The Sultaun was delighted at the news he received, which, while it
surpassed his expectations, apparently confirmed him in his immediate
plans of action. As the rainy season of 1788 closed, large bodies of
troops were despatched to Coimbatoor, for the purpose of prosecuting the
war against the rebellious Nairs, who, in the jungles and forests of
Malabar, continued to defy the governor’s power, and the forces from
time to time sent against them. Among the latter was Kasim, soon after
his return from the mission to Hyderabad, from the success of which he
had hoped to have re-occupied his place near the Sultaun’s person: but
the wrong he had done had not been entirely forgiven or forgotten.
Nor was the Khan his companion; he was detached with the other half of
the Khan’s risala, which was commanded by Dilawur Ali, an officer
somewhat like the Khan himself, but older—one of Hyder Ali’s earliest
adherents, who had been spared through many a hard fight and rough
service; to him Kasim was of the utmost use, both as an excellent
secretary, and an intelligent and upright adviser.
The Sultaun took the field in person against the Nairs in January of the
ensuing year, and prosecuted the war against them with the utmost
energy. In one fort alone, two thousand of them capitulated, who were
converted, under the threat of death if they refused the rite of Islam:
complying therefore, they publicly ate of beef, which, abhorrent as it
was to them, they were obliged to partake of. The war prospered, and,
ere the rains had set in, the territory was subdued by the ravages of
the Mysore army; for the war had been proclaimed a holy one by the
Sultaun, who, with mad fanaticism, everywhere destroyed temples, broke
their images and plundered their treasures. Those Nairs who would not
accept the conversion offered, were hunted like wild beasts and
destroyed in thousands.
The army at Coimbatoor heard of these events one by one as they
happened, and of the marriage of the Sultaun’s son to the beautiful
daughter of the lady ruler of Cannanore; and he soon afterwards arrived
in triumph at Coimbatoor, having left a large detachment to complete the
destruction of the Nairs.
Great were the rejoicings upon the victories that had been gained; the
army had tasted blood, and, like their tiger leader, thirsted for more.
Here was celebrated the Mohurrum, the sacred anniversary of the deaths
of Hassan and Hoosein, with all the pomp and with all the zeal to which
an army of fanatical Mahomedans could be excited by the example of their
bigoted Sultaun. At this time was issued the proclamation that the
kingly Noubut was to be performed five times on every Friday, because
that day was the sabbath of the faithful—the day on which the flood
happened—the day on which the Heaven was created. The Sultaun and his
astrologers observed the aspect of the stars; and in a fortunate hour
when the Moon was in Taurus, Mercury and Venus in Virgo, the Sun in Leo,
Saturn in Aquarius, and Venus in opposition to Libra, it was proclaimed
with pomp in the mosques that the music would be played and royal state
observed. Then the deep tones of the huge kettle-drums burst from the
neighbourhood of the Sultaun’s tent, and the assembled army broke into
loud acclamations and hoarse cries of ‘Deen! Deen! the Sultaun is the
apostle! the Sultaun is the conqueror!’
A few days afterwards the long looked-for embassy arrived from
Hyderabad, and Kasim once more welcomed his friends. They were presented
to the Sultaun in a full durbar of his officers, native and European,
with all the pomp of regal state. They were at once disgusted with the
assumed consequence of one whose state was less than that of their
prince; but they presented the splendid Koran they had been entrusted
with, upon which it was said that the Nizam had sworn to aid Tippoo with
his whole army and power against the English. The letters they bore were
cautious and dignified; yet, through the overwhelming flow of Eastern
compliment, could be discovered the hidden meaning which Tippoo had so
long and so earnestly expected. The ambassadors were dismissed for the
present with honour, and the whole army rejoiced that such an alliance
would be entered into.
A long conference did Tippoo hold that night, with the officers whom he
habitually consulted, upon the subject of the embassy. He had long been
solicitous of allying himself by marriage with the princely family of
the Dekhan, but had never had an opportunity of proposing it; now, when
the Nizam had sought him—when, humbled by the English and in dread of
the Mahratta power, that prince had asked aid against both from his
brother in the faith—he thought he could make that a condition of
compliance. It had been his favourite project for years, and he was now
determined to urge it.
It was in vain that those who wished his cause well, advised him bluntly
and honestly to forego his request for the present; there were others
who listened to his rhapsodies about the stars, to the records of his
dreams, until they were carried on to support the demand; and it was
made as proudly by the vain and inflated Sultaun, as his receipt of the
embassy had been ostentatious and offensive.
But the Nizam’s ambassadors were men of sound judgment; they knew that
their prince had lowered himself already in sending the embassy to a
self-constituted Sultaun—a low-born upstart; and, men of high family
themselves, they could well appreciate the situation in which he would
feel himself placed by the proposal. They answered the demand in cold
and haughty terms, and, requesting their dismissal, soon after left his
camp.
It was in vain that the Sultaun’s best friends urged their recall as of
vital importance to himself,—and to the cause of Islam, the ambassadors
were allowed to proceed on their return to Hyderabad. The Sultaun’s
message was received with indignation by the Nizam, whose pride
instantly rose against the degradation of the proposed matrimonial
connection. An embassy from Tippoo, which followed, was dismissed with a
flat refusal; and the Nizam, throwing himself now entirely into the
cause of the English, pressed them for the execution of the treaty of
1768, which involved the conquest of Mysore.
Those who were near the Sultaun when he received the reply, for he had
waited the issue of his demand ere he commenced the operations he had
long ago determined upon, saw how nearly the refusal had touched his
pride, and expected some outbreak of violent passion. But he stifled his
feelings for the time; or perhaps, in the pride of possessing the fine
army he commanded, and the slavish adoration which it paid him, he did
not heed the slight. He was only heard to say, ‘Well, it is a matter of
no consequence; we, who are the chosen of Alla, will alone do the work
which lies before us, marked out so plainly that we cannot deviate from
it. Inshalla! alone we will do what Nizam Ali Khan will wonder at in his
zenana, as he sits smoking like an eunuch. Ya, kureem Alla! thou art
witness that thy servant’s name has been left out from among those who
are not to be attacked; Nizam Ali and the base infidel English have done
this. But let them beware; thou canst revenge me on them both if thou
wilt!’
His army too felt the slight which had been offered, and in their mad
zeal might have been led to the gates of Hyderabad or those of Madras,
but that was not the Sultaun’s plan; he had resolved on one which had
been sketched out by his father, and which he thought he had now
matured. The possession of Travancore had long been coveted by his
father, but he had been repulsed in his attacks upon it; and as many of
the conquered Nairs had taken refuge in the Travancore territory, the
Sultaun now demanded that they should be given up as rebellious
subjects. This being indignantly refused, as he expected, he at length
marched from Coimbatoor at the head of thirty-five thousand men, the
flower of his army.
The Khan had arrived with the remainder of the corps from Seringapatam,
and had brought Ameena with him, to the disgust and chagrin of his other
wives, who, during his stay, had vainly endeavoured to begin their
scheme of tormenting the gentle girl. She had hitherto been unmolested,
and as happy as it was possible for her to be with these companions, and
such others as she became acquainted with from time to time.
The friends were now once more united, and looked forward with ardour to
sharing the events and dangers of the campaign together. Kasim, in the
daily march, often watched the well-known palankeen of Ameena to its
destination, and, as often as etiquette permitted, inquired after her.
He heard she was well, and it would have been pleasant to him could he
have known the truth—that he was often the subject of interesting
conversation between her and her lord, and that she remembered him
gratefully and vividly.
Through the plain which extends westward to the ocean, between the huge
and precipitous Neelgherries on the one hand, and the lofty and
many-peaked Animallee range on the other, the host of Tippoo poured. Day
by day saw an advance of many miles; and the season being favourable,
they marched on without a check. The Sultaun was always at the head of
the column of march, sometimes on foot with a musket on his shoulder,
showing an example to his regular infantry who followed in order,
relating his dreams, and pretending to inspiration among his sycophants
who marched with him. At other times he appeared surrounded by his
irregular cavalry, whom of old he had led against the English at
Perambaukum,—a gorgeous-looking force, consisting of men of all
descriptions—the small and wiry Mahratta, the more robust Mahomedan, men
from Afghanistan and from the north of India, whom the splendid service
and brilliant reputation of the Sultaun had tempted from their distant
homes.
Sometimes he would be seen to dash out from among them as they rode
along—a wild and picturesque-looking band—and turning his horse in the
plain, would soon be followed by the most active and best-mounted of his
officers, whose bright costumes, armour, and gaudy trappings glistened
in the sun as they rode at one another. Then would ensue some mock
combat or skirmish, in which the Sultaun bore an active and often a
victorious part, and in which hard blows were by no means of rare
occurrence. Ever foremost in these mock encounters were Kasim Ali and
the Khan his commander; the former however was always the most
conspicuous. He was usually dressed in a suit of chain-armour, which had
been given him by the Khan, and which he wore over his usual silk or
satin quilted vest; on his head was a round steel cap, surmounted by a
steel spike, and around it was always tied a shawl of the gayest red or
yellow, or else a mundeel or other scarf of gold or silver tissue. He
usually carried a long tilting-lance of bamboo, with a stuffed ball at
the end, from which depended a number of small streamers of various
colours; or else his small inlaid matchlock, with which from time to
time he shot at birds, or deer as they bounded along in the thickets
which lined the road. He had expended all the money he could spare in
purchasing handsome trappings for his horse; and indeed the Khan’s noble
gift well became his silver ornaments and the gay red, yellow, and green
khogeer,[38] the seat of which was of crimson velvet, with a deep fringe
cut into points, and hanging far below its belly.
-----
Footnote 38:
Stuffed saddle.
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Tippoo often noticed the young Kasim since his mission to Hyderabad, and
as he attended the Khan (who was always among the crowd of officers near
the person of the Sultaun) he frequently had an opportunity of joining
in these _melées_, in which he was dreaded by many for his strength,
perfect mastery of his weapons, and beautiful horsemanship. Indeed the
Sultaun had himself, on more than one occasion, crossed spears with the
young Patél, and been indebted for victory to the courtesy of his
antagonist rather than his own prowess. He never addressed to him more
than a word or two during these mock encounters, noticing him however to
the old Khan, by whom the gracious speeches were related to Kasim in his
tent.
Kasim had been more than usually fortunate one morning, a few days after
they had left Coimbatoor; he had engaged rather roughly with another
officer, and had overthrown him, and the Sultaun expressed himself with
more than usual warmth to the Khan.
‘By the Prophet, we must forgive thy young friend,’ he said, ‘and
promote him; didst thou see how he overthrew Surmust Khan just now, Khan
Sahib? there are few who could do that. We had much ado to persuade the
Khan that it was accidental; thou must tell the youth to be more
discreet in future; we would have no man his enemy but ourselves.’
‘May your condescension increase!’ cried the Khan; ‘I will tell the
youth; but did my lord ever see him shoot?’
‘Ha! can he do that also, Khan? could he hit me yonder goat, thinkest
thou?’ exclaimed Tippoo, as he pointed to one, the patriarch of a herd,
browsing among some craggy rocks at a short distance, and which,
interrupted in its morning’s meal, was bleating loudly, as it looked
over the glittering and busy host which was approaching.
‘It is a long shot,’ said the Khan, putting his forefinger between his
teeth and considering; ‘nevertheless, I think he could.’
‘Wilt thou hold me a wager he does?’ cried the Sultaun; ‘I will bet thee
a pair of English pistols against that old one of thine, he does not hit
it.’
‘May your favour never be less upon your servant! I accept it,’ cried
the Khan; and he turned round to seek Kasim, who was behind among the
other officers. The Sultaun stopped, and those around him cried out, ‘A
wager! a wager! Inshalla, the Sultaun will win, his destiny is great!’
Kasim was brought from the rear after some little time, to where the
Sultaun stood awaiting him; the Khan had not told him why, and he
appeared to ask for orders. All was soon explained to him; but the
distance was great, and he doubted his power; however, not daring to
disobey, he addressed himself to his task. The goat continued steady,
and after a long aim he fired. It was successful; the animal lost its
footing, rolled from its high place, and ere any one of the grooms could
reach it with a knife, or pronounce the blessing before they cut its
throat, it was dead: the ball had broken its neck. ‘Mashalla!
Wonderful!’ passed from mouth to mouth, while some wondered at, and
others envied the young Patél’s success.
‘It must have been chance,’ cried the Sultaun good-humouredly; ‘even we,
who are by the blessing of Alla a sure shot, could not have done that.
Nevertheless thou hast won the pistols, Khan, and shalt have them. But
what say you, my friends, to a hunt; yonder are the Animallee hills, and
it is strange if we find no game. We will prove thee again, young sir,
ere we believe thy dexterity.’
‘A hunt, a hunt!’ cried all; and the words were taken up and passed from
rank to rank, from regiment to regiment, down the long column, until all
knew of it, and were prepared to bear their part in the royal sport.
Preparations were begun as soon as the army arrived at its
halting-place; men were sent forward for information of game; all the
inhabitants of the country round were collected by the irregular horse
to assist in driving it towards one spot, where it might be attacked.
For a day previously, under the active superintendence of the royal
huntsman, the beaters, with parties of matchlock and rocket-men, took up
positions all round a long and narrow valley; its sides were thickly
clothed with wood, but it had an open space at the bottom through which
it was possible to ride, though with some difficulty, on account of the
long and rank grass. The ground was soft and marshy in places, and had
been, at one time, cultivated with rice, as appeared by the square
levels constructed so as to contain water. Large clumps of bamboos arose
to an enormous height here and there, their light foliage waving in the
wind, and giving them the appearance of huge bunches of feathers among
the other dense trees by which they were surrounded. Where the ground
was not marshy, it was covered with short sward, in some places green,
in others parched by the heat of the sun. The sides of the valley arose
steeply for five or six hundred feet, sometimes presenting a richly
coloured declivity, from which hung the graceful leaf of the wild
plantain, creepers innumerable, smaller bamboos, and other light and
graceful foliage, amongst which was mingled the huge leaf and sturdy
stem of the teak.
Far above the head of the valley—terminated by an abrupt rock, over
which a rivulet flung itself in a broken waterfall—hill after hill,
mountain after mountain towered into the fleecy mists and clouds—not so
lofty as the Neelgherries, which, in the distance on the right, appeared
like a huge blue wall, except where the sun glistened upon a precipice
of many thousand feet in height, or where a vast chasm or jutting
shoulder threw a broad shadow over the rest—but still very lofty, and
wooded almost to the summit. A strong body of infantry had been placed
across the mouth of the valley, with directions to throw up stockades in
the elephant paths; and what game it was possible to drive in from the
plain had thus been compelled to enter, and lay, it was thought,
securely in the valley. One or two elephants had been seen, which gave
hope of more.
Upon the back of that noble white-faced elephant Hyder (which was taken
at the siege of Seringapatam, and still adorns, if he be not recently
dead, the processions of the present Nizam), in a howdah of richly
chased and carved silver, lined with blue velvet, sat Tippoo—his various
guns and rifles supported by a rail in front of him, and ready to his
hand. Only one favourite attendant accompanied him, who was in the
khowass, or seat behind, and had charge of his powder and bullets. The
Sultaun’s dress was quite plain, and, except for his peculiar turban, he
could not have been distinguished.
His cortége was gorgeous beyond imagination. As soon as the usual beat
of the kettle-drums had announced that he had mounted his elephant, all
who had others allowed them hurried after him, dressed in their gayest
clothes and brightest colours. Fifty or sixty elephants were there of
that company, all rushing along close together in a body at a rapid
pace; around them was a cloud of irregular cavalry, who, no longer
fettered by any kind of discipline, rode tumultuously, shouting,
brandishing spears and matchlocks, and occasionally firing their pistols
in the air. The hoarse kettle-drums sent forth their dull booming sound,
mingled with the trampling of the horses, and at times the shrill
trumpeting of the elephants. The army had cast aside its uniform for the
day; officers and men were dressed in their gayest and most picturesque
apparel—turbans and waistbands, and vests of every hue, and armed with
weapons of all kinds, swords and shields, matchlocks and heavy
broad-bladed spears; such as had not these, brought their own muskets
and ammunition.
Thousands had gone on before, and were seen crowding the sides of the
entrance to the valley, but kept back by the exertions of the huntsmen,
in order that the Sultaun should enter first, and take up his position
in the most open place, while the game should be gradually aroused and
driven towards him. From the shape of the valley, and its almost
perpendicular sides, it was impossible to surround it so as to make a
simultaneous advance from all sides.
One of the Sultaun’s own elephants had been sent for the Khan and Kasim,
who were desired to keep as near him as the crowd would allow. They
reached the entrance of the glen at last, and by the streamlet they met
the chief huntsman, who was ready to lead them to the spot they should
occupy, but the Sultaun would not permit this.
‘Let us advance together,’ he cried; ‘I see the end of the glen is
occupied by men, so nothing can escape us. Bismilla! let the signal be
given to proceed.’
It had been previously agreed upon; and the discharge of a small
field-piece, which had been dragged to the spot, awoke a thousand echoes
in the quiet glen, and the merry thousands with one hoarse shout rushed
forward.
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