as wide at this point during the rainy season as at other periods.
Without hesitation Desmond ran the nose of the boat straight at the
beach: she came to with a violent bump; the men tumbled out waist-deep
into the water, and with shrill cries of relief scrambled ashore.
No time was lost. Waiting only to inspect their muskets, Desmond at
once began the march, the band being led by the man who knew the
country. Another man, a noted runner, formerly a kasid in the
employment of the Nawab of the Dekkan, was sent in advance to find
Surendra Nath's house, give him warning of Desmond's coming, and
instruct him to have some one on the look-out for the approach of the
enemy, if Diggle was not indeed already in possession of the village.
The rest pushed on with all speed. The storm had cleared the air: the
rain had ceased; and though it was unpleasant walking over the soppy
ground, the march was much cooler than it had been earlier in the day.
Desmond longed for a hill from which to get a view of the country; but,
as almost everywhere in the valley of the Ganges, it was dead flat. The
party was within a quarter-mile of the village when the kasid came
running back. He had found the Babu's house. From its flat roof a body
of horse had been seen in the distance, nearly a coss away. Desmond at
once ordered his men to double, and as they dashed into the village
among the wondering people the kasid pointed out Surendra Nath's house
at the far end--a small two-storied building, surrounded by a wall and
approached through a rickety iron gateway. It was the first house to
which the approaching horsemen would come.
A man in native dress was standing at the gate. At first Desmond did
not recognize him, but as he drew nearer he saw that it was Surendra
Nath himself, looking years older--weak, thin, sunken-eyed, little like
the sleek well-fed Babu Desmond had last seen in Calcutta.
"Are the ladies safe?" asked Desmond, yards ahead of his men.
"Yes, sir, quite safe," replied Surendra Nath, trembling.
"Thank God for that! Go in, Babu; tell them we are here to protect
them."
While speaking he had eagerly scanned the surroundings. On each side of
the sodden track that did duty for a road there was a mango grove.
Desmond directed Toley to take four men to one side, and Bulger four men
to the other, and place themselves among the trees. When the first
three files of the horsemen should have passed through, the seamen were
to give the word to fire; then, taking advantage of the inevitable
confusion, to rush with their men to the house. Desmond himself
meanwhile, with the remaining twelve, set to work to strengthen the
defences. These proceedings were watched with amazement by the
villagers, who, men, women, and children, stood in groups, discussing in
shrill tones the movements of these energetic strangers.
There was a small veranda to the house. This was wrenched away by main
force. The posts and other parts of the woodwork were carried to the
gateway and piled up as rapidly as possible to form a rough barricade.
Scarcely was this task half accomplished when the clanking of weapons
was heard in the distance, soon accompanied by the swashing of horses'
hoofs on the drenched soil. Desmond coolly ordered his men to proceed
with the work. A minute later there was a sharp discharge of musketry,
followed by cries, shouts, and the sound of galloping horses. The
villagers scuttled away shrieking. Immediately afterwards Bulger and
Toley with their eight men sprang from cover and made a dash for the
wall.
"Muskets first!" shouted Desmond.
The muskets were pitched over: then the men scrambled up, Desmond and
his sepoys assisting them to get across. Almost the first to drop down
into the compound was Bulger, whose hook had proved, not for the first
time, of more service than a sound left arm. Once over himself, he used
his hook to haul the sepoys after him, with many a vigorous "Yo heave
ho!"
"All aboard, sir," he cried, when the last of the men was within the
wall. "I may be wrong, but I lay my button-hook 'tis now all hands to
repel boarders; and only two cutlasses among us--mine and Mr. Toley's.
Howsomdever, notwithstandin', and which is all the same!"
Desmond ordered four of his men to post themselves at the barricaded
gateway: the rest he divided into two parties, and stationed behind the
wall at each side. The wall was six feet high--too high to fire
over--but as it was in a somewhat dilapidated condition there was no
difficulty in knocking away several loose bricks at intervals, so as to
make a rough-and-ready battlement. Desmond instructed the men to fire
alternately through the embrasures thus made. As soon as one had fired
he was to fall back and reload as fast as possible while another man
took his place. By this device, Desmond hoped to deceive the enemy for
a time as to the numbers of the defenders in the compound.
But it was not to be expected that the enemy could long be kept out, and
in the last resort it would be necessary to retreat to the house. In
view of the presence of the ladies this was a step to be avoided if
possible. It might indeed be the wiser course to surrender for their
sakes. As the thought struck Desmond he called to the Babu, who was
keeping watch on the roof.
"Babu," he said, "ask the ladies to occupy the least-exposed room. Tell
them that if the enemy get over the wall I will try to make an
arrangement with them, rather than provoke an attack on the house."
The Babu disappeared. But a few moments later Phyllis Merriman, wearing
the costume of a native lady came running out.
"Mother bids me say, Mr. Burke," she said, "on no account let such
considerations weigh with you. She says fight to the last. We will
risk anything rather than go back to captivity. You will beat them, Mr.
Burke, won't you?"
"I will do my best, Miss Merriman," replied Desmond. "But pray go back;
they may be here at any moment. I need not say how glad I am to find
you well. Pray tell Mrs. Merriman that we will all do our best for her
and you."
"I know you will. And my father?"
"He is distressed, of course, but clings to hope. Do, Miss Merriman,
retire at once. I see the enemy coming from the grove."
"Phyllis! Phyllis!" cried Mrs. Merriman from the house; "come in at
once! Mr. Burke, send her in. Have no mercy on the wretches, I implore
you."
The girl walked back reluctantly. Unknown to Desmond, she went no
further than the doorway, where, just hidden from sight, she watched all
that followed.
The enemy had clearly been nonplussed by their sudden check. There were
no British troops, so far as they knew, for many miles round, and
concerted resistance from the natives was unlikely. But they were now
emerging from the mango grove, a hundred yards away. They came on foot,
leaving their horses out of musket range. Desmond's heart sank as he
counted them. There were even more than he had supposed. They numbered
fifty-four, and several had no doubt been left in charge of the horses.
Still he felt that he had two advantages. The first was his position
behind a wall; the second, the fact that the enemy, unless they had
obtained information from the villagers, could not know what force they
had to deal with. Their ignorance of course must be only temporary; if
one of them should succeed in mounting the wall the weakness of the
defence must immediately be seen.
As the enemy, tall men in the costume of native cavalry, assembled by
twos and threes at the edge of the grove Desmond noticed three Europeans
leave the main body and advance some way into the open. It was with a
flush of indignation and a fierce resolve to bring him at last to book
that Desmond recognized one of them as Diggle. With his companions he
walked at a safe distance completely round the building. For some time
they halted at the back, carefully scanning the position. Here the wall
approached the house much more closely than in the front, and no one
could mount it without being fully exposed to fire from the upper
windows. After his examination, Diggle returned with the two men, whom
from their appearance Desmond judged to be Frenchmen, to the main body,
and sent off half a dozen men towards the other end of the village.
While they were gone one of the Frenchmen seemed to Desmond to be
expostulating with Diggle; but the latter only laughed and waved his
gloved hand in the direction of the house.
The messengers soon returned, dragging with them three of the villagers.
These Diggle took aside separately and questioned: it was clear to
Desmond that he was ascertaining the strength of the garrison.
Apparently satisfied, he divided his force into three parts; the
largest, consisting of some forty men, remained at the edge of the
grove; the two smaller proceeded to the right and left of the back of
the house. One was in command of a Frenchman, but the Frenchman who had
expostulated with Diggle had apparently refused to have anything to do
with the affair: he held himself aloof, and by and by disappeared into
the grove. Diggle's evident intention was to weaken the garrison by
forcing Desmond to divide his already too small force. He had to detach
eight of his men--three to the windows and five to the wall; leaving
only fourteen, including Bulger and Toley, to meet the rush in front.
It was not long in coming. Diggle did not wait to parley. Taking a
musket from one of his men he raised it to his shoulder and fired at a
sepoy whose head just showed above the gate. The man raised his hand to
his brow and fell back with a sharp cry--a bullet had ploughed a furrow
through his scalp. Desmond checked his men as they were about to fire
in reply; but when, in the rush that followed, the enemy came within
thirty yards, he gave the word, and seven muskets flashed forth across
the barricade. The attacking party were coming forward in close order,
and five of the men fell. But the rest sprang forward with shrill
yells, Diggle, who was untouched, urging them on. Even the fire of
Desmond's second rank failed to check them. Two or three dropped;
others were soon swarming up the wall, and though the defenders with
clubbed muskets struck savagely at their heads and hands as they
appeared above the coping, if one drew back, another took his place; and
the wall was so long that at several points there were gaps between
Desmond's sepoys where the enemy could mount unmolested.
Desmond, having discharged his two pistols, disposing of one of the
assailants with each shot, was in the act of reloading when Diggle leapt
into the compound, followed by two of his men. Shouting to Bulger,
Desmond threw the pistols and rammer on the ground behind him, and,
drawing his sword, dashed at the three intruders, who were slightly
winded by the charge and their exertions in scaling the wall.
Desmond could never afterwards remember the details of the crowded
moments that followed. There were cries all around him: behind, the
strident voice of Mr. Toley was cheering his men to repel the assault at
the back of the house; at his side Bulger was bellowing like a bull of
Bashan. But all this was confused noise to him, for his attention was
wholly occupied with his old enemy. His first lunge at Diggle was
neatly parried, and the two, oblivious of all that was happening around
them, looked and into each other's eyes, read grim determination there,
and fought with a cold fury that meant death to the first that gave an
opening to his opponent's sword.
If motive counted, if the right cause could always win, the issue
admitted of no doubt. Desmond had a heavy score to pay off. From the
time when he had met Diggle in the street at Market Drayton to his last
encounter with him at the Battle of the Carts, he had been the mark of
his enmity, malice, spite, trickery. But Desmond thought less of his
own wrongs than of the sorrow of his friend Mr. Merriman, and the
harrowing wretchedness which must have been the lot of the ladies while
they were in Diggle's power. The man had brought misery into so many
lives that it would be a good deed if, in the fortune of war, Desmond's
sword could rid the world of him.
And Diggle, on his side, was nerved by the power of hate. Baseless as
were his suspicions of Desmond's friendship with Sir Willoughby Stokes,
he felt that this boy was an obstacle. Ever since their paths had
crossed he had been conscious that he had to do with a finer, nobler
nature than his own; and Desmond's courage and skill had again and again
frustrated him. As he faced him now, it was with the feeling that, if
this boy were killed, a most dangerous barrier to the realisation of his
nefarious schemes would be removed. Thus, on either side, it was war to
the death. What Desmond lacked in skill and experience he made up for
by youth and strength. The two combatants were thus equally matched: a
grain in the scale might decide the issue. But the longer the fight
lasted the better were Desmond's chances. He had youth in his favour.
Thanks in large measure to Diggle himself, Desmond had led a hard life:
his muscles were like iron. The older man by and by began to flag: more
than once his guard was nearly beaten down: nothing but his great skill
in swordsmanship and the coolness that never deserted him saved him from
the sharp edge of Desmond's blade.
But when he seemed almost at the end of his strength, fortune suddenly
befriended him. Bulger, with his clubbed musket and terrible iron hook,
had disposed of the two men who leapt with Diggle into the compound; but
there were others behind them: three men dropped to the ground close by,
and, making a simultaneous rush, bore Bulger back against Desmond,
hampering his sword arm. One of Desmond's sepoys sprang to the rescue,
but he was too late to stem the tide. A blow from a musket stock
disabled Bulger's right arm; he lost his footing. As he fell, his hook,
still active, caught Diggle's leg and brought him to the ground, just
as, taking advantage of the diversion, he was making exultantly what he
intended for a final lunge at Desmond. He fell headlong, rolling over
Bulger, who was already on the ground.
How the end came Desmond did not clearly see. He knew that he was beset
by three of Diggle's men, and, falling back before them, he heard the
voice of Phyllis Merriman close by, and felt a pistol thrust into his
hand. She had slipped out of the doorway, picked up the weapons as they
lay where Desmond had flung them, completed the loading, and advanced
fearlessly into the thick of the fray. At one and the same moment
Desmond fired upon his enemies and implored the brave girl to go back.
Then suddenly there was a lull in the uproar. Bulger was upon his feet,
Diggle's men paused in their fighting and gazed in consternation at
their prostrate leader. It seemed but a moment; then every man of them
was scrambling pell-mell over the wall, yelling as the stocks of the
sepoys' muskets sped them on their flight.
"What is it?" asked Desmond.
Bulger pointed to the form of Diggle, lying huddled among the fallen.
"He've gone to his account, sir, which I may be wrong, but the Almighty
have got a long black score agen him."
"How did it happen?"
Bulger lifted his hook.
"'Twas that there Diggle as was the why and wherefore o' this little
ornament, sir, and 'twas only right he should be paid for what he done.
We fell down, him and me; I was under. He hoisted himself on his hands
to get free, and I lifted my hook, sir, and caught him a blow under the
chin. If it didn't break his neck, sir, my name en't Bill Bulger, which
I'm sorry for his poor wicked soul all the same."
Phyllis had her hands clasped about Desmond's arm.
"Is he dead?" she asked in a voice of awe.
"Come away," said Desmond quietly, leading her towards the house. "Let
us find your mother."
CHAPTER THE THIRTY-FIRST
*In which friends meet, and part; and our hero hints a proposal.*
The fight was over. It was Diggle's quarrel; neither the Frenchmen nor
the natives had any concern in it, and when their leader was dead they
had no more interest in continuing the struggle. They drew off; the
weary defenders collected the dead and attended to the wounded; and
Desmond went into the house.
"God bless you, Mr. Burke!" said Mrs. Merriman, tears streaming from her
eyes as she met him and clasped his hands. "You are not hurt?"
"Just a scratch or two, ma'am; nothing to trouble about."
But the ladies insisted on bathing the two slight wounds on head and arm
which in the heat of the fight he had not noticed. And then Mrs.
Merriman told him all that had happened since the day he left them in
such merry spirits at Khulna. How they had been trapped by Diggle,
pretending to be a Monsieur de Bonnefon: how he had conveyed them to the
house of his friend Sinfray: how after many months their whereabouts had
been revealed to Surendra Nath by one of his numerous relatives, a man
who had a distant cousin among Sinfray's servants: how the Babu,
displaying unwonted energy, had come with a number of friends and fallen
unawares upon their captors, afterwards taking them to a house of his
father's in this village: how the old man and his son had both been
stricken with jungle fever and the father died, and when the Babu lay
helpless and unconscious on his sick bed they had found no means of
communicating with their friends. Mrs. Merriman shuddered as she spoke
of the terrors of their captivity. They had been well treated, indeed;
Monsieur de Bonnefon, or Diggle, as she afterwards learned to call him,
had visited them several times and seen that their wants were supplied.
But their enforced seclusion and inactivity, their dread of the unknown,
their uncertainty as to what might have befallen Mr. Merriman, had told
heavily upon their health and spirits. Rumour brought news of the
tragedy of the Black Hole: they heard that the few survivors were
prisoners of the Nawab, and they feared the worst. From Surendra Nath
they learnt that they need not despair; and since then they had lived on
in the hope that when the Babu had recovered from his illness, he would
find some means of restoring them to the husband and father from whom
they had so long been parted.
"Surendra Nath has a heart of gold, Mr. Burke," said Mrs. Merriman in
concluding her story. "Poor man! he has been very ill. We must do
something to show our gratitude for his devotion when we get back to
Calcutta."
Desmond then in his turn told them all that had happened since their
disappearance. When they learnt of the result of the battle of Plassey
and that Clive was marching towards Murshidabad, they were eager to set
off at once.
"Yes, ma'am," said Desmond, "we will start as soon as we can. I will
leave you to make your preparations. It may not be possible to start
before night, the country being so disturbed, so that if you can sleep
through the day you will be fitter for the journey."
He left them, and going into the compound found Bulger and Toley looking
with curiosity at the body of Diggle.
"Hi, sir!" said Bulger as Desmond came up to them; "this here bit o'
velvet is explained at last. Mr. Toley he slit it with his cutlass,
sir, and never did I see a man so down in the mouth when he knowed what
was under it. Ten't nothing at all, sir; just three letters; and what
for he went and burnt them three letters into the back of his hand
'twould beat a Daniel to explain. 'Fur,' sir, that's what they spells;
but whether 'tis rabbit-skin or fox I can't say, though 'tis most likely
fox, knowin' the man."
Desmond stooped and looked at the unclad right hand. The letters FUR
were branded livid below the knuckles.
"He was always quoting Latin, Bulger," he said. "Fur is a Latin word:
it means 'thief'."
"Which I might have knowed it, sir, only I think as how the man what did
the stampin' might have done it in plain English. I don't hold with
these foreign lingos, sir; there allers seems something sly and
deceivin' about 'em. No right man 'ud ever think 'fur' meant 'thief'!
Thief an' all, sir, he's dead. Mr. Toley and me 'll put him away decent
like: and it won't do him no harm if we just says 'Our Father' over the
grave."
Desmond was turning away when three of his men came into the compound,
two grasping a Frenchman by the arms, the third a black boy. The former
Desmond recognized as the man whom he had seen expostulating with
Diggle; the latter was Scipio Africanus, looking scared and miserable.
The men explained that, pursuing the fugitives, they had captured their
prisoners in the grove. The Frenchman at once addressed Desmond in
broken English. He said that he had tried in vain to dissuade Diggle
from his attempt to capture the ladies. The party had been sent by
Monsieur Law to announce his coming. He was advancing from Patna with a
considerable body of French troops designed for the support of the
Nawab. As he was speaking the Frenchman caught sight of Diggle's exposed
hand. He started, with an exclamation of surprise. Then in answer to
Desmond's question he revealed the secret that had so long perplexed
him.
Seven years before, he said, in December, 1750, there was a brilliant
foreigner named Peloti among the officers of Major de la Touche, a young
soldier who had been singled out by Dupleix, the French Governor of
Pondicherry, as a military genius of the first order. Peloti was with
the French army when, less than 4,000 in number, it fell upon the vast
hordes of Nadir Jang near Gingi, and won the battle that set Muzaffar
Jang on the throne of the Dekkan and marked the zenith of Dupleix's
success. The new Nawab, in gratitude to the French for the services
rendered him, sent to Dupleix a present of a million rupees, and a
casket of jewels worth half as much again. This casket was given to
Peloti to deliver: he had abused his trust by abstracting the gem of the
collection, a beautiful diamond; and the theft being accidently
discovered, Dupleix in his rage ordered the thief to be branded on the
right hand with the word 'fur,' and drummed him out of the French
employment. For some years nothing more had been seen of Peloti; but he
had recently returned, and offered his services to Bussy, the French
commander in the Dekkan. He brought with him valuable information,
gained in London, of the East India Company's intentions; and this,
together with his evident knowledge of Clive's movements and of affairs
in Calcutta, had caused his former offence to be overlooked, and his
offer was accepted.
Desmond thanked the Frenchman for his information. "I am sorry to keep
you a prisoner, monsieur," he said; "but I must trouble you to return
with me to Murshidabad. I can promise you good treatment from Colonel
Clive."
The Frenchman smiled, shrugged, and exclaimed: "Eh bien! A la guerre
comme a la guerre!"
Remembering Coja Solomon, Desmond asked Toley to search Diggle's body
before burying it. But nothing was found, except a little money. The
Armenian's property had evidently been left under guard in the grove,
and was doubtless by this time far away, in the possession of one or
other of Diggle's runagate followers.
Desmond was collecting his party, preparatory to starting for
Murshidabad, when a native horseman rode into the village at full speed,
dismounted, and, humbly salaaming, announced that he had a message from
Law Sahib. It was clear that, seeing Europeans, he supposed them to be
Frenchmen. Desmond did not undeceive him. The man said that Law Sahib
had received news of Clive Sahib's victory at Plassey, and, seeing that
his promised assistance to the Nawab was too late, had at once retired
to Patna and wished Diggle Sahib to rejoin him there. Dismissing the
messenger, Desmond rejoiced that there was no reason now to delay his
departure; his mission for Clive was fulfilled.
At nightfall the party set off. Closed chairs had been provided for the
ladies, and these were carried in the midst, Bulger on one side, Toley
on the other, and Desmond behind. One person whom Desmond had expected
to take with him was absent: Scipio Africanus, on seeing the dead body
of his master, had uttered one heart-rending howl and fled. No attempt
was made to pursue him; and Desmond never saw him again. He reflected
that, villainous as Diggle had proved to be, he had at least been able
to win the affection of his servant.
On the way they met Coja Solomon, who, on learning of the disappearance
of his valuables, heaped abuse upon Desmond and went away wringing his
hands.