"Yes; Ny Deen, the syce, beaten, kicked, trampled upon; Ny Deen, the
dog--the--"
He paused for a moment or two, and then with an emphasis that would have
made the term of reproach sound absurd, but for the fierce revengeful
look in his countenance, he added--
"Nigger!"
There was an intensity of scorn in his utterance of the word that was
tragic; and as I lay back there on my cushion I read in it the fierce
turning at last of the trampled worm--the worm as represented by the
venomous serpent of the conquered land, and I knew from my own
experience what endless cases there were of patient, humbled, and
crushed-down men, no higher in position than slaves, ill-used, and
treated with contempt by my insolent, overbearing countrymen of that
self-assertive class who cannot hold power without turning it to abuse.
The silence in the tent as my captor knelt by me was intense, and I
could hear his hard breathing, and see how he was striving to master the
fierce emotion in his breast. His eyes were mostly fixed on me with a
savage scowl, and for a moment or so I fancied that he must have saved
my life so as to take it himself in some way which would add torture and
throw dismay amongst the English ranks.
But I was ready to smile at my own vanity as I thought to myself of what
a little consequence the life of a young artillery subaltern would be in
the great revolt now in progress.
Then I felt a strong desire to speak, to make some great utterance such
as would impress him and raise me in his estimation sufficiently to make
him treat me with the respect due to an English officer; but no such
utterance would come. I felt that I was only a poor, weak, wounded lad,
lying there at the mercy of this fierce rajah, and when at last my lips
parted, as if forced to say something in answer to his searching gaze, I
writhed within myself and felt ashamed of the contemptible words. For
his utterance of that term of contumely so liberally used toward one of
a race of people who had been for countless generations great chiefs in
their own land, and whose cities were centres of a civilisation,
barbaric, perhaps, but whose products we were only too glad to welcome
in England.
"Nigger" still seemed to ring in my ears, as I gazed still as if
fascinated in the handsome pale-brown eastern face, and I said feebly,
just about in the tone of voice in which some contemptible young
found-out sneak of a schoolboy, who was trying to hide a fault with a
miserable lie, might say, "Please, sir, it wasn't me--"
"I never insulted you, or called you so."
His face changed like magic, and he bent low over my pillow, as he cried
excitedly, and with a passionate fervour in his voice, which almost
startled me--
"Never! never, sahib."
He paused, frowned, and then his face lit up again, and he uttered a
merry laugh.
"You see," he cried, "I am one of the conquered race. You have been our
masters so long that it comes natural to say _sahib_. But that is at an
end now; we are the masters, and the reign of the great Koompanni is at
an end."
A pang of misery ran through me at these words, which were uttered with
so much conviction that I felt they must be true.
After a few moments, and from a desire to say something less weak than
my last poor feeble utterance, I said--
"Was it not you who saved my life when that sowar was going to cut me
down?"
"Yes," he cried excitedly. "If he had killed you, he should not have
lived another hour."
"Why?" I said, with a smile. "I was his enemy fighting against him."
"But you were my friend," he said, in a soft low voice, full of emotion;
"almost the only one who treated me as if I were something more than a
pariah dog. Yes, always my friend, who softened those bitter hours of
misery and despair when I was suffering for my people, that some day we
might cast off the heel which held us crushed down into the earth. My
friend, whom I would have died to save."
"Ny Deen!" I cried, for his words moved me, and I stretched out my hand
to him.
"Hah!" he cried, seizing it tightly between his own. "I could not ask
you to give me the hand of friendship, but it has come from you."
"And yet how can I shake hands with you, rajah?" I said sadly; "we are
enemies."
His eyes flashed with pride as I called him rajah, and he retained my
hand firmly.
"Enemies?" he said. "Yes, in the field, when face to face; but you are
wounded, and there is a truce between you and me. We can be friends,
and eat salt together. You are my guest, my honoured guest. This tent
is yours; the servants are yours; order them, and they will obey you.
As soon as you are well enough, there is a palanquin waiting with
willing men to bear you. When you are better still, there is your
elephant and a horse."
"My horse, my Arab?" I cried. "Is he safe?"
He smiled.
"Yes, quite safe, with two syces to care for him; the horse of their
rajah's friend. What can I get you? Ask for anything. I am _very_
rich, and it shall be yours."
"You can only give me one thing," I cried. "No; two things."
"The first, then?" he said, smiling.
"News of my troop, of Captain Brace, and our men; of the officers of the
foot regiment. Tell me," I cried excitedly, "how did the fight end?"
"How could it end?" he replied, with a smile full of pride. "What could
that poor handful of men do against my thousands?"
"Defeated?" I cried excitedly.
"Yes; they were defeated; they fled."
My countenance fell, and there must have been a look of despair in my
eyes, which he read, for he said more quietly--
"Captain Brace is a brave man, and he did everything he could; but he
had to flee--and you were left in my hands a prisoner," he added, with a
smile.
"He had to flee," I said to myself; and that means that he had escaped
uninjured from a desperate encounter. There was something consoling in
that; and I wanted to ask a score of questions about Haynes and the
infantry officers, but I could not. For one thing, I felt that it would
be like writing a long account of a list of disasters; for another, I
was not sure that I could trust an enemy's account of the engagement.
So I remained silent, and the rajah asked me a few questions about my
symptoms, and whether there was anything he could get for me.
I shook my head, for, though gratified by the warm liking and esteem he
had displayed, my spirits had sunk very low indeed, and I wanted to be
alone to think.
Seeing that I was weak and troubled, the rajah soon after rose, and
moved to the doorway of the tent, where he summoned one of the
attendants, and uttered a few words, the result being that a few minutes
after the tall, grave, eastern physician appeared at the doorway, and
salaamed in the most lowly way before his prince.
"Go to him," said the rajah in their own tongue, and the doctor came
across to me and began examining my injuries, while the rajah stood
looking on, watching everything attentively.
I could not help noticing how nervous and troubled the doctor seemed,
performing his task with trembling hands, as if in great awe of the
chief his master. He ended by rising and salaaming again.
"Well?" said the rajah quickly; and I knew enough Hindustani now to be
able to snatch at the meaning of their words. "You must make him well
quickly."
"I will try, your highness."
"No, sir; you will do," said the rajah, sternly.
"He must be made strong and well soon. I want him; he is my friend."
He turned from the doctor, who took this as his dismissal, and bowed and
left the tent, while the rajah seated himself on the carpet by his
sword, and stayed there in one position as if deep in thought, making
probably more plans.
I lay watching him wonderingly, asking myself whether he had ever
grasped the fact of how much I had had to do with the recovery of the
guns, and if he did not, what would be his feelings toward one who had
utterly baulked him, and robbed him of the prize he went through so much
to win.
I certainly did not feel disposed to enlighten him, but by watching his
troubled face, and thinking of how valuable, if he had succeeded in well
training his men, a troop of horse artillery would be, and how different
our position would have been during that encounter if he had had half a
dozen six-pounders well-served.
"But he has no guns," I ended by saying to myself; "and we--I mean our
people--have, and I cannot believe in our--I mean their--being swept
away, so long as they hold such a supremacy as the guns afford to them."
I was stopped short by the rajah re-buckling his sword-belt, and a
minute later he was bending over me.
"Make haste," he said in Hindustani. "I shall not be at peace till you
are well once more."
He pressed my hand warmly, and bade me order anything I wished, for I
was in my own tent, and then, after smiling at me, and telling me to
grow strong, he strode to the purdah, drew it aside, turned to look
back, and then the curtain fell between us, and I was alone once more.
I lay listening to the stamping and plunging of horses, and in
imagination could picture the whole scene with the restless, excitable
animals, shrinking from being backed, and pretending to bite, but
calming down the moment they felt a strong hand at the bit.
Then came an order, followed by the jingling of weapons and the snorting
of the horses and their heavy trampling upon the soft earth, the sound
gradually growing fainter, till it was like a distant murmur, one which
had the effect of sending me, tired as I was, off into a heavy sleep.