly
associated,—indeed, had divided the spoil between them.
Naser-oo-deen had also been the agent for the supply of forage and other
necessaries to a large number of the Khan’s horses which were in the
Risala; and as he seldom looked after these accounts himself, there had
been a very handsome profit to be gained from them by the subordinates.
It was probable that upon the first ground, therefore—that is, so far as
the regiment was concerned—Kasim and the Moonshee would never have come
in contact with each other; but they were not long in doing so when the
private interests of the Khan were in question.
For want of occupation Kasim had solicited some employment from the
Khan, who had desired him to look after his own horses, and to examine
the accounts the Moonshee should furnish of their expenditure; and for
this office Kasim was well fitted, not only from his knowledge of
writing, but from his experience as a Patél of the prices of grain and
forage. The accounts had used to be daily submitted to the Khan, and
during his absence they had accumulated to a large amount. Occupied in
other duties and affairs, the Khan could not afford time to hear them
read, and gave them over for examination to his young friend, who, in
the careful scrutiny he made of them, and his readiness in comprehending
their intricate nature, convinced the Moonshee that he had to deal with
a person of no ordinary exactitude and ability.
Kasim, in his inspection of the documents, had much occasion to suspect
that the rates and quantities charged were far greater than the truth;
but he did not dare at first to make any accusation against a man of the
Moonshee’s apparent probity and respectability. He had seen enough,
however, to put him on his guard for the future, and there was soon
ample reason to confirm his suspicions that all was not as fair as the
accounts showed. While they were at Bangalore he made a daily memorandum
of the prices of grain in the several bazaars, and inquiries also of the
men who rode the Khan’s horses in the regiment, and of the grooms also,
as to the quantities used; and on comparing them with the memorandums
furnished to him by the Moonshee, the deceit was too flagrant to pass
unnoticed. Accordingly he sought that worthy, and, without any
accusation, ventured to point out some inaccuracies, as he supposed they
must be, in the accounts, as compared with the market rates. These the
Moonshee tried to support with all the effrontery he was able to muster
for some time; but Kasim was steady, and in the end triumphed. It was,
however, an offence which rankled deeply in the Moonshee’s mind, and in
an evening converse with his friend the Jemadar, he alluded to the
matter in no very amiable humour.
‘Things have come to a pretty pass since the Khan has brought that boy
with him!’ said he indignantly to the Jemadar when they were alone.
‘How? has he interfered with you, as he appears to wish to do with
everyone else?’
‘To be sure he has—it seems he can read; and the old fool, without
thinking about it, gave him all my accounts of the Pagha to look over,
instead of signing and passing them at once.’
‘And he discovered—’
‘No, nothing in them, Alla be praised! so that there is a good round sum
to divide between us; but he evidently suspected the rates of grain,
which, believe me, Jemadar, you put too high.’
‘Not a whit, not a whit, since we have got the money.’
‘But I say it was, for it led the young prying fellow to ask the prices
of grain in the bazaars, and of forage too; and, as it seems he is a
Patél, he knows more about the matter than we do ourselves; so, when I
gave him the accounts to-day, he showed me a memorandum of every day’s
nerrikh,[27] and began comparing it as simply as possible with the
account and showing the difference. By the Prophet! I could have struck
him for his pretence of ingenuousness, and his seeming unconsciousness
that he was detecting me. I tried to bully him, Jemadar Sahib, and said
I had eaten the Khan’s salt longer than he had, and was not to be
suspected by a boy; but it would not do; he told me not to be angry,
that he might be mistaken, and that he would show the accounts to the
Khan if I liked; but this you know would not have answered my purpose,
for the old fellow would have fired up in a moment.’
-----
Footnote 27:
Rate of prices.
-----
‘And what did you do? you surely did not alter them?’
‘Why, what else could I do, Jemadar? I at last pretended to see the
mistake and make fresh accounts.’
‘In other words, O cowardly fool! you ate dirt; you allowed him to
obtain a mastery over you which you will never regain. You call yourself
a Moonshee!—a man of letters! Shame on you, I say, to allow yourself to
be dictated to by a boy! Had I a beard like yours, I would cut it off
for very shame.’
‘But, Jemadar—’ he interposed.
‘I tell thee I can hear nothing; I know this will not end here—the
fellow’s prying should have been stopped at once; and his suspicions
will never rest, believe me, till he has found out the whole; and at any
rate we shall lose money.’
‘We shall, certainly.’
‘How much?’
‘Two hundred rupees, I dare say.’
‘Alla! Alla! so much! and the worst is that our trade is stopped.’
‘I fear so; how can it be otherwise, as he observes the rates?’
‘Could you get him to take the accounts himself, Moonshee Sahib, we
might find him out ourselves overcharging in a few days, and so they
would fall back to us, and he would be ruined.’
‘Alla knows!’ sighed the Moonshee; ‘at any rate it is worth trying; I
will see to it. I am only afraid your turn will come next.’
‘I’ll tell you what, Naser, the thought is not to be borne. What! lose
my monthly gains, without which this service is nothing to me!—Inshalla!
no. If there is a Kasim Ali Patél, there is at least a Shekh Jaffur
Jemadar. I tell thee, man, I was not born to eat dirt at his hands, but
he at mine; and if I cannot see into the depths of futurity like the
Sultaun (may his name be honoured!), yet I can see far enough to behold
this boy’s disgrace at my hands. Dost thou hear—at my hands? thou
shouldst know by this time that I rarely fail of my purpose.’
‘May Alla grant it!’ said the Moonshee piously.
‘I tell thee,’ he continued, ‘I hated him from the first, because I
found he would stand between me and the Khan. He abused me in hearing of
all the camp; those words have gone forth among the men, and as I look
in their faces I fancy that the remembrance of them comes into their
heart, and that they exult over me. I tell thee this is not to be borne,
and I will have an exchange for it, or I will see why; dost thou
understand?’
‘I do.’
‘And thou must aid me.’
‘Surely—with my pen, with my advice, my—’
‘Bah! thy advice—who asked for it? who wants that of a fool who could
not defend his own papers? when I have occasion for thee in this matter
I will tell thee, and see that thou doest it; and—’
‘My lord is not angry with his poor servant?’ said the Moonshee
cringingly.
‘I have good cause to be so, but must eat my vexation for the present.
Go! you have your dismissal.’ He mused for a while after the Moonshee
had left him, and then called to Madar, who waited without.
‘Have you discovered anything more about the Khan’s wife, Madar?’ he
asked.
‘Nothing, my lord, except that she is very beautiful.’
‘That you said before: nothing between her and the Patél?’
‘Nothing, except that he had seen her.’
‘That too you told me: does he see her now?’
‘Willa Alum!’[28] was the reply.
-----
Footnote 28:
God knows.
-----
‘It would be as well for us if he did.’
‘Shall your slave try to effect it?’
‘I have been thinking of it, Madar; you might contrive something. I tell
thee I hate that boy more and more; it is only this moment that I have
heard from Naser-oo-deen Moonshee that his accounts have been suspected
by him.’
‘Does the Khan know of it?’
‘No, not as yet; but there is no security for us, and there is no saying
what may happen, for this boy holds a sword over us.’
‘I understand,—my lord will trust me; and depend on it that, sooner or
later, I find a way of helping him to revenge these insults.’
It was thus to screen their own iniquity, of which they were conscious,
that these schemes were being undertaken against the peace of two
individuals who had never harmed any of the plotters; and in the course
of our history we shall follow them to their conclusions.
The consciousness of his own evil practices and corruption, as regarded
the public service, made the Jemadar jealous of any one who should usurp
the place he had held with the Khan; not because the Khan liked him, but
because, being indolent by nature, and unacquainted with the details of
the private economy of his Risalas, the Khan was glad enough to find
that any one would undertake that for him, which he could not bring his
mind to take any interest in, or indeed to understand. And if Kasim had
succeeded in detecting the Moonshee, what might not _he_ have to fear,
whose peculations were even of a more daring nature, and, extended to
the men, the horses, and the establishment of the corps! The Jemadar
brooded over these thoughts incessantly; and his avaricious and miserly
spirit could as ill brook the idea of pecuniary loss, as his proud and
revengeful heart the prospect of disgrace, and the insult he had been
told by his emissary that he had already received.
After a few days’ halt at Bangalore, for the purpose of preparing
carriages for the removal of the English prisoners to the capital, and
the collection of some of the revenue of the district, which was also to
be escorted thither, the morning arrived on which they were to set out,
and each corps was drawn up in front of the Mysore gate of the fortress;
while the Khan, attended by Kasim and some others, rode into it in order
to receive the prisoners, and the Khan his last orders from the
Governor.
While he was employed in his audience, Kasim rode hither and thither,
observing with delight the impregnable strength of the fortress,—the
cannon, the arms and appearance of the disciplined garrison, and the few
French soldiers and officers who were lounging about. He had never
before seen a European; and their appearance, their tight-fighting and
ungraceful dress, inspired him with no very exalted idea of their
prowess.
‘Can these be the men,’ he thought, ‘to whom the Sultaun trusts, instead
of to the brave hearts and sturdy arms of the men of Islam? but so I am
told, and I am to see more at the capital. Well, it is strange that they
should have the talents for such contrivances in war, as never enter
into our hearts: our only defence is a strong arm and a good sword and
shield; and if we had not to fight against the English kafirs, we should
not require these French, who after all are only infidels too. But here
come the prisoners, I suppose,’ he added, as a few soldiers, horse and
foot, with drawn swords, advanced from behind an adjacent wall; ‘the
brave kafirs, as all call them, and hate them because they are so brave;
I confess I do not, and only because they are the Sultaun’s enemies, and
infidels into the bargain.’
His curiosity was raised to the highest pitch to see these unhappy men,
who, in defiance of the treaty of 1784, were kept in the fortresses of
the country without a hope of deliverance, and cut off from any chance
of communication with their countrymen on the coast. Among the few with
whom Kasim had associated, ‘the English’ were the continued subject of
conversation; their religion, their manners, and their persons were
ridiculed and held up to scorn by all, but their bravery none could
deny; and that man held himself far exalted above his fellows who had
entered into personal combat with or slain one of them. Many were the
tales then in circulation,—some exaggerations of reality, others stern
scenes of hard fighting,—which even figurative language failed to exalt
above their due estimation.
In company with the Khan, with Dilawur Ali and with others, Kasim had
heard many of these relations; and indeed, whenever he listened in the
camp, either to itinerant story-tellers, or to those gathered around a
watchfire, the English were alike the theme of execration for their
religion and their falsehood, or on rare occasions praised for their
devoted bravery. No wonder then was it that he watched for their coming
with very eager anxiety: figuring to himself what they might be, he
thought to have seen them a martial-looking people, and that in their
persons he should realise his own ideas of what a warrior ought to
be,—tall and finely formed, haughty in appearance, with an eye of fire
and an arm of iron.
One by one the prisoners came before him, and some of them heavily
chained, others free; but all men on whose faces the rigour of captivity
had set its seal. Melancholy and pale, many of them wasted by sickness,
and by mental and bodily sufferings, they were shadows of what they had
been; their clothes hung in rags about them, and, though not dirty, they
were of a colour which proved that they themselves had washed them from
time to time; a few of them had worn-out uniform coats upon them, whose
stained and discoloured appearance fitted well with the wretched
condition of their wearers. Their step was slow and weak, and those who
wore fetters with difficulty moved at all; none of them spoke, but many
of them gazed around upon the walls, and looked up into the bright
heavens, and smiled, as though they were glad that motion and air were
once more allowed to refresh their cramped and emaciated limbs and weary
spirits.
In spite of his previous determination to hate them with the same spirit
as that of his companions, Kasim felt he could not; there would, in
spite of his efforts to repress it, arise a feeling of pity, that men
whom he doubted not were as brave as the race was represented to be,
should exhibit so sorrowful an appearance,—one which told a forcible
tale of unalleviated misery. Following those on foot were several in
small doolies, whose emaciated and ghastly looks told of their sickness
and unfitness for removal.
He had expected a feeling of triumph to arise in his heart as he should
behold the infidel English captives; but there was something so touching
in the appearance of the melancholy procession, that he felt none; he
could much rather have wept as he looked on it, than joined in any
expression of ill-will towards the prisoners.
As they advanced, a few boys who were near hooted the captives, and
abused them in obscene language. This they did not appear to deign to
notice; at last one boy, more bold than the rest, took up a stone, and
accompanying it with a savage oath, flung it against the prisoner
nearest to him, and, having struck him, was greeted with a loud shout of
joy by his companions.
Almost ere he was aware of his own intention, and impelled by the wanton
insult upon one so helpless, Kasim violently urged his horse across the
open space up to the boy—who, having been successful in his first fling,
had picked up another stone with a similar intention—and struck him
severely several times with the whip he had in his hand. Screaming with
pain, the boy ran off to a distance; and his associates, terrified at
the punishment their companion had received, dispersed at once.
Kasim could not resist speaking to the prisoner on whose behalf he had
acted; and riding up to him, he hoped, not knowing whether he should be
understood, that he was not hurt, adding, that he had punished the young
miscreant who had thrown the stone.
The voice was one of kindness, and it was long since one like it had
sounded in the young Englishman’s ears.
‘I am not hurt,’ he said, in good Hindostanee; ‘and if I had been, an
act of kindness such as yours would have amply repaid me for receiving
it. Gallant soldier! you, it would seem, have not been taught as your
countrymen to hate the English. Do not, however, speak to me: an act of
courtesy to one of us may chance to bring disgrace upon you, and I would
not have you receive that return for your kindness. May God protect
you!’
They passed on, and Kasim remained in the same spot, gazing after him;
his tall figure and proud air, his pale but handsome face and
deeply-expressive blue eyes,—such as Kasim had never seen before,—his
fluent speech and manly tone,—above all, his last words, ‘May God
protect you!’ affected him powerfully.
‘God protect you!’ he repeated; ‘he believes then in Alla; how can he be
an infidel? He said, “Alla Hafiz!” and he spoke like a Mussulman; why
should he be hated? I will see him again. By Alla! such a man is worth
knowing, and I may be able to befriend him; surely he is a man of rank.’
But here his surmises were put an end to by Dilawur Ali, who, riding up
to him, bade him accompany him, for the Khan was ready to proceed.
‘Then you saw the kafirs,—may their end be perdition!’ said the rough
soldier.
‘I did, brother,’ returned Kasim; ‘miserable enough they look, and as if
they could hardly move; how are they to travel?’
‘There are covered carts for some, Meer Sahib, for they cannot bear the
sun,—doolies for others who are weak; and one or two, who are officers I
hear, are to be allowed an elephant,—but we shall see.’ And they rode
rapidly through the gate of the fort.
‘I thought he was an officer,’ exclaimed Kasim; ‘I thought he was more
than one of the lower rank;’ as the Englishman with whom he had spoken
was desired to mount an elephant which bore a handsome umbara.[29]
-----
Footnote 29:
A kind of howdah.
-----
‘Why? what know you of him?’
‘Nothing; but I spoke a few words to him, and it struck me he was a man
of breeding and rank.’
‘You had better beware, Kasim,’ said his companion; ‘acts may be
misinterpreted, and men like you never want enemies to assist others in
thinking ill of them.’
‘Thank you for your advice,’ said Kasim; ‘but I have done or said
nothing that I am ashamed of.’ Kasim afterwards mentioned what he had
done to the Khan, who could not help praising the young soldier’s
action.
‘By the Prophet, well done!’ he cried, as Kasim related the incident; ‘I
am glad the young Haram-zada was soundly whipped; he will know how to
throw stones another time. I have fought against the Feringhees, and
hate them; and yet, in such a case, I think I should have acted as thou
didst, Kasim. Hast thou spoken to the Feringhee since?’
‘No: Dilawur Ali seemed to think I had done wrong even in addressing him
at all; but I should like much to speak with him; they say he is a
Sirdar of rank.’
‘I hear he has accepted the Sultaun’s offer of pardon, and that he will
serve in the army; so at least the Governor of the fort hoped; but we
shall see. I doubt it, for the Feringhees are very obstinate, and Tippoo
has gained over none as yet by fair means.’
‘Then there are some in the army?’
‘A few only who have been honoured with the rite of Islam; but they are
of the lowest grade, and he does not trust them. Go you then, when we
have pitched the camp, and ask this Feringhee whether he will serve with
us under the banner of the lion of the Faith.’
-------