with. Lieutenant Hayter, one of Watson's men, was bid to the Council,
but the nincompoop was huffed because he wasn't allowed precedence of
the Company's captains. These naval men's airs are vastly amusing. He
took himself off. Then Mr. Clive put the case; fight at once, or wait.
Against the custom, he voted himself first--against immediate action.
Then he asked me and Grant in turn; we voted with him. 'Twas Eyre
Coote's turn next; he voted t'other way, and gave his
reasons--uncommonly well, I must admit. He said our men were in good
spirits, and had been damped enough by the rains. The Frenchman Law
might come up and join the Nawab, and then every froggy who entered our
service after Chandernagore would desert and fight against us. We're so
far from Calcutta that 'twould be difficult to protect our
communications. Those were his reasons. I watched Clive while Coote was
speaking; he stuck his lips together and stared at him; and, have you
noticed? he squints a trifle when he looks hard. Well, the voting went
on, and ended as I said--twelve against immediate action, seven for."
"How did the Bengal men vote?"
"I'm bound to say, for--except Le Beaume. 'Twas the Madras men who
outvoted 'em."
"Well, with all respect, sir, I think the opinion of the Bengal men, who
know the people and the country, ought to have outweighed the opinion of
strangers. Still, it would be difficult to oppose Colonel Clive."
Further conversation was cut short by the arrival of a messenger
summoning Desmond to attend the colonel.
"Where is he?" he asked.
"Under a clump of trees beyond the camp, sir. He's been there by
himself an hour or more."
Desmond hurried off. On the way he met Major Coote.
"Hullo, Burke," cried the major; "you've heard the news?"
"Yes, and I'm sorry for it."
"All smoke, my dear boy, all smoke. Colonel Clive has been thinking it
over, and has decided to disregard the decision of the Council and cross
the river at sunrise to-morrow."
Desmond could not refrain from flinging up his hat and performing other
antics expressive of delight; he was caught in the act by Clive himself,
who was returning to his tent.
"You're a madcap, Burke," he said. "Come to my tent."
He employed Desmond during the next hour in writing orders to the
officers of his force. This consisted of about 900 Europeans, 200
topasses, a few lascars, and some 2,000 sepoys. Eight six-pounders and
two howitzers formed the whole of the artillery. Among the Europeans
were about fifty sailors, some from the King's ships, some from
merchantmen. Among the latter were Mr. Toley and Bulger, whose
excellent service in capturing the _Good Intent_ had enforced their
request to be allowed to accompany the little army.
Shortly before dawn on June 22 Clive's men began to cross the river.
The passage being made in safety, they rested during the hot hours, and
resumed their march in the evening amid a heavy storm of rain, often
having to wade waist-high the flooded fields. Soon after midnight the
men, drenched to the skin, reached a mango-grove somewhat north of the
village of Plassey: and there, as they lay down in discomfort to snatch
a brief sleep before dawn, they heard the sound of tom-toms and trumpets
from the Nawab's camp three miles away.
"'Tis a real comfort, that there noise," remarked Bulger, as he stirred
the camp-fire with his hook. Desmond had come to bid him good-night.
"Ay, true comfort to a sea-goin' man like me. For why? 'Cos it makes
me feel at home. Why, I don't sleep easy if there en't some sort o'
hullabaloo--wind or wave, or, if ashore, cats a-caterwaulin'. No, Mr.
Subah, Nawab, or whatsomdever you call yourself, you won't frighten Bill
Bulger with your tum-tum-tumin'. I may be wrong, Mr. Burke, which I
never am, but there'll be tum-tum-tum of another sort to-morrer."
The grove held by Clive's troops was known as the Laksha Bagh--the grove
of a hundred thousand trees. It was nearly half a mile long and three
hundred yards broad. A high embankment ran all round it, and beyond
this a weedy ditch formed an additional protection against assault. A
little north of the grove, on the bank of the river Cossimbazar, stood a
stone hunting-box belonging to Siraj-uddaula. Still farther north, near
the river, was a quadrangular tank, and beyond this a redoubt and a
mound of earth. The river there makes a loop somewhat like a horseshoe
in shape, and in the neck of land between the curves of the stream the
Nawab had placed his intrenched camp.
His army numbered nearly 70,000 men, of whom 50,000 were infantry, armed
with matchlocks, bows and arrows, pikes and swords. He had in all
fifty-three guns, mounted on platforms drawn by elephants and oxen. The
most efficient part of his artillery was commanded by Monsieur Sinfray,
who had under him some fifty Frenchmen from Chandernagore. The Nawab's
vanguard consisted of 15,000 men under his most trusty lieutenants,
including Manik Chand and Mir Madan. Rai Durlabh, the captor of
Cossimbazar, and two other officers commanded separate divisions.
Dawn had hardly broken on June 23, King George's birthday, when Mir
Madan, with a body of picked troops, 7,000 foot, 5,000 horse, and
Sinfray's artillery, moved out to the attack with great clamour of
trumpets and drums. The remainder of the Nawab's army formed a wide arc
about the north and east of the English position. Nearest to the grove
was Mir Jafar's detachment. The English were arranged in four
divisions, under Majors Killpatrick, Grant, and Coote, and Captain
Gaupp. These had taken position in front of the embankment, the guns on
the left, the Europeans in the centre, the sepoys on the right.
Sinfray's gunners occupied an eminence near the tank, about two hundred
yards in advance of the grove, and made such good play that Clive,
directing operations from the Nawab's hunting-box, deemed it prudent to
withdraw his men into the grove, where they were sheltered from the
enemy's fire. The Nawab's troops hailed this movement with loud shouts,
of exultation, and, throwing their guns forward, opened a still more
vigorous cannonade, which, however, did little damage.
If Mir Madan had had the courage and dash to order a combined assault,
there is very little doubt that he must have overwhelmed Clive's army by
sheer weight of numbers. But he let the opportunity slip. Meanwhile
Clive had sent forward his two howitzers and two large guns to check
Sinfray's fire.
Midday came, and save for the cannonading no fighting had taken place.
Clive left the hunting-box, called his officers together, and gave
orders that they were to hold their positions during the rest of the day
and prepare to storm the Nawab's camp at midnight. He was still talking
to them when a heavy shower descended, the rain falling in torrents for
an hour. Wet through, Clive hastened to the hunting-lodge to change his
clothes. Scarcely had he departed when the enemy's fire slackened.
Their ammunition, having been left exposed, had been rendered almost
entirely useless by the rain. Fancying that the English gunners had
been equally careless, Mir Madan ordered his horse to charge; but the
Englishmen had kept their powder dry, and received the cavalry with a
deadly fire that sent them headlong back. At this moment Mir Madan
himself was killed by a cannon-ball, and his followers, dismayed at his
loss, began a precipitate retreat to their entrenchments.
Clive was still absent. The sight of the enemy retreating was too much
for Major Killpatrick. Forgetting the order to maintain his position,
he thought the moment opportune for a general advance. He turned to
Desmond, who had remained at his side all the morning, and said:
"Burke, run off to Mr. Clive, and tell him the Moors are retreating, and
I am following up."
Desmond hurried away, and reached the hunting-box just as Clive had
completed his change of clothes. He delivered his message. Then for
the first time he saw Clive's temper at full blaze. With a passionate
imprecation he rushed from the lodge, and came upon the gallant major
just as he was about to lead his men to the assault.
"What the deuce do you mean, sir, by disobeying my orders? Take your
men back to the grove, and be quick about it."
His tone stung like a whip. But Killpatrick had the courage of his
opinions, and Desmond admired the frank manner in which he replied.
"I beg a thousand pardons, Mr. Clive, for my breach of orders, but I
thought 'twas what you yourself, sir, would have done had you been on
the spot. If we can drive the Frenchmen from that eminence yonder, we
command the field, sir, and----"
"You're right, sir," said Clive, his rage subsiding as easily as it had
arisen. "You're too far forward to retire now. I'll lead your
companies. Bring up the rest of the men from the grove."
Placing himself at the head of two companies of grenadiers he continued
the advance. Sinfray did not wait the assault. He hastily evacuated
his position, retiring on the redoubt near the Nawab's entrenchments.
It was apparent to Clive that the main body of the enemy was by this
time much demoralized, and he was eager to make a vigorous attack upon
them while in this state. But two circumstances gave him pause. To
advance upon the entrenchments would bring him under a cross fire from
the redoubt, and he had sufficient respect for the Frenchmen to hesitate
to risk losses among his small body of men. Further, the movements of
the enemy's detachments on his right caused him some uneasiness. He
suspected that they were the troops of Mir Jafar and Rai Durlabh, but he
had no certain information on that point, nor had he received a message
from them. He knew that Mir Jafar was untrustworthy, therefore he was
unwilling to risk a general assault until assured that the troops on his
flank were not hostile to him. The doubt was suddenly resolved when he
saw them check their movement, retire, and draw apart from the remainder
of the Nawab's army. Giving the word at once to advance, he led his men
to storm the redoubt and the mound on its right. For a short time
Sinfray and his gallant Frenchmen showed a bold front; but the vigorous
onslaught of the English struck fear into the hearts of his native
allies; the news that the Nawab had decamped completed their panic, and
then began a wild and disorderly flight: horsemen galloping from the
field; infantry scampering this way and that; elephants trumpeting;
camels screaming, as they charged through the rabble. With British
cheers and native yells Clive's men poured into the Nawab's camp, some
dashing on in pursuit of the enemy, others delaying to plunder the
baggage and stores, of which immense quantities lay open to their hand.
By half-past five on that memorable 23rd of June the battle was
over--the battle that gave Britain immediately the wealthiest province
of India and, indirectly, the mastery of the whole of that vast Empire.
The loss to the British was only twenty-three killed and fifty wounded.
Clive rested for a while in Siraj-uddaula's tent, where he found on his
inkstand a list of thirteen courtiers whom, even in that moment of dire
extremity, the tyrant had condemned to death. From a prisoner it was
learnt that the Nawab had escaped on a camel with two thousand horsemen,
fleeing towards Murshidabad. All day he had been in a state of terror
and agitation. Deprived of his bravest officer, Mir Madan; betrayed by
his own relatives; the wretched youth had not waited for the critical
moment. Himself carried to his capital the news of his defeat.
Orders were given to push on that night to Daudpur, six miles north of
Plassey. But some little time was occupied by Clive's commissariat in
replacing their exhausted bullocks with teams captured in the Nawab's
camp. Meanwhile Clive sent Eyre Coote forward with a small detachment
to keep the enemy on the run. Among those who accompanied him was
Desmond, with Bulger and Mr. Toley. Desmond hoped that he would
overtake and capture Monsieur Sinfray, from whom he thought it likely he
might wrest information about Mrs. Merriman and her daughter. Diggle
had made use of Sinfray's house; it was not improbable that the
Frenchman knew something about the ladies. As for the seamen, they were
so much disgusted at the tameness of the enemy's resistance that they
were eager for anything that promised activity and adventure. Their
eagerness was no whit diminished when Desmond mentioned what he had in
his mind.
"By thunder, sir," said Bulger, "give me the chanst, and I'll larn the
mounseer the why and wherefore of it. And as for Diggle--well, I maybe
wrong, but I'll lay my share o' the prize money out o' the _Good Intent_
that he's hatchin' mischief, and not far off neither. Show a leg,
mateys."
CHAPTER THE THIRTIETH
*In which Coja Solomon reappears; and gives our hero valuable
information.*
Before Major Coote reached Daudpur he was overtaken by a horseman
bearing a message from Clive.
"A job for you, Burke," said the major, after reading the note. "Mr.
Clive is annoyed at the Nawab's escape, and thinks he may give us
trouble yet if he can join hands with Law and his Frenchmen. I am to
send you ahead to reconnoitre. You've been to Murshidabad, I think?"
"No, only to Cossimbazar; but that is not far off."
"Well, you know best part of the road, at any rate. The colonel wants
you to go with a small party to Murshidabad and find out whether the
Frenchmen have come within reach. You'll have to go on foot; take care
you don't get into trouble. Pick your own men, of course. You must have
a rest first."
"Two or three hours will be enough for me. If we start soon, we shall
reach Murshidabad before dawn, and with little risk. I'm to come back
and report, sir?"
"Of course. No doubt you will meet us on the way."
On reaching Daudpur Desmond selected twenty sepoys who knew the country,
and ordered them to be ready to start with him at midnight. Bulger and
Mr. Toley he had already informed of his mission, and he found them more
than eager to share in it. Just after midnight the little party set
out. A march of some four hours brought them to the outskirts of
Murshidabad. Desmond called a halt, encamped for the remainder of the
night in a grove of palmyras, and at dawn sent forward one of the
sepoys, disguised as a ryot, to make inquiries as to what was happening
in the town.
It was near midday when the man returned. He reported that the Nawab
had gone to his palace, while the chiefs who had accompanied or followed
him from the field of battle had shown their recognition that his cause
was lost by deserting him and going to their own houses. He had heard
nothing of the French. The Nawab, in order to ingratiate himself with
the people, had thrown open his Treasury, from which all and sundry were
carrying off what they pleased. The city was in such a disturbed state
that it would be exceedingly unsafe for any stranger to enter.
Desmond decided to remain where he was until nightfall, and then to
skirt the city and move northwards, in the hope of learning something
definite of the movements of the French. Meanwhile he sent the man back
to learn if anything happened during the day.
In the evening the man returned again. This time he reported that Mir
Jafar had arrived with a large force and taken possession of the Nawab's
palace of Mansurganj. Immediately after the traitor's arrival
Siraj-uddaula had collected all the gold and jewels on which he could
lay hands and fled with his women. Suspecting that the luckless Nawab
was making for Rajmahal in the hope of meeting Law there, Desmond made
up his mind to follow. He struck his camp, marched all night, and soon
after daybreak reached a village near the river some miles south of
Rajmahal.
He was surprised to find the village deserted. But passing a small
house, he heard cries of distress, and going in he found the place full
of smoke from some straw that had been kindled, and a man tied by his
thumbs to a staple in the wall. He recognized the man in a moment. It
was Coja Solomon, Mr. Merriman's rascally agent of Cossimbazar. He was
half dead with pain and fright. Desmond cut him loose and hurried him
out of the stifling room into the open, where Bulger revived him with
copious douches of water until he was sufficiently recovered to explain
his unhappy plight.
"God be praised!" exclaimed the Armenian fervently. "You were in time,
sir. I was seeking safety. The Faujdar of Murshidabad villainously
ill-used me. He owes me much, but there is no gratitude in him. I saw
that neither my life nor my goods were safe, so I packed up what
valuables I could and left with my servants, intending to go to Patna,
where I have a house. I had just reached this village when I saw a band
of some fifty horsemen approaching from the other end, and fearing that
I might be set upon and plundered, I hastily concealed my goods at the
edge of the tank hard by. Alas! it availed me nothing. My servants
were dispersed, and the risaldar of the horsemen, a European, seized me
and thrust me into this house, abandoned like all the rest, for the
people fled before his approach, fearing he would burn and destroy. Then
I was tied up as you saw, until I confessed where my valuables were
hidden: one of my servants must have betrayed me. The risaldar promised
to release me as soon as I should confess; but instead of that he set
fire to the straw out of pure villainy, for what could I do to him? I
have been a good friend to the English. Sir, pursue that man: he must
be a Frenchman. I will give you a quarter, nay, a third of my goods, if
you recover them."
"That is impossible, Khwaja. I've only twenty men on foot: what is the
use of pursuing fifty on horseback? Your friendship for the British has
come, I fear, a little too late."
The Armenian wrung his hands in despair, whining that he was a ruined
man. Then his tone changed; was there not still a chance? He explained
that, some hours before his capture, he had met a man who recognized him
as the agent of Mr. Merriman. The man said that he was a servant of
Surendra Nath Chuckerbutti, and was on his way to meet Clive Sahib,
carrying a letter to him from his master. But he was worn out, having
come many miles through the heat without rest. Coja Solomon
unblushingly confessed that, while the man slept at midday, he had taken
the letter from him and read it.
"Why did you do that?"
"I thought it would be safer with me, for every one knows----"
"Yes, that'll do, Khwaja; go on with your story."
"The letter was written at Manda, a village on the other side of the
river, and the writer, Surendra Nath, informed Mr. Clive that the wife
and daughter of Mr. Merriman were in his house there, and asked him to
send a party to bring them away. Naturally, sir, I was pleased to
find----"
"Go on with your story," cried Desmond impatiently, all excitement at
coming upon the track of the ladies at last.
"It was while I was reading the letter that the horsemen came up. The
risaldar took it from me, read it, and questioned me. His face changed;
he smiled evilly, and from the questions he asked me, and from what I
heard him say to his followers, he has gone to Manda, with a design to
take these ladies."
"Stay, Khwaja; what was he like?"
"He was a tall man, with scars on his face, and on his right hand he
wore a black glove."
"The scoundrel!" exclaimed Desmond. His look of trouble and anxiety did
not escape the Armenian.
"It is but a little since he left me," he said. "If you make your way
to the village--it is three coss on the other side of the river--you may
capture him, sir, as well as regain my property, a third of which is
yours."
"But how--how, man?" cried Desmond impatiently. "How can we overtake him
on foot?"
"He will have to ride near to Rajmahal to find a ford, sir. He will
cross there, and ride back down the river some five coss before he comes
to Manda."
"But could he not swim the river?"
"He could, sir, but it is a feat he is not likely to attempt, seeing
that there is no need for haste. I implore you, sir, start at once.
Otherwise I am a ruined man; my old age will be spent in poverty and
distress."
"If he cannot cross, how can I?" said Desmond.
"There is sure to be a boat on the bank, sir, unless they have all been
seized by the Nawab, who, rumour says, is coming from Bhagwangola by
river to Rajmahal."
Desmond felt uneasy and perplexed. He doubted whether his duty to Clive
did not forbid him to go in search of the ladies, and there was no
possibility of communicating in time with either Clive or Coote. Then
it suddenly occurred to him that pursuit of Diggle might well come
within his duty. Diggle was in the service of the Nawab; it was
possible that he was even leading an advance guard of Law's Frenchmen.
"Were there any other Europeans besides the risaldar among the
horsemen?" he asked.
"Two, sahib, and they were French. I suspect they were from the force
of Law Sahib; he was, I know, at Patna a few days ago."
Desmond hesitated no longer. His affection for Mr. Merriman prompted an
attempt to save the ladies: his mission from Clive was to discover the
movements of the French. If he set off on Diggle's track he might
succeed in both. It was a risky adventure--to pursue fifty men under
such a leader as Diggle, with only a score. But twice before he had
tried conclusions with Diggle and come off best: why should fortune fail
him the third time?
Hurriedly explaining the situation to Mr. Toley and Bulger, he hastened
with his men down to the river. There was no boat at the village ghat.
He looked anxiously up and down. On the opposite side he saw a long
river-boat moored in a narrow backwater. He could only get it by
swimming, and here the current ran so swiftly that to swim would be
dangerous. Yet, on the spur of the moment, he was preparing to take to
the water himself when one of his men, a slim and active sepoy,
volunteered to go.
"Good! I will give you ten rupees if you bring the boat across. You
are a good swimmer?"
"The sahib will see," replied the man, with a salaam and a smile.
He took a kedgeree pot, an earthen vessel used for cooking, and firmly
tied to it a stout bamboo some six feet long, so that the thicker end of
the pole was even with the mouth of the vessel. The boat was slightly
down the stream. The man ran a little way up stream to a point where a
spit of land jutted out into the river, his companions following quickly
with the pot. This they placed mouth downwards in the water. Then the
sepoy mounted on top, launched himself on this novel buoy, and, holding
on to the pole, floated breast high in the water down with the current,
dexterously steering himself with his legs to the point where the boat
was moored. He clambered into it, and with rapid movements of the stern
oar brought it to the other side, receiving with beaming face the
promised reward.
While this was going on the sky had been darkening. A north-wester was
coming up, and after his experience on the eve of Plassey, Desmond knew
what that meant. He hastily embarked his men, and the boat started; but
it had scarcely covered a third of the distance across the river when
the wind struck it. Fortunately the sail was not up: as it was, the
flat-bottomed boat was nearly swamped. Drenching rain began to fall.
The river was lashed to fury: for three crowded minutes it seemed to
Desmond a miracle that the boat was still afloat. The waves dashed over
its sides; the men, blinded by the rain, were too much cowed to attempt
to bale out. Desmond was at the helm; Bulger and Toley had an oar each;
although only a few yards distant, Desmond could scarcely see them
through the pelting rain. Then the wind moderated somewhat: he
peremptorily ordered the men to use their brass lotis[#] to bale out the
boat, and determined to turn the storm to account.
[#] Drinking vessels.
With great difficulty he got the sail hoisted, and their the vessel ran
down the river at racing speed. The distance to Manda, as the Armenian
had told him, was six miles--four by river, two by land. By Diggle's
route it was ten miles. The horsemen had had such a start of him that
he feared he could not overtake them in time. Still the storm that now
helped him would hinder them. If he survived the perils of the river
passage, he might even yet succeed. He was alive to the risks he ran.
More than once, as the wind changed a point, it seemed that the cranky
craft must turn turtle. But she escaped again and again, plunging on
her headlong course. The sepoys were sturdy enough fellows, but being
unused to the water they cowered in the bottom of the boat, except when
Desmond's stern command set them frantically baling. Almost before it
seemed possible they came in sight of a bend in the river, which one of
the men, who knew the district, had described to Desmond as the nearest
point to the village he sought. So rapid had the passage been that
Desmond felt that, if they could only land in safety, they might have
gained considerably on Diggle's horsemen. The latter must have felt the
full effect of the gale: it was likely that for a time they had taken
shelter. Desmond and his men were wet to the skin, but, profiting by
the recollection of what had happened at Plassey, they had kept their
ammunition dry.