The rajah did not come that day, nor the next, and it troubled me sadly,
for it made me feel that he thought he was sure of me, and the more I
led that solitary life, and satisfied myself that I was most carefully
watched, the more I dreaded my firmness.
For, in my greatest fits of despondency, I began asking myself why I
should hold out. If the English were driven out of India, who would
know or care anything about me?
But I always came back to the dirty slip of paper with the characters on
that I could not read. They meant hope to me, and friends coming to
help me, and this gave me strength.
The second day after the dirty old fakir came, I went for a walk, for my
horse had not arrived; and, as I expected, the sentries were at hand,
but they did not follow me, and I soon found out the reason. About a
quarter of a mile from my tent, I came upon a fierce-looking man,
sitting like a statue upon his horse, grasping his lance, and, whichever
way I went, there were others.
To test this, I turned in several directions--in amongst the trees, and
out toward the slope leading to the plain; but everywhere there were
these mounted sentries ready to start out quietly from behind some tree,
and change their position so as to be a hundred yards ahead of me
wherever I went; and it was all done so quietly that, to a casual
observer, it would have appeared as if they had nothing whatever to do
with me, but were simply watching the country for advancing foes, an
idea strengthened by the way in which signals were made with their tall
lances.
They took no notice of me, and apparently, as in their case, I took no
notice of them, but finished my stroll, after gathering in all I could
of the aspect of the beautiful slope, the forest at its head, and the
far-spreading plain below, thinking what a splendid domain the rajah
owned, and then made for my tent, with the mounted men slowly closing in
again.
I could only escape by night, I remember thinking, and I was getting
close up to the trees that hid our little camp, dolefully pondering over
my position and the hopelessness of succour from without, when all at
once a hideous figure rose up from beneath a tree and confronted me; and
as I stopped short, startled by the foul appearance of the man, with his
long tangled hair and wild grey beard, I saw Salaman and two of his
helpers come running toward us, just as the old fakir--for it was he--
raised his hands, and in a denunciatory way poured forth a torrent of
wild abuse. His eyes looked as if starting out of his head; he bared
his arms, and, as it seemed to me, cursed and reviled me savagely as an
infidel dog whom he would deliver over to the crows and jackals, while
he hoped that the graves of my father, mother, and all our ancestors,
might be defiled in every possible way.
And all the time he looked as if he would spring upon me, but I did not
much fear that, for he was very old, and as weak as could be from his
wounds. This and his passion, which increased as Salaman and the men
came up, forced him to cling to a tree for support, but his tongue was
strong enough, though his throat grew hoarse, and his voice at last
became a husky whisper, while Salaman and the others tried to calm him,
though evidently fearing to bring the curses down upon their own heads,
and shrinking from the old wretch whenever he turned angrily upon them,
as they tried to coax him away.
These efforts were all in vain, and as I stood there quite firm, not
liking to appear afraid, and caring very little for his curses, his
voice grew inaudible, and he began to spit upon the ground.
"I pray my lord to go," said Salaman at last.
"Why should I go?" I said pettishly. "Drive the reviling old rascal
away."
"No, no, my lord," he whispered; "we dare not."
"Then I shall complain to the rajah. I am sure he would not have me
annoyed in this way if he knew."
"No, my lord," said Salaman, humbly; "but what can thy servant do?"
"Do? Send the dirty old madman off."
"Oh, hush, my lord, pray," whispered Salaman. "Thy servant loves to
serve thee, and his highness is thy friend. If aught befel my lord from
the holy man's curses, what should I do?"
"Do?" I repeated. "Send him about his business."
"But he will not go, my lord, until he pleases."
"Then I shall send one of the sowars with a message to the rajah," I
said firmly. "I am not going to be insulted by that old dog."
"My lord, I pray," said Salaman, imploringly. "His highness would
punish me, and my lord knows it is no fault of mine his coming."
"Look here, Salaman," I said; "if you call me `my lord' again, instead
of `sahib,' I will send to his highness. There, get rid of the old
fellow as soon as you can. We should have such a man put in prison in
England. Come and give me some food, and let him curse his voice back
again. I don't wonder that the tiger wanted to kill him."
Salaman shrugged his shoulders.
"Do you know why the fierce beast did not eat him?"
"Because he found out that he had made a mistake in striking down a holy
man, my--"
"Ah!"
"Sahib," cried Salaman, hurriedly.
"That's better," I said. "No! The tiger did not touch him afterwards,
because he was so dirty."
I walked away, hearing the fakir whispering wishes of evil against me to
the attendants, and spitting on the ground from time to time, while
Salaman followed me to my dinner under the tree, and brought me a cool,
pleasant draught of lemon and water and some fresh fruit, leaving me
afterwards to moralise on the difference between my religion and his,
and afterwards to sit dejectedly waiting for my wound to heal, and to
hope that the rajah would not come.
He did not come, and as I sat thinking, I was obliged to confess that I
was too weak to make any attempt at escape for some time yet; and even
when I grew stronger, the chances appeared to be very small.
"Never mind," I said at last, trying to be cheerful. "Some chance may
come yet."
But my spirits did not rise, for there was always the black cloud which
I could not pierce, behind which was hidden the fate of my friends, and
all that were dear to me.
The next day I heard that the old fakir had not gone. His wounds were
bad, and he had taken up his abode about a hundred yards away, amongst
the roots of a large tree.
"Have you doctored his scratches?" I asked.
"No, my lor--sahib," said Salaman; "he will not have them bathed, and he
has torn off all the bandages, and he made me guide his finger along
them."
"Dirty finger?"
"Yes, sahib, it is a very dirty finger. At least it would be if it was
mine; but his fingers are holy. They cannot be unclean, and he says
that the touch will heal the wounds."
"I hope it will," I said; "but, I say, look here, Salaman, have you
washed your hands since you touched him?"
"Oh yes, sahib, many times," he cried eagerly.
I laughed heartily for the first time for long enough, and Salaman
looked puzzled, and then smiled.
"I know why, my--sahib laughs," he said. "These things are a puzzle. I
cannot make them out."
"Never mind; only don't let the old fakir come near me."
That day passed as the others had gone. Everything about me was
beautiful, and I was treated like a prince, but the word "renegade" was
always in my mind's eye, and I went to my rest at last as despondent as
ever, after another attempt to decipher the writing, but all in vain.
It was a very hot night, and for a long time I could not sleep; but at
last I was dozing lightly, when I woke with a start to listen.
But all was still for a time. The lamp burned with its soft shaded
light, and there was not a sign of anything startling, but, all the
same, I had awakened suddenly, in a fright, and with an instinctive
feeling that something was wrong.
All at once, from the back of the tent, there was a low, sharp hiss, and
I felt that my enemies, the snakes, were about again, trying to get in,
and I wondered at my folly in not insisting upon having some weapon at
hand, though I knew it was doubtful whether I should have been so
favoured.
I lay listening, and then rose up quickly, meaning to rush to the tent
opening, and call for whoever was on the watch, when a soft voice
whispered--"Hist, sahib!"
"Ah!" I ejaculated, with my heart beating as if I had been running.
"Hist! Friends near."
I was on my way to the side of the tent whence the voice came, when I
heard hurried steps, and had just time to throw myself back on my couch,
as the tent door was thrown open and Salaman appeared.
"The sahib called," he said.
I was nearly speechless with emotion, which I dared not show, and I knew
that my duty was to keep the man there, and engage him in conversation
so as to give my nocturnal visitor a chance of escape. Mastering myself
as well as I could, I said in a fretful, angry way--
"Come here."
He was at my side in an instant.
"Take off these bandages. They hurt my arm."
"My lord, no. The doctor would be angry."
"So shall I be, if you do not take them off," I cried. "My arm is like
fire."
It was quite true, for the excitement at my sudden movement had started
the wound stinging and aching.
"It might bleed horribly," said Salaman, humbly. "Let me loosen the
bandage, sahib."
"Very well," I replied sulkily, quite satisfied now that whoever had
been outside the canvas had had plenty of opportunity to get away; and I
lay patiently enough, while my attendant loosened and re-tied my
bandages before leaving me once more to lie wondering whether I should
have another visitation that night, and fervently hoping that whoever it
was would take care not to be seen.
I lay awake for hours, but there was not another sound; and at last
exhaustion had its way, and I slept till quite late, angry with myself
for my drowsiness, and determined not to close my eyes that night.
In the course of the day I sought an opportunity to examine the tent in
the direction from which the sound had come, and had there been any
doubt in my mind as to whether I had dreamed I had heard a voice, it was
now dispersed, for about the height of my shoulder there was a slit
about an inch long just sufficient for any one to apply his lips to the
opening and speak.
No rajah that day, which was, I think, the longest I ever spent. Toward
afternoon I summoned Salaman.
"Look here," I said. "I am sure the rajah does not wish me to be
treated as a prisoner."
"No, sahib."
"Then give me my sword again."
"Thy servant has it not," replied Salaman.
"Then fetch me another."
"His highness gave me no commands."
"But I do," I said simply. "Let me have one at once."
"Thy servant grieves that he must disobey my lord," said the man humbly.
"He cannot do this thing."
"Go!" I said angrily, though I knew the man was not to blame.
"My lord is angry with his servant," he said humbly. "If he brought him
a sword, he might cut his servant down, and try to escape; but it would
be vain, for every part is strictly watched."
I turned away in misery, for, with the place so firmly watched, how were
my friends to reach me?
Toward evening, when it was cooler, I went for a stroll, but soon turned
back, for the loathsome figure of the filthy old fakir rose from among
some bushes with his hands raised, cursing me volubly, and I was glad to
get back to my tent and lie down to have a good rest before night, ready
to keep awake for the visitor who might come.
Salaman now came to say that my dinner was ready, and had been waiting
two hours, but my appetite was very poor, and I got on badly. Still I
ate, feeling that I needed all the strength I could get up, and at last
my regular retiring hour came, and I lay down once more to listen to the
trampling of my attendants and their low murmuring voices; then to the
noises in the forest, and twice over I heard in the distance the low
howl of a tiger.
But how slowly the time passed before all was silent in the camp, and I
waited for the whispering voice at the canvas! The moment it came I
meant to creep to the side silently, and then I could hear the news of
the friends who were near, and what they proposed to do.
Can you imagine the misery and weariness of waiting hour after hour in
the midst of this silence, broken only by the calls of the wild beasts
and nightbirds, the slightest sound being turned into a footstep or
voice? A hundred times over I must have thought that I heard Salaman or
his men listening, and I grew hot with anxiety as I wondered whether
they suspected anything.
Then I turned cold as ice and shivered, for a shriek rang out from
somewhere among the trees, and immediately I pictured the messenger
transfixed by the lance of one of the sowars on guard.
But I heard no further sound, and by degrees grew calmer, as I recalled
hearing such a cry before, and knew that it was made by a night-bird.
There, stretched out on the cushions upon my back, gazing at the lamp,
and with my ears all attent for the slightest sound--the right for
danger, the left for my friends--thus I lay listening, till the lamp
grew dim. The sounds of the forest were distant; and then I was at
Brandscombe, busy with the notes of lectures, and in great trouble about
something, but what I could not tell, only that the old professor of
Sanscrit, with a long grey beard and much tangled hair, was leaning over
me, his eyes wild and strange, his cheeks hollow, and a horrible look of
fierce anger in his voice as he whispered hoarsely, evidently in disgust
with my knowledge of the subject he taught. But what it was he
whispered I could not tell, only that it chilled me and paralysed me
when I wanted to struggle and get away from him. I tried hard, I knew,
but it was all in vain, and an interminable time passed on, during which
I lay helpless there, with the old professor whispering to me, and his
face growing more and more terrible, till, to my terror, I saw that it
was not the professor of Sanscrit, but the old fakir who had taken such
a dislike to me; and, fully awake now, I found myself gazing up in his
fierce eyes.
For the nightmare had passed off, and in the reality I was gazing up at
my enemy, who had evidently stolen into my tent, knife-armed--for there
it was, gleaming in his hand--to rid himself and his country of an enemy
of his religion and his race.
And I could not move, even when I felt his left hand steal once into my
breast, which hardly heaved, so utterly paralysed was I by my nightmare
dream; ten times it seemed to me more terrible than the serpent I had
found where the fakir's hand now lay.