to be seen. But in one of the rooms his quick eye caught sight of a
small hair-pin such as only a European woman would use. He picked it
up. In another room a cooking-pot had been left, and it was evident
that it had but lately been used. The simple furniture was in some
disorder.
The khansaman had with much labour managed to mount the stairs.
"Inshallah!" he said. "They are gone!"
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SIXTH
*In which presence of mind is shown to be next best to absence of body.*
The khansaman's surprise was clearly genuine, and Desmond refrained from
visiting on him his disappointment. Bitter as that was, his alarm was
still more keen. What had become of the ladies! With all his old
impulsiveness he had come to rescue them, never pausing to think of what
risks he might himself run. And now they were gone! Could Diggle have
suspected that his carefully hidden tracks were being followed up, and
have removed his prisoners to some spot remoter from the river? It was
idle to speculate; they were gone; and there was no obvious clue to
their whereabouts.
The khansaman, limp and damp after his unwonted exercise, had squatted
on the floor and was fanning himself, groaning deeply. Desmond went to
the window of the room and looked out over the country, wondering,
longing, fearing. As he gazed disconsolately before him, he caught
sight of a party of horsemen rapidly approaching. Bidding the khansaman
stifle his groans, he watched them eagerly through the chiks of the
window. Soon a dozen native horsemen cantered up to the front gate and
drew rein. One of them, clad in turban of gold tissue, short blue
jacket lavishly decorated with gold, and crimson trousers, bade the rest
dismount. He was a tall man, a handsome figure in his fine array. He
wore a sword with hilt inlaid with gold, the scabbard covered with
crimson velvet; and in his girdle was stuck a knife with agate handle,
and a small Moorish dagger ornamented with gold and silver.
He stood for a time gazing as in perplexity at the broken gateway. His
face was concealed by his turban from Desmond, looking from above. But
when he directed his glance upward, Desmond, peering through the chiks,
could scarcely believe his eyes. The features were those of Marmaduke
Diggle. His heart thumped against his ribs. Never, perhaps, in the
whole course of his adventures, had he been in such deadly peril. The
appearance of the party had been so sudden, and he had been so deeply
engrossed with his musings, that he had not had time to think of his own
situation.
"Come, son of a pig," said Diggle at length, throwing himself from his
horse and beckoning to his syce, "we will search the place. There must
be something to show who the dacoits were."
He strode into the compound, followed by his trembling servant.
"Indeed, huzur," said the man in shrill tones of excuse, "we did our
best. But they were many: our livers were as water."
"Chup[#], pig! Wait till you are spoken to," exclaimed Diggle, turning
angrily upon him.
[#] Shut up.
"Achchha, sahib! bahut achchha, sahib![#]----"
[#] Good, sahib--very good, sahib.
A vicious kick cut short his protestations, and the two passed out of
hearing of the two watchers above, the khansaman having brought his
quivering flabbiness to Desmond's side. Diggle passed into the
entrance-hall, the native horsemen waiting like statues at the gate.
"It is the sahib!" whispered the shaking khansaman to Desmond: "Digli
Sahib. He will kill me. He is a tiger."
"Silence, fool!" said Desmond sternly: "there must be a way out. Jaldi
jao![#] we shall be too late."
[#] Go quickly.
The man seemed glued to the spot with fear. The footsteps of Diggle
could be heard in the rooms below. In a few minutes he would reach the
upper story; then it would indeed be too late to flee. If they could
gain the back staircase they might slip down and hide in the garden. But
fright appeared to have bereft the khansaman of all power of movement.
Yet Desmond, for more than one reason, was unwilling to leave him. He
knew what Diggle's tender mercies were; but he also knew that the
khansaman, if discovered, would certainly try to purchase his safety by
betraying his companion. So, without more ado, seizing him by the neck,
Desmond shook him vigorously.
"Come!" he said in a fierce whisper, "or I will leave you to face the
sahib alone."
This summary treatment shocked the man from his stupor. Stepping on
tiptoe he darted across the room, through the door communicating with a
room beyond, into a narrow passage-way at the rear of the house. Here
was a second staircase leading downwards to the servants' quarters.
"Wait there," said Desmond when they were half-way down. "If you hear
any one coming up, rejoin me above."
He himself crept noiselessly back to the upper floor. No sooner had he
reached the top than he heard Diggle moving in the room he had recently
left. He darted to a khaskhas[#] curtain, through the meshes of which
he could see into the two intercommunicating rooms. Diggle was
carefully searching the apartment; he clearly knew it was the one lately
occupied by the ladies.
[#] A fragrant grass whose roots are used for making screens.
As he stooped to pick up a cushion that lay on the floor beside a divan,
his eye was caught by a scrap of crumpled paper. He snatched at it like
a hawk and with quick fingers straightened it out--the fingers of the
mittened hand that Desmond knew so well. On the paper was writing; the
characters were English, but Diggle appeared to have some difficulty in
making them out.
"'Your servant Surendra Nath Chuckerbutti,'" he said slowly aloud. "Who
is Surendra Nath Chuckerbutti?" he asked his man, standing behind.
"Truly, huzur, I know not. It is a common name in Bengal--a vile Hindu;
an unbeliever----"
"How did this paper come here?" cried Diggle impatiently.
"How should I know, sahib? I am a poor man, an ignorant man; I do not
read----"
"Come with me and search the back of the house," said Diggle, turning
away with an oath.
Desmond stepped noiselessly across the floor and joined the khansaman.
They made their way out stealthily down the stairs, through the garden
at the back, into a mango grove. There they remained hidden until
Diggle, finding his search fruitless, remounted with his men and
galloped away.
Desmond felt in a maze of bewilderment. It was clear that Diggle was
ignorant of the whereabouts of the ladies; where had they been spirited
to, and by whom? Apparently there had been an attack on the house, and
they had been carried away: was it by friends or foes? What was the
meaning of the paper found by Diggle? Had the Babu had any hand in the
latest disappearance, or was it his letter that had put some one else on
their track? Desmond had heard nothing of Surendra Nath or his father
since the sack of Calcutta.
There was no clue to the solution of the problem. Meanwhile it was
necessary to get back to Calcutta. The journey had been delayed too
long already, and Hossain's employer the grain merchant would have good
reason for complaint if he felt that his business was being neglected.
"We must go, khansaman," said Desmond.
The man was nothing loth. They returned by the way they had come.
Desmond left the man some distance short of Sinfray's house, promising,
in return for his assistance, to use his best offices with the irate
manjhi[#] on his behalf. Then he struck off for the point lower down
the river where his boat was moored. As soon as he arrived they got
under way, and late that evening reached Tanna Fort, where they had to
deliver their cargo of rice for the use of the Nawab's garrison.
[#] Steersman.
In the dead of night they were surprised by a visit from Hubbo, the
serang's brother. He had seen them, as they passed, from one of the
sloops that lay in the river opposite to the fort. Though in chief
command of the Nawab's boats at that point, he was still secretly loyal
to the Company, and was anxious to serve their interests to the best of
his power. He had now brought important news. The three sloops and two
brigantines that lay off the fort were, he said, filled with earth. On
the approach of Admiral Watson's fleet they were to be scuttled and sunk
in the fairway. A subahdar[#] of Manik Chand's force was at present on
board one of the sloops to superintend the work of scuttling. The
signal would be given by the subahdar himself from his sloop.
[#] Equivalent to captain of infantry.
"Very well, Hubbo," said Desmond, "that signal must not be given."
"But how prevent it, sahib? I wish well to the Company; have I not
eaten their salt? But what can one man do against many? The subahdar
is a very fierce man; very zabburdasti.[#] When he gives the word it
will be death to disobey."
[#] Masterful.
Desmond sat for some time with his chin on his hands, thinking. Then he
asked:
"Do you know where the British fleet is at present?"
"Yes, sahib. I was in the bazar to-day; it was said that this morning
the ships were still at Fulta. The sepoys are recovering from their
privations during the voyage."
"We will drop down the river to-morrow as soon as we have unloaded our
cargo. You may expect us back ahead of the fleet, so keep a good
look-out for us. I will take care that Mr. Drake is informed of your
fidelity, and you will certainly be well rewarded."
Early in the morning the cargo was unloaded; then, under pretence of
taking in goods at Mayapur, the petala dropped down the river and gained
Fulta under cover of night.
Next morning Desmond, having resumed his ordinary attire, sought an
interview with Clive.
"The very man I wished to see," said Clive, shaking hands. "Your
scouting is the one ray of light in the darkness that covers the enemy's
arrangements. You have done remarkably well, and I take it you would
not be here unless you had something to tell me."
Desmond gave briefly the information he had learnt from Hubbo.
"That's the game, is it?" said Clive. "A pretty scheme, egad! 'Twill
be fatal to us if carried out. 'Twould put a spoke in the admiral's
wheel and throw all the work on the land force. That's weak enough,
what with Mr. Killpatrick's men dying off every day--he has only thirty
left--and my own sepoys mostly skeletons. And we haven't proved
ourselves against the Nawab's troops; I suppose they outnumber us thirty
to one, and after their success at Calcutta they'll be very cock-a-hoop.
Yet 'tis so easy to sink a few ships, especially if preparations have
been made long in advance, as appears to be the case."
"I think sir, it might be prevented."
Clive, who had been pacing up and down in some perturbation of mind, his
head bent, his hands clasped behind him, halted, looked up sharply, and
said:
"Indeed! How?"
"If we could get hold of the subahdar."
"By bribing him? He might not be open to bribery. Most of these native
officials are, but there are some honest men among them, and he may be
one. He wouldn't have been selected for his job unless Manik Chand
thought him trustworthy. Besides, how are we going to get into
communication with him? And even if we did, and filled him to the brim
with rupees, how are we to know he wouldn't sell us in turn to the
enemy?"
"But there are other ways, sir. We can depend on Hubbo, and if I might
suggest, it would pay to promise him a rich reward if he managed to keep
the passage clear."
"Yes, I agree. What reward would be most effective?"
"A few hundred rupees and the post of syr serang in the Company's
service when Calcutta is retaken."
"Not too extravagant! Well, I will see Mr. Drake; the offer had better
come from him and reach Hubbo through his brother."
"And then, sir, it ought not to be impossible to secure the subahdar
himself when the moment arrives."
Clive looked at the bright eager countenance of the boy before him.
"Upon my word, my lad," he said, "I believe you can do it. How, I don't
know; but you have shown so much resource already that you may be able
to help us in this fix--for fix it is, and a bad one. 'Tis the will
that counts; if one is only determined enough no difficulty is
insuperable--a lesson that our friends from Calcutta might take to
heart. But have you a plan?"
"Not at present, sir. I should like to think it over; and if I can hit
on anything that seems feasible I should be glad of your leave to try."
"By all means, my lad. If you fail--well, no one will be more sorry
than I, for your sake. If you succeed, you will find that I shall not
forget. There's one thing I want to ask you before you go. Have you
heard anything of my friend Merriman's ladies?"
"Yes, sir: and, as I suspected, Diggle is at the bottom of their
disappearance."
He related the series of incidents up the river.
"Dressed like a native, was he? And looked like a risaldar?[#] There's
no end to that fellow's villainy. But his day of reckoning will come I
am sure of it, and the world will be none the worse for the loss of so
vile a creature. If you take my advice, you'll say nothing to Mr.
Merriman of this discovery. 'Twould only unsettle the poor man. He had
better know nothing until we can either restore the ladies to him or
tell him that there is no hope."
[#] Officer commanding a troop of horse.
"I don't give up hope, sir. They're alive, at any rate; and Diggle has
lost them. I feel sure we shall find them."
"God grant it, my lad."
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SEVENTH
*In which an officer of the Nawab disappears; and Bulger reappears.*
"This will be my last trip, sahib, for my present master. He says I
waste too much time on the river. He also complains that I go to places
without leave and without reason. He heard we were at Mayapur, and
wanted to know why. I made excuses, sahib; I said whatever came into my
head; but he was not satisfied, and I leave his service in a week."
"That is a pity, Hossain. Unless we are in the service of some
well-known banya we cannot go up and down the river without exciting
suspicion. However, let us hope that before the week is out the fleet
will be here."
Desmond looked a little anxious. The success of his project for
preventing the fouling of the passage at Tanna Fort was more than eyer
doubtful. The petala was moored opposite the Crane ghat at Calcutta,
taking in a cargo of jawar[#] for Chandernagore. The work of loading
had been protracted to the utmost by the serang; for Desmond did not
wish to leave the neighbourhood of Calcutta at the present juncture,
when everything turned upon their being on the spot at the critical
moment.
[#] Millet.
While they were talking, a man who had every appearance of a respectable
banya approached the plank over which the coolies were carrying the
jawar on board. He stood idly watching the work, then moved away, and
squatted on a low pile of bags which had been emptied of their contents.
For a time the serang paid no apparent heed to him; but presently, while
the coolies were still busy, he sauntered across the plank, and
strolling to the onlooker, exchanged a salaam and squatted beside him.
Passers-by might have caught a word or two about the grain-market; the
high prices; the difficulties of transit; the deplorable slackness of
trade; the infamous duplicity of the Greek merchants. At last the banya
rose, salaamed, and walked away.
As he did so the serang carelessly lifted the bag upon which the banya
had been sitting, and, making sure that he was not observed, picked up a
tiny ball of paper scarcely bigger than a pea. Waiting a few moments,
he rose and sauntered back on board. A minute or two later the lascar
in the after part of the boat was unobtrusively examining the scrap of
paper. It contained three words and an initial:
_To-morrow about ten.--C._
A change had been made in the composition of Hossain's crew since the
incident at Sinfray's house. One day Desmond had found one of the
Bengalis rummaging in the corner of the cabin where he was accustomed to
keep his few personal belongings. Hossain had dismissed the man on the
spot. The man saved from the river had been kept on the boat and proved
a good worker, eager, and willing to be of use. He was an excellent
boatman, a handy man generally, and, for a Bengali, possessed of
exceptional physical strength. At Desmond's suggestion Hossain offered
him the vacant place, and he at once accepted it.
Since his rescue he had shown much gratitude to Desmond. He was
quick-witted, and had not been long on board before he felt that the
khalasi was not quite what he appeared to be. His suspicion was
strengthened by the deference, slight but unmistakable, paid by the
serang to the lascar; for though Desmond had warned Hossain to be on his
guard, the man had been unable to preserve thoroughly the attitude of a
superior to an inferior.
On receiving the short message from Clive, Desmond had a consultation
with Hossain. The coolies had finished their work and received their
pay, and there was nothing unusual in the sight of the boatmen squatting
on deck before loosing their craft from its moorings.
"If we are to do what we wish to do, Hossain," said Desmond, "we shall
require a third man to help us. Shall we take Karim into our
confidence?"
"That is as you please, sahib. He is a good man, and will, I think, be
faithful."
"Well, send the other fellow on shore; I will speak to the man."
The serang gave the second of the two Bengalis who had formed his
original crew an errand on shore. Desmond beckoned up the new man.
"Are you willing to undertake a service of risk, for a big reward,
Karim?" he asked.
The man hesitated.
"It will be worth a hundred rupees to you."
Karim's eyes sparkled; a hundred rupees represented a fortune to a man
of his class; but he still hesitated.
"Am I to be alone?" he asked at length.
"No," said Desmond; "we shall be with you."
"Ji! Han! If the sahib"--the word slipped out unawares--"is to be
there it is fixed. He is my father and mother: did he not save me from
the river? I would serve him without reward."
"That is very well. All the same the reward shall be yours--to be paid
to you if we succeed, to your family if we fail. For if we fail it will
be our last day: they will certainly shoot us. There is time to draw
back."
"If the sahib is to be there I am not afraid."
"Good. You can go aft. We will tell you later what is to be done.
And, remember, on this boat I am no sahib. I am a khalasi from Gujarat."
"I will remember--sahib."
Desmond told the serang that the help of the man was assured, and
discussed with him the enterprise upon which he was bent. He had given
his word to Clive that the blocking of the river should be prevented,
and though the task bade fair to be difficult he was resolved not to
fail. The vessels that were to be sunk in the fairway were moored
opposite the fort at a distance of about a ship's length from one
another. The subahdar was on the sloop farthest down the river, Hubbo
on the next. With the subahdar there were three men. The signal for
the scuttling of the vessels was to be the waving of a green flag by the
subahdar; this was to be repeated by Hubbo, then by the serang on the
sloop above him, and so on to the end. The vessels were in echelon, the
one highest up the river lying well over to the left bank and nearest to
the fort, the rest studding the fairway so that if they sank at their
moorings it would be impossible for a ship of any size to thread its way
between them. It did not appear that anything had been done to ensure
their sinking broadside to the current, the reason being probably that,
whatever might be attempted with this design, the river would have its
will with the vessels as soon as they sank.
"Our only chance," said Desmond, "is to get hold of the subahdar. If we
can only capture him the rest should be easy--especially as Hubbo is on
the next sloop, which screens the subahdar's from the rest. It is out
of speaking distance from the fort, too--another piece of luck for us.
I will think things over in the night, Hossain; be sure to wake me, if I
am not awake, at least a gharri[#] before dawn."
[#] A 60th part of a day: _i.e._ 24 minutes.
It was the first of January, 1757. At half-past seven in the morning a
heavily-laden petala was making its way slowly against the tide down the
Hugli. Four men were on board; two were rowing, one was at the helm,
the fourth stood looking intently before him. The boat had passed
several vessels lying opposite Tanna Fort, at various distances from the
bank, and came abreast of the last but one. There the rowers ceased
pulling at an order from the man standing, who put his hand to his mouth
and hailed the sloop. An answer came from a man on deck inviting the
caller to come on board. With a few strokes of the oars the petala was
run alongside, and Hossain joined his brother.
"Is it well, brother?" he said.
"It is well," replied Hubbo.
Desmond at the helm of the petala looked eagerly ahead at the last sloop
of the line. He could see the subahdar on deck, a somewhat portly
figure in resplendent costume. A small dinghy was passing between his
vessel and the shore. It contained a number of servants, who had
brought him his breakfast from the fort. The crews of the other vessels
had prepared their food on board.
After a time a dinghy was let down from Hubbo's sloop. Hubbo himself
stepped into it with one of his crew, and was rowed to the subahdar's
vessel. Desmond, watching him narrowly, saw him salaam deeply as he
went on board.
"Salaam, huzur!" said Hubbo. "Your excellency will pardon me, but
bismillah! I have just discovered a matter of importance. Our task,
huzur, has lain much on my mind; we have never done anything of the sort
before, and seeing on yonder petala a man I know well, who has spent
many years on the kala pani, I ventured to ask if he knew what time
would be needed to sink a ship with several holes drilled in the hull."
"That depends on the size of the holes, fool!" said the subahdar with a
snort.
"True, huzur; that is what the serang said. But he went on to tell me
of a case like your excellency's. His ship was once captured by the
pirates of the Sanderbands. They drilled several holes in the hull, and
rowed away, leaving my friend and several of the crew to sink with the
vessel. But the holes were not big enough. When the pirates had
disappeared, the men on the ship, using all their strength, managed to
run her ashore, filled up the holes at low tide, and floated her off
when the tide came in again."
A look of concern crept over the subahdar's face as he listened. He was
a man without experience of ships, and became uneasy at the suggestion
that anything might mar the execution of his task. Manik Chand would
not lightly overlook a failure.
"Hearing this, huzur," Hubbo continued, "I venture to mention the matter
to your excellency, especially as it seemed to me, from what the serang
said, that the holes drilled by the pirates were even larger than those
made by the mistris[#] sent from the fort."
[#] Head workmen.
The subahdar looked still more concerned.
"Wai!" he exclaimed, "it is very disturbing. And there is no time to do
anything; the Firangi's ships are reported to be on their way up the
river; the dogs of Kafirs[#] may be here soon."
[#] Unbelievers.
He bit his fingers, frowned, looked anxiously down the river, then
across to the brick fort at Tanna, then to the new mud fort at Aligarh
on the other bank, as if wondering whether he should send or signal a
message to one or the other. Hubbo was silent for a moment, then he
said:
"Have I the huzur's leave to speak?"
"By the twelve imams[#], yes! but quickly."
[#] High priests descending from Ali, the son-in-law of Mahomet.
"There is a mistri on board the serang's boat who is used to working in
ships--a khalasi from Gujarat. He might do something on board your
excellency's ship. If this vessel sank, according to the plan, the
Firangi would not be able to get aboard the others, and they would have
time to sink slowly."
"Barik allah![#] It is a good idea. Bid the mistri come aboard at
once."
[#] "Bravo!"
Hubbo sent a long hail over the water. The serang cast off the rope by
which he had made fast to the sloop, and the petala came slowly down
until it was abreast of the subahdar's vessel. Hossain, Desmond, and
Karim stepped aboard, the last carrying a small box of tools. Only the
Bengali was left in the boat. All salaamed low to the subahdar.
"This, huzur, is my friend," said Hubbo, presenting his brother. "This
is the mistri, and this his assistant."
"Good!" said the subahdar. "Go down into the hold, mistri: look to the
holes; if they are not large enough, make them larger, and as quickly as
you can."