more to clean the _Hormuzzeer's_ hull, and another to load her; in a
fortnight at the outside I hope to be on my way. Well, it can't be
helped. What will you do when the trial is over?"
"I don't know."
"Did Mr. Clive say anything about a cadetship?"
"Not a word. He only said that I should get a share of the Gheria
prize-money."
"That's something to the good. Use it wisely. I came out to Calcutta
twenty years ago with next to nothing, and I've done well. There's no
reason why you should not make your fortune too if your health will
stand the climate. We'll have a talk over things before I sail."
A week later the _Bridgewater_ arrived from Gheria, with Diggle on
board. He was imprisoned in the Fort, being allotted far too
comfortable quarters to please Mr. Merriman. But Merriman's indignation
at what he considered the Governor's leniency was changed to hot rage
three days later when it became known that the prisoner had disappeared.
Not a trace of him could be discovered. He had been locked in as usual
one night, and next morning his room was empty. Imprisonment was much
less stringent in those days than now; the prisoner was allowed to see
visitors and to live more or less at ease. The only clue to Diggle's
escape was afforded by the discovery that, at the same time that he
disappeared, there vanished also a black boy, who had been brought among
the prisoners from Gheria and was employed in doing odd jobs about the
harbour. Desmond had no doubt that this was Diggle's boy Scipio
Africanus. And when he mentioned the connexion between the two, it was
supposed that the negro had acted as go-between for his master with the
friends in the town by whose aid the escape had been arranged. Among the
large native population of Bombay there were many who were suspected of
being secret agents of the French, and as Diggle was well provided with
funds it was not at all unlikely that his jailer had been tampered with.
Merriman's wrath was very bitter. He had been waiting for years, as he
told Desmond, for the punishment of Peloti. It was gall and wormwood to
him that the villain should have cheated the gallows.
Diggle's escape, however, gave Merriman an opportunity to secure
Desmond's services. The culprit being gone, the evidence was no longer
required. Finding that Desmond was still ready to accept the position
of mate on the _Hormuzzeer_, Merriman consulted Mr. Bourchier, who
admitted that he saw no reason for detaining the lad. Accordingly, at
the end of the first week in March, when the vessel stood out of Bombay
harbour, Desmond sailed with her.
The weather was calm, but the winds not wholly favourable, and the
_Hormuzzeer_ made a somewhat slow passage. Mr. Merriman was impatient to
reach Calcutta, and Desmond was surprised at his increasing uneasiness.
He had believed that the French and Dutch were the only people in Bengal
who gave the Company trouble, and as England was then at peace with both
France and the Netherlands, there was nothing, he thought, to fear from
them.
"You are mistaken," said Mr. Merriman, in the course of a conversation
one day. "The natives are a terrible thorn in our side. At best we are
in Bengal on sufferance; we are a very small community--only a hundred
or two Europeans in Calcutta: and since the Marathas overran the country
some years ago we have felt as though sitting on the brink of a volcano.
Alivirdi wants to keep us down; he has forbidden us to fight the French
even if war does break out between us at home; and though the Mogul has
granted us charters--they call them firmans here--Alivirdi doesn't care
a rap for things of that sort, and won't be satisfied until he has us
under his heel. Only his trading profits and his fear of the Mogul have
kept him civil."
"But you said he was dying."
"So he is, and that makes matters worse, for his grandson,
Siraj-uddaula, who'll probably succeed him, is no better than a tiger.
He lives at Murshidabad, about 100 miles up the river. He's a vain,
peacocky, empty-headed youth, and as soon as the breath is out of his
grandad's body he'll want to try his wings and take a peck or two at us.
He may do it slyly, or go so far as to attack us openly."
"But if he did that, sure Calcutta is defended; and, as Mr. Clive said
to me in Gheria, British soldiers behind walls might hold out for ever."
"Clive doesn't know Calcutta then! That's the mischief! At the Maratha
invasion the Bengalis on our territory took fright, and at their own
expense began a great ditch round Calcutta--we call it the Maratha
ditch; but the Nawab bought the Marathas off, the work was stopped, the
walls of the fort are now crumbling to ruins, and the cannon lie about
unmounted and useless. Worst of all, our governor, Mr. Drake, is a
quiet soul, an excellent worthy man, who wouldn't hurt a fly. We call
him the Quaker. Quakers are all very well at home, where they can
'thee' and 'thou' and get rich and pocket affronts without any harm; but
they won't do in India. Might is right with the natives; they don't
understand anything else; and as sure as they see any sign of weakness
in us they'll take advantage of it and send us all to kingdom come. And
I'm thinking of the women folk: India's no place for them at the best;
and I did all I could to persuade my wife and daughter to remain at
home. But they would come out with me when I returned last year; and
glad as I am to have them with me I sometimes get very anxious; I can't
bear them out of my sight, and that's a fact."
Mr. Merriman showed his relief when, on the 30th of April, he noticed
the yellow tinge in the water which indicated that the vessel was
approaching the mouth of the Hugli. Next day the vessel arrived at
Balasore, where a pilot was taken on board, and entered the river. Mr.
Merriman pointed out to Desmond the island of Sagar, whither in the late
autumn the jogis came down in crowds to purify themselves in the salt
water, "and provide a meal for the tigers," he added. At Kalpi a large
barge, rowed by a number of men dressed in white, with pink sashes, came
to meet the _Hormuzzeer_.
"That's my budgero," said Merriman. "We'll get into it and row up to
Calcutta in half the time it would take the ship. Each of us merchants
has his own budgero, and instead of putting our men in buttons with our
arms and all that nonsense, we give them coloured sashes--and don't our
women squabble about the colours, my boy, just don't they!"
In the budgero they passed the Dutch factory at Fulta, and the Subah's
forts at Budge Budge and Tanna. At Gobindpur's reach, Merriman pointed
out the pyramid of stone that marked the limit of the Company's
jurisdiction. Soon the gardens of the British merchants came in sight,
then the Company's docks, and at last the town of Calcutta, where the
Company's landing-stage was thronged with people awaiting the arrival of
the budgero in the hope of getting news from home.
"There's Surendra Nath and his father," said Mr. Merriman, as they came
near the steps. His jolly face beamed when he stepped on to the
ghat.[#] "Hullo, Babu!" he said. "Glad to see you again." He shook
hands with both the men; the elder was much like his son, a
slightly-built Bengali, with white hair and very bright eyes. Both were
clad in dhotis of pure white; their legs were bare from the knee, their
feet shod with sandals. When the greeting had passed between them and
their master, the old man moved towards Desmond, put his hands together,
and made a deep salaam.
[#] Landing-stage.
"I have heard what the sahib did for my son. I thank the sahib," he
said.
"Yes, 'twas excellent good fortune for Surendra Nath," said Mr.
Merriman. "I knew you would be overjoyed to see your son again. But
how is the bibi,[#] and the chota[#] bibi?"
[#] Lady: _mem-sahib_ was not yet in use.
[#] Young.
"They were well, sahib, when last I heard. They are on a visit to Watts
Sahib, at Cossimbazar."
Merriman's face fell, but he had no time to say more, for he was
accosted by a friend.
"Glad to see you back, Mr. Merriman. I've wanted your voice on the
Council for some time past."
"Is anything wrong, Mr. Holwell?" asked Merriman anxiously.
"Everything is wrong. Alivirdi died a fortnight ago; Siraj-uddaula has
stepped into his shoes; and Drake has made a mess of everything, with
Manningham's and Frankland's assistance. I want you to come and dine
with me this evening; we must have a serious talk; I've asked two or
three men of our sort in anticipation of your consent."
"Very well. Let me present my friend Mr. Burke. He escaped from Gheria;
you've heard that Colonel Clive captured the place?"
"Yes; we had despatches from Admiral Watson some days ago. I have heard
of Mr. Burke's adventures; your servant, sir; I am delighted to meet
you. Well, Merriman, three o'clock; I will not detain you now; you'll
want to get home."
Mr. Merriman's bearers were at hand with his palanquin; he got into it;
the men set off at a swinging pace, warning the bystanders with their
cry of "Tok! Tok!" and Desmond walked by the side of the chair, amused
to watch the self-important airs of the peon who went in front. They
passed the Fort and the Company's house, and arrived at length at a
two-storey flat-roofed house with a veranda, the windows filled, not
with oyster shells as at Bombay, but with thin screens of reeds.
"Here we are," said Merriman with a sigh of relief "Now I'll hand you
over to the baniya[#]; he'll show you to your room. I'm vexed that my
wife is not here; of course she didn't know when to expect me; and Mrs.
Watts is an old friend of hers. 'Tis a relief in one way; for Mr. Watts
is a shrewd fellow--he's head of our factory at Cossimbazar, and senior
member of Council here--and he would have sent the ladies away if he
scented danger. Sorry I shall have to leave you; I must dine with Mr.
Holwell; he's our zamindar--judge of the Cutcheri court and collector of
taxes: a fine fellow, the most cool-headed man on the Council. But the
khansaman will give you something to eat: and I'll be back as soon as I
can. You can take it easy on the veranda, and you'll find a hookah if
you care to try it."
[#] Factotum.
"No, thanks," said Desmond with a smile; "I've no fancy that way."
Shortly afterwards Mr. Merriman left the house in his palanquin, wearing
the short white calico jacket that was then _de rigueur_ at dinner
parties. It was late before he returned. There was an anxious and
worried look on his face, but he said cheerily:
"Well, how have you been getting on?"
"I've been reading, sir: I found a volume of Mr. Fielding's _Amelia_,
and 'twas a change to read after eighteen months without setting eyes on
a book. I hope you had a good dinner."
"'Pon my soul I don't know. None of us know. I warrant. We had too
much to talk about to think about our appetites. Two or three members
of Council were there, and Captain Minchin, the military commandant.
Things are looking black, Desmond. Alivirdi is dead, and, as I
expected, his scoundrel of a grandson, Siraj-uddaula, is the new Subah.
He has imprisoned one of his rivals, his aunt, and is marching against
another, his cousin Shaukat Jung; and 'tis the common talk that our turn
will come next."
"But why should he be at odds with us?"
"Why, to begin with, he's a native and hates us; thinks we're too rich;
and though he's rich enough he would like to get what we have and turn
us out. Then our president Mr. Drake has acted in the weakest possible
way; the very way to encourage the Subah. Instead of siding with
Siraj-uddaula from the first, as he might well have done, because the
rivals never had the ghost of a chance, he shilly-shallied. Then he
offended him by giving shelter to a fellow named Krishna Das, who came
in a month ago with fifty sacks of treasure from Murshidabad; it really
belonged to the Subah's aunt, but the Subah had an eye on it and he's
furious at losing it. That wasn't enough. Mr. Watts at Cossimbazar had
warned the Council here of the new Subah's unfriendliness; they talk at
Murshidabad of our weak defences and how easy it would be to overcome
us. He advised Mr. Drake to keep on good terms with the Subah; but what
must he do but turn out of the place a man named Narayan Das, the
brother of the new Nawab's chief spy."
"Sure you don't allow the enemy's spies to live in Calcutta?"
"Sure we can't help ourselves. The place is full of them--spies of the
Subah, and of the French too. We can't do anything. We may suspect,
but if we raised a hand we should stir up a hornets' nest, as indeed Mr.
Drake appears to be doing. But that isn't all. The Company's ship
_Delaware_ came in a fortnight ago with the news that a French fleet is
fitting out under Count Lally, at Brest; 'tis supposed war will break
out again and the fleet is intended to attack us here. So that we may
have the Subah making common cause with the French to crush us. He'll
turn against the French then, but that won't save us. On top of that
comes a fakir from Murshidabad demanding in the Subah's name that we
should stop work on our fortifications; the insolence of the wretch
passes all bounds. Mr. Drake properly refused the demand; he said we
were repairing our defences in case we needed 'em against the French;
but he undertook not to start any new works, which was a mistake.
Altogether, Desmond, things are in a pretty mess. I'm afraid Mr. Drake
is not the man to cope with a grave situation; but he has the majority
of the Council with him, and we can't alter it. Now I think we had
better turn in; perhaps I shall feel better after a good sleep; I am
certainly far from easy in mind."
Desmond slept like a top on his light mattress, enveloped in his
mosquito curtains. In the morning he accompanied Mr. Merriman to his
daftarkhanah,[#] where he found a large staff under the superintendence
of the muhri,[#] Surendra Nath's father. He returned to the house for
tiffin, spent the afternoon indoors over his novel, and after the three
o'clock dinner accompanied his host in a walk through the English
quarter.
[#] Office.
[#] Chief clerk.
As they returned, Mr. Merriman suggested that they should walk down to
Mr. Watts' house near the river to see if any news had arrived from
Cossimbazar. On the way they passed a large pakka[#] house, surrounded
by a compound and a low wall.
[#] Substantial.
"We were talking yesterday about spies," said Merriman. "In that house
lives a man who in my belief is a spy, and a treacherous
scoundrel--actually living next door to Mr. Eyre, the keeper of our
military stores. He's a Sikh named Omichand, and the richest merchant
in the city. He owns half of it; he's my landlord, confound him! For
forty years he was the contractor for supplying the Company with cloth,
but we found out that he was cheating us right and left, and dismissed
him. Yet he's very friendly to us, which is a bad sign. 'Twas he who
brought Krishna Das with his treasure into the place, and my belief is,
he did it merely to embroil us with the Subah. Mr. Drake is disposed to
pooh-pooh the idea, but I incline to Mr. Holwell's opinion, that
Omichand's a schemer and a villain, ready to betray us to French, Dutch,
or Gentoos as it suits him."
"Why don't you turn him out, then?" asked Desmond.
"My dear boy, he's far too powerful. And we'd rather keep him in sight.
While he's here we can tell something of what is going on; his house is
pretty well watched; but if he were away he might try all manner of
tricks and we should never learn anything about them. Our policy is to
be very sweet to him--to make friends of the mammon of unrighteousness,
as Mr. Bellamy, our padre, puts it. You're bound to see him one of
these days, the hoary-headed old villain."
Though Mr. Merriman fully relied on Mr. Watts' discretion to send his
visitors back to Calcutta if there were the least sign of danger, he was
so anxious to have his wife and daughter with him that next day he sent
a special messenger up the river asking them to return as soon as they
could. He could not fetch them, public affairs not allowing him to
leave Calcutta at once, but he promised to meet them somewhere on the
way. He spent the day in making himself acquainted with the business
that had been done during his absence. A valuable consignment of silks,
muslins, and taffeties was expected from Cossimbazar, he learnt, and as
soon as it arrived the _Hormuzzeer_ would be able to sail for Penang.
"A private venture," he said to Desmond, "nothing to do with the
Company."
Desmond expressed his surprise that the Company's officials were at
liberty to engage in private trading.
"Why, bless you, how could we live otherwise? Do you imagine I got rich
on the Company? What do you suppose my salary is as member of Council?
'Tis just forty pounds. The factors get fifteen and the writers five:
Colonel Clive began at five pounds a year: so you may guess that we have
to do something to keep flesh on our bones. And that reminds me of a
proposal I wished to make to you. You have a little money from the sale
of the Pirate's grab, and you'll have more by and by when the Gheria
prize-money is distributed. Why not put some of it into the
_Hormuzzeer_? Let me buy some goods for you, and send 'em to Penang:
they'll fetch top prices there in the present state of trade. 'Twill be
an excellent investment."
"Thank you, sir, I'll be glad to follow your advice."
"That's right. I'll see about it at once, and the sooner these things
come from Cossimbazar the better. The delay is vexing, and I fear I'll
have to change my agent there."
Mr. Merriman being so much occupied with business and public affairs,
Desmond had much time to himself. He soon made friends among the junior
merchants and factors, and in their company went about Calcutta. Fort
William was built near the river, the factory house in the centre of the
enclosure. Around it on three sides were the houses of individual
merchants and officers. A wide avenue known as the Lai Bazar led from
the ravelin of the fort past the court-house to the native part of the
town. On one side of the avenue was the Park or Lai Bagh, with a great
tank by which a band played in the evening. Around the town was the
incomplete Maratha ditch.
Desmond became the object of much kindly attention from the Company's
servants and their families. Every one was eager to hear from his own
lips the story of his adventures, and invitations to dinners and routs
and card parties poured upon him. He accepted a few and politely
excused himself from the rest, not from any want of sociability, but
from motives of prudence. His kind host had already given him a
friendly warning; some of the writers and younger servants of the
Company were wild spirits, and spent more time than was good for them in
cards and revels.
On the evening of the third day after landing he went down to the river
to watch the arrival of some country vessels. There was the usual crowd
at the ghat, and as Desmond gradually worked his way through it he
suddenly saw, just in front of him, two men whose backs were very
familiar. They were in the dress of seamen: one was tall and thin, the
other broad and brawny, and Desmond did not need his glimpse of the iron
hook to be sure that the men were none other than his old friend Bulger
and Mr. Toley, the melancholy mate. They were standing side by side,
watching in silence the arrival of the boats.
Desmond edged his way to them until he was within arm's length of
Bulger's hook. He stood for a moment looking at them, imagining their
surprise when they saw him, wondering if their pleasure would be as keen
as his own. Both appeared rather battered; Mr. Toley's expression was
never merry, and he was neither more nor less melancholy than usual; but
Bulger's habitual cheerfulness seemed to have left him; his air was
moody and downcast. How came they here? The _Good Intent_ being an
interloper, it was not at all likely that she had ventured to put in at
Calcutta.
By and by Bulger seemed to become aware that some one was gazing at him,
for he turned round slowly. Desmond could not but smile at his
extraordinary change of expression. His first look of blank amazement
quickly gave place to one of almost boyish delight, and taking an eager
step forward he exclaimed:
"By thunder, 'tis Mr. Burke or his ghost! Bless my heart! Ho! shake
hands, matey; this is a sight for sad eyes!"
"Glad to see you, Bulger," said Desmond quietly; "and you too, Mr.
Toley."
Mr. Toley had shown no surprise; but then, nothing ever surprised Mr.
Toley.
"Sure I'm rejoiced," he said. "We had given you up for lost."
His hearty hand-grip was more convincing than his words, though, indeed,
Desmond had good reason to know the real kindliness that always lay
behind his outward solemnity of manner.
"You're better in togs than when I seed you last, sir," said Bulger,
gripping his hand again. "Which you look quite the gentleman; got a
berth as supercargo, sir?"
"Not yet, Bulger," replied Desmond, laughing. "How's Captain Barker?"
Bulger spat out a quid of tobacco and hitched up his breeches.
"I don't know how Captain Barker is, and what's more, I don't care," he
said. "Me and Barker en't friends: leastways, not on speakin' terms;
which I will say, hang Captain Barker, topsy-versy, any way you like;
and I don't care who hears me."
"What has happened?"
"Happened! Why, sir, Mr. Toley'll tell you what happened. He knows the
thus, therefore, and whereupon of it."
The good fellow was itching to tell, but in duty bound deferred to his
superior officer.
"Go on, Bulger," said the American, "you've got a looser tongue than
me."
"Which I don't deny, sir. Two days ago--'twas at Chandernagore, where
the _Good Intent's_ been laid up for a matter o' weeks--the captain he
went an' forgot hisself, sir; clean forgot hisself, an' lifted his hand
to Mr. Toley; ay, hit him, sir. Wunst it was, sir, on'y wunst; then
'twas Mr. Toley his turn. Ah, an' I warrant Captain Barker's in his
bunk to-day. Never did I see sich a sight all the years I've been
afloat, an' that's sayin' something. There was captain spread out on
deck, sir, with his eyes bunged up an' a tooth or two that had lost
their bearin's, and all his bones wonderin' if they was ever goin' to
get joined again. That's the why and wherefore of it, sir. Well, in
course, 'twas no kiss-an'-be-friends arter that; so, bein' in a
mounseer's place, Mr. Toley took French leave, which I did the same, and
here we are a-lookin' for a job.
"But Lor' bless me! what's happened to you, Mr. Burke? When you didn't
come aboard at that there Gheria, Captain Barker he says, 'Log that
there knave Burke a deserter,' says he. But I says to Mr. Toley, 'I may
be wrong, sir,' says I, 'but I lay my whiskers that Diggle has been an'
sold him to the Pirate, an' that's the last we shall ever see of as nice
a young fellow as ever hauled on a hawser.' How did you get out of the
Pirate's den, sir?"
"That's a long story, Bulger. I'll tell you all in good time. You're
looking for a job, are you? Well, I happen to know of a skipper here--a
good man: maybe he'll have a berth for a seasoned salt like you. I'll
present you to him, and I know he'll do what he can for you."
Before he left the men, Desmond took Mr. Toley aside.
"Mr. Toley," he said, "my friend Mr. Merriman wants a mate for one of
his vessels, as I happen to know. You would be willing to sign on?"
"I would, sir. I'm a man of few words."
"Very well; come up to Mr. Merriman's house by the Rope Walk and we'll
see what he says."
That same day Mr. Merriman invited the American to dinner, and engaged
him, to Desmond's surprise, as first mate for the _Hormuzzeer_, with
Bulger as bo'sun.
"Don't look so blue," he said to Desmond when Mr. Toley had gone. "He
will, of course, take your place. The fact is, I've taken a fancy to
you, and I think you can do better than by serving as mate on a country
vessel. Look in at the daftarkhanah sometimes, and get Surendra Nath to
explain something of our business methods."
He said no more at that time, and Desmond felt no little curiosity about
his host's intentions.
One evening Desmond was sitting alone on the veranda, reading, awaiting
Mr. Merriman's return from a meeting of the Council to which he had been
hastily summoned. Hearing a footstep he looked up, and was surprised to
see, instead of Mr. Merriman, as he expected, Bulger hastening up with
an air of excitement.