stealthy footstep following him. Gripping in his right hand the pistol
he had brought as a precaution, and with the left loosening his sword in
its scabbard, he faced round with his back to the wall of a shed in
which Angria's ropes were made, and waited, listening intently. But the
sound, slight as it was, had ceased. Possibly it had been made by some
animal, though that seemed scarcely likely: the noise and the glare from
the burning buildings must surely have scared away all the animals in
the neighbourhood. Finding that the sound was not repeated, he went on
again. Some minutes later, his ears on the stretch, he fancied he
caught the same soft furtive tread: but when he stopped and listened and
heard nothing, he believed that he must have been mistaken, and set it
down as an echo of his own excitement.
Stepping warily, he picked his way through the darkness, faintly
illumined by the distant glow of the conflagration. He skirted the
dockyard, and drew nearer to the walls of the courtyard surrounding the
fort, remembering how, nearly twelve months before, he had come almost
the same way from the jetty with the decoy message from Captain Barker.
Then he had been a source of amusement to crowds of natives as he passed
on his way to the palace; now the spot was deserted, and but for the
noises that reached him from distant quarters he might have thought
himself the sole living creature in that once populous settlement.
He had now reached the outer wall, which was separated from the fort
only by a wide compound dotted here and there with palm-trees. It was
clear that no force, whether of the Pirate's men or of Ramaji Punt's,
held the ground between the shore and the fort. All the fighting men
had without doubt been withdrawn within the walls. His mission was
accomplished.
It had been his intention to make his way back by a shorter cut along
the outer wall, by the west side of the dockyard, until he reached the
shore near the jetty. But standing for a moment under the shade of a
palm-tree, he hesitated to carry out his plan, for the path he meant to
follow must be lit up along its whole course by a double glare: from the
blazing buildings inside the fort, and from the burning gallivats in the
dockyard and harbour. He was on the point of retracing his steps when,
looking over the low wall towards the fort, he saw two dark figures
approaching, moving swiftly from tree to tree, as if wishing to escape
observation. It was too late to move now; if he left the shelter of the
palm-tree he would come distinctly into view of the two men, and it
would be unwise to risk anything that would delay his return to Clive.
Accordingly he kept well in the shadow and waited. The stealthy
movements of the men suggested that they were fugitives, eager to get
away with whole skins before the fort was stormed.
They came to the last of the palm-trees within the wall, and paused
there for a brief space. A few yards of open ground separated them from
the gate. Desmond watched curiously, then with some anxiety, for it
suddenly struck him that the men were making for him, and that he had
actually been shadowed from his landing-place by some one acting,
strange as it seemed, in collusion with them. On all accounts it was
necessary to keep close.
Suddenly he saw the men leave the shelter of their tree and run rapidly
across the ground to the gate. Having reached it, they turned aside
into the shadow of the wall and stood as if to recover breath. Desmond
had kept his eyes upon them all the time. Previously, in the shade of
the trees, their faces had not been clearly distinguishable; but while
now invisible from the fort, they were lit up by the glow from the
harbour. It was with a shock of surprise that he recognized in the
fugitives the overseer of the dockyard, whose cruelties he had so good
reason to remember, and Marmaduke Diggle, as he still must call him.
The sight of the latter set his nerves tingling; his fingers itched to
take some toll for the miseries he had endured through Diggle's
villainy. But he checked his impulse to rush forward and confront the
man. Single-handed he could not cope with both the fugitives; and
though, if he had been free, he might have cast all prudence from him in
his longing to bring the man to book, he recollected his duty to Clive
and remained in silent rage beneath the tree.
All at once he heard a rustle behind him, a low growl like that of an
animal enraged; and almost before he was aware of what was happening a
dark figure sprang past him, leapt over the ground with the rapidity of
a panther, and threw himself upon the overseer just as with Diggle he
was beginning to move towards the town. There was a cry from each man,
and the red light falling upon the face of the assailant, Desmond saw
with amazement that it was the Gujarati, whom he had supposed to be
rowing along the shore to meet him. He had hardly recognized the man
before he saw that he was at deadly grips with the overseer, both
snarling like wild beasts. There was no time for thought, for Diggle,
momentarily taken aback by the sudden onslaught, had recovered himself
and was making with drawn sword towards the two combatants, who in their
struggle had moved away from him.
Desmond no longer stayed to weigh possibilities or count risks. It was
clear that Fuzl Khan's first onslaught had failed; had he got home, the
overseer, powerful as he was, must have been killed on the spot. In the
darkness the Gujarati's knife had probably missed its aim. He had now
two enemies to deal with, and but for intervention he must soon be
overcome and slain. Drawing his sword, Desmond sprang from the tree and
dashed across the open, reaching the scene of the struggle just in the
nick of time to strike up Diggle's weapon ere it sheathed itself in the
Gujarati's side. Diggle turned with a startled oath, and seeing who his
assailant was, he left his companion to take care of himself and faced
Desmond, a smile of anticipated triumph wreathing his lips.
No word was spoken. Diggle lunged, and Desmond at that moment knew that
he was at a perilous crisis of his life. The movements of the practised
swordsman could not be mistaken; he himself had little experience; all
that he could rely on was his quick eye and the toughness of his
muscles. He gave back, parrying the lunge, tempted to use his pistol
upon his adversary. But now that the cannonading had ceased, a shot
might be heard by some of the Pirate's men, and before he could escape
he might be beset by a crowd of ruffians against whom he would have no
chance at all. He could but defend himself with his sword and hope that
Diggle might overreach himself in his fury and give him an opportunity
to get home a blow.
Steel struck upon steel; the sparks flew; and the evil smile upon
Diggle's face became fixed as he saw that Desmond was no match for him
in swordsmanship. But it changed when he found that though his young
opponent's science was at fault, his strength and dexterity, his
wariness in avoiding a close attack, served him in good stead.
Impatient to finish the fight, he took a step forward, and lunged so
rapidly that Desmond could hardly have escaped his blade but for an
accident. There was a choking sob to his right, and just as Diggle's
sword was flashing towards him a heavy form fell against the blade and
upon Desmond. In the course of their deadly struggle the Gujarati and
the overseer had shifted their ground, and at this moment, fortunately
for Desmond, Fuzl Khan had driven his knife into his old oppressor's
heart.
But the same accident that saved Desmond's life gave Diggle an
opportunity of which he was quick to avail himself. Before Desmond
could recover his footing, Diggle shortened his arm and was about to
drive his sword through the lad's heart. The Gujarati saw the movement.
Springing in with uplifted knife he attempted to turn the blade. He
succeeded; he struck it upwards, but the force with which he had thrown
himself between the two swordsmen was his undoing. Unable to check his
rush, he received the point of Diggle's sword in his throat. With a
terrible cry he raised his hands to clutch his assailant; but his
strength failed him; he swayed, tottered, and fell gasping at Desmond's
feet, beside the lifeless overseer. Desmond saw that the turn of
fortune had given the opportunity to him. He sprang forward as Diggle
tried to recover his sword Diggle gave way: and before he could lift his
dripping weapon to parry the stroke, Desmond's blade was through his
forearm. Panting with rage he sought with his left hand to draw his
pistol; but Desmond was beforehand with him. He caught his arm,
wrenched the pistol from him, and, breathless with his exertions, said:
"You are my prisoner."
"'Tis fate, my young friend," said Diggle, with all his old blandness;
Desmond never ceased to be amazed at the self-command of this
extraordinary man. "I have let some blood, I perceive; my sword-arm is
for the time disabled; but my great regret at this moment--you will
understand the feeling--is that this gallant friend of yours lies low
with the wound intended for another. So Antores received in his flank
the lance hurled at Lausus: 'infelix alieno volnere'."
"I dare say, Mr. Diggle," interrupted Desmond, "but I have no time to
construe Latin." Covering Diggle with his pistol, Desmond stooped over
Fuzl Khan's prostrate body and discovered in a moment that the poor
fellow's heart had ceased to beat. He rose, and added: "I must trouble
you to come with me; and quickly, for you perceive you are at my mercy."
"Where do you propose to take me, my friend?"
"We will go this way, and please step out."
Diggle scowled, and stood as though meditating resistance.
"Come, come, Mr. Diggle, you have no choice. I do not wish to have to
drag you; it might cause you pain."
"Surely you will spare a moment to an old friend! I fear you are
entirely mistaken. 'Tis pity that with the natural ebullition of your
youthful spirit you should have set upon a man whom----"
"You can talk as we go, Mr. Diggle, if you talk low enough. Must I
repeat it?"
"But where are we going? Really, Mr. Burke, respect for my years should
prompt a more considerate treatment."
"You see yonder point?" said Desmond impatiently--"yonder on the shore.
You will come with me there."
Diggle looked round as if hoping that even now something might happen in
his favour. But no one was in sight; Desmond stood over him with sword
still drawn; and recognizing his helplessness the man at length turned
towards the shore and began to walk slowly along, Desmond a foot or so
in the rear.
"'Twas a most strange chance, surely," he said, "that brought you to
this spot at the very moment when I was shaking the dust of Gheria from
my feet. How impossible it is to escape the penalty of one's
wrong-doing! Old Horace knew it: 'Raro antecedentem scelestum'--you
remember the rest. Mr. Burslem drubbed our Latin into us, Mr. Burke. I
am a fellow-townsman of yours, though you did not know it: ay, a boy in
your old school, switched by your old master. I have treated you badly.
I admit it; but what could I do? Your brother slandered you; I see now
how he deceived me; he wished you out of his way. Here I acted under
pressure of Angria; he was bent on sending you to Bombay; I could not
defy him; I was wrong; what you said when I saw you last made a deep
impression on me; I repented, and, as Tully, I think, puts it, 'a change
of plan is the best harbour to a penitent man.' I was indeed seeking
that refuge of the repentant, and altering my whole plan of life; and if
you will but tarry a moment----"
"Keep on, Mr. Diggle," said Desmond, as the man, who had been talking
over his shoulder, half-stopped: "my point is sharp."
"I was leaving the fort, as you saw. Not from any fear--you will acquit
me of that, and as you know, the fort is impregnable, and I might have
remained there in perfect safety. No, I was quitting it because I was
wearied, disgusted with Angria and his ways. 'Twas under a
misapprehension I for a time consorted with him; I am disabused, and it
is by the mere malignity of Fate that at this turning-point of my career
I encounter one whom, I acknowledge, I have wronged. I am beaten; I do
not blink that; and by a better man. But youth is generous; and you,
Mr. Burke, are not the man to press your advantage against one who all
his life has been the sport of evil circumstance. I was bound for
further India; I know a little port to the south where I should have
taken ship, with strong hope of getting useful and honourable employment
when my voyage was ended. Perchance you have heard of Alivirdi Khan; if
you would but pause a moment----"
"Go on, Mr. Diggle," said Desmond inexorably; "and it will be well to
mend your pace."
"Alivirdi Khan," resumed Diggle, speaking more rapidly--the waters of
the harbour, glowing red, were in sight--"Alivirdi Khan is sick unto
death. He is wealthy beyond all imaginings. His likeliest heir,
Siraj-uddaula, soon to be Subah[#] of Bengal, is well known to me, and
indeed beholden to me for services rendered in the past. Mr. Burke, I
make you a proposition--it is worth considering. Why not come with me?
Wipe off old scores, throw in your lot with mine. Together, what could
we not do--I with my experience, you with your youthful vigour! See,
here is an earnest of my sincerity." He took from his fob a large
diamond, which flashed in the red light of the conflagration. "Accept
this; in the treasuries of Alivirdi there are thousands like it, each
worth a king's ransom. Come with me, and I promise you that within two
years you shall be rich beyond your wildest dreams."
[#] Viceroy.
"Put up your diamond, Mr. Peloti. You may repeat your offer when we
reach Colonel Clive."
Diggle stopped as if shot. He looked with startled eyes at the boy, who
had known him only as Diggle.
"You are going to Colonel Clive!" he exclaimed. The smoothness of his
manner was gone; his tone expressed mortal anxiety. "But--but--he is a
personal enemy; he will--I beseech you think again; I----"
He broke off, and with a suddenness that took Desmond by surprise he
sprang away, making towards the grove of mangoes that stood between him
and the shore. Desmond was instantly in pursuit. If Diggle gained the
shelter of the trees he might escape in the darkness. But the race was
short. Weak from fear and loss of blood, the elder was no match in
speed for the younger. In less than a hundred yards he was overtaken,
and stood panting, quivering, unnerved. Desmond gripped his uninjured
arm, and with quickened footsteps hurried him towards the shore. There
was the boat, the lascar resting motionless on his oar. Ten minutes
later Diggle was assisted up the side of the _Kent_, and handed over to
the officer of the watch. Then Desmond made his report to Clive.
"All the enemy are withdrawn within the fort, sir. The whole ground
between the fort and the shore is clear. There is nothing to obstruct
your landing."
"I thank you. You have exceeded your time by ten minutes. Who is that
man who came aboard with you?"
"It was he who delayed me, sir. It is Mr. Diggle, or Peloti, I should
say."
"The deuce he is!"
"He was stealing out of the fort; it came to a scuffle, and he was
wounded--so I brought him along."
"Mr. Speke," said Clive turning to the captain, "may I ask you to see
this man safe bestowed? I will deal with him when our business here is
concluded. Mr. Burke, you will come with me."
By nine o'clock Clive had landed his troops. They bivouacked on the
shore, in expectation of storming the fort next day. At daybreak an
officer was sent into the fort with a flag of truce to demand its
surrender. This being refused, the Admiral ordered his ships to warp
within a cable's length of the walls in three fathoms and a quarter of
water, and the attack was renewed by sea and land, Clive gradually
advancing and worrying the enemy with his cannon. At two o'clock a
magazine in the fort blew up, and not long after, just as Clive was
about to give the order to storm, a white flag was seen fluttering at
one of the bastions. A messenger was sent to the governor to arrange
the capitulation, but when he was met by prevarication and pleas for
delay the bombardment was once more resumed. A few minutes of this
sufficed to bring the defenders to reason, and by five o'clock the
English flag flew upon the walls.
Clive postponed his entry until dawn on the following morning.
"By Jove, Mr. Burke," he said to Desmond, who showed him the way to the
palace, "if we had been within these walls I think we could have held
out till doomsday."
All the English officers were impressed by the strength of the
fortifications. Besides Angria's 250 cannon, an immense quantity of
stores and ammunition fell into the hands of the captors. In the vaults
of the palace were found silver rupees to the value of L100,000, and
treasure worth L30,000 more. The capture had been effected with the
loss of only twenty killed and wounded.
Desmond took the earliest opportunity of seeking the body of Fuzl Khan.
Fortunately the fires and the noises of the night had preserved it from
mangling by wild beasts. The poor man lay where he had fallen, near the
body of the overseer.
"Poor fellow!" thought Desmond, looking at the strong, fierce face and
the gigantic frame now stiff and cold. "Little he knew, when he said
he'd serve me to his life's end, that the end was so near."
He had the body carried into the town, and reverently buried according
to Mohammedan rites. From the lascar he had learnt all that he ever
knew of the motives of the Gujarati's action. Desmond had hardly left
the boat when the man sprang quickly after him, saying briefly: "I go to
guard the sahib." It was like the instinctive impulse of a faithful
dog; and Desmond often regretted the loss of the man who had shown
himself so capable of devotion.
That evening Clive summoned Desmond to attend him in the palace. When
he entered the durbar hall, he saw a small group seated on the dais,
consisting of Clive, Admiral Watson, and two or three subordinate
officers. Standing in front of them was Diggle, in the charge of two
marines.
"How many European prisoners have been released, Mr. Ward?" the Admiral
was saying.
"Thirteen, sir; ten English and three Dutch."
"Is that correct, Mr. Burke? Was that the number when you were here?"
"Yes, sir, that is correct."
"Then you may go, Mr. Ward, and see that the poor fellows are taken on
board the _Tyger_ and well looked after." As the officer saluted and
withdrew the Admiral turned to Clive.
"Now for this white pirate," he said: "a most unpleasant matter, truly."
Signing to the marines to bring forward their prisoner, he threw himself
back upon the divan, leaving the matter in Clive's hands. Clive was
gazing hard at Diggle, who had lost the look of terror he had worn two
nights before, and stood before them in his usual attitude of careless
ease.
"You captured this man," said Clive, turning to Desmond, "within the
precincts of the fort?"
His hard level tone contrasted strongly with the urbaner manner of the
Admiral.
"Yes, sir," replied Desmond.
"He is the same man who inveigled you on board the interloper _Good
Intent_ and delivered you to the Pirate?"
"Yes, sir."
"And he was to your knowledge associated with the Pirate, and offered
you inducements to spy upon His Majesty's forces in Bombay?"
"Yes, sir."
"Have you anything to say for yourself, Mr. Peloti?"
"Pardon me, Mr. Clive; Diggle--Marmaduke Diggle."
"Diggle if you like," said Clive with a shrug. "You will hang as well
in that name as another."
One of the officers smiled at the grim jest, but there was no smile on
Clive's stern, set face.
"You asked me had I anything to say for myself," said Diggle quietly.
"Assuredly; but it seems your honours have condemned me already. Why
should I waste your time, and my breath? I bethink me 'twas not even in
Rome the custom to judge a matter before learning the facts--'prius rem
dijudicare'; but it is a long time, Mr. Clive, since we conned our
Terence together."
Desmond could not but admire the superb insouciance and the easy smile
with which Diggle played his card. Seeing that Clive for an instant
hesitated, the intrepid prisoner continued:
"But there, Mr. Clive, you never excelled in the Latin. 'Twas a sore
point with poor Mr. Burslem."
"Come, come," cried Clive, visibly nettled, "this is no time for quips.
You fail to appreciate your position. You are caught red-handed. If
you have no defence to make you will meet the fate of other pirates
before you. Have you anything to say?"
"Yes. You accuse me of piracy; I have a complete answer to that charge;
but as an Englishman I claim an Englishman's right--a fair trial before
a jury of my countrymen. In any case, Mr. Clive, it would be invidious
to give me worse treatment than Monaji Angria and his officers. As for
the rest, it depends on the evidence of this single witness."
Here Admiral Watson bent forward and said to Clive in an undertone,
inaudible to the others:
"I think we had better defer this. If, as you suppose, the fellow has
knowledge of the French plans, it would be only politic to give Mr.
Bourchier an opportunity of inquiring into the matter. No doubt he
richly deserves hanging, but _dead_ men tell no tales."
Clive frowned, and, drumming upon the divan impatiently with his
fingers, seemed for the moment to be lost in thought. Then he said:
"Yes, Mr. Watson, I think you are right."
"Take the prisoner back to your ship," said the Admiral, "and put him
under double guard. Thank you, Mr. Burke; we shall require your
evidence in Bombay. One word before you go. I am vastly indebted to
you for your services; you have been of the greatest use to myself and
my captains. Your name will frequently appear in our ships' logs, and I
shall take care to show your work in the proper light when I make my
report. Meanwhile, when the division of prize-money is made, you will
receive a lieutenant's share. Good-night, sir."
And Desmond's face, as he left the room, bore a flush of happiness and
pride.
CHAPTER THE NINETEENTH
*In which the scene changes; the dramatis personae remaining the same.*
A few days after the capture, the _Tyger_ left Gheria, having on board
the men wounded in the attack and the European prisoners who had been
rescued. Desmond also sailed in her, with an official report from
Admiral Watson to Governor Bourchier.
The arrival of the _Tyger_ at Bombay, with the first news of the success
of the expedition and the fall of the fortress so long deemed
impregnable, was the occasion of a great demonstration of rejoicing.
The trading community, whether European or native, was enthusiastic over
the ruin of the notorious Pirate; and Desmond, as one who had had a
share in the operations, came in for a good deal of congratulation which
he laughingly protested ought to have been reserved for better men.
Mr. Merriman was among the crowd that welcomed the _Tyger_, and as soon
as Desmond had delivered his report to Mr. Bourchier, the genial
merchant carried him off to the house on the Green where he was staying
and insisted on having a full account of his experiences. When he
learnt that Diggle had been captured and would shortly reach Bombay as a
prisoner, his jolly face assumed as intense a look of vindictive
satisfaction as it was capable of expressing.
"By thunder! that's the best of your news for me. The villain will get
his deserts at last. I'm only sorry that I shall not be here to serve
on the jury."
"Are you leaving Bombay then?"
"Yes, and I wanted you to come with me. My ship the _Hormuzzeer_ came
to port two days ago, and I had to dismiss the second mate, who was
continually at odds with the lascars. I hoped you would accept his
berth, and sail with me. I want to get back to Calcutta. We had
advices the other day that things are not looking well in Bengal.
Alivirdi Khan is dying; and there is sure to be some bother about the
succession. All Bengal may be aflame. My wife and daughter are in
Calcutta, and I don't care about being away from them if danger is
threatening. I want to get away as soon as possible, and thought of
taking passage in an Indiaman; but the _Hormuzzeer_ being here I'll sail
in that; she'll make direct for the Hugli; an Indiaman would put in at
Madras, and goodness knows how long I might be delayed."
"'Tis a pity," said Desmond. "I should have liked of all things to
accept your offer, but I'm bound to stay for Diggle's trial, and that
can't be held until the fleet return."
"How long will that be?"
"I heard the Admiral say he expected it would take a month to settle
everything at Gheria. He wants to keep the place in our hands, but
Ramaji Punt claims it for the Peshwa, and Captain Speke of the _Kent_
told me that it'll be very lucky if they come to an arrangement within a
month."