noticed that as the bales and casks reached the deck, some of the crew
were told off to remove all marks from them.
"What's that for?" repeated Bulger, in reply to a question of Desmond's.
"Why, 'cos if the ship came to be overhauled by a Company's vessel, it
would tell tales if the cargo had Company's marks on it. That wouldn't
do by no manner o' means."
"But how should they get Company's marks on them?"
Bulger winked.
"You're raw yet, Burke," he said. "You'll know quite as much as is good
for you by the time you've made another voyage or two in the _Good
Intent_."
"But I don't intend to make another voyage in her. Mr. Diggle promised
to get me employment in the country."
"What? You still believes in that there Diggle? Well, I don't want to
hurt no feelin's, and I may be wrong, but I'll lay my bottom dollar
Diggle won't do a hand's turn for you."
The second day passed, and in the evening Captain Barker, who had
hitherto left Mr. Toley in charge, came aboard in high good humour.
"I may be wrong," remarked Bulger, "but judgin' by cap'n's face, he've
been an' choused the Pirate--got twice the vally o' the goods he's
landed."
"I wonder where Mr. Diggle is?" said Desmond.
"You en't no call to mourn for him, I tell you. He's an old friend of
the Pirate, don't make no mistake; neither you nor me will be any the
worse for not seein' his grinnin' phiz no more. Thank your stars he've
left you alone for the last part of the voyage, which I wonder at, all
the same."
Next day all was bustle on board in preparation for sailing. In the
afternoon a peon[#] came hurrying along the jetty, boarded the vessel,
and handed a note to the captain, who read it, tore it up, and dismissed
the messenger. He went down to his cabin, and coming up a few minutes
later, cried:
[#] Messenger.
"Where's that boy Burke?"
"Here, sir," cried Desmond, starting up from the place where, in
Bulger's company, he had been splicing a rope.
"Idling away your time as usual, of course. Here, take this chit[#] and
run ashore. 'Tis for Mr. Diggle, as you can see if you can read."
[#] Note.
"But how am I to find him, sir?"
"Hang me, that's your concern. Find him, and give the chit into his own
hand, and be back without any tomfoolery, or by thunder I'll lay a rope
across your shoulders."
Desmond took the note, left the vessel, and hurried along the jetty.
After what Bulger had said he was not very well pleased at the prospect
of meeting Diggle again. At the shore end of the jetty he was accosted
by the peon who had brought Diggle's note on board. The man intimated
by signs that he would show the way, and Desmond, wondering why the
Indian had not himself waited to receive Captain Barker's answer,
followed him at a rapid pace on shore, past the docks, through a corner
of the town, where the appearance of a white stranger attracted the
curious attention of the natives, to an open space in front of the
entrance to the fort. Here they arrived at a low wall cut by an open
gateway, at each side of which stood a Maratha sentry armed with a
matchlock. A few words were exchanged between Desmond's guide and one of
the sentries; the two entered, crossed a compound dotted with trees, and
passing through the principal gateway came to a large square building
near the centre of the fort. The door of this was guarded by a sentry.
Again a few words were spoken. Desmond fancied he saw a slight smile
curl the lips of the natives; then the sentry called another peon who
stood at hand, and sent him into the palace.
Desmond felt a strange sinking at heart. The smile upon these dark
faces awakened a vague uneasiness; it was so like Diggle's smile. He
supposed that the man had gone in to report that he had arrived with the
captain's answer. The note still remained with him; the Marathas
apparently knew that it was to be delivered personally; yet he was left
at the door, and his guide stood by in an attitude that suggested he was
on guard.
How long was he to be kept waiting? he wondered. Captain Barker had
ordered him to return at once; the penalty for disobedience he knew only
too well; yet the minutes passed, and lengthened into two hours without
any sign of the man who had gone in with the message. Desmond spoke to
his guide, but the man shook his head, knowing no English. Becoming
more and more uneasy, he was at length relieved to see the messenger
come back to the door and beckon him to enter. As he passed the
sentries they made him a salaam in which his anxious sensitiveness
detected a shade of mockery; but before he could define his feelings he
reached a third door guarded like the others, and was ushered in.
He found himself in a large chamber, its walls dazzling with barbaric
decoration--figures of Ganessa, a favourite idol of the Marathas, of
monstrous elephants, and peacocks with enormously expanded tails. The
hall was so crowded that his first confusion was redoubled. A path was
made through the throng as at a signal, and at the end of the room he
saw two men apart from the rest. One of them, standing a little back
from the other, was Diggle; the other, a tall, powerful figure in
raiment as gaudy as the painted peacocks around him, his fingers covered
with rings, a diamond blazing in his headdress, was sitting cross-legged
on a dais. Behind him, against the wall, was an image of Ganessa, made
of solid gold, with diamonds for eyes, and blazing with jewels. At one
side was his hookah, at the other a two-edged sword and an unsheathed
dagger. Below the dais on either hand two fierce-visaged Marathas
stood, their heads and shoulders covered with a helmet, their bodies
cased in a quilted vest, each holding a straight two-edged sword.
Between Angria and the idol two fan-bearers lightly swept the air above
their lord's head with broad fans of palm leaves.
Desmond walked towards the dais, feeling wofully out of place amid the
brilliant costumes of Angria's court. Scarcely two of the Marathas were
dressed alike; some were in white, some in lilac, others in purple, but
each with ornaments after his own taste. Desmond had not had time
before leaving the _Good Intent_ to smarten himself up, and he stood
there a tall, thin, sunburnt youth in dirty, tattered garments, doing
his best to face the assembly with British courage. At the foot of the
dais he paused and held out the captain's note. Diggle took it in
silence, his face wearing the smile that Desmond knew so well and now so
fully distrusted. Without reading it, he tore it in fragments and threw
them upon the floor, at the same time saying a few words to the
resplendent figure at his side.
Tulaji Angria was dark, inclined to be fat, and not unpleasant in
feature. But it was with a scowling brow that he replied to Diggle.
Desmond was no coward, but he afterwards confessed that as he stood
there watching the two faces, the dark lowering face of Angria, the
smiling, scarcely less swarthy face of Diggle, he felt his knees tremble
under him. What was the Pirate saying? That he was the subject of
their conversation was plain from the glances thrown at him; that he was
at a crisis in his fate he knew by instinct; but, ignorant of the tongue
they spoke, he could but wait in fearful anxiety and mistrust.
He learnt afterwards the purport of the talk.
"That is your man!" said Angria. "You have deceived me. I looked for a
man of large stature and robust make, like the Englishmen I already
have. What good will this slim, starved stripling be in my barge?"
"You must not be impatient, huzur[#]," replied Diggle. "He is a
stripling, it is true; slim, certainly; starved--well, the work on board
ship does not tend to fatten a man. But give him time; he is but
sixteen or seventeen years old, young in my country. In a year or two,
under your regimen, he will develop; he comes of a hardy stock, and
already he can make himself useful. He was one of the quickest and
handiest on board our ship, though this was his first voyage."
[#] Lord.
"But you yourself admit that he is not yet competent for the oar in my
barge. What is to recompense me for the food he will eat while he is
growing? No, Diggle sahib, if I take him I must have some allowance off
the price. In truth, I will not take him unless you send me from your
vessel a dozen good muskets. That is my word."
"Still, huzur----" began Diggle, but Angria cut him short with a gesture
of impatience.
"That is my word, I say. Shall I, Tulaji Angria, dispute with you? I
will have twenty muskets, or you may keep the boy."
Diggle shrugged and smiled.
"Very well, huzur. You drive a hard bargain; but it shall be as you
say. I will send a chit to the captain, and you shall have the muskets
before the ship sails."
Angria made a sign to one of his attendants. The man approached
Desmond, took him by the sleeve, and signed to him to come away.
Desmond threw a beseeching look at Diggle, and said hurriedly:
"Mr. Diggle, please tell me----"
But Angria rose to his feet in wrath, and shouted to the man who had
Desmond by the sleeve. Desmond made no further resistance. His head
swam as he passed between the dusky ranks out into the courtyard.
"What does it all mean?" he asked himself.
His guide hurried him along until they came to a barn-like building
under the north-west angle of the fort. The Maratha unlocked the door,
signed to Desmond to enter, and locked him in. He was alone.
He spent three miserable hours. Bitterly did he now regret having cast
in his lot with the smooth-spoken stranger who had been so sympathetic
with him in his troubles at home. He tried to guess what was to be done
with him. He was in Angria's power, a prisoner, but to what end? Had
he run from the tyranny at home merely to fall a victim to a worse
tyranny at the hands of an Oriental? He knew so little of Angria, and
his brain was in such a turmoil, that he could not give definite shape
to his fears. He paced up and down the hot, stuffy shed, awaiting,
dreading, he knew not what. Through the hole that served for a window
he saw men passing to and fro across the courtyard, but they were all
swarthy, all alien; there was no one from whom he could expect a
friendly word.
Towards evening, as he looked through the hole, he saw Diggle issue from
the door of the palace and cross towards the outer gate.
"Mr. Diggle! Mr. Diggle!" he called. "Please! I am locked up here."
Diggle looked round, smiled, and leisurely approached the shed.
"Why have they shut me up here?" demanded Desmond. "Captain Barker said
I was to return at once. Do get the door unlocked."
"You ask the impossible, my young friend," replied Diggle through the
hole. "You are here by the orders of Angria, and 'twould be treason in
me to pick his locks."
"But why? what right has he to lock me up? and you, why did you let him?
You said you were my friend; you promised--oh, you know what you
promised."
"I promised? Truly, I promised that, if you were bent on accompanying
me to these shores, I would use my influence to procure you employment
with one of my friends among the native princes. Well, I have kept my
word; 'firmavi fidem,' as the Latin hath it. Angria is my friend; I
have used my influence with him; and you are now in the service of one
of the most potent of Indian princes. True, your service is but
beginning. It may be arduous at first; it may be long 'ab ovo usque ad
mala'; the egg may be hard, and the apples, perchance, somewhat sour;
but as you become inured to your duties, you will learn resignation and
patience, and----"
"Don't!" burst out Desmond, unable to endure the smooth-flowing periods
of the man now self-confessed a villain. "What does it mean? Tell me
plainly; am I a slave?"
"'Servulus, non servus,' my dear boy. What is the odds whether you
serve Dick Burke, a booby farmer, or Tulaji Angria, a prince and a man
of intelligence? Yet there is a difference, and I would give you a word
of counsel. Angria is an Oriental, and a despot; it were best to serve
him with all diligence, or----"
He finished the sentence with a meaning grimace.
"Mr. Diggle, you can't mean it," said Desmond. "Don't leave me here! I
implore you to release me. What have I ever done to you? Don't leave
me in this awful place."
Diggle smiled and began to move away. At the sight of his malicious
smile the prisoner's despair was swept away before a tempest of rage.
"You scoundrel! You shameless scoundrel!"
The words, low spoken and vibrant with contempt, reached Diggle when he
was some distance from the shed. He turned and sauntered back.
"Heia! Contumeliosae voces! 'Tis pretty abuse. My young friend, I
must withdraw my ears from such shocking language. But stay! if you
have any message for Sir Willoughby, your squire, whose affections you
have so diligently cultivated to the prejudice of his nearest and
dearest, it were well for you to give it. 'Tis your last opportunity;
for those who enter Angria's service enjoy a useful but not a long
career. And before I return to Gheria from a little journey I am about
to take, you may have joined the majority of those who have tempted fate
in this insalubrious clime. In a moment swift death cometh--you
remember the phrase?"
Diggle leant against the wooden wall, watching with malicious enjoyment
the effect of his words. Desmond was very pale; all his strength seemed
to have deserted him. Finding that his taunts provoked no reply, Diggle
went on:
"Time presses, my young friend. You will be logged a deserter from the
_Good Intent_. 'Tis my fervent hope you never fall into the hands of
Captain Barker; as you know, he is a terrible man when roused."
Waving his gloved hand he moved away. Desmond did not watch his
departure. Falling back from the window, he threw himself upon the
ground, and gave way to a long fit of black despair.
How long he lay in this agony he knew not. But he was at last roused by
the opening of the door. It was almost dark. Rising to his feet, he
saw a number of men hustled into the shed. Ranged along one of the
walls, they squatted on the floor, and for some minutes afterwards
Desmond heard the clank of irons and the harsh grating of a key. Then a
big Maratha came to him, searched him thoroughly, clapped iron bands
upon his ankles, and locked the chains to staples in the wall. Soon the
door was shut, barred, and locked, and Desmond found himself a prisoner
with eight others.
For a little they spoke among themselves, in the low tones of men
utterly spent and dispirited. Then all was silent, and they slept. But
Desmond lay wide awake, waiting for the morning.
The shed was terribly hot. Air came only through the one narrow
opening, and before an hour was past the atmosphere was foul, seeming
the more horrible to Desmond by contrast with the freshness of his life
on the ocean. Mosquitoes nipped him until he could scarcely endure the
intense irritation. He would have given anything for a little water;
but though he heard a sentry pacing up and down outside, he did not
venture to call to him, and could only writhe in heat and torture,
longing for the dawn, yet fearing it and what it might bring forth.
Worn and haggard after his sleepless night, Desmond had scarcely spirit
enough to look with curiosity on his fellow-prisoners when the shed was
faintly lit by the morning sun. But he saw that the eight men, all
natives, were lying on rude charpoys[#] along the wall, each man chained
to a staple like his own. One of the men was awake; and, catching
Desmond's lustreless eyes fixed upon him, he sat up and returned his
gaze.
[#] Mat beds.
"Your honour is an English gentleman?"
The words caused Desmond to start: they were so unexpected in such a
place. The Indian spoke softly and carefully, as if anxious not to
awaken his companions.
"Yes," replied Desmond. "Who are you?"
"My name, sir, is Surendra Nath Chuckerbutti. I was lately a clerk in
the employ of a burra[#] sahib, English factor, at Calcutta."
[#] Great.
"How did you get here?"
"That, sahib, is a moving tale. While on a visit of condolence to my
respectable uncle and aunt at Chittagong, I was kidnapped by Sanderband
piratical dogs. Presto!--at that serious crisis a Dutch ship makes
apparition and rescues me; but my last state is more desperate than the
first. The Dutch vessel will not stop to replace me on mother-earth;
she is for Bombay across the kala pani[#], as we say. I am not a
swimmer; besides, what boots it?--we are ten miles from land, to say
nothing of sharks and crocodiles and the lordly tiger. So I perforce
remain, to the injury of my caste, which forbids navigation. But see
the issue. The Dutch ship is assaulted; grabs and gallivats galore
swarm upon the face of the waters; all is confusion worse confounded; in
a brace of shakes we are in the toils. It is now two years since this
untoward catastrophe. With the crew I am conveyed hither and eat the
bitter crust of servitude. Some of the Dutchmen are consigned to other
forts in possession of the Pirate, and three serve here in his state
barge."
[#] Black water--the sea.
Desmond glanced at the sleeping forms.
"No, sir, they are not here," said the Babu[#], catching his look.
"They share another apartment with your countrymen--chained? Oh yes!
These, my bedfellows of misfortune, are Indians, not of Bengal, like
myself; two are Biluchis hauled from a country ship; two are Musalmans
from Mysore; one a Gujarati; two Marathas. We are a motley crew--a
miscellany, no less."
[#] Equivalent to Mr.; generally applied to educated Bengalis.
"What do they do with you in the daytime?"
"I, sir, adjust accounts of the Pirate's dockyard; for this I am
qualified by prolonged driving of quill in Calcutta, to expressed
satisfaction of Honourable Company and English merchants. But my
position, sir, is of Damoclean anxiety. I am horrified by conviction
that one small error of calculation will entail direst retribution.
Videlicet, sir, this week a fellow-captive is minus a finger and
thumb--and all for oversight of six annas.[#] But I hear the step of
our jailer; I must bridle my tongue."
[#] The anna is the sixteenth part of a rupee.
The Babu had spoken throughout in a low monotonous tone that had not
disturbed the slumbers of his fellow-prisoners. But they were all
awakened by the noisy opening of the door and the entrance of their
jailer. He went to each in turn, and unlocked their fetters; then they
filed out in dumb submission, to be escorted by armed sentries to the
different sheds where they fed, each caste by itself. When the eight had
disappeared the jailer turned to Desmond, and, taking him by the sleeve,
led him across the courtyard into the palace. Here, in a little room,
he was given a meagre breakfast of rice; after which he was taken to
another room where he found Angria in company with a big Maratha, who
had in his hand a long bamboo cane. The Pirate was no longer in
durbar[#] array, but was clad in a long yellow robe with a
lilac-coloured shawl.
[#] Council, ceremonial.
Conscious that he made a very poor appearance in his tatters, Desmond
felt that the two men looked at him with contempt. A brief conversation
passed between them; then the Maratha salaamed to Angria and went from
the room, beckoning Desmond to follow him. They went out of the
precincts of the palace, and through a part of the town, until they
arrived at the docks. There the labourers, slaves and free, were
already at work. Desmond at the first glance noticed several Europeans
among them, miserable objects who scarcely lifted their heads to look at
this latest newcomer of their race. His guide called up one of the
foremen shipwrights, and instructed him to place the boy among a gang of
the workmen. Then he went away. Scarcely a minute had elapsed when
Desmond heard a cry, and looking round, saw the man brutally belabouring
with his rattan the bare shoulders of a native. He quivered; the
incident seemed of ill augury. In a few minutes Desmond found himself
among a gang of men who were working at a new gallivat in process of
construction for Angria's own use. He received his orders in dumb show
from the foreman of the gang. Miserable as he was, he would not have
been a boy if he had not been interested in his novel surroundings; and
no intelligent boy could have failed to take an interest in the
construction of a gallivat. It was a large rowboat of from thirty to
seventy tons, with two masts, the mizzen being very slight. The
mainmast bore one huge sail, triangular in form, its peak extending to a
considerable height above the mast. The smaller gallivats were covered
with a spar deck made of split bamboos, their armament consisting of
pettararoes fixed on swivels in the gunwale. But the larger vessels had
a fixed deck on which were mounted six or eight cannon, from two- to
four-pounders; and in addition to their sail they had from forty to
fifty oars, so that, with a stout crew, they attained, even in a calm, a
rate of four or five miles an hour.
One of the first things Desmond learnt was that the Indian mode of
shipbuilding differed fundamentally from the European. The timbers were
fitted in after the planks had been put together; and the planks were
put together, not with flat edges, but rabbeted, the parts made to
correspond with the greatest exactness. When a plank was set up, its
edge was smeared with red lead, and the edge of the plank to come next
was pressed down upon it, the inequalities in its surface being thus
shown by the marks of the lead. These being smoothed away, if necessary
several times, and the edges fitting exactly, they were rubbed with
da'ma, a sort of glue that in course of time became as hard as iron.
The planks were then firmly riveted with pegs, and by the time the work
was finished the seams were scarcely visible, the whole forming
apparently one entire piece of timber.
The process of building a gallivat was thus a very long and tedious one;
but the vessel when completed was so strong that it could go to sea for
many years before the hull needed repair.
Desmond learnt all this only gradually; but from the first day, making a
virtue of necessity, he threw himself into the work and became very
useful, winning the good opinion of the officers of the dockyard. His
feelings were frequently wrung by the brutal punishments inflicted by
the overseer upon defaulters. The man had absolute power over the
workers. He could flog them, starve them, even cut off their ears and
noses. One of his favourite devices was to tie a quantity of oiled
cotton round each of a man's fingers and set light to these living
torches. Another, used with a man whom he considered lazy, was the
tank. Between the dockyard and the river, separated from the latter
only by a thin wall, was a square cavity about seven feet deep covered
with boarding, in the centre of which was a circular hole. In the wall
was a small orifice through which water could be let in from the river,
while in the opposite wall was the pipe and spout of a small hand-pump.
The man whom the overseer regarded as an idler was let down into the
tank, the covering replaced, and water allowed to enter from the river.
This was a potent spur to the defaulter's activity, for if he did not
work the pump fast enough the water would gradually rise in the tank,
and he would drown. Desmond learnt of one case where the man, utterly
worn out by his life of alternate toil and punishment, refused to work
the pump and stood in silent indifference while the water mounted inch
by inch until it covered his head and ended his woes.