hitherto. His smile was gone; all languor and indolence was lost; his
eyes flashed, his lips met in a hard cruel line; his voice rang out
strong and metallic. That he was no coward Desmond already knew. He put
himself in the forefront of the line, and, as always happens, a brave
leader never lacks followers. The whole of the seamen and many of the
Bengalis surged forward after him. Behind the breastwork all the men
were now mixed up--musketeers with pikemen and lathiwallahs. Upon these
came the swarming enemy, some clambering over the carts, others
wriggling between the wheels. There was a babel of cries; the exultant
bellow of the born fighter, British or native; a few pistol-shots; the
scream of the men mortally hit; the "Wah! wah!" of the Bengalis
applauding their own prowess.
As Diggle had said, the odds were four to one. But the defenders had
the advantage of position, and for a few moments they held the yelling
mob at bay. The half-pikes of the boatmen were terrible weapons at
close quarters, more formidable than the cutlasses of the seamen balked
by the breastwork, or the loaded bamboo clubs of the lathiwallahs.
Sunman the mate was one of the first victims; he fell to a shot from
Bulger. But Parmiter and Diggle, followed by half a dozen of the
sailors, and a score of the more determined lathiwallahs and musketeers
with clubbed muskets, succeeded in clambering to the top of the carts
and prepared to jump down among the defenders, most of whom were busily
engaged in jabbing at the men swarming in between the wheels. Desmond
saw that if his barricade was once broken through the issue of the fight
must be decided by mere weight of numbers.
"Bulger, here!" he cried, "and you, Hossain."
The men sprang to him, and, following his example, leapt on to the cart
next to that occupied by Diggle and Parmiter. Desmond's intention was
to take them in flank. Jumping over the bales of silk, he swung over his
head a matchlock he had seized from one of his peons, and brought it
down with a horizontal sweep. Two of the Bengalis among the crowd of
lathiwallahs, who were hanging back out of reach of the boatmen's pikes,
were swept off the cart. But the violence of his blow disturbed
Desmond's own balance; he fell on one knee; his matchlock was seized and
jerked out of his hand; and in a second three men were upon him. Bulger
and the serang, although a little late owing to want of agility in
scaling the cart, were close behind.
"Belay there!" roared Bulger, as he flung himself upon the combatants.
The bullet head of one sturdy badmash cracked like an egg-shell under
the butt of the bold tar's musket; a second received the terrible hook
square in the teeth; and a third, no other than Parmiter himself, was
caught round the neck at the next lunge of the hook, and flung, with a
mighty heave, full into the midst of the defenders. Bulger drew a long
breath.
At the same moment Diggle, attacked by the serang, was thrown from his
perch on the hackeri and fell among his followers outside the barricade.
There was a moment's lull while both parties recovered their wind.
Firing had ceased; to load a matchlock was a long affair, and though the
attackers might have divided and come forward in relays with loaded
weapons, they would have run the risk of hitting their own friends. It
was to be again a hand-to-hand fight. Diggle was not to be denied.
Desmond, who had jumped down inside the barricade when the pressure was
relieved by Bulger, could not but admire the spirit and determination of
his old enemy, though it boded ill for his own chance of escape. He was
weary; worn out by want of rest and food; almost prostrated by the
terrible heat. Looking round his little fort, he felt a tremor as he
saw that five out of his twenty-four men were more or less disabled.
True, there were now more than a dozen of the enemy in the same or a
worse plight; but they could afford their losses, and Desmond indeed
wondered why Diggle did not sacrifice a few men in one fierce
overwhelming onslaught.
[Illustration: THE BATTLE OF THE CARTS.]
"A hundred rupees to the man who kills the young sahib, two hundred to
the man who takes him alive!" cried Diggle to his dusky followers, as
though in answer to Desmond's thought. Then, turning to the discomfited
crew of the _Good Intent_, he said: "Sure, my men, you will not be beat
by a boy and a one-armed man. There's a fortune for all of you in those
carts. At them again, my men; I'll show you the way."
He was as good as his word. He snatched a long lathi from one of the
Bengalis and rushed up the slope to the hacked nearest the nullah.
Finding a purchase for one end of his club in the woodwork of the wagon,
he put forth all his strength in the effort to push it over the edge.
Owing to the length of the lathi he was out of reach of the half-pikes
in the hands of the boatmen, who had to lunge either over or under the
carts. His unaided strength would have been unequal to the task of
moving the hackeri, heavily laden as it was, resting on soft soil, and
interlocked with the next. But as soon as his followers saw the aim of
his movements, and especially when they found that the defenders could
not touch him without exposing themselves, he gained as many eager
helpers as could brine their lathis to bear upon the two carts.
Meanwhile the defence at this spot was weak, for the men of the _Good
Intent_ had swarmed up to the adjoining carts and were threatening at
any moment to force a way over the barricade. They were more formidable
enemies than the Bengalis. Slowly the two hackeris began to move, till
the wheels of one hung over the edge of the nullah. One more united
heave, and it rolled over, dragging the other cart with it and splitting
itself into a hundred fragments on the rocky bottom. Through the gap
thus formed in the barricade sprang Diggle, with half a dozen men of the
_Good Intent_ and a score of Bengalis.
Desmond gathered his little band into a knot in the centre of the
enclosure. Then the brazen sun looked down upon a Homeric struggle.
Bulger, brawny warrior of the iron hook, swung his musket like a flail,
every now and again shooting forth his more sinister weapon with
terrible effect. Desmond, slim and athletic, dashed in upon the enemy
with his half-pike as they recoiled before Bulger's whirling musket.
The rest, now a bare dozen, Bengalis though they were, presented still
an undaunted front to the swarm that surged into the narrow space. The
hot air grew hotter with the fight.
To avoid being surrounded, the little band instinctively backed towards
the edge of the nullah. Diggle exulted as they were pressed
remorselessly to the rear. Not a man dreamt of surrender; the temper of
the assailants was indeed so savage that nothing but the annihilation of
their victims would now satisfy them. Yet Diggle once again bethought
himself that Desmond might be worth to him more alive than dead, and in
the midst of the clamour Desmond heard him repeat his offer of reward to
the man who should capture him.
Diggle himself resolved to make the attempt. Venturing too near, he
received an ugly gash from Desmond's pike, promising a permanent mark
from brow to chin. This was too much for him. Beside himself with fury,
he yelled a command to his men to sweep the pigs over the brink, and,
one side of his face livid with rage, the other streaming with blood, he
dashed forward at Bulger, who had come up panting to engage him. He had
well timed his rush, for Bulger's musket was at the far end of its
pendulum swing; but the old seaman saw his danger in time. With a
movement of extraordinary agility in a man of his bulk, he swung on his
heel, presenting his side to the rapier that flashed in Diggle's hand.
Parrying the thrust with his hook, he shortened his stump and lunged at
Diggle below the belt. His enemy collapsed as if shot; but his
followers swept forward over his prostrate body, and it seemed as if, in
one brief half-minute, the knot of defenders would be hurled to the
bottom of the nullah.
But, at this critical moment, assailants and defenders were stricken
into quietude by a tumultuous cheer, the cheer of Europeans, from the
direction of the gap in the barricade. Weapons remained poised in
mid-air; every man stood motionless, wondering whether the interruption
came from friend or foe. The question was answered on the instant.
"Now, men, have at them!"
With a thrill Desmond recognized the voice. It was the voice of Silas
Toley. There was nothing of melancholy in it, nor in the expression of
the New Englander as he sprang, cutlass in hand, through the gap. Slow
to take fire, when Toley's anger was kindled it blazed with a devouring
flame. The crowd of assailants dissolved as if by magic. Before the
last of the crew of the _Hormuzzeer_, lascars and Europeans, had passed
into the enclosure, the men of the _Good Intent_ and their Bengali
allies were streaming over and under the carts towards the open. Diggle
at the first shock had staggered to his feet and stumbled towards the
barricade. As he reached it, a black boy, springing as it were out of
the earth, hastened to him and helped him to crawl between the wheels of
a cart and down the slope. On the boy's arm he limped towards his
horse, tethered to a tree. A wounded wretch was clumsily attempting to
mount. Him Diggle felled; then he climbed painfully into the saddle and
galloped away, Scipio Africanus leaping up behind.
By this time his followers were dispersing in all directions--all but
eight luckless men who would never more wield cutlass or lathi, and a
dozen who lay on one side or other of the barricade, too hard hit to
move.
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-THIRD
*In which there are many moving events; and our hero finds himself a
cadet of John Company.*
Diggle's escape passed unnoticed until it was too late to pursue him.
At the sight of Toley and his messmates of the _Hormuzzeer_, Bulger had
let fall his musket and dropped to the ground, where he sat mopping his
face and crying "Go it, mateys!" Desmond felt a strange faintness, and
leant dizzily against one of the hackeris. But, revived by a draught
from Mr. Toley's flask, he thanked the mate warmly, and wanted to hear
how he had contrived to come up in time.
When Desmond's messenger arrived in Calcutta, Mr. Merriman was away up
the river, engaged in very serious business. The messenger had applied
to the Governor, to members of the Council, to Captain Minchin and other
officers, and the reply of one and all was the same: they could do
nothing; it was more important that every man should be employed in
strengthening the defences of Calcutta than in going up-country on what
might prove a vain and useless errand. But Toley happened to be in the
town, and hearing of the difficulties and perils of his friend Burke,
with the captain's consent he had hastily collected the crew of the
_Hormuzzeer_, that still lay off the Fort, and led them, under the
guidance of the messenger, to support him. Meeting Surendra Nath, and
learning from him that a fight was imminent, he had pushed on with all
speed, the Babu leading the way.
"It was well done," said Desmond warmly. "We owe our lives to you, and
Mr. Merriman his goods. But what was the business that took Mr.
Merriman from Calcutta at this time of trouble?"
"Trouble of his own, Burke," said Mr. Toley. "I guess he'd better have
let the Nawab keep his goods and sent you to look after his women-folk."
"What do you mean? I left the ladies at Khulna; what has happened to
them?"
"'Tis what Mr. Merriman would fain know. They've disappeared, gone
clean out of sight."
"But the peons?"
"Gone too. Nothing heard or seen of them."
This serious news came as a shock to Desmond. If he had only known!
How willingly he would have let Coja Solomon do what he pleased with the
goods, and hastened to the help of the wife and daughter Mr. Merriman
held so dear! While in Cossimbazar, he had heard from Mr. Watts
terrible stories of the Nawab's villainy, which no respect of persons
held in check. He feared that if Mrs. Merriman and Phyllis had indeed
fallen into Siraj-uddaula's hands, they were lost to their family and
friends for ever.
But, eager as he was to get back to Calcutta and join Mr. Merriman in
searching for them, he had a strange certainty that it was not to be.
The faintness that he had already felt returned. His head was burning
and throbbing; his ears buzzed; his limbs ached; his whole frame was
seized at moments with paroxysms of shivering which no effort could
control. Unknown to himself the seeds of malarial fever had found a
lodgment in his system. While listening to Toley's story, he had
reclined on the ground. When he tried to rise, he was overcome by
giddiness and nausea.
"I am done up," he continued. "Mr. Toley, you must take charge and get
these goods conveyed to Calcutta. Lose no time."
Surendra Nath recognized the symptoms of the disease, and immediately
had a litter improvised for Desmond out of the linen covering of one of
the carts and a couple of muskets. Mr. Toley at once made preparations
for moving on with the convoy. The hackeriwallahs who had driven off
the cattle had not gone far; they had waited in the hope of getting the
bakshish promised them--if not from the young sahib, at least from the
leader of the attacking party, which from its numbers they believed
would gain the day. The oxen were soon yoked up. Mr. Toley would not
wait to recover the loads of the carts that had toppled into the nullah,
nor would he leave men for that purpose, lest another attack should be
made on them from Hugli. He set off as soon as the teams were ready.
Half an hour after they started, Bulger, walking beside the litter, saw
to his dismay that Desmond had lost consciousness.
It was nearly a fortnight later when Desmond came to himself in his old
bunk on board the _Hormuzzeer_. He was alone. Lying on his back,
feebly trying to adjust his thoughts to his surroundings, he heard the
faint boom of guns. What was happening? He tried to rise, but all
power was gone from him; he could hardly lift an arm. Even the slight
effort was too much for him, and he swooned again.
When he once more recovered consciousness, he saw a figure by his side.
It was Mr. Toley. Again the distant thunder of artillery fell upon his
ears.
"What is happening?" he asked, feebly.
"Almighty be praised!" said Toley fervently, "you're coming safe to
port. Hush! Lie you still. You'll want nussin' like a babby. Never
you heed the pop-guns; I'll tell you all about them when you're
stronger. Food, sleep, and air; that's my catechism, larned from the
surgeon. Bless you, Burke, I feared you was a done man."
With this Desmond had to be for the time content. But every day he heard
firing, and every day, as he slowly regained strength, he became more
and more anxious to know what it meant. Toley seemed to have left the
ship; Desmond was tended only by natives. From them he learned that the
Nawab was attacking Calcutta. How were the defenders faring? They could
not tell. He knew how small was the garrison, how weak the
fortifications; but, with an English lad's unconquerable faith in his
countrymen's valour, he could not believe that they could fail to hold
their own.
One day, however, he heard no more firing. In the afternoon Mr. Toley
came to his bunk, bringing with him Mr. Merriman himself. The merchant
had his head bound up, and wore his left arm in a sling. He was pale,
haggard, the shadow of his former self.
"What has happened, sir?" cried Desmond the instant he saw him. "Are
the ladies safe?"
"God pity us, Desmond! I shall never see them again. My poor Dora! my
sweet Phyllis! They are lost! All is lost! The Nawab has taken the
Fort. We are beaten, shamed, ruined!"
"How did it happen? I heard the firing. Tell me; it cannot be so bad
as that. Sure something can be done!"
"Nothing, nothing; we did all we could. 'Twas little; would that Drake
had heeded our advice! But I am rejoiced to see you on the road to
recovery, dear boy; 'twould have been another nail in my coffin to know
that you had lost your life in doing a service for me. I thank God for
that, from the bottom of my heart."
He pressed Desmond's hand affectionately.
"But tell me, sir; I want to know what has happened. How came you to be
wounded? Sure I am strong enough to hear now; it will do me no harm."
"It cuts me to the heart, Desmond, but you shall know. I was absent when
you were carried to my house--searching for my dear ones. But Dr. Gray
tended you; alas! the good man is now a prisoner. I returned three days
after, driven back from up the river by the advance of the Nawab's army.
I was worn out, distraught; not a trace had I found of my dear wife; she
had vanished; nor of my daughter; nor even of my peons; all had gone.
And there was trouble enough in Calcutta, for me and for all. 'Twas the
very day I returned that news came of Siraj-uddaula's approach. And a
letter from his chief spy was intercepted, addressed to Omichand,
bidding him escape while there was yet time and join the Subah. That
seemed to Mr. Drake clear proof that Omichand was in league with our
enemies, and he had him arrested and thrown into the Fort prison. But
Mr. Drake never acts till 'tis too late. He gave orders next to arrest
Krishna Das. The man barricaded himself in his house and beat our peons
off, till Lieutenant Blagg and thirty Europeans drove in his gates. They
found a vast quantity of arms collected there. They stormed Omichand's
house also, where three hundred armed domestics made a stout fight
against 'em. When our men got in--'tis a horrid story--the head jamadar
with his own hands stabbed all his master's women and children, to
prevent 'em falling into our hands, and then set fire to the place.
"Our men had already been driven out of Tanna fort by Manik Chand, who
had come up with two thousand men and a couple of field-pieces. Then
came up Mir Jafar, the Nawab's bakshi,[#] and began firing from the
Chitpur gate. We got all our women into the Fort; the poor creatures
left all they had but their clothes and their bedding. You may guess
the confusion. The natives were flocking out of the town; most of our
servants fled with them; all our cooks were gone, so that though we had
a great stock of food we were like to starve in the midst of plenty.
But we filled their places with some of the Portuguese who came crowding
into the Fort. Two thousand of 'em, men, women, and children, filled
the courtyard, sitting among their bundles of goods, so that we could
scarce move for 'em. The enemy was in the town; they had set light to
the Great Bazar, and were burning and plundering in the native parts.
We fired the bastis[#] to the east and south, to deprive 'em of cover;
and you may imagine the scene, Desmond--the blazing sky, the tears and
screams of the women, the din of guns. We wrote to the French at
Chandernagore begging 'em to lend us some ammunition, for the most of
ours was useless; but they sent us a genteel reply saying they'd no more
than sufficient for their own needs; yet the wretches made the Nawab a
present of two hundred chests of powder, 'tis said.
[#] Commander-in-chief.
[#] Blocks of huts.
"Next day we were besieged in earnest. The Nawab had, we learnt, nigh
50,000 men, with 150 elephants and camels, and 250 Frenchmen working his
artillery. Against 'em we had about 500 in all, only half of 'em
Europeans. What could so few do against so many? Our officers were all
brave enough, but they've had a slack time, and few of 'em are fit for
their work. Ensign Picard, sure, did wonders, and Lieutenant Smyth
defended the North battery with exceeding skill; but we had not men
enough to hold our positions, and step by step we were driven back.
'Twas clear we could not hold out long, and on Friday night we held a
council of war, and decided to send the women on board the ships in the
river, to get 'em out of harm's way. Then by heaven! Desmond, two of
the Council shamed 'emselves for ever. Mr. Manningham and Mr.
Frankland, special friends of Mr. Drake, attended the ladies to the
ship--'twas the _Dodalay_, of which they are owners--and they stayed on
board with 'em--the cowards, to set such an infamous example! And well
'twas followed. 'Tis scarce credible, but Captain Minchin, our gallant
commander, and Mr. Drake, our noble president, went down to the ghat and
had 'emselves rowed off to the shipping and deserted us: good God! do
they deserve the name of Englishmen? One of our gentlemen standing on
the steps was so enraged that he sent a bullet after the cravens; others
did the same, and I would to heaven that one of their shots had took
effect on the wretches! We made Mr. Holwell governor in the Quaker's
place; and I tell you, Desmond, had we done so before, there would have
been a different story to tell this day.
"Mr. Holwell saw 'twas impossible to withstand the Nawab's hordes much
longer, and spoke for an orderly retreat; but he was overrid by some of
the military officers; and besides, retreat was cut off, for the ships
that had lain in the river moved away, and though we hung out signals
from the Fort asking 'em to come back and take us off, they paid no
heed; nay, they stood further off, leaving us to our fate. What could
we do? Mr. Holwell sent to Omichand in his prison and offered to
release him if he would treat with the Nawab for us. But the Gentoo
refused. All he would do was to write a letter to Manik Chand asking
him to intercede for us. Mr. Holwell threw the letter over the wall
among the enemy, and by heaven! Desmond, never did I suppose Englishmen
would be reduced to such a point of humiliation. But 'twas of no
effect. The enemy came on with the more determination, and brought
bamboos to scale the walls. We drove 'em off again, but with frightful
loss; twenty-five of our bravest men were killed outright and sixty
wounded. 'Twas there I got my wounds, and 'twould have been all over
with me but for that fine fellow Bulger; he turned aside with his hook a
slashing blow from a scimitar and gave my assailant his quietus. Bulger
fought like a hero, and the very look of him, black with powder and
stained with blood, seemed to drive all the fight out of the Moors that
came his way.
"All this time the shots of the Nawab's cannon annoyed us, not to much
harm, for they were most villainously served; their fire-arrows did us
more mischief, flying into the thick of the crowds of screaming women
and children. It made my heart sick to think of the poor innocent people
suffering through the weakness and incompetence and the guilty neglect
of our Council. The heat and the glare, the want of food, the uproar
and commotion--may I never see or hear the like again!
"Yesterday there was a lull in the fighting about mid-day. The enemy
were still outside the Fort, though they had possession of all the
houses around. They showed a flag of truce, whereupon Mr. Holwell writ
a letter asking 'em for terms. But 'twas a trick to deceive us. While
we were resting, waiting the result of the parley, the Moors poured out
of their hiding-places and swarmed upon the eastern gate of the Fort and
the pallisadoes on the south-west. In the interval many of our common
men had fallen asleep, some, alas! were drunk, so that we had no force
to resist the invaders, who scaled the roof of the godowns on the north
wall with the aid of their bamboos and swept over into the Fort.