Govinda, and he was by and by employed on lighter tasks which took him
sometimes into the town. Until the novelty wore off he felt a lively
interest in the scenes that met his eye--the bazaars, crowded with
dark-skinned natives, the men moustachioed, clad for the most part in
white garments that covered them from the crown of the head to the knee,
with a touch of red sometimes in their turbans; the women with bare
heads and arms and feet, garbed in red and blue; the gosains, mendicants
with matted hair and unspeakable filth; the women who fried chapatis[#]
on griddles in the streets, grinding their meal in handmills; the
sword-grinders, whetting the blades of the Maratha two-edged swords; the
barbers, whose shops had a never-ending succession of customers; the
Brahmans, almost naked and shaved bald save for a small tuft at the back
of the head; the sellers of madi, a toddy extracted from the cocoanut
palm; the magicians in their shawls, with high stiff red cap, painted
all over with snakes; the humped bullocks that were employed as beasts
of burden, and when not in use roamed the streets untended; occasionally
the hasawa, the sacred bull of Siva the destroyer, and the rath[#]
carrying the sacred rat of Ganessa. But with familiarity such scenes
lost their charm; and as the months passed away Desmond felt more and
more the gnawing of care at his heart, the constant sadness of a slave.
[#] Small flat unleavened cakes.
[#] Car.
CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH
*In which the Babu tells the story of King Vikramaditya; and the
discerning reader may find more than appears on the surface.*
Day followed day in dreary sameness. Regularly every evening Desmond
was locked with his eight fellow-prisoners in the shed, there to spend
hours of weariness and discomfort until morning brought release and the
common task. He had the same rations of rice and ragi,[#] with
occasional doles of more substantial fare. He was carefully kept from
all communication with the other European prisoners, and as the Bengali
was the only man of his set who knew English, his only opportunities of
using his native tongue occurred in the evening, before he slept.
[#] A cereal.
His fellow-prisoners spoke Urdu among themselves, and Desmond found some
alleviation of the monotony of his life in learning the lingua franca of
India under the Babu's tuition. He was encouraged to persevere in the
study by the fact that the Babu proved to be an excellent story-teller,
often beguiling the tedium of wakeful hours in the shed by relating
interminable narratives from the Hindu mythology, and in particular the
exploits of the legendary hero Vikramaditya. So accomplished was he in
this very Oriental art that it was not uncommon for one or other of the
sentries to listen to him through the opening in the shed wall, and the
head-warder who locked the prisoners' fetters would himself sometimes
squat down at the door before leaving them at night, and remain an
interested auditor until the blast of a horn warned all in fort and town
that the hour of sleep had come. It was some time before Desmond was
sufficiently familiar with the language to pick up more than a few words
of the stories here and there, but in three months he found himself able
to follow the narrative with ease.
Meanwhile he was growing apace. The constant work in the open air,
clad, save, during the rains, in nothing but a thin dhoti[#], developed
his physique and, even in that hot climate, hardened his muscles. The
Babu one day remarked with envy that he would soon be deemed worthy of
promotion to Angria's own gallivat, whose crew consisted of picked men
of all nationalities. This was an honour Desmond by no means coveted.
As a dockyard workman, earning his food by the sweat of his brow, he did
not come in contact with Angria, and was indeed less hardly used than he
had been on board the _Good Intent_. But to become a galley-slave seemed
to him a different thing, and the prospect of pulling an oar in the
Pirate's gallivat served to intensify his longing to be free.
[#] A cloth worn round the waist, passed between the legs and tucked in
behind the back.
For, though he proved so willing and docile in the dockyard, not a day
passed but he pondered the idea of escape. He seized every opportunity
of learning the topography of the fort and town, being aided in this
unwittingly by Govinda, who employed him more and more often, as he
became familiar with the language, in conveying messages from one part
of the settlement to another. But he was forced to confess to himself
that the chances of escape were very slight. Gheria was many miles from
the nearest European settlement where he might find refuge. To escape
by sea seemed impossible; if he fled through the town and got clear of
Angria's territory he would almost certainly fall into the hands of the
Peshwa's[#] people, and although the Peshwa was nominally an ally of the
Company, his subjects--a lawless, turbulent, predatory race--were not
likely to be specially friendly to a solitary English lad. A half-felt
hope that he might be able to reach Suvarndrug, lately captured by
Commodore James, was dashed by the news that that fort had been handed
over by him to the Marathas. Moreover, such was the rivalry among the
various European nations competing for trade in India that he was by no
means sure of a friendly reception if he should succeed in gaining a
Portuguese or Dutch settlement. Dark stories were told of Portuguese
dealings with Englishmen, and the Dutch bore no good repute for their
treatment of prisoners.
[#] The prime minister and real ruler of the Maratha kingdom.
It was a matter of wonder to Desmond that none of his companions ever
hinted at escape. He could not imagine that any man could be a slave
without feeling a yearning for liberty; yet these men lived through the
unvarying round, eating, toiling, sleeping, without any apparent mental
revolt. He could only surmise that all manliness and spirit had been
crushed out of them, and from motives of prudence he forbore to speak of
freedom.
But one evening, a sultry October evening when the shed was like an
oven, and, bathed in sweat, he felt utterly limp and depressed, he asked
the Babu in English whether any one had ever escaped out of Angria's
clutches. Surendra Nath Chuckerbutti glanced anxiously around, as if
fearful that the others might understand. But they lay listless on
their charpoys; they knew no English, and there was nothing in Desmond's
tone to quicken their hopelessness.
"No, sahib," said the Bengali; "such escapade, if successful, is beyond
my ken. There have been attempts: _cui bono_? Nobody is an anna the
better. Nay, the last state of such misguided men is even worse; they
die suffering very ingenious torture."
Desmond had been amazed at the Babu's command of English until he learnt
that the man was an omnivorous reader, and in his leisure at Calcutta
had spent many an hour in poring over such literature as his master's
scanty library afforded, the works of Mr. Samuel Johnson and Mr. Henry
Fielding in particular.
At this moment Desmond said no more, but in the dead of night, when all
were asleep, he leant over to the Babu's charpoy and gently nudged him.
"Surendra Nath!" he whispered.
"Who calls?" returned the Babu.
"Listen. Have you yourself ever thought of escaping?"
"Peace and quietness, sir. He will hear."
"Who?"
"The Gujarati, sir--Fuzl Khan."
"But he doesn't understand. And if he did, what then?"
"He was the single man, positively unique, who was spared among six
attempting escape last rains."
"They did make an attempt, then. Why was he spared?"
"That, sir, deponent knoweth not. The plot was carried to Angria."
"How?"
"That also is dark as pitch. But Fuzl Khan was spared, that we know.
No man can trust his _vis-a-vis_. No man is now so bold to discuss such
matters."
"Is that why we are all chained up at night?"
"That, sir, is the case. It is since then our limbs are shackled."
Desmond thought over this piece of information. He had noticed that the
Gujarati was left much alone by the others. They were outwardly civil
enough, but they rarely spoke to him of their own accord, and sometimes
they would break off in a conversation if he appeared interested.
Desmond had put this down to the man's temper; he was a sullen fellow,
with a perpetually hangdog look, occasionally breaking out in paroxysms
of violence which cost him many a scourging from the overseer's
merciless rattan. But the attitude of his fellow-prisoner was more
easily explained if the Babu's hint was well founded. They feared him.
Yet, if he had indeed betrayed his comrades, he had gained little by his
treachery. He was no favourite with the officers of the yard. They
kept him hard at work, and seemed to take a delight in harrying him.
More than once, unjustly as it appeared to Desmond, he had made
acquaintance with the punishment tank. In his dealings with his fellows
he was morose and offensive. A man of great physical strength, he was a
match for any two of his shed companions save the Biluchis, who, though
individually weaker, retained something of the spirit of their race and
made common cause against him. The rest he bullied, and none more than
the Bengali, whose weaklier constitution spared him the hard manual work
of the yard, but whose timidity invited aggression.
Now that the subject which constantly occupied his thoughts had been
mooted, Desmond found himself more eagerly striving to find a solution
of the problem presented by the idea of escape. At all hours of the
day, and often when he lay in sleepless discomfort at night, his active
mind recurred to the one absorbing matter: how to regain his freedom.
He had already canvassed the possibilities of escape by land, only to
dismiss the idea as utterly impracticable; for even could he elude the
vigilance of the sentries he could not pass as a native, and the perils
besetting an Englishman were not confined to Angria's territory. But
how stood the chances of escape by sea? Could he stow himself on board
a grab or gallivat, and try to swim ashore when near some friendly port?
He put the suggestion from him as absurd. Supposing he succeeded in
stowing himself on an outgoing vessel, how could he know when he was
near a friendly port without risking almost certain discovery? Besides,
except in such rare cases as the visit of an interloper like the _Good
Intent_, the Pirate did little trade. His vessels were employed mainly
in dashing out on insufficiently-convoyed merchantmen.
But the train of thought once started could not but be followed out.
What if he could seize a grab or gallivat in the harbour? To navigate
such a vessel required a party, men having some knowledge of the sea.
How stood his fellow-prisoners in that respect? The Biluchis, tall wiry
men, were traders, and had several times, he knew, made the voyage from
the Persian Gulf to Surat. It was on one of these journeys that they had
fallen into Angria's hands. They might have picked up something of the
simpler details of navigation. The Mysoreans, being up-country men and
agriculturists, were not likely even to have seen the sea until they
became slaves of Angria. The Marathas would be loth to embark; they
belonged to a warrior race which had for centuries lived by raiding its
neighbours; but being forbidden by their religion to eat or drink at sea
they would never make good sailors. The Babu was a native of Bengal,
and the Bengalis were physically the weakest of the Indian peoples,
constitutionally timid, and unenterprising in matters demanding physical
courage. Desmond smiled as he thought of how his friend Surendra Nath
might comport himself in a storm.
There remained the Gujarati, and of his nautical capacity Desmond knew
nothing. But, mentioning the matter of seamanship casually to the Babu
one day, he learnt that Fuzl Khan was a khalasi[#] from Cutch. He had
in him a strain of negro blood, derived probably from some Zanzibari
ancestor brought to Cutch as a slave. The men of the coast of Cutch
were the best sailors in India; and Fuzl Khan himself had spent a
considerable portion of his life at sea.
[#] Sailor.
Thus reflecting on the qualities of his fellow-captives. Desmond had
ruefully to acknowledge that they would make a poor crew to navigate a
grab or gallivat. Yet he could find no other, for Angria's system of
mixing the nationalities was cunningly devised to prevent any concerted
schemes. If the attempt was to be made at all, it must be made with the
men whom he knew intimately and with whom he had opportunities of
discussing a plan.
But he was at once faced by the question of the Gujarati's
trustworthiness. If there was any truth in Surendra Nath's suspicions,
he would be quite ready to betray his fellows; and if looks and manner
were any criterion, the suspicions were amply justified. True, the man
had gained nothing by his former treachery, but that might not prevent
him from repeating it, in the hope that a second betrayal would compel
reward.
While Desmond was still pondering and puzzling, it happened one
unfortunate day that Govinda the overseer was carried off within a few
hours by what the Babu called the cramp--the disease now known as
cholera. His place was immediately filled. But his successor was a
very different man. He was not so capable as Govinda, and endeavoured
to make up for his incapacity by greater brutality and violence. The
work of the yard fell off; he tried to mend matters by harrying the men.
The whip and rattan were in constant use, but the result was less
efficiency than ever, and he sought for the cause everywhere but in
himself. The lives of the captives, bad enough before, became a
continual torment. Desmond fared no better than the rest. He lost the
trifling privileges he had formerly enjoyed. The new overseer seemed to
take a delight in bullying him. Many a night, when he returned to the
shed, his back was raw where the lash had cut a livid streak through his
thin dhoti. His companions suffered in common with him, Fuzl Khan more
than any. For days at a time the man was incapacitated from work by the
treatment meted out to him. Desmond felt that if the Gujarati had
indeed purchased his life by betraying his comrades, he had made a dear
bargain.
One night, when his eight companions were all asleep, and nothing could
be heard but the regular calls of the sentries, the beating of tom-toms
in the town, and the howls of jackals prowling on the outskirts, Desmond
gently woke the Babu.
"My friend, listen," he whispered, "I have something to say to you."
Surendra Nath turned over on his charpoy.
"Speak soft, I pray," he said.
"My head is on fire," continued Desmond. "I cannot sleep. I have been
thinking. What is life worth to us? Can anything be worse than our
present lot? Do you ever think of escape?"
"What good, sir? I have said so before. We are fettered; what can we
do? There is but one thing that all men in our plight desire; that is
death."
"Nonsense! I do not desire death. This life is hateful, but while we
live there is something to hope for, and I for one am not content to
endure life-long misery. I mean to escape."
"It is easy to say, but the doing--that is impossible."
"How can we tell that unless we try? The men who tried to escape did
not think it impossible. They might have succeeded--who can say?--if
Fuzl Khan had not betrayed them."
"And he is still with us. He would betray us again."
"I am not sure of that. See what he has suffered! To-day his whole body
must have writhed with pain. But for the majum[#] he has smoked and the
plentiful ghi[#] we rubbed him with, he would be moaning now. I think
he will be with us if we can only find out a way. You have been here
longer than I; cannot you help me to form a plan?"
[#] A preparation of hemp.
[#] Clarified butter.
"No, sahib; my brain is like running water. Besides, I am afraid. If
we could get rid of our fetters and escape, we might have to fight. I
cannot fight; I am not a man of war; I am commercial."
"But you will help me if I can think of a plan?"
"I cannot persuade myself to promise, sahib. It is impossible. Death
is the only deliverer."
Desmond was impatient of the man's lack of spirit. But he suffered no
sign of his feeling to escape him. He had grown to have a liking for
the Babu.
"Well, I shall not give up the idea," he said. "Perhaps I shall speak
of it to you again."
Two nights later, in the dark and silent hours, Desmond reopened the
matter. This time the conversation lasted much longer, and in the
course of it the Babu became so much interested and indeed excited that
he forgot his usual caution, and spoke in a high-pitched tone that woke
the Biluchi on the other side. The man hurled abuse at the disturber of
his repose, and Surendra Nath regained his caution and relapsed into his
usual soft murmur. Desmond and he were still talking when the light of
dawn stole into the shed; but though neither had slept, they went about
their work during the day with unusual briskness and lightness of heart.
That evening, after the prisoners had eaten their supper in their
respective eating-rooms, they squatted against the outer wall of the
shed for a brief rest before being locked up for the night. The Babu
had promised to tell a story. The approaches to the yard were all
guarded by the usual sentries, and in the distance could be heard the
clanking of the warder's keys as he went from shed to shed performing
his nightly office.
"The story! the story!" said one of the Marathas impatiently. "Why dost
thou tarry, Babu?"
"I have eaten, Gousla, and when the belly is full the brain is sluggish.
But the balance is adjusting itself, and in a little I will begin."
Through the further gate came the warder. Desmond and his companions
were the last with whom he had to deal. His keys jangling, he advanced
slowly between two Marathas armed with matchlocks and two-edged swords.
The Babu had his back against the shed, the others were grouped about
him, and at his left there was a vacant space. It was growing dusk.
"Hail, worthy jailer!" said Surendra Nath pleasantly. "I was about to
tell the marvellous story of King Bhoya's golden throne. But I will
even now check the stream at the source. Your time is precious. My
comrades must wait until we get inside."
"Not so, Babu," said the warder gruffly. "Tell thy tale. Barik
Allah![#] you nine are the last of my round. I will myself wait and
hear, for thou hast a ready tongue, and the learning of a pundit,[#]
Babu, and thy stories, after the day's work, are they not as honey
poured on rice?"
[#] Praise to Allah!
[#] Learned man, teacher.
"You honour me beyond my deserts. If you will deign to be seated!"
The warder marched to the vacant spot at the Babu's side, and squatted
down, crossing his legs, his heavy bunch of keys lying on the skirt of
his dhoti. The armed Marathas stood at a little distance, leaning on
their matchlocks, within hearing of the Babu, and at spots where they
could see any one approaching from either end of the yard. It would not
do for the warder to be found thus by the officer of the watch.
"It happened during the reign of the illustrious King Bhoya," began the
Babu; then he caught his breath, looking strangely nervous. "It is the
heat, good jailer," he said hurriedly; "--of the illustrious King Bhoya,
I said, that a poor ryot[#] named Yajnadatta, digging one day in his
field, found there buried the divine throne of the incomparable King
Vikramaditya. When his eyes were somewhat recovered from the dazzling
vision, and he could gaze unblinking at the wondrous throne, he beheld
that it was resplendent with thirty-two graven images, and adorned with
a multitude of jewels: rubies and diamonds, pearls and jasper, crystal
and coral and sapphires.
[#] Peasant.
"Now the news of this wondrous discovery coming to the ears of King
Bhoya, he incontinently caused the throne to be conveyed to his palace,
and had it set in the midst of his hall of counsel that rose on columns
of gold and silver, of coral and crystal. Then the desire came upon him
to sit on this throne, and calling his wise men, he bade them choose a
moment of good augury, and gave order to his servitors to make all
things ready for his coronation. Whereupon his people brought curded
milk, sandalwood, flowers, saffron, umbrellas, parasols, divers
tails--tails of oxen, tails of peacocks; arrows, weapons of war, mirrors
and other objects proper to be held by wedded women--all things, indeed,
meet for a solemn festival, with a well-striped tiger-skin to represent
the seven continents of the earth; nothing was wanting of all the
matters prescribed in the Shastras[#] for the solemn crowning of kings;
and having thus fulfilled their duty, the servitors humbly acquainted
his majesty therewith. Then, when the Guru,[#] the Purohita,[#] the
Brahmans, the wise men, the councillors, the officers, the soldiers, the
chief captain, had entered, the august King Bhoya drew near to the
throne, to the end that he might be anointed.
[#] Holy Books.
[#] Religious teacher.
[#] Hereditary priest of the royal house.
"But lo! the first of the carven figures that surrounded the throne thus
spake and said: 'Hearken, O king. That prince who is endowed with
sovereign qualities; who shines before all others in wealth, in
liberality, in mercy; who excels in heroism and in goodness; who is
drawn by his nature to deeds of piety; who is full of might and majesty;
that prince alone is worthy to sit upon this throne--no other, no meaner
sovereign, is worthy. Hearken, O king, to the story of the throne.'"
"Go on, Babu," said the jailer, as the narrator paused; "what said the
graven image?"
"'There once lived,'" continued the Babu, "'in the city of Avanti, a
king, Bartrihari by name. Having come to recognize the vanity of
earthly things, this king one day left his throne and went as a jogi[#]
afar into the desert. His kingdom, being then without a head--for he had
no sons, and his younger brother, the illustrious Vikramaditya, was
travelling in far lands--fell into sore disorder, so that thieves and
evil-doers increased from day to day.
[#] Ascetic.
"'The wise men in their trouble sought diligently for a child having the
signs of royalty, and in due time, having found one, Xatrya by name,
they gave the kingdom into his charge. But in that land there dwelt a
mighty jin,[#] Vetala Agni,[#] who, when he heard of what the wise men
had done, came forth on the night of the same day the young king had
been enthroned and slew him and departed. And it befell that each time
the councillors found a new king, lo, the Vetala Agni came forth and
slew him.
[#] Evil spirit.
[#] Spirit of fire.
"'Now upon a certain day, when the wise men, in sore trouble of heart,
were met in council, there appeared among them the illustrious
Vikramaditya, newly returned from long travel, who, when he had heard
what was toward, said: "O ye wise men and faithful, make me king without
ado." And the wise men, seeing that Vikramaditya was worthy of that
dignity, thus spake: "From this day, O excellency, thou art king of the
realm of Avanti." Having in this fashion become king of Avanti,
Vikramaditya busied himself all that day with the affairs of his
kingdom, tasting the sweets of power; and at the fall of night he
prepared, against the visit of the Vetala Agni, great store of heady
liquors, all kinds of meat, fish, bread, confections, rice boiled with
milk and honey, sauces, curded milk, butter refined, sandalwood,
bouquets and garlands, divers sorts of sweet-scented things; and all
these he kept in his palace, and himself remained therein, reclining in
full wakefulness upon his fairest bed.
"'Then into this palace came the Vetala Agni, sword in hand, and went
about to slay the august Vikramaditya. But the king said: "Hearken, O
Vetala Agni; seeing that thy excellency has come for to cause me to
perish, it is not doubtful that thou wilt succeed in thy purpose;
albeit, all these viands thou dost here behold have been brought
together for thy behoof; eat, then, whatsoever thou dost find worthy;
afterwards thou shalt work thy will." And the Vetala Agni, having heard
these words, filled himself with this great store of food, and,
marvellously content with the king, said unto him: "Truly I am content,
and well-disposed towards thee, and I give thee the realm of Avanti; sit
thou in the highest place and taste its joys; but take heed of one
thing: every day shalt thou prepare for me a repast like unto this."
With these words, the Vetala Agni departed from that spot and betook him
unto his own place.