PRESENTING ONE OF THE WORLD’S TRAGEDIES.
(_The account contained in this chapter belongs to a letter written
some months later, but it is introduced here in order that the current
of the narrative may not be interrupted_.)
However long I may live, Amelia, I am assured I shall never find
weaken the remembrance of the period of three nights and two days
which began with the departure of the European women from the Fort.
All the events of my life before it seem pale and distant, and as for
those that have occurred since--why, my dear, they are so little real
in comparison that if I so much as close my eyes, without any design
of recalling the awful past, I find myself in it again. After this,
you need only to be told that I am sometimes thankful for even this
frightful relief from the realising the cruel situation in which I am
at present, to perceive your poor Sylvia’s sorrowful case. ’Tis in
part for this reason that I am forcing myself to set down in writing
the whole shocking history.
After the council of war held on the Friday evening, at which it was
determined to send the European women at once on board ship, there was
a continual diminishing of the garrison of the Fort. Outside the walls
our people were still holding Mr Eyre’s house on the north, Mr
Cruttenden’s and the church on the north-east, and the Company’s house
on the south, but this last post was evacuated before eight o’clock,
the defenders being too severely galled by the fire from the next
house, which was occupied by the enemy. The south side of the Fort was
thus left exposed to attack, for our guns (mounted on the roof of the
godowns which rendered the two bastions on this side useless) failed
altogether to do any damage to these _pucca_ houses, which we could
neither hold nor destroy. Since affairs began to look so black, such
of the garrison as held their lives more precious than their
reputation took advantage of the passing to and fro of the boats
conveying the ladies to slip off to the ships themselves. A monstrous
example was set by Mess. Manningham and Frankland, the third and
fourth in rank in the Council, and Mr Drake’s constant allies in the
work of governing, who, offering their services to attend the ladies
and see them safely on board, chose to remain in the Doddalay, of
which vessel they, with the President, were part owners, in spite of
all the urgent messages sent to bring ’em back. There followed them,
among other private persons, three lieutenants of the militia, and
worse still, one belonging to the army. It was Mr Bentinck, Amelia.
All this time the enemy were gathering their forces for an assault,
and approached the walls about midnight, intending to escalade ’em.
Inside the Fort a general alarm was beaten three times, but only such
of the garrison as were on duty responded to the call, the rest having
thrown themselves down in any corner, worn out with fatigue, or being
disgusted with the behaviour of their leaders and the want of
food,--for though there was plenty to be had, no one had chanced to
keep an eye on the Portuguese cooks, and they were run off. This great
beating of drums, however, alarmed the enemy so terribly that,
fancying the whole garrison, rendered fierce by despair, was gathered
in arms to oppose ’em, they withdrew from their attempt, contenting
themselves with shooting a few fire-arrows into the Fort, and now and
then sending off a cannon-shot.
While all this was passing, I sat watching beside the senseless form
of my dear papa, who never moved nor opened his eyes while the effect
of the salve with which the Indian had dressed his wounds lasted,
which was the whole night. I was not left altogether solitary, for one
gentleman after another was perpetually coming in to ask whether he
might be permitted to do anything for me, and this proof of the esteem
felt by all for Mr Freyne and their obliging kindness to myself
affected me very sensibly. Soon after eleven o’clock in came Captain
Colquhoun, whom I had not seen for some hours, and eyed me with great
sternness.
“You have no business here, madam,” says he.
“Indeed, sir, I think I have,” said I.
“I would I had known ten minutes ago where you was, madam. I promise
you I would have packed you off on board the Diligence, with Mrs Drake
and Mrs Mapletoft and the two other ladies that were left. Mr le
Beaume was there too, badly wounded, and you could have acted
nurse-keeper to him, if you’re so fond of the part.”
“There’s no question of fondness, sir. I’m but doing my duty.”
“What can you do for your papa that any of us can’t do, madam? If he
were in his senses, ’twould please him best to know that you was safe
on board the shipping, not thrusting yourself into danger here,” and
the good gentleman went away in a rage, to seek, I fancy, for some
means of getting me out of the factory, but there was no more boats
plied that night.
Mr Secretary Cooke was the next person that looked in, I think, to
tell me that a second council of war was about to be held (this was
after the enemy had desisted from their design of attacking us), and
some time later Mr Dash came to tell me that the council was broke up.
“But what was the decision arrived at, sir?” I asked him.
“None at all, madam. A cannon-shot passed through the
consultation-room, and no one waited for another.”
“But, sure, sir, something must have been resolved upon?”
“Indeed, madam, there never was so good-natured an assembly, for it
left every member to believe that his own proposals would be
followed.”
“But were there many different plans proposed, sir?”
“As many as there were members, madam, and that was any one that cared
to take part. Mr Holwell was all for an orderly retirement after
holding the place for one day more, in order that the Company’s papers
and treasure might be put safely on board the shipping, but Mr Baillie
opposed him. Others were for evacuating the Fort at once, and Captain
Colquhoun was for holding it as long as the walls stood, in the
expectation that the rains, which are now some days overdue, must
compel the Nabob to raise the siege before long.”
“That’s the Captain, indeed! And was he well seconded, sir?”
“But poorly, madam, since Captain Witherington, who has succeeded in
counting up his munitions now that there’s so little to count,
declares that our powder is only sufficient for two days more, or
three if it’s well husbanded. But as I said, what with every one
talking at once, and the absence of any sort of control, no one knows
what plan was decided upon or what rejected.”
I heard nothing more certain than this until the morning, when Mr
Hurstwood, who had returned punctually from the Doddalay the night
before, with his Charlotte’s full consent and approbation, came in and
told me that all the Portuguese women and children were to be embarked
at once, but whether this portended a general retirement or not, he
could not say. The duty of seeing these unfortunate persons put into
boats and despatched to the ships fell to Mr Baillie, who set to work
very early, with all the disinterested kindness and generous activity
imaginable. Our short season of peace was now over, for with the light
the firing upon us began more fiercely than ever. So wickedly
ingenious were the enemy that they had employed the hours of darkness
not only in filling up the ditches which we had dug across the Park
and other open grounds (and which had served them for ready-made
breastworks behind which to fire at us the day before), and bringing
their artillery over ’em, but in turning against us the abandoned guns
of our own Eastern Battery, which did us more damage than all their
own weapons. Not content with this, they had mounted cannons at the
gates of Mr Bellamy’s compound and the Play-house compound, which
commanded the church, as well as three at the corner of the Park, two
in the Loll Buzar beyond the Gaol, and two at a spot near the
Horse-stables, from all of which they rained their missiles upon us,
while _shamsingees_[12.01] and wall-pieces were fixed at every
corner, and _bercundauzes_[12.02] or matchlockmen were in readiness
to shoot at any person that appeared on our walls. Finding that the
enemy had not seized upon the Company’s house, which he had been
forced to abandon the night before, Ensign Piccard led out a party to
occupy it again, in the hope of at least diverting a portion of the
firing from the Fort; and the President, adventuring his person boldly
enough, made the tour of the ramparts, and finding it almost
impossible to hold them in their ruinous state, which every moment
became worse, ordered them to be strengthened with bags of cotton,
affording a very sufficient protection against bullets. Seeing his
honour and Mr Holwell, with Mr Hurstwood and Padra Mapletoft, busy in
front of the chamber where I sat in cutting open the bales and filling
the cotton into bags to carry it to the ramparts, I made bold to offer
them such help as I could in closing the bags, and we all worked hard
for some minutes, until a messenger came to call away Mr Drake, to
whom, just as he was departing, Mr Hurstwood cried out that he would
go on board the Doddalay again for five minutes to see his lady, and
return at once. Mr Holwell also going off, there was only the Rev. Mr
Mapletoft left, who came and looked in upon my papa, and said in a
dolorous voice that he had understood a retirement was decided upon,
and he wished some gentleman would be so wise as to begin it, which on
Captain Colquhoun hearing, who came up at the moment, he rebuked the
Padra very sharply for his dejected air, and bade him take pattern by
the excellent Mr Bellamy. I don’t know how the poor divine covered his
confusion, for on entering the chamber I found to my delight that my
papa’s eyes were open, though he was not looking at me, but at Captain
Colquhoun.
“Captain,” he said, very feebly, “we en’t going to leave the place to
those Moorish swine, as the parson said, are we?”
“Not while we have a charge of powder left with which to fight ’em,
sir.”
“I’m with you, Captain. But what’s my girl doing here? Where’s the
other women?”
“On board the shipping, sir, where Miss ought to be.”
“So she ought. Get her on board, sir, pray.”
“The first chance I have, sir; trust me.”
“Sir,” I said, following the Captain out of the chamber, “I would not
withstand you in my papa’s presence, for fear of disturbing him, but I
won’t go.”
“By Heaven, madam, but you shall, if I have to carry you down to the
Gott. There’s no women’s work before us here.”
And he hurried away, but could not immediately carry out his
intention, for there happened all at once a whole quantity of
disasters. Ensign Piccard’s party in the Company’s house, having been
attacked by the Moguls in overwhelming numbers, were forced to retreat
back to the Fort, every man of them being wounded, and their leader
very seriously so. As though this were not enough, almost at the same
moment the piquets that held the church and Mr Eyre’s and Mr
Cruttenden’s houses, whether on receipt of an order or on their own
motion I don’t know, also left their posts and came in, so that we
were now reduced to the Fort itself and the Gott which it commanded,
and which was defended on either side by a weak wall with a gate of
pallisadoes. The enemy, scattering themselves along the bank of the
river, began now to shoot fire-arrows into the shipping, and this so
terrified those on board the vessels that they were seen to be
weighing their anchors in preparation for dropping down the river. At
this dreadful sight the terror and confusion in the Fort became
extreme. Many of the boatmen detained at the wharf had made their
escape in the night with their craft, and Mr Baillie was met with the
utmost turmoil and difficulty in his humane task of embarking the
Portuguese Christians, a good number of whom were drowned in their
haste and terror, but the consternation was now spread to the
Europeans. The President was going hither and thither in an odd
hurried sort of style, giving orders for the defence of the wall that
connected the south-west bastion with the line of guns over the wharf,
but no one offered to obey him, for there was no one at hand to manage
the two field-pieces that were there. Presently a person came to
acquaint him that all the gunpowder left was so damp and spoiled as to
be useless, a piece of news that appeared to give him great concern,
as well it might, although it was afterwards proved not to be true. Mr
Drake went away to consult with his officers, and for some time we
heard nothing but the firing, until Captain Colquhoun came running,
and seizing my wrist, cried out to me to follow him at once.
“I won’t leave my papa here, sir,” I cried.
“If he’s moved he’ll die, madam.”
“Then I’ll stay and die with him, sir.”
“No, you won’t, miss,” cried my papa, in a voice of extraordinary
strength. “See,” and he plucked at his bandages, “if you don’t go I’ll
loosen these and bleed to death, and you’ll have the recollection that
you’re your father’s murderer.”
“If my papa will drive away his girl by such a cruel means--” I cried,
but Captain Colquhoun dragged me from the place, choking with sobs,
and hurried me towards the back gate of the Fort. The Gott and the
steps were crowded with people, all crying out that the enemy were
forcing the pallisadoes from the side of the Company’s house, but
there was only two boats in sight. One was already putting off, with
Captain Minchin and Mr Mackett in it, t’other was still at the steps,
and Mr Drake was in the act of stepping on board, Captain Grant and
one of the engineer officers following him. By the time we were
arrived at the head of the steps, this boat also had put off, the
President’s black footman, who had stood with his sword drawn guarding
it in readiness for his master’s escape, clambering in from the shore.
Captain Colquhoun pulled me down the steps.
“Gentlemen,” he cried, rushing into the water up to his knees, “wait a
moment! Put back and take the lady on board. Mr President! Captain
Grant! do you call yourselves men, sirs, and leave a woman to perish?
Think of your own wives and daughters, and of the fate to which you
are condemning Miss Freyne! May Heaven’s curse light upon you,” and he
went on to call down the most fearful imprecations, such as it made me
shudder to hear, for the rowers were rowing with all their might, and
none of the persons in the boat had made so much as a motion to put
back, nor even appeared to listen.
“We can do better than curse, Captain,” said one of the gentlemen
standing on the steps, who had his piece in his hand, and he levelled
it and fired. Several others followed his example, and the bullets
went skipping into the water round the boat, but none of ’em took
place, and these last and worst of our deserters arrived safely on
board of the Doddalay, which had by now dropped down as far as
Surmans. Many others, so we learned, were escaped before them, and
among these were Padra Mapletoft and Mr Dash. Mr Hurstwood, who had
not returned from the Doddalay, was carried off along with it, against
the good gentleman’s will, I can’t doubt.
Captain Colquhoun led the way back into the Fort, walking with hanging
head and his eyes cast down, and when all were inside, locked the west
gate, to prevent any further desertions. Another council of war was
hastily summoned, at which Mr Pearkes, the senior member of Council
remaining in the factory, yielded his right in favour of Mr Holwell,
who was welcomed without a dissenting voice as governor of the Fort
and commander-in-chief. This having been determined, Captain Colquhoun
remembered that he had been holding me fast by the wrist the entire
time, and led me back to my papa without a word.
“We were too late, sir,” he said, in a broken voice, when we entered
the chamber, and my poor father uttered a heart-rending groan.
“Unhappy girl!” he cried, looking sternly at me; “it had been better
you had died with your mother than lived to see this day.”
I could only sob, and my distress melted the Captain.
“Come, sir,” he said; “we’ll hope things en’t so bad. From all
quarters of the Fort they are hanging out signals to the ships to come
back to their stations and take us off, and ’tis unpossible that those
on board should be so flinty-hearted as to disregard us. Please
Heaven, we shall all be took off orderly to-night, as Mr Holwell
proposed at the council.”
“And if the Moors break in first,” says my papa, “why, you must do the
last kindness to my girl if my hand fail me. See that my pistols are
charged, and lay them here beside me, old friend. The dogs will give
warning enough of their approach when it’s time to use ’em. Stop
crying, miss, and come near and give me a kiss. You meant well, and it
en’t your fault that you’re a fool, staying here to make your father’s
end a miserable instead of a happy one.”
I entreated the dear gentleman’s forgiveness with tears, as I knelt on
the floor beside him, and my grief so wrought upon his tenderness that
he was moved to take a more cheerful view of our situation,
encouraging me with hopes that the ships would return with the
flood-tide, and take off the whole garrison. Presently there came in
the Gentoo, Omy Chund’s servant, whom we now knew to be the person
that had raised the alarm of the enemy’s breaking through the
south-west pallisado, which was proved to be false, though not before
it had frightened away Mr Drake and his friends; but asking the fellow
why he spread such a report, he answered that he had believed it to be
true. He brought with him a second small quantity of the salve, which
he said was all he had, and, having promised that by his master’s
order all his interest should be exerted in favour of our safety and
honourable treatment should the Moors break into the Fort, departed
again. About this time there fell on us the most cruel disappointment
of all. The sloop Prince George, which had been ordered down from
Perrins the night before, and was still lying opposite our south-west
bastion, was signalled to approach closer, in the hope that she might
be able to take us off. Mess. Pearkes and Lewis, going off to her in
one of her boats that she sent on shore, carried instructions to her
commander to bring his ship as near the Fort as possible, and this
gentleman had sufficient courage and humanity to obey. But as the
vessel approached us, and all watched her with tears in their eyes,
thinking that safety was at last within reach, what was the general
consternation when, owing either to the timid incompetency, or, as
some said, the treachery, of her pilot, she run aground on one of
those sand-banks that are everywhere lying in wait for unwary wretches
in the course of the deceitful Hoogly! This destroyed our last hope of
escape by water, for she could not be got off (those on board of the
other ships making not the slightest offer of assistance), and her
crew saved themselves at last in their boats, which durst not approach
the shore.
But what shall I say of the conduct of the President and those with
him on board the shipping, who took no step to save the wretches they
had so basely abandoned? Either on Saturday or on Sunday they might
have stood up the river with the flood, and with the aid of their
crews and of the stores of munitions aboard of them, have turned the
entire course of affairs, or at least have taken off the garrison and
the Company’s papers and treasure without the loss of a single man;
but in spite of all the urgent and affecting signals made to them,
they did nothing. Nay, had they dropped down the river out of sight,
for safety’s sake, one might forgive them better, but they lay off
Surmans, in full view of us, for over four-and-twenty hours, as though
to feast their eyes upon our dying agonies, and stood away only when
they perceived that the worst had happened (though how fearful that
worst was to be they could not have guessed).
As for those who were thus deserted, in spite of their natural
resentment and despondency, they prepared to fight to the last under
the new commanderie, and die as becomes Britons. Bales of broadcloth
were got up from the warehouses, and built up into traverses along the
eastern wall and its two bastions, which were swept by the enemy’s
fire from the church, and with these, and the bags of cotton placed
along the other ramparts, some shelter was obtained for our wearied
garrison. Towards noon the enemy, being questionless disappointed that
we had not offered to surrender the Fort to them in the panic at the
President’s departure, drew off a little, and made no more attempts at
storming our defences either that day or night, contenting themselves
with keeping up their constant fire of cannon and musquetry, to which
we were by now well accustomed. Will it surprise you, Amelia, to learn
that your Sylvia passed that afternoon in sleep? I’ll assure you that
I can hardly believe it of myself, and yet I had not slept all the
night before, and even our dangerous situation, and the cruel anxiety
I was in, could not keep me from drowsiness. Mr Bellamy coming in,
fresh from the walls (where, good gentleman, he had fought as well as
any lay person of them all), to see my papa, found me fallen asleep
with my head on the sufferer’s pillow, and bade me go into the next
room and rest, while he watched beside the dear gentleman. I was very
reluctant to go, for my papa’s least movement made his wounds begin to
burst out bleeding afresh; but on the Padra promising to call me the
moment that there was any change, I obeyed him, and slept until it was
dark, when I waked up to find the enemy still cannonading us, and
fire-signals burning instead of flags to summon the ships. That night
passed much as the last had done, the gentlemen coming in every now
and then with the most agreeable punctuality to exhort me to keep up
heart, for if we could only maintain ourselves until the following
night, Mr Holwell was devising a scheme with Captain Colquhoun for
cutting our way through the enemy, and retiring to Surmans, where we
might get on board the ships. The enemy had fired all the European
houses in the town, except those which gave them a footing from which
to annoy us, and the dreadful glare and heat was most distressing,
although the Moors remained tolerable quiet.
The morning of Sunday the 20th of June found our garrison divided
between resolution and a desire to capitulate. The gentlemen of the
Service and the officers, both those of the army and the ships, were
resolved to preserve their honour by dying where they stood rather
than yield, but there was a discontented spirit abroad in the lower
ranks, which were full of Dutchmen, To-passes, and Armenians, few
English being left. Among these men Mr Holwell divided three chests of
treasure in the hope of pacifying them, and even went so far in
yielding to their demands as to send to Omy Chund in his prison,
requesting him to accept of his release and go to treat with the Nabob
for us. This the vindictive Gentoo refused to do, but consented to
write a letter from his cell to Raja Monickchund, the Phousdar of
Hoogly, entreating him to intercede with the Soubah on our behalf, and
this letter Mr Holwell threw over the wall when the enemy had opened
their attack upon us again with the daylight, but the humiliating
expedient had no effect, for there was a very determined attack made
at noon on the north side of the Fort, which the enemy sought to
escalade under cover of a prodigious fire from the ruins of Mr
Cruttenden’s house. They were again beat off, but not without a
dreadful struggle, in which five-and-twenty of our bravest remaining
defenders were killed, and over seventy received wounds. So stubborn
was the fighting that it seemed to me more than once that all must be
lost, and I was like to cry out with joy when the news of the enemy’s
repulse was brought me by that sergeant of Captain Colquhoun’s of whom
I have told you before. This worthy fellow, who is named Jones, came
to me running with all his might, and with one hand clapped to his
face.
“So please you, madam, the Moors is drove off again,” says he, and
would have hasted away at once, but thinking he must have received
some wound, I asked him why he ran in so odd a style.
“Why, madam,” says he, “you’ve heard as how I’ve promised the Captain
to touch no spirits until he gives me leave, and I’ve kept it, too.
But when the other men broke into the arrack storehouse just now,
where they’re making themselves as drunk as fiddlers, I knew as how
the devil was setting a trap for me, and I says to myself as I’d not
linger a moment before getting back to the Captain, nor give myself
the chance of so much as smelling the stuff.”
And away he went, holding his nose as before. It pleased me that he
should be so anxious to keep his promise to his Captain, and I told my
papa of it, but to my grief the tale threw him into a great
melancholy, for he began to lament that in all his life he had never
done so much kindness to any fellow-creature as to help him to
withstand his temptations. I sought to comfort him with the
recollection that at least he had never led any astray, but he refused
to listen to me.
“All my life,” he said, “I have been satisfied to be of the breed of
Democritus, smiling at what was evil, and admiring what was good--and
staying there. My natural easiness of temper has made me believe that
I was right so long as I did no wrong, nor interfered with others’
doing it if they pleased. I thought that if I did no good, at least I
did no harm, and now I am reaping the fruits of my foolishness. My
wife has taken advantage of my slackness--nay, let me rather say that
I in my slackness have suffered her to bring disgrace on herself and
destruction on the factory. My daughter is here exposed to the worst
of perils instead of finding herself safe under the protection of a
husband, and my business here--how shall I answer for it to the
Company, to the women that are left homeless, or to the brave men that
are foredoomed to perish within these walls? ’Twas in my power to have
spoke and voted in the Council for wise and prudent measures, perhaps
to have restrained the extravagancies of the President and his two
friends, but I did it not, I loved my ease too well. And this is the
end of it all. Truly I have left undone those things which I ought to
have done.”
I was beyond measure affected to hear such words from my papa’s lips,
and seeing Mr Bellamy crossing the court, all blackened with powder
and stained with blood, I ran out in the sun to him, and prayed him to
come to the dear sufferer. Such was the kindness of this good man that
he robbed himself of the rest which he so much needed, and gave up the
time for it to Mr Freyne, sitting beside him and reading passages from
the Scriptures, bidding him also look away from the life of which he
was now ashamed to that of Christ who had died for him, and not add to
the sins which he deplored that of unbelief and of the rejection of
God’s mercy. Nay, he was even so thoughtful as to comfort him
concerning the poor girl that he was leaving, as he feared, to the
most extreme peril, saying that when man’s power was utterly at an
end, then was the time for the manifestation of the power of God. And
how often the good Padra’s words have served to comfort me since that
day, I could not tell you, Amelia.
About two o’clock, the attack being renewed, Mr Bellamy was compelled
to leave us to take his place on the walls, and my papa fell into a
kind of slumber, with his hand clasped in mine. After a while
Lieutenant Bellamy came to tell me that the enemy had desisted from
their efforts and betaken themselves to places of shelter out of the
reach of our fire, where, said he, ’twas to be hoped they would stay,
for nearly all our common soldiers were so drunk with the arrack they
had stole as to be lost to all sense of duty. After this all was quiet
until a little after four, when the Gentoo, Omy Chund’s servant, came
running, and with a naked scymitar in his hand took up his post before
our doorway. On my asking him what was the matter (for I had learnt to
speak Moors well enough to understand the servants and they me, though
but in a broken manner), he told me that the enemy having shown a flag
of truce, Mr Holwell had replied with another, throwing over the wall
also a letter addressed to Raja Doolubram, the Nabob’s _duan_, asking
for terms. While our people’s attention was engaged by this parley,
the enemy all flocked out of their hiding-places, and made fierce
attacks both on the eastern gate of the Fort and the pallisadoes on
the south-west, wounding Mr Baillie with a musquet-ball as he stood by
Mr Holwell’s side. On Mr Holwell running down to the parade to summon
our common men, he found the few that were not drunk asleep, and those
that were drunk, hearing of the danger, broke open the western gate,
headed by a Dutchman of the Train, seeking to escape along the slime
of the river, and so admitted the enemy. Hurrying to the south-east
bastion Mr Holwell met with Captain Colquhoun, and the two gentlemen
agreed that no further resistance was possible, since the Moors had
also, by using bamboos for scaling-ladders, succeeded in great numbers
in escalading the south wall, by means of the roofs of the godowns
built against it, and were pouring into the Fort. The Gentoo added
that he had seen the two gentlemen give up their swords to a
Jemmautdar of the Nabob’s, and that he had hastened hither to defend
us with his life, as his master’s orders were.
Resolved to second to the best of my power the efforts of this human
pagan, I catched up Mr Freyne’s pistols, and stood with one of them in
each hand, while the shouts and cries of the victorious Moguls
approached nearer, although none had as yet penetrated to our
neighbourhood. I thought I had passed through the bitterness of death,
Amelia, and ’twas like a new life when I saw Captain Colquhoun and his
sergeant come hurrying across the courtyard, in company with one of
the Moorish Jemmautdars and ten or twelve of his men, while the poor
Gentoo that guarded us was so confused by their sudden appearance that
he fetched a great blow at the Captain with his scymitar, but the
sergeant warded it off, and no harm was done, though I cried out aloud
in my fright.
“Madam,” says the Captain, brushing the Gentoo aside, and coming into
the chamber, “this Jemmautdar here en’t so vile as the most of them,
and has promised, in return for receiving all our valuables, to save
us from the ill-treatment of his fellows. Pray give him any jewellery
you may happen to have about you, and he’ll conduct us to our friends,
the rest of the prisoners.”
My dear girl will guess that I did not delay to give the Captain my
brooch and rings, my silver-framed tablets, and even the coral pins
that fastened my handkerchief, to present to the Moor, observing that
the poor gentleman himself had been robbed not only of his watch and
shoe-buckles, but of the very buttons from his coat. My papa’s
pistols, which were mounted in silver, next excited the covetousness
of the Jemmautdar, and Captain Colquhoun bade me give them up to him,
making a sign to me that he himself had still a weapon concealed on
his person. Since we were now robbed of everything, the Captain bade
me pull the frills of my cap over my face as far as I could, and he
and Sergeant Jones took up the two ends of the bedstead on which Mr
Freyne lay, to carry it out. But to this the most strenuous objection
was offered by Omy Chund’s servant, who declared himself fully equal
to protecting us if we remained where we were, and brought the
Jemmautdar over to his side by means of signs which we could not
comprehend. I was in terror lest the Captain and his man should be
dragged away, and my papa and I left to the poor protection of this
one Gentoo with his scymitar, but Mr Freyne settled the matter for
himself.
“I don’t desire to be separated from my friends,” he said, awaking, as
it seemed, from sleep. “My daughter and I will share the lot of the
other prisoners.”
The servant offering no further opposition, we quitted the chamber, I
keeping close to Captain Colquhoun, and the Jemmautdar and his men
acting as our guard. Not knowing what sights of horror might meet my
eyes, I durst not look around me, but we passed unmolested--the Moors,
as I learnt, being so busy with the spoil they had found, such as
bales of broadcloth, chests of coral, plate, and treasure, in the
private rooms of the gentlemen in the factory, that they had no time
to observe us, and we arrived safely in the arched varanda in front of
the barracks that extended from the great gate of the Fort to the
south-east bastion, inside our eastern wall. Here were gradually
gathered all that had escaped the perils of the day, including,
besides ourselves, Mr Holwell, Mr Secretary Cooke, Mr Bellamy and his
son the Lieutenant, Mr Eyre, Mr Baillie and several other members of
Council, Captains Clayton and Witherington, a number of young
gentlemen of the Service and the army (among them that gallant officer
Mr Ensign Piccard, who was almost disabled by his wounds), several
masters and mates of ships who had chose to remain with us when their
fellows abandoned their duty, and some common soldiers and militia,
both white and black. Oh, my dear, all these brave gentlemen! Sure I
could weep tears of blood, to think of the awful fate of the best and
noblest of our people in this factory, while the cowards and deserters
stood aloof in safety.
About five o’clock the Nabob and his brother entered the Fort in
state, being borne in ornamented litters, and Surajah Dowlah, having
ordered a guard to be placed over the treasury, proceeded to the
principal apartments of the factory, where he set up his throne and
held his Court, receiving the compliments of Meer Jaffier the Buckshy,
and the rest of his attendants. Having indulged himself in this
fanfaronade, the victor sent for Mr Holwell to attend him, whom we saw
depart with great grief and apprehension, but had presently the
delight of welcoming him back unhurt, though with a countenance
expressive of the utmost concern. After telling us that the Nabob had
declared himself exceeding dissatisfied with the small quantity of
money in the treasury, and had loudly expressed his resentment at our
presumption in defending the place so stubbornly with such a small
garrison, demanding also why Mr Holwell had not had the prudence to
make his escape with the President, but ending with a promise that no
harm should befall the prisoners, the good gentleman admitted us into
the secret of his dejection.
“One of the first acts of the Soubah on entering,” he said, “was to
have Omy Chund and Kissendass fetched out of prison, whom he received
with the greatest imaginable civility, and presented ’em both with
_seerpaws_.”[12.03] (These, Amelia, are vests of honour, given by a
ruler to those he most affects.) “You may well look astonished,
gentlemen, knowing that the shelter given to Kissendass was our chief
alleged crime in the Nabob’s eyes, but there’s worse yet. Have you
forgot that in the same prison with the two Gentoos was a European,
suspected, like them, of trafficking with the enemy? I understand that
when the prison was broke open the unhappy man had almost secured his
freedom by promising to show the Moors that discovered him where he
had buried a prodigious treasure, but, as you are sensible, Omy Chund
never forgives, and sure Mr Menotti made him his deadly enemy when he
sought to save himself by casting suspicion on him. Not that Omy Chund
appeared in the matter, save by preventing Menotti’s escape, for there
was another ready to do the business. When the wretched man was
brought before the Soubah, there stood out to accuse him a person
somewhat of a European aspect, but dressed like the Moors, and this I
discovered to be the renegade Frenchman, Sinzaun, the master of the
Nabob’s artillery. From all I could learn (for the apostate spoke very
vehemently and with an almost incredible swiftness in Moors), Menotti,
who had for years supplied the old Soubah with information respecting
us and our designs, suddenly demanded from Surajah Dowlah that in the
event of this place being captured a certain female should be allotted
to him as a part of his reward. Finding the Muxadavad Durbar
disinclined to increase their offers, he supported his request with
threats, declaring that he would otherwise betray the Nabob’s designs
to our Presidency. On this Sinzaun visited Calcutta in disguise, as I
understood, and arrived at the determination to carry off the lady
himself, whereupon, so he alleged, Menotti sought to betray both him
and their common design to us, trusting to obtain the object of his
pursuit through the gratitude of the chiefs of our factory. At this
point of his discourse the accuser directed at Menotti a gross taunt
that appeared to sting him to the highest pitch of indignation, for
drawing a stiletto that he had contrived to conceal about him, he
flung himself upon Sinzaun with such fury, despite his chains, that it
seemed impossible to part ’em. But the renegade wearing a shirt of
mail under his Moorish vest, the blow was fruitless, and Menotti was
dragged from his prey, when the Soubah, who was prodigiously incensed
that such an attempt should be made on his officer in his presence,
cried out to the guards to fall upon him, and he was cut to pieces in
the twinkling of an eye. Can you wonder at my seriousness, gentlemen,
after beholding so shocking a spectacle?”
The gentlemen vied with each other in expressions of horror, but what
does my Amelia think was the state of mind of the three persons that
knew who was the unhappy creature alluded to as the object of the
rivalry of these two traitors? My poor father groaned aloud, while I
sank down by his side overcome with terror, and Captain Colquhoun
opened his vest and showed me the butt of a pistol, which, indeed, was
the greatest comfort that he could have offered me at that moment. But
the next there came an even greater alarm to rouse us from our stupor
of fright, for Lieutenant Bellamy pushed his way through the crowd to
us with--
“There’s several Moors of high rank crossing the parade, gentlemen,
and they say that one of ’em is Sinzaun.”
“Crouch down where you are, madam,” says Captain Colquhoun, “but get a
glimpse of the fellow if you can. It may be that our alarm en’t
needed. And, gentlemen, not a word of Miss if your lives be the
forfeit.”
There was five hundred _bercundauzes_, or gun-men, drawn up on the
parade facing us, with their matches ready lighted, and a strong guard
placed over us, with another on the stairs leading to the bastion, and
some of these men brought torches, which they lighted from the matches
of the _bercundauzes_, for it was dark under the varanda where we
were, the sun being near its setting. Presently the party of Moors of
whom the Lieutenant had spoken came to the front of the varanda,
feasting their eyes, I suppose, on the wounded and worn-out men that
had opposed them so long. But one of them suffered his eyes to rove
keenly over the whole body of prisoners and their surroundings, and
although I had never before seen him but in a masque, I knew him at
once. Then he spoke in French to the only other female that was
escaped, the wife of one of the sea-officers named Carey, and a fine
handsome young woman, though country-born, and his voice was that
which I had last heard from King Lewis at the Masquerade.
“And are you, madam, the only lady that has the honour of having taken
part in this resolute defence?” he asked her.
“Why, indeed, sir, there was another,” she said, “but I han’t seen her
for some time now.”
Once again did the wretch’s eyes search the place, while I crouched
behind the gentlemen, half-dead with fear, but he went away
disappointed. It was now dark, and the Musslemen, by which is meant
all the Moors and Moguls among the enemy, sung a thanksgiving to
_Alla_, which is their name for the Deity. Seeing them thus occupied,
Captain Colquhoun turned round to me.
“Was that man he whom you feared, madam?”
“Alas, sir, he was!”
“Then he won’t be satisfied with his search, and if the prisoners are
marched out on the parade, he must find you. If only we had any
disguise at hand----”
“Oh, dear sir, pray kill me, or if that be wicked, disfigure me in any
way you will, sooner than I should fall into his hands.”
“Hush, child; I had sooner save you from him and death both. Would it
be possible, I wonder----? Do me the favour to take down your hair,
madam.”
I could not guess what he intended to do, but I obeyed, wondering, and
the Captain combed my hair back with a pocket-comb, and tied it with
one of the ribbons I had taken off, like that of a youth.
“The lack of powder will excite no remark, after our five days’
uneasiness,” he muttered to himself. “Put your cap and fallals into
your pocket, madam, lest they would be picked up and excite suspicion.
Pray will one of you young gentlemen oblige Miss with a hat? Mine is
hugely too large.”
Lieutenant Bellamy at once lent me his own hat, and tied a red silk
handkerchief round his head, to give himself, as he said, a piratical
air, such as might strike terror into our gaolers.
“Now has any of the seafaring gentlemen a watch-coat, or anything of
the kind, with him?” asked the Captain.
“Why, look ye, sir,” says one of them, “we are fair roasted already
with the heat. What should we want with watch-coats?”
“Will this serve your turn, Captain?” cries Mr Eyre, bringing forward
a great travelling-cloak. “I thought it might be of use if we were
forced to lie to-night in the open, or on a stone floor, but pray
consider it your own if it’s to advantage Miss in any way.”
“You’re a friend in need, sir,” says the Captain, taking the cloak and
wrapping it round me from the chin to the feet, so that not an inch of
my white gown was anywhere visible. It happened most fortunately that
I was not wearing a hoop, having laid it aside because it incommoded
me in my care of my papa, so that I might very well pass for a boy in
the dim light. The heat of the cloak was stifling, of course, but
think, my dear, what was at stake!
“The prettiest young fellow in Calcutta!” says Mr Fisherton, who had
been watching the transformation.
“Young gentleman,” says Captain Colquhoun sternly, seeing me shrink
back, “is this the time for jests? Sure respect for the lady’s
feelings should withhold you from such a freedom, if your own sense of
fitness won’t do it.”
“On my honour, sir,” cried the young gentleman, “I sought but to cheer
Miss with an assurance of the completeness of her disguise, so pray
pardon me, madam, if I caused you pain.”
“You must stand here, madam, among these gentlemen and away from your
papa,” says the Captain, leading me out of the corner. “Gentlemen, I
need not ask you, I’m sure, to stand close round Miss.”
There was no time to answer, for the Moors having finished their
devotions, there came a Jemmautdar to summon Mr Holwell to another
audience of the Nabob, and as soon as he was gone some one standing in
the front of the varanda called out that Omy Chund was coming.
Presently the wicked old man, his usual sleek and spotless aspect
somewhat marred by his week in prison, but wearing the Nabob’s
_seerpaw_, a rich dress of gold gingham, over his Gentoo garments,
mounted the steps of the varanda, attended by two or three Moors.
“Gentlemen,” he said in his own tongue, his cunning little eyes
wandering over the mass of prisoners, “I am come on an errand of
compassion. They tell me that the daughter of my good friend and
patron, Fahrein Saeb, is among you, without any female attendance, and
I have obtained leave from his Highness the Soubah to carry her to my
own house and entrust her to the care of my family. I need not assure
you that this offer springs solely from my respect and affection for
Fahrein Saeb’s memory, and that the lady will enjoy perfect safety and
honourable treatment at my house until it be possible to restore her
to her friends.”
No one made any answer to this humane and affecting declaration, and
Omy Chund walked along the varanda looking at the prisoners, and
tarrying so long before Mrs Carey that her spouse, persuaded there was
designs abroad against his wife, bade him go on quickly or he would
knock him down the steps. Still not finding the unhappy creature he
sought, Omy Chund told the chief Moor that was with him to desire the
prisoners to sit down, which we did, I in the midst of the knot of
gentlemen who shielded me. I could not be thankful enough that I had
never met Omy Chund face to face before this day, for although his
eyes rested upon me, he failed to recognise me in my disguise, and his
aspect grew more and more sour.
“Who’s that on the bedstead in the corner?” he says at last
suspiciously.
“Why, Omy Chund,” says my papa, raising himself up with Captain
Colquhoun’s help, and speaking in an agreeable rallying voice, “I fear
you’ve forgot your friend. Don’t you recognise Fahrein Saeb?”
“Pardon, gracious sir,” says the Gentoo, quite confused. “I had
understood you was dead. You won’t take it amiss if I say that for
your sake I had even hoped it, since I could not look to save you in
the same manner as your daughter. Pray, sir, where’s the young lady?”
“Why, in a place of safety by this time, I hope,” says Mr Freyne. “You
should bid your friends the Moors keep better watch, Omy Chund.”
The rest of the gentlemen laughed to see Omy Chund so confounded, and
he, muttering angrily to himself, went down the steps again after one
more inquisitive search among us. But when he was gone, the
remembrance of the menacing language he had used provoked many
enquiries and surmisings, which were only allayed by the return of Mr
Holwell from his third interview with our conqueror, who, said the
good gentleman, had pledged to him his word as a soldier that no harm
should come to any of us. I was now seated again at the side of my
papa, who appeared strangely drowsy, saying two or three times over
that he was fatigued and would rest, and finally falling into a doze,
undisturbed by the conversation going on around him. I remember that
the good Padra recalled to our memories that it was the Sabbath
evening, and that Mr Fisherton entered into an ingenious calculation
to prove that, allowing for the difference of time, the afternoon
church service was just about beginning at Whitcliffe in the county of
Sussex, where his honoured father is the Rector. One of the other
gentlemen objected to some error that he imagined in Mr Fisherton’s
reckoning, and they were disputing the matter very pleasantly, when
some one called attention to the alarming progress of the flames in
which the greater part of the factory was now wrapped, and which,
though they had been kindled upon the first entrance of the Moors,
seemed to have gained fresh strength with sunset. The buildings both
to right and left of us were now burning, and the horrid notion was
suggested that our captors designed to suffocate us in the flames,
which was supported by the sudden appearance of several Jemmautdars
and fellows with lighted torches, who went about examining all the
rooms under the varanda where we were. The young gentlemen immediately
declared for rushing upon the guard and seizing their scymitars, so
fighting to the last, rather than submit to such a fate, but Mr
Holwell, who went to question the Moormen, returned quickly to assure
us that they had no such inhuman intentions, but were only seeking a
place to confine us in for the night.
It appeared that their search was successful, for the Jemmautdars
returning and joining our guard, which advanced towards us from the
parade, ordered us to go into the barracks, which opened upon the
varanda where we stood. This was better than we had expected, for
these apartments had been specially built with a view to coolness, and
the gentlemen began talking and laughing over their good fortune and
the oddity of the situation, while I stooped over my papa to awaken
him gently, lest he should be startled by finding himself moved, but I
could not succeed in rousing him.
“Pray, sir,” I cried, catching Captain Colquhoun’s arm in a great
anxiety, “come here a moment. I can’t wake my papa.”
“Why, what’s this, madam?” says the Captain, turning round quickly;
and he laid his hand on Mr Freyne’s heart and brow, then stood up and
looked at me with a countenance so full of pity that I found myself
raising my hands as though to ward off a blow. “Dear madam, your
father will suffer no more,” he said. I stood with my hands upraised,
staring stupidly at him.
“Your father has passed away in his sleep, madam,” he said, with great
gentleness.
“My papa dead?” I cried. “Then I’ll die with him!” and I threw myself
down beside the bed; but the Captain raised me instantly.
“Madam, your papa employed his last strength in seeking to secure your
safety. Will you suffer that sacrifice to be in vain? If you remain
here alone, you’re lost. Sergeant, give Miss your arm on t’other
side.”
I had no power to resist, though I could read in the Captain’s words
that my papa’s efforts to divert Omy Chund from his search for me had
so exceeded his strength as to cost him his life, and I felt myself
half-dragged, half-carried away by the two men. I remember that the
Captain’s sleeve was stiff, and that he winced when I first catched
his arm. It did not then occur to me what this signified, but now I
know that he must have been wounded, and that the blood was dried on
his clothes.
We were now inside the barracks, where we had thought we were intended
to remain; but the guard still pressed upon us, some presenting their
pieces, others with their scymitars drawn, all forcing us on towards a
door that stood open at the end of the place nearest the bastion.
Seeing this, the sergeant who was supporting me on the left gave a
great laugh.
“Why, ’tis naught but the black hole!” he cried, “and that’s none so
dreadful. I ought to know, for many a night I’ve passed there, though
not many on ’em sober, I must say. So keep up your heart, madam.”
“The black hole?” says Captain Colquhoun, in a voice of great
apprehension. “Sure they won’t attempt to confine us all there? The
place en’t but 15 feet square.”[12.04]
But the prodigious efforts he made to turn back were fruitless, for
those behind pressed us on, being themselves drove forward by the
guards, and ignorant of the nature or extent of the place they were
entering, jesting as they came, until all were inside, when the door
was immediately shut, condemning a good hundred and fifty[12.05]
unfortunate wretches to the most dreadful of deaths, for, so far as I
know, I alone among the victims am escaped to tell the tale (and who
knows whether this writing of mine may ever come into the hands of any
that will make known our fate? since for very shame’s sake the Moors
must surely conceal the frightful truth). The chief thought of the
unhappy beings who were the last forced into the room was to get the
door opened again, but having no tools, they laboured in vain.
Meanwhile, my two supporters dragged me through the crowd towards the
two small barred windows opening on the varanda, the gentlemen making
way with the most engaging politeness in answer to Captain Colquhoun’s
cry of “Room for the lady, if you please, gentlemen!” In the window
nearest to the door Mr Holwell and two other gentlemen, both badly
wounded, were already seated, clinging to the bars; but at the second,
although the sill was occupied, my protectors succeeded in finding a
place for me close underneath, where they guarded me with their own
persons from those who would have sought to drag me away. Close beside
me was poor Mrs Carey, whose spouse was supporting her with an equal
resolution, and she addressed herself to me with a pitiful laugh.
“La, miss! so you was there after all? En’t it monstrous uncivil of
the Moors to confine us in such a place? I vow I shall swoon in a
minute.”
I had no chance to answer her; for at this point Mr Holwell began to
speak to the prisoners, exhorting them by all they held dear, and by
the ready obedience they had shown him in so many perils that day, to
behave with calmness and moderation, and not make their situation
worse by giving way to frenzy. Having succeeded in obtaining some
semblance of quietness, the good gentleman, from the window where he
sat, called to the guards outside, offering them huge sums of money if
they would remove half the prisoners to some other chamber, and so
wrought upon them that one of them, I believe, departed to consult the
Nabob’s pleasure in the matter. After this, different plans were
suggested for lessening the closeness of the room. The gentlemen
stripped off their coats and waistcoats (such of them as had ’em on),
and sitting down upon the floor, used their hats for fans, being so
closely wedged together that they could scarcely rise, and many that
were weak with their wounds dying in that position through sheer want
of strength.
But to the closeness of the atmosphere and the suffocating heat was
now added a new torment, for all were seized with the most frightful
thirst imaginable, crying out for “Water! water!” in a heart-rending
manner. The Jemmautdar who had gone away was now returned, saying that
the Nabob was asleep, and he durst not wake him; but being of a more
humane temper than his fellows, this man ordered several skins of
water (these serve as bottles) to be brought to the bars of the window
where Mr Holwell sat, and the sight of this relief appeared to turn
all the sufferers into maniacs, fighting with each other for the very
smallest portion. The gentlemen on the window-sill, passing their hats
through the bars, and bringing them back filled with water, did their
utmost to supply every one; but the quantity thus obtained was so
small, and so much was spilt, that few received as much as a drop.
Nevertheless, the mere thought of water had so great an effect on me
that I entreated Captain Colquhoun with tears to suffer me to leave my
place and struggle towards the other window; but he refused me with
the greatest sternness, saying that my only chance of life was here,
and held me fast when I would have slipped away from him and the
sergeant. And all this time the malicious wretches outside were
holding lights close to the bars, that they might the more
conveniently watch the fighting that took place over the meagre
pittance of water, and gloat upon our agonies. Just at this moment, as
I remember, poor Mr Eyre came staggering out of the struggling throng
at the other window, and seeing us, paused in his design of seeking
some quiet corner in which to expire.
“Why, Captain, how d’ye do?” he cried, with his usual good humour,
“and Miss too, as I live! Good evening to you, good evening, madam!”
Such a greeting in such a situation seemed to me so comical that as
the unfortunate gentleman went on his way I began to laugh, in a wild
sort of style, and with no mirth in it, as you’ll guess, Amelia, but
stopped short when the Captain clapped his hand upon my mouth.
“For Heaven’s sake, madam, be quiet!” he shouted in my ear, “or we
shall have ’em all yelling like fiends in another minute, and en’t we
yet sufficiently humiliated in the eyes of the Moors?”
I had no strength to answer, and stood leaning against the wall, held
up only by the efforts of the Captain and Sergeant Jones from falling
among the bodies that were heaped upon the floor, when I should never
have risen again. Mr Holwell was gone now from his place at the other
window, but whether sunk down through weakness or dragged away by
force I don’t know, and most of the gentlemen and the wounded officers
were dead, leaving only the common men, whose superior strength (and,
I fear I must add, their hardness of heart in striking down those that
stood before them) enabled them to hold by main force the points from
which they could obtain a little air. I saw the crowd of struggling
wretches in the light of the lamps held by the guards, I heard the
cries, shouts, groans, prayers, imprecations, which ascended in a
horrible confusion, but ’twas all as if I was in a dream. The only
thing I could think of was that if I did not have water to cure my
raging thirst I should die, but by this time I was beyond the power of
calling for it. Presently I found the Captain shaking me and bidding
me keep up heart, and learned that I had swooned on his shoulder, but
the only answer I could make to his exhortations was to form with my
lips the word “Water!”
“And you shall have it, madam!” he cried, with the only oath I ever
heard him utter, and snatching the hat from my head (I had dropped the
stifling cloak long before), he bade the sergeant support me, and
plunged into the shrieking, striving throng. How he succeeded in
obtaining the water I don’t know, but presently I saw him returning,
holding the hat high above his head, while on every side were frantic
hands stretched out to tear it from him, and dying men grovelled at
his feet, imploring him for the love of Heaven to spare them a little
drop, but he fought his way through the press without heeding them. He
had almost reached us, when several desperate creatures flung
themselves upon him and tore him down, but not before he had hurled
the hat towards me. The sergeant seized it, and dashed a few precious
drops into my mouth, then relinquished it perforce to the frenzied
crowd that rushed upon us. Of the Captain I saw no more. Alas, my
dear! unlike King David of old, your Sylvia was base enough to drink
the water that had cost the blood of the noble gentleman that brought
it to her, and she owes to it, questionless, the preservation of her
unhappy life.
The next thing I remember is a struggle for the possession of our
window, in which the sergeant raised me in his arms and set me for a
moment upon the sill, but only for a moment, for I was torn down in an
instant, my clothes in ribbons, while a huge black man, a corporal of
our garrison, planted himself in my place. With an extraordinary
agility and strength the sergeant saved me from being trampled to
death on the floor, and assisted me to stand up. But I was weary of
the struggle, and death was the only thing I desired.
“Let me die!” I cried to the sergeant, “let me die quietly,” and the
worthy man, seeing the whole window now blocked so that no air could
come through it, dragged me along by the side wall towards the
platform at the back of the prison. On reaching it, we found the
corpses piled there in heaps, and among them (oh, Amelia, I can
scarcely write it) was good Mr Bellamy lying dead, his hand clasped
fast in that of his dead son. Sure you’ll think that I, who had that
night been bereaved of the best of fathers, and had seen my esteemed
protector struck down in trying to succour me, could have no sorrow
left, but the sight of the venerable divine, by whose wise counsels I
had so often benefited, and the gallant young gentleman with whom I
had danced and talked and laughed, lying there dead hand in hand,
overcame me all at once. Something seemed to break in my head, a great
cry burst from me, and I fell forward upon that dreadful heap, and
knew no more.