own eyes. I was walkin' down towards the fort when I seed two men goin'
into a big house. They was Englishmen, leastways white men, and I may be
wrong, but I bet my boots one on 'em was that there soft-speakin'
villain Diggle."
"Diggle!" exclaimed Desmond, springing up. "You must be mistaken,
Bulger."
"I may be wrong, sir, but I never remembers any time when I was."
"What house did he go into?"
"That I can't tell you, sir, not bein' sure o' my bearin's."
"But you could point it out?"
"'Course I could. Rather. Just so."
"Then I'll come along with you, and you can show me. If it is Diggle we
must have him arrested."
"True, an' I'll knot the rope for his neck."
"How long ago was this?"
"Not a quarter of an hour, sir. I comed up at once."
The two set off together. They quickly reached the house; Desmond
recognized it as Omichand's. The evening was closing in, but no lights
were visible through the chiks[#] that covered the windows. While
Desmond was considering, two figures stepped down from the veranda and
walked rapidly across the compound towards the gate in the wall. At the
first glance Desmond saw that Bulger had not been mistaken. The taller
of the two figures was disguised, but it was impassible to mistake the
gloved right hand. It was Diggle to a certainty.
[#] Hanging screens made of thin strips of bamboo.
"Are you game to capture them?" said Desmond.
Bulger grunted and gave a twist to his hook.
"I'll take Diggle," added Desmond: "you go for the other man."
They waited in the shadow of the wall. The gate opened, the two men
came out, and in an instant Desmond and his companion dashed forward.
Taken by surprise, the men had no time to defend themselves. With his
left hand Desmond caught at Diggle's sword-arm, and pointing his rapier
at his heart, said:
"You are my prisoner, Mr. Diggle."
At the same moment Bulger had caught the second man by the throat, and
raising his formidable hook, cried:
"Heave to, matey, or I'll spoil your mug for you."
The man uttered an exclamation in French, which ended in a wheeze as
Bulger's strong fingers clutched his windpipe. But the next moment an
unlooked-for diversion occurred. Attracted by the sound of the rapid
scuffle, a number of natives armed with lathis[#] rushed across the
compound into the street, and came swiftly to the rescue. Desmond and
his companion had perforce to release their prisoners and turn to defend
themselves. With their backs against the wall they met the assailants;
Desmond with his rapier, Bulger with his hook, dexterously warding off
the furious blows of the excited natives. Diggle and the Frenchman took
instant advantage of the opportunity to slip away, and the Englishmen
had already got home more than one shrewd thrust, provoking yells of
pain from the attackers, when the onslaught suddenly ceased, and the
natives stood rigid, as if under a spell. Looking round, Desmond saw at
the gate a bent old figure with dusky wrinkled face and prominent eyes.
He wore a turban in which a jewel sparkled, and his white garment was
girt with a yellow sash.
[#] Bludgeons.
"What is this, sahib?" he said severely in careful English, addressing
Desmond.
"'Tis pretty plain what it is," said Desmond somewhat hotly; "we have
been set upon by these six ruffians----"
The new-comer motioned with his hand, and the men slunk away.
"I regret, sahib. The men are badmashes; Calcutta is unhappily in a
disturbed state."
"Badmashes or not, they came from your house--if this is your house."
"It is my house, sahib. My name is Omichand. I must inquire how the
badmashes came to be in my compound. I fear my darwan is at fault."
"And what about the two men?"
"The two men, sahib?"
"Yes, the two Europeans who came first from the house, and were
protected by these ruffians?"
"You must be mistaken, sahib. English sahibs do not visit at the houses
of Indian gentlemen. If the sahib had been longer in Calcutta he would
know that."
A smile flickered on the Indian's face, but it was gone instantly.
Desmond was nonplussed. It was useless to contradict the merchant; he
was clearly not disposed to give any information; Diggle was gone. All
he could do was to return and report the matter to Mr. Merriman.
"Come along, Bulger," he said, with an unceremonious gesture to
Omichand. "We can do no good here."
"The old Ananias!" growled Bulger, as they walked away. "What in
thunder is Diggle's game here? I'd give a year's baccy to have a chanst
o' usin' my hook on him."
Mr. Merriman looked grave when he heard what had happened.
"To think of that villain once more escaping our clutches! The other
fellow was a Frenchman, you say? There's mischief brewing. Sure if I
was president I'd be tempted to arrest that wily old Omichand. Not that
it would be of much use probably. Peloti is a bold fellow to venture
here. You are sure 'twas he?"
"Absolutely. His disguise was good; he has altered his face in some
way, and his dress is altogether changed; but I couldn't mistake the
covered hand."
"'Tis an odd thing, that mitten. Probably it conceals some defect; the
man's as vain as a peacock. The mitten is a thing by which he may be
traced, and I'll send my peons to start inquiries to-morrow. But I've
something to say to you; something to propose. The _Hormuzzeer_ is
ready to sail, save for that consignment at Cossimbazar I mentioned. My
agent there is an Armenian named Coja Solomon; I've employed him for
some years and found him trustworthy; but I can't get delivery of these
goods. I've sent two or three messengers to him, asking him to hurry,
but he replies that there is some difficulty about the dastaks--papers
authorizing the despatch of goods free from customs duty. Now, will you
go up the river and see what is causing the delay? I'll give you an
introduction to Mr. Watts; he will do all he can for you, though no
doubt his hands are full. You can take Surendra Nath with you to
interpret; and you had better have some armed peons as an escort, and
perhaps a number of men we can trust to work the boats if you can
release the goods. Are you willing?"
"I will gladly do anything I can, sir. Indeed, I wished for an
opportunity to see something of the country."
"You may see too much! I'd say beware of tigers, but Surendra Nath is
so desperately timid that you can depend on him not to lead you into
danger."
"The _Hormuzzeer_ will not sail until I return?"
"Not till the goods arrive. Why do you ask?"
"I should like to take Bulger with me. He's a good companion, with a
shrewd head----"
"And a useful hook. I have no objection. You will be ready to start
to-morrow, then. You must be up early: travelling will be impossible in
the heat of the day."
"At dawn, sir."
CHAPTER THE TWENTIETH
*In which there are recognitions and explanations; and our hero meets
one Coja Solomon, of Cossimbazar*
At sunrise next morning Desmond found his party awaiting him at the
Causeway beyond the Maratha ditch. The natives salaamed when he came up
in company with Mr. Merriman, and Bulger pulled his forelock.
"Mornin,' sir; mornin'; I may be wrong, but 'tis my belief we're goin'
to have a bilin' hot day, and I've come accordin'."
He was clad in nothing but shirt and breeches, with his coat strapped to
his back, and a hat apparently improvised out of cabbage leaves. The
natives were all in white, with their employer's pink ribands. Some
were armed with matchlocks and pikes; others carried light cooking
utensils; others groceries for the Englishmen's use; for their own food
they depended on the villages through which they would pass.
"Well, I wish you a good journey," said Mr. Merriman, who appeared to be
in better spirits than for many a day. "I'm glad to tell you, Burke,
that I got a letter from Mr. Watts this morning, saying that my wife and
daughter are on their way down the river with Mrs. Watts and her
children. They've got Mr. Warren Hastings to escort them; trust 'em to
find a handsome man! The road follows the river, and if you look out I
dare say you will see them. You'll recognize our livery. Introduce
yourself if you meet 'em. You have your letter for Mr. Watts? That's
all right. Good-bye, and good luck to you."
The party set off. The old road by which they were to travel ran at a
short distance from the left bank of the Hugli, passing through an
undulating country, interspersed with patches of low wood and scattered
trees. The scenery was full of charm for Desmond: the rich vegetation;
antelopes darting among the trees; flamingoes and pelicans standing
motionless at the edge of the slow-gliding stream; white-clad figures
coming down the broad steps of the riverside ghats to bathe;
occasionally the dusky corpse of some devotee consigned by his relations
to the bosom of the holy river.
The first halt was called at Barrakpur, where, amid a luxuriant grove of
palms and bamboos, stood some beautiful pagodas, built of the unburnt
brick of the country, and faced with a fine stucco that gleamed in the
sunlight like polished marble. Here, under the shade of the palms,
Desmond lay through the hot afternoon, watching the boats of all shapes
and sizes that floated lazily down the broad-bosomed stream. In the
evening the march was resumed, the party crossed the river by a ford at
Pulta Ghat, and following the road on the other bank came at sundown to
the outskirts of the French settlement at Chandernagore. There they
camped for the night. Desmond was for some time tormented by the
doleful yells of packs of jackals roaming abroad in search of food.
Their cries so much resembled those of human beings in dire agony that
he shivered on his mattress; but falling asleep at length, he slept
soundly and woke with the dawn.
He started again soon after sunrise. Just beyond Chandernagore Bulger
pointed out the stripped spars of the _Good Intent_, lying far up a
narrow creek.
"Wouldn't I just like to cut her out?" said Bulger. "But 'spose we can't
stop for that, sir?"
"Certainly not. And you'd have the French about our ears."
Passing the Dutch settlement at Chinsura, he came into a country of
paddy fields, now bare, broken by numerous nullahs worn by the torrents
in the rainy season, but now nearly dry. Here and there the party had
to ford a jhil,--an extensive shallow lake formed by the rains. Desmond
tried a shot or two at the flights of teal that floated on these ponds;
but they were so wild that he could never approach within range.
Towards evening, after passing the little village of Amboa, they came to
a grove of peepuls filled with green parrots and monkeys screaming and
jabbering as though engaged in a competition. A few miles farther on
they arrived at the larger village of Khulna, where they tied up for the
night.
Next morning Desmond was wakened by Surendra Nath.
"Sahib," he said, "the bibi and the chota bibi are here."
"Mrs. Merriman?"
"Yes. They arrived last night by boat, and are pursuing their journey
to-day."
"I should like to see them before they go. But I'm afraid I am hardly
presentable."
"Believe me, sahib, you will not offend the bibi's punctilio."
"Well, send one of the peons to say that I shall have the pleasure of
waiting on Mrs. Merriman in half an hour, if she will permit me."
Having shaved and bathed, and donned a change of clothes, Desmond set
off accompanied by Surendra Nath to visit the ladies. He found them on
a long shallow boat, in a cabin constructed of laths and mats filling
one end of the light craft. The Babu made the introduction, then
effaced himself. A lady, whose voice seemed to waken an echo in
Desmond's memory, said:
"How do you do, Mr. Burke? I have heard of you in my husband's letters.
Is the dear man well?"
"He is in good health, ma'am, but somewhat anxious to have you back
again."
"Dear man! What is he anxious about? Mr. Watts seemed anxious also to
get rid of us. He was vexed that Mrs. Watts is too much indisposed to
accompany us. And Mr. Warren Hastings, who was to escort us, was quite
angry because he had to go to one of the out-factories instead. I do
not understand why these gentlemen are so much disturbed."
Desmond saw that Mrs. Merriman had been deliberately kept in ignorance
of the grounds of the Englishmen's anxiety, and was seeking on the spur
of the moment for a means to divert her from the subject, when he was
spared the necessity. Miss Merriman had been looking at him curiously,
and she now turned to her mother and said something in a tone inaudible
to Desmond.
"La! you don't say so, my dear," exclaimed the lady. "Why, Mr. Burke, my
daughter tells me that we have met you before."
His vague recollection of Mrs. Merriman's voice being thus so suddenly
confirmed, he recalled, as from a far distant past, a scene upon
Hounslow Heath; a coach that stood perilously near the ditch, a girl at
the horses' heads, a lady stamping her foot at two servants wrestling in
drunken stupidity on the ground.
"You never gave us an opportunity of thanking you," continued Mrs.
Merriman. "'Twas not kind of you, Mr. Burke, to slip away thus without
a word after doing two poor lone women such a service."
"Indeed, ma'am, 'twas with no discourteous intention, but seeing you
were safe with your friends I--I--in short, ma'am----"
Desmond stopped in confusion, at a loss for a satisfactory explanation.
The ladies were smiling.
"You thought to flee our acknowledgments," said Mrs. Merriman. "La, la,
I know; I have a young brother of my own. But you shall not escape them
now, and what is more, I shall see that Merriman, poor man, adds his,
for I am sure he has forgiven you your exploit."
The younger lady laughed outright, while Desmond looked from one to the
other. What did they mean?
"Indeed, ma'am," he said, "I had no idea----"
"That there was need for forgiveness?" said the lady, taking him up.
"But indeed there was--eh, Phyllis? Mr. Burke," she added, with a sudden
solemnity, "a few minutes after you left us at Soho Square Merriman rode
up, and I assure you I nearly swooned, poor man! and hardly had strength
to send for the surgeon. It needed three stitches--and he such a
handsome man, too."
A horrid suspicion flashed through Desmond's mind. He remembered the
scar on Mr. Merriman's brow, and that it was a scarcely healed wound
when he met him with Clive on that unfortunate occasion in Billiter
Street.
"Surely, ma'am, you don't mean--the highwayman?"
"Indeed I do. That is just it. Your highwayman was--Mr. Merriman.
Fancy the hurt to his feelings, to say nothing of his good looks. Fie,
fie, Mr. Burke!"
For a moment Desmond did not know whether embarrassment or amazement was
uppermost with him. It was bad enough to have tripped Mr. Merriman up
in the muddy street; but to have also dealt him a blow of which he would
retain the mark to his dying day--"This is terrible!" he thought. Still
there was an element of absurdity in the adventure that appealed to his
sense of the ridiculous. But he felt the propriety of being apologetic,
and was about to express his regret for his mistake when Mrs. Merriman
interrupted him with a smile:
"But there, Mr. Burke, he bears you no grudge, I am sure. He is the
essence of good temper. It was a mistake; he saw that when I explained;
and when he had vented his spleen on the coachman next day he owned that
it was a plucky deed in you to take charge of us, and indeed he said
that you was a mighty good whip; although," she added laughing, "you was
a trifle heavy in hand."
Desmond felt bound to make a full confession. He related the incident
of his encounter with Merriman in London--how he had toppled him over in
the mud--wondering how the ladies would take it. He was relieved when
they received his story with a peal of laughter.
"Oh, mamma; and it was his new frock!" said Phyllis.
"La, so it was, just fresh from Mr. Small's in Wigmore Street--forty
guineas and no less!"
"Well ma'am, I'm already forgiven for that; I trust that with your good
favour my earlier indiscretion will be forgiven."
"Indeed it shall be, Mr. Burke, I promise you. Now tell me: what brings
you here?"
Desmond explained his errand in a few words. The ladies wished him a
prosperous journey, and said they would hope to see him in a few days on
his return. He left them, feeling that he had gained friends, and with
a new motive, of which he was only vaguely conscious, to a speedy
accomplishment of his business.
On the evening of the sixth day after leaving Calcutta there came into
sight a church of considerable size, which Surendra Nath explained was
the temple of the Armenian colony of Cossimbazar. Passing this, and
leaving a maze of native dwellings and the French factory on the left,
the travellers reached the Dutch factory, and beyond this the English
settlement and fort. Leaving the Babu to arrange quarters for the peons
in the native part of the town, Desmond hastened on past the stables and
the hospital to the factory. It was a rough oblong in shape, defended
at each corner by a bastion mounted with ten guns, the bastions being
connected by massive curtains. In the south curtain, windowed for the
greater part of its length, was the gateway. Desmond was admitted by a
native servant, and in a few minutes found himself in the presence of
the chief, Mr. William Watts.
Mr. Watts was a tall man of near forty years--of striking presence, with
firm chin, pleasant mouth, and eyes of peculiar depth and brilliance.
He was clad in a long purple laced coat, with ruffles at the wrists and
a high stock, and wore the short curled wig of the period. He welcomed
Desmond with great cordiality, and, glancing over Mr. Merriman's letter,
said:
"My friend Mr. Merriman needlessly disturbs himself, I think. I
apprehend no immediate difficulty with the new Subah, although 'tis true
there have been little vexations. As to the goods, they are in Coja
Solomon's godown; they were delivered some time ago and paid for; what
the reason of the delay is I cannot tell. One thing I may mention--it
appears that Mr. Merriman is ignorant of it: Coja Solomon has lately
become the agent of Omichand, whose peons have been seen to visit him,
then passing on to Murshidabad. I happen to know also that he has
communicated with Coja Wajid: do you know anything of him?"
"No, sir, I have never heard his name."
"He's a rich Armenian trader in Hugli, and acts as agent between the
Nawab and the French and Dutch. We suspect him of encouraging
Siraj-uddaula against us; but of course we can't prove anything. My
advice to you is, be wary and be quick; don't trust any of these fellows
further than you can see them. But you can't do anything to-night. You
will allow me to give you a bed: in the morning you can make a call on
Coja Solomon. What has become of your peons?"
"A Babu I brought with me is looking after them. But I have an English
seaman also: can you tell me what to do with him?"
"Sure he can lodge with Sergeant Bowler close by--near the south-east
bastion. The sergeant will be glad of the company of a
fellow-countryman; your man will be a change after the Dutchmen and
topasses he has to do with."
Early next morning Desmond, accompanied by Surendra Nath, went to find
Coja Solomon. He lived in a house not far from the Armenian Church,
between it and the river. The Armenian was at home. He received Desmond
with great politeness, assuring him with much volubility that he had but
one interest in life, and that was the business of his honourable
employer Mr. Merriman. He invited Desmond to accompany him to the
godown near the river where the goods were stored--muslins of Dacca,
both plain and flowered, Bengal raw silk, and taffeties manufactured in
Cossimbazar.
"You have not been long in the country, sir," said Coja Solomon, with a
shrewd look at Desmond, "and therefore you will find it hard to believe,
perhaps, that these goods, so insignificant in bulk, are worth over two
lakhs of rupees. A precious load indeed, sir. This delay is naturally
a cause of vexation to my distinguished superior, but it is not due to
any idleness or inattention on my part. It is caused by the surprising
difficulty of getting the dastaks countersigned by the Faujdar.[#]
Without his signature, as you know, the goods cannot be removed. I dare
not venture."
[#] Officer in command of troops, and also a magistrate.
"But why didn't the Faujdar sign the papers?"
"That I cannot tell. I send messengers to him: they come back: the
Faujdar is much occupied with the Nawab's business, but he will attend
to this little matter as soon as he has leisure. He calls it a little
matter; and so it is, perhaps, if we remember that the Nawab's wealth is
reckoned by millions; but it is not a little matter to Mr. Merriman, and
I deeply deplore the unfortunate delay."
"Well, be good enough to send another message at once. Represent to the
Faujdar that Mr. Merriman's ship is prevented from sailing until the
goods reach Calcutta, and that this causes great inconvenience and
loss." Here the Babu whispered in his ear. "Yes, and add--you will
know how to put it--that if the dastaks are sent off immediately, the
Faujdar will receive from Mr. Merriman a suitable gratification."
The Armenian rubbed his hands and smilingly assented; but Desmond, who
had had some practice in reading faces since he left Market Drayton
eighteen months before, felt an uneasy suspicion that Coja Solomon was a
scamp. Returning to the factory he acquainted Mr. Watts with the result
of his interview and his opinion of the agent. The chief's eye twinkled.
"You haven't been long reckoning him up, Mr. Burke. I'm afraid you're
right. I'll see what I can do for you."
Calling "Qui hai!"[#] he ordered the peon who appeared in answer to his
summons to go to the black merchants' houses, a row of two-storey
buildings some forty yards from the south-west bastion, and bring back
with him Babu Joti Lai Chatterji.
[#] "Is there any one?"--used as a summons.
In less than ten minutes the man returned with an intelligent-looking
young Bengali. Mr. Watts addressed the latter in Hindustani, bidding
him hasten to Murshidabad and find out quietly what the Faujdar was
doing with the dastaks. When he had gone, Mr. Watts showed Desmond over
the fort, introduced him to his wife, and then took him round the
English settlement.
Next day Joti Lai Chatterji returned from Murshidabad with the news that
the dastaks, duly signed by the Faujdar, had been delivered to Coja
Solomon a fortnight before.
"'Tis rather worse than I expected," said Mr. Watts gravely. "There is
something in this that I do not understand. We will send for Coja
Solomon."
No one could have seemed more genuinely surprised than the Armenian when
informed of what had been learnt. He had received no dastaks, he
declared; either a mistake had been made, or the papers had been
intercepted, possibly by some enemy who had a grudge against him and
wished to embroil him with his employer. It was annoying, he agreed;
and he offered to go to Murshidabad himself and, if necessary, get other
dastaks signed.
"Very well," said Mr. Watts, from whose manner no one could have guessed
that he suspected his visitor. "We will look for you to-morrow."
The man departed. Nothing was heard of him for two days. Then a letter
arrived, saying that he remained in Murshidabad, awaiting the return of
the Faujdar, who had been summoned to Rajmahal by the Nawab
Siraj-uddaula. Three more days slipped by, and nothing further was heard
from Coja Solomon. Desmond became more and more impatient. Bulger
suggested that they should break into the godown and remove the goods
without any ceremony--a course that Desmond himself was not disinclined
to adopt; but when he hinted at it to Mr. Watts that gentleman's look of
horror could not have been more expressive if his consent had been asked
to a crime.
"Why, Mr. Burke, if we acted in that impetuous way we'd have all Bengal
at our throats. Trade must pass through the usual channels; to convey
goods from here to Calcutta without a dastak would be a grave
misdemeanour, if not high treason; and it would get us into very hot
water with the Nawab. I can only advise patience."
One morning, Desmond had just finished breakfast with Mr. Watts and his
wife, when Lieutenant Elliott, in command of the garrison, came
unceremoniously into the room.
"Mr. Watts," he said, "the fat's in the fire. A lot of the Nawab's
Persian cavalry have come into the town during the night. They have
surrounded the French and Dutch factories and are coming on here."