WHICH RECOUNTS THE TRIALS OF A DEVOUT LOVER.
_Letters from Colvin Fraser, Esq., to Mrs Hurstwood._
_H.M.S. Tyger, off_ Fulta, _Dec. ye_ 20_th._
Madam,--I take this chance to acquaint you that the fleet is now at
length arrived in the Houghley River, after a voyage so tempestuous
that it might well be imagined the devil and all his angels were
gathered to oppose our progress, distrusting our object. Being
thwarted in our course from the very day we sailed from Madrass by the
prevailing north-eastern _munsoon_ and the currents setting from the
north, our only means of fetching Bengal was to steer across the bay
and back again, thus reaching our journey’s end crab-fashion. In this
tedious style, then, and afflicted by continual rough weather, we
pursued our voyage, passing over first to the coasts of
Tannasery[15.01] and Arracan, then tacking to the westward until we
were in the latitude of the sands at the eastern mouth of the Ganges,
next making our way with the help of the tides to Ballisore Roads
(losing in this manœuvre the Cumberland and Salisbury, which took the
ground off Cape Palmeiras), and finally reaching the mouth of the
Houghley, where we were welcomed in the name of those refuging at
Fulta by Mr Watts, late of Cossimbuzar, and Mr Becher. There we might
still be at this moment, owing to the danger apprehended by the pilots
in navigating the great ships over the shoals called the Braces before
the spring tides came, but this difficulty was surmounted with great
spirit by Captain Speke, who had been several times before in the
river, and taking the Kent across in safety, the other vessels
followed without mishap. So protracted has been our struggle with the
opposing forces of nature, that all on board the vessels were placed
on strict rations both of meat and drink, and the supply of rice
failing entirely, a considerable number of Colonel Clive’s
Tellinghy[15.02] soldiers actually succumbed to starvation, being
forbid by the rules of their religion to touch the salted meat served
out to them.
The Kent and Tyger arrived off this place five days ago, but ’twas not
until to-day that we were gladdened by the sight of our consorts, with
the exception of the Cumberland (which, though she and her sister in
misfortune have been got off, can’t continue her voyage, and carries
back to Vizagapatnam with her 250 of the Colonel’s white troops) and
the Marlborough, which has on board the greater part of our stores and
nearly all our field artillery, but parted company with us, being a
slow sailer, in a storm off the Negrai’s. Besides the two great ships
and the Salisbury, therefore, Admiral Watson has under his command
only his two frigates and the fireship, with the two Indiamen used for
the transport of the troops, while Colonel Clive’s army amounts to no
more than 900 Europeans and something over 1200 Seapoys. Major
Kilpatrick’s force of 230 Europeans, which, as you know, madam, was
despatched from Madrass to the help of Calcutta as soon as the news
was received of the fall of Cossimbuzar, has suffered so grievously
since its arrival in August, from the necessity of taking up its
quarters in swampy ground, because there was no room on board the
ships, that a full four-fifths of the men are dead, and of the rest
not more than ten are fit for duty. This heavy loss is partly
compensated by the enrolment of seventy volunteers from among the
Calcutta refugees, the most active of the gentlemen belonging to the
factory; but, better than this, we possess in the justice of our cause
and the reputation of our two commanders a guarantee of success and of
the favour of Heaven upon our enterprise. Already the Admiral has sent
letters, couched in terms of great severity, to Monickchund, the
Soubah’s governor of Calcutta, demanding redress for the wrongs done
to the Company and its servants, and nothing is heard on every side
but conjectures as to the answer that will be received.
Nothing but conjectures is heard in the fleet and army, I should say,
for (will it surprise you, madam, knowing the gentlemen?) all the
members of the Bengal Council that are escaped have no time to think
of anything but their own punctilio, without it be the property they
lost in the fall of the place and the means of recovering it. Mrs
Hurstwood mayn’t have heard that Mr Drake, finding the sour looks he
met with and the remarks passed upon his conduct in deserting the Fort
vastly galling to his high spirit, has posted in every public place in
Fulta an advertisement desiring that it may be pointed out to him
where he failed in his duty, and what more he could have done that he
did not do. This was wrote after a laudable prudence had caused him,
with his friends, to assume three months ago the style of Governor and
Council of Bulrumgurry (that poor mean place being the only spot of
ground left to us in Bengal), in the fear of offending the Nabob by
aspiring to be still in possession of Calcutta. True, our colours are
now hoisted just outside the Dutch bounds at Fulta, but Mrs Hurstwood
will already be certain that so resolved a step was not taken until
the arrival of the fleet. ’Tis some consolation that Mr President’s
fantastic manifesto was replied to by a young gentleman named Dash,
whom I have met at Calcutta, and who acquainted the world in writing
that while he durst not risk his place in the Service by accusing the
Governor without a mandate from the Company, he was prepared to
justify all that had been said if he were called upon. There’s one
matter, however, in which Mr Dash attacks the Presidency, where I
can’t follow him, and this is the advancing Mr Labaume to the rank of
captain in the Company’s army. Who should better deserve the elevation
than a foreigner who fought on our side with so much spirit and
devotion, and was only saved from the dreadful fate of the rest of the
defenders by being carried to the ships mortally wounded, as was
thought? And yet Mr Dash, who don’t think it necessary to declare the
time or manner of his own leaving the Fort, finds fault with Captain
Labaume’s advancement because he is a Papist! He believes,
questionless, that all Papists should be warned to fight on t’other
side.
Mr Dash’s most fervent supporter in this matter is Mrs Freyne, who
champions with uncommon zeal the cause of my old adversary, Mr
Bentinck. This gentleman’s exploit, in quitting the Fort full twelve
hours before even the President and the chief military officers, has
not yet been properly recognised by any step in rank, and ’tis
whispered that the Council stand too much in awe of Colonel Clive to
bestow this merited promotion. In this case, the lady will find it
necessary to turn the artillery of her charms on the Colonel, since
(so says wicked rumour) though not altogether inconsolable on good Mr
Freyne’s account, she en’t minded to bestow herself on a gentleman
that han’t got his company. I went some days back to pay my respects
to Mrs Freyne, but the mention of my name sent her into so violent a
hysterical fit, as recalling to her all the cruel misfortunes she has
suffered, that I thought it better to withdraw. I am not intending any
disrespect to the lady, but I can’t be sorry that she and my charmer
cherished no extraordinary affection one for the other.
_Dec. ye_ 21_st._
The despatch of this pacquet, madam, leaves us still at Fulta, forced
to listen to the vapourings of Mr Drake and his fellows, and unable as
yet to follow the promptings of our spirits and advance against the
Moors, no answer having been received to Mr Watson’s epistles sent to
Monickchund. There en’t a man either on board ship or in the ranks but
burns to avenge--oh, madam, what have we not to avenge? But why am I
running on in this style and delaying to impart the news that has sent
me to the writing of this letter as to the hardest task imaginable,
since ’tis to quench in Mrs Hurstwood’s bosom the hope which is
already extinguished in my own? You guess, madam, questionless, what
it is I have to tell, but my coward pen still refuses to set down the
frightful truth in such a form that it may reach you. And yet I can’t,
I dare not, write on any other topic--how could I, indeed, when my
whole heart and soul is filled with this one? Oh, madam, our beloved
Miss Freyne is no more! Now I have wrote it, but the sight of the
words brings no conviction to my mind. Sure such a blessed creature
could not die, knowing that she must leave this world a desolation
thenceforth to her adoring friends; the goodness of her heart would
alone retain her here, in compassion of their need of her. But no;
that bright spirit which was too pure and ethereal for these grosser
regions is returned to its native skies, leaving us forlorn. Don’t,
madam, account me so churlish as to grudge to you the recollection of
the affectionate friendship which was never broken by a quarrel, but
figure to yourself the state of mind of the wretch who addresses you,
when he remembers that the love which is his boast brought to its dear
object nothing but fresh adversities and the increase of her unmerited
misfortunes, and that it has now proved itself as powerless to save as
it was potent to wound. Indeed, madam, I can’t but admire the
extraordinary course of my passion for Miss Freyne, which caused me to
injure most deeply the creature I most adored, and which finds her
removed from its reach just when there was a hope that I might in some
measure redeem my past behaviour. The fault was wholly mine, indeed my
bitter fault.
But why do I trouble Mrs Hurstwood with my useless lamentations,
instead of presenting her with the melancholy history so far as I am
acquainted with it? I was walking, madam, this evening on the
esplanade of the Dutch factory here, when there met me Captain Labaume
and another gentleman, who both turned aside and saluted me.
“Your servant, gentlemen,” said I.
“Your servant, sir,” says Captain Labaume. “I think you en’t
acquainted with my friend? Mr Warren Hastings, late of the Cossimbuzar
factory--Lieutenant Fraser of the Tyger. Mr Hastings is possessed of
certain news that concerns you, sir, which it is his painful duty to
communicate.”
“Perhaps, sir,” says Mr Hastings, as the Frenchman bowed and left us,
“you would prefer to turn aside into the gardens here, rather than
learn in this public place what I have to tell you?”
I bowed, for when I tried to speak the words were wanting, and we
turned into the Dutch Governor’s gardens, where I stopped short and
looked at the young gentleman, a person of very pleasing appearance.
Sure no more agreeable messenger ever carried such heavy news as that
which I read in his eyes before he told it. “You need not speak, sir,”
I said. “You’re come to advise me of the death of the loveliest of her
sex?”
“Sir,” said Mr Hastings, “I can but pass on to you a message delivered
to me. Near six months ago I was lounging one evening with my friend
Mr Chambers on the _gott_ belonging to the French house at
Sydabad,[15.03] where we had refuged after the fall of our own
factory. We were watching the boats that passed, too many of them,
alas! laden with the spoils of Calcutta, and guarded by others with
flags and music and all imaginable pomp. Suddenly, from the deck of
one of these there rose up a man, almost naked but for a piece of a
gunny bag that was wrapped round him, and with his limbs covered with
the most frightful boils and sores. ‘Sure, sirs, you must be English?’
he cried, gesticulating towards us with his chained hands, and hearing
a British voice, we hastened to the water’s edge. The Jemmautdar in
charge of the boat was come up when we reached it, and ordered the
poor wretch, with blows and curses, to be silent, but we appeased him
with a rupee or two, and obtained leave for the prisoner to speak. He
informed us that he was a sergeant of our garrison here, and had
suffered the torments of the Black Hole in company with his captain
and a lady whom the Captain respected very highly. The lady being
found alive on the morrow after the tragedy, was ordered to be sent to
Muxidavad to the Nabob’s seraglio, and this poor fellow, desirous of
serving one whom his late commander had so much esteemed, accepted an
offer to enter the Soubah’s service in the hope of being permitted to
attend upon her. In this pious wish, however, he was disappointed, for
though on board the same boat, he saw nothing of her
until--until--pray, sir, prepare your mind for grievous tidings--he
beheld her corpse carried on shore for burial at Santipore. The fever
that seized all those who survived the night of torment had proved too
strong for her delicate frame, finding its work aided, questionless,
by the anguish of spirit natural in such a situation as hers. The
pious care of a poor Moorwoman, her attendant, procured the unhappy
lady a grave in the garden belonging to the Armenians of the
place--this, said our wretched informant, he was assured of by one of
his keepers, more humane or less brutal than the rest, and he was
desirous that the lady’s friends should know it also. Mr Chambers and
I divided the little money we had upon us between the poor fellow and
the Jemmautdar, whom we sought to engage in his favour, and since then
I fear the matter had almost slipped my memory, after I had once
learnt from Mr Holwell in his captivity at Muxidavad that both the
lady’s father, and also Captain Colquhoun, whom he believed to be her
humble servant, were dead. I did send word of what I had heard to Mrs
Freyne, whom I understood to be at Fulta, but receiving no answer of
any kind, my mind was soon busied again with the secret negotiations I
was engaged in on the Company’s behalf, and ’twas not until I fled
hither when my dealings with the Seats were threatened with discovery,
and learned by chance from Captain Labaume your melancholy history,
sir, that I knew I could resolve any doubt of yours as to the unhappy
fate of the lady in whom you claim so deep an interest.”
I had listened to Mr Hastings’s tale without any interruption but that
of sighs and unconquerable groans, but now I could contain myself no
longer. “And can there be,” I cried, “a God above, when so
transcendent a creature is permitted to expire miserably, without a
friend at hand to close her eyes?”
“There’s worse things than death, sir,” says Mr Hastings, with a
modest hesitation. “Perhaps we should rather give thanks that the
amiable lady you adored was suffered to expire peacefully before ever
reaching Muxidavad.”
“I accept the just rebuke, sir, but--oh, sir, you never knew Miss
Freyne. Had you enjoyed her acquaintance, though but for an hour, you
would have thought the world bare without her. What, then, can you
imagine to be that man’s state of mind who was honoured with her
particular regard?”
“Why, sir,” cried the warm-hearted young gentleman, “I would have him
thank Heaven continually for the happiness with which he has been
blessed, and live to prove himself not unworthy of his dear mistress’s
favour.”
“Your hand, sir!” said I, moved by his honest ardour; but, madam, ’tis
cold comfort to pay to the memory of the dead those honours you had
hoped to bestow on the living, and how much more when the fault is
your own.
_Dec. ye_ 23_rd._
I may perhaps seem over-bold, madam, in continuing to trouble you with
my unworthy epistles when the beloved link between us is wanting, but
I believe my kind Mr and Mrs Hurstwood will excuse my presumption,
remembering, in the goodness of their hearts, what state of mind I
must be in, deprived as I am of the delicious hopes that have
sustained me hitherto. That you, madam, was joined with your humble
correspondent in a common admiration for our incomparable Miss Freyne,
is reason enough for me to regard you as my sole remaining friend, and
I can’t doubt but Mrs Hurstwood’s worthy spouse will allow me in this
melancholy pleasure of reckoning with his lady how much we have both
lost. There are at present but two thoughts in my distracted mind, the
one to kill the Nabob, the other to fulfil the last pious duties to
the mortal (alas that I must write it!)--the mortal remains of my
charmer. True, the accomplishing the first won’t restore her to me
(any more than the finest tomb I might raise to her memory could do
more than tempt Indian lovers to drop a tear on the spot where a
Briton bewailed his mistress), but at least it would rid the world of
the monster who is responsible for such a calamity’s coming upon it.
En’t that a laudable object, madam? I entreat your opinion, for I have
incurred the displeasure of my revered commander Mr Watson on this
very matter.
The affair happened thus. I was returning this evening from a solitary
ramble on the skirts of the town, engrossed with my own melancholy
thoughts, when there met me a Dutch artilleryman, who offered to sell
me an Indian scymetar he was carrying, which he had got (he said) some
time back from a disabled Mogul that had been wounded in the Nabob’s
Purhunea campaign, and had no further use for it. The weapon pleased
me, and paying the fellow what he asked, I carried it with me. Passing
through the town, I met a party of officers from the Kent, among them
Billy Speke, who exclaimed on seeing me carry a great sword naked in
my hand, and asked me what use I designed to put it to.
“Oh, ’twill serve to kill the Soubah,” I said, my mind still on the
same topics.
“’Twill kill no one without it be sharpened,” says one of the
gentlemen.
“How do these fellows manage to fight with such a thing?” says
another.
“Oh, sir, ’tis a most deadly weapon when bright and keen,” said the
first.
“Sure you would not compare it with one of our swords, sir?” asked the
other.
“I vow, sir, you might find yourself hard put to it to maintain your
ground against a person skilled in its use. Pray, Mr Fraser, if you
en’t in no haste to return to the Tyger, come on board with us, and
let us have your scymetar sharpened, and convince this unbeliever by a
pass or two that it’s no toy.”
I complied the more readily with this request that I remembered a
message I had promised to deliver from our surgeon to Dr Ives of the
Kent, and went on board with the other gentlemen in a shore-boat, when
Billy Speke ran to find one of the armourer’s mates, and brought him
to us with his tools. While we stood round watching his work on the
sword, the discourse turned, as might be expected, on fighting, and
the officers of the Kent, in anticipating the progress of events,
began to prophesy the capture of the Nabob’s strongholds and the
destruction of all his army.
“Do what you will with the army, gentlemen,” said I, “but leave
Surajah Dowlah to me.”
“Sure, there’s no one would dispute your right, sir,” said one.
“Every seaman in the fleet will support you in the vengeance you
seek,” says another, “and will see you have a fair field for’t.”
“Will they?” says a voice that made us all turn round, to see the
Admiral standing behind us, with a brow as black as thunder. “There’s
a seaman here, gentlemen, that will do nothing of the sort. What! do I
find myself in command of a set of bloodthirsty adventurers, instead
of British officers? Mr Fraser, how dare you import a private quarrel
into your dealings with his Majesty’s enemies, sir?”
“If I could forget the cause of that quarrel, sir, I would be the most
abandoned wretch on earth.”
“I don’t ask you to forget either the quarrel or its cause, sir. Don’t
bandy words with me. Pray what’s to become of your men and the King’s
interests when you are hunting for the Nabob all over a battlefield?
You’re here to uphold the honour of Britain by punishing the villains
that have assailed it, not to seek vengeance for private wrongs--no,
though your own mother had been slain by the Moors.”
“But, pray, sir,” Billy Speke ventured to say, knowing himself a
favourite, “how is Mr Fraser to remember his quarrel without seeking
to avenge it?”
“That’s for him to settle with himself, young gentleman. All I can say
is, that if I find him seeking vengeance, back he goes on board the
Tyger and into irons, for neglecting his duty in face of the enemy. I
would have you know, gentlemen, that you en’t knights-errant, but
persons under discipline, and that discipline I’ll maintain. Is that
the sword that’s to kill the Nabob, Mr Fraser? Give it to me, sir--a
heathenish weapon to do heathenish work, properly enough.”
I handed him the scymetar, and he endeavoured to break it across his
knee, but though it bent nearly double it resisted him. Catching up a
hatchet that lay by, he smashed the sword on the grindstone with it,
and threw the pieces towards me.
“Keep to your Christian sword, sir, and use it in a Christian manner.
Fight when you find yourself compelled, but don’t go out man-hunting.
No,” seeing me look abashed, “I en’t displeased with you, though I was
but a few moments back. I look to see you all do good service in a day
or two, gentlemen. What? you han’t heard? Monickchund refuses to
forward my letters to the Soubah, saying ’twould be as much as his
head’s worth, and Mr Clive and I are agreed to move up the river as
soon as we can get our stores aboard. There’ll be no peace until
Surajah Dowlah is well thrashed.”
The Admiral left us, and the other gentlemen, commiserating me for
drawing his displeasure upon myself, fell to talking of the projected
advance, which (whatever Mr Watson may choose to say) can bring me no
satisfaction but the gratifying of my revenge. That this sentiment is
an unchristian one I can’t deny; but how, madam, can I acquit the
Admiral of encouraging my thirst for vengeance so long as it consorted
well with his designs, and discovering its iniquity only when it
threatened to oppose ’em? But this remark is in itself an offence
against discipline, and I’ll say no more, merely laying the case
before Mrs Hurstwood, and entreating her judgment upon it.
Calcutta, _January ye_ 25_th_, 1757.
The extraordinary success which has greeted our arms seems, madam, to
demand some record from me, that Mrs Hurstwood may be informed how
signally the righteous enterprise on which we are embarked has been
prospered by Heaven. But first, madam, permit me to say (lest you
should suspect me of any design to glorify my own part in this
campaign) that Colvin Fraser has not succeeded in slaying the Nabob,
nor even in performing any notable feat of arms. Were the fame of his
dear charmer dependent upon his puny efforts for its preservation, as
the knights of the chivalric ages were wont to achieve their exploits
in celebration of the beauty and merits of their mistresses, it would,
alas! enjoy but a brief immortality; but since every man that beheld
Miss Freyne must carry her image imprinted on his heart till death,
her memory needs no assistance to maintain itself, although it may
serve to glorify the feeble achievements of the man who unhappily
survives her.
Our fleet, madam, sailed from Fulta on the 27th of December, and two
days later cast anchor off the village of Mayapore, whence it appeared
most convenient to undertake the assault to be made on the fortress of
Budje Boodje. Here occurred the first of those dissensions between
Admiral Watson and Mr Clive which, but for the interposition of
Providence, must have jeopardised, if not destroyed, our expedition,
Colonel Clive desiring that the troops should land from the ships in
the immediate vicinity of the fortress, while the Admiral, foreseeing
that Monickchund, who had been very busy strengthening the place,
would have a great advantage in opposing their landing, recommended
that they should march by land the ten miles from Mayapore. Colonel
Clive at length yielding up his opinion, this was done; but the march
having been over marshy ground much cut up with water-courses, and the
labour of dragging the field-pieces and ammunition incredibly
laborious, the troops, half-dead with fatigue, were permitted to rest
themselves when they had reached the points from which the Colonel
intended the assault to be made on the morrow. When our men were all
asleep, Monickchund steals up with a prodigious force, having observed
all Colonel Clive’s dispositions, and attacks our bivouack so hotly
that our troops, hastily aroused from their slumbers, gave way to a
temporary panic. The field-pieces proving useless (owing to their
being mounted on the wrong carriages, and having neither tubes nor
port-fires), they were abandoned to the enemy, together with the
buildings in which we had been encamped, and but for the extraordinary
spirit displayed by Colonel Clive, who was himself labouring under a
severe illness, the affair must have ended in a disastrous rout. The
Colonel, despatching two platoons to attack the village now held by
the Moors, drove out the enemy, though not without a heavy loss, and
rallying his men, succeeded in chasing Monickchund and his cavalry
from the field, thus winning a victory which was even greater in its
moral than its material result, aided, as it was, by the Admiral’s
sailing up to Budje Boodje and engaging the fortress with the Kent
alone, silencing the Moors’ guns and opening a breach in the walls.
The first proof of the enemy’s loss of spirit was seen the same
evening, when a detachment of our seamen, being sent on shore in
readiness to take part in the attack projected for the morrow, found
the Moors so much cowed as to permit them to approach quite close to
the walls of the place. Among these men (who had all, I fear, indulged
somewhat freely in _grog_, which is a mixture of arrack and water, by
way of celebrating Colonel Clive’s victory) was one Strahan, a common
sailor belonging to the Kent, who was more drunk than his fellows. He,
scrambling over the parapet of the fort, where it was broken down by
the Admiral’s fire, found the place empty, but for a few Moormen
seated on the platform of one of the bastions, and forthwith rushed
upon them flourishing his cutlass, having first fired off his pistol
and given three huzzas, crying out to his friends outside that he had
taken the fort all by himself. Hearing the shout, first the rest of
the sailors, and then the whole army, without waiting for either their
officers or the Colonel’s orders, rushed over the bridge and into the
place, the foremost arriving to find Strahan hotly engaged with the
Moors that were left (who took to their heels at this accession of
force), and with his cutlass broke to within a foot of the hilt. So
happy was the exploit of these drunken sailors, that ’tis with regret
I must add that, the fort being in our hands and guards posted about
it from among our own Seapoys, the seamen, mistaking them for the
enemy, fell to fighting with ’em, and discharging their pistols, were
so unlucky as to kill Captain Dougald Campbell of the Company’s army,
a very worthy person and a countryman of my own, who was come from
Bulrumgurry to offer his services to Mr Drake at Fulta, and had
accompanied the force.
Our next achievement was the capture of Calcutta, which held out for
less than two hours against our cannon from the ships, the garrison
firing only those guns that were already loaded. Monickchund had
quitted Fort William even before our arrival, so great was his terror
of Colonel Clive, and the troops he left were not concerned to improve
upon his example, while the peaceable inhabitants, relieved from their
oppressors, welcomed us gladly. Here again there occurred an unhappy
dissension between our commanders. Admiral Watson, the place having
surrendered to the fire of the ships, appointed as its governor
Captain Coote,[15.04] who is in command of the detachment of
Adlercron’s Regiment[15.05] serving as marines on board the fleet. Mr
Clive resenting this very seriously on his arrival, a hot discussion
followed, Mr Watson even going so far as to threaten to turn his guns
on the Colonel; but both gentlemen being equally zealous for the
public good, the quarrel was quickly composed, through the mediation
of Captain Latham, who is in a strict intimacy with both parties, by
the Admiral’s taking possession of the town himself and handing over
the keys to Mr Drake. Yes, madam, to Mr President Drake. I think I
behold your indignant countenance on reading this piece of news. As
soon as the intelligence of our success was received by the other
European factories, we were overwhelmed with congratulations from the
French and Dutch, who proved themselves such broken reeds to the
unhappy defenders of Calcutta in their extremity; but our leaders were
prepared to overlook this former time-serving behaviour in return for
their assistance in crushing the Nabob, and offered them an alliance.
This they refused, however, the chiefs declaring that they had no
power to conclude such a treaty without instructions, although they
offered to preserve a strict neutrality between us and the Moors; but
this not being considered worth entering into articles about, the
Mynheers and Mounseers returned empty to Chinchura and Chandernagore
respectively. Only two days later there reached us by way of Aleppo
the news that war was declared against France last May, and I venture
to say that the gentlemen are now regretting their precipitation in
declining our friendship.
When this news arrived, madam, I was absent with the force which was
sent against Houghley under Captain Coote, who, assisted by a body of
seamen from the fleet, captured the place with slight loss on the 15th
of this month, destroying the houses and magazines in order to strike
terror into the Nabob, and obtaining plunder to the amount of
15,000_l._, although, as has since been discovered, the Dutch had
taken all the Moors’ most valuable effects under their protection, and
hid them safe at Chinchura. In this capture of Houghley I had the good
fortune to receive a musquet-ball right through my hat without
injuring me in the least, but alas! I can’t now take the comfort from
this miraculous escape that I would have done five weeks ago.
Returning from the expedition amid the acclamations of our fellows, we
were in hopes to find the fleet already preparing to move up the river
against Muxidavad itself, but discovered instead that our leaders were
again divided in opinion, the Admiral desiring to press on immediately
at all hazards, but Mr Clive, whose instructions from the Council at
Madras bind him to return to that place by April, willing to come to
an accommodation with the Nabob, sooner than drive to extremities the
master of such vast armies. On this occasion ’twas the Admiral that
yielded, finding himself opposed not only by Colonel Clive, but by Mr
Drake and the Bengal Council, who, fearing lest the French should
unite with the Soubah against us, have sought to forestall ’em by
obtaining his ear through his bankers Mootabray and Roopchund Seat.
From what appears, however, the report of our successes has so much
irritated the despot that no one dares to suggest making peace with
us, and he is already marching from Muxidavad at the head of his army.
Meanwhile, the Seats’ agent or _vacqueel_, Rungeet Roy, is with
Colonel Clive in the camp he has fixed at Cossipore,[15.06] in the
direction of Chitpore, but beyond the Morattoe-ditch, while in the
Nabob’s attendance we have an agent of our own, a Gentoo banker of
this place called Omichund, with whose name you, madam, may be
acquainted. This man’s interest in Calcutta, owing to the quantity of
houses he owns here, makes him very desirous of peace, although he is
so intimate with Surajah Dowlah as to possess his ear, and we who
follow Admiral Watson are prodigiously apprehensive that he’ll succeed
in bringing about a settlement without any further fighting.
Meanwhile, madam, since our betters are all engaged with these weighty
matters, time hangs somewhat heavy upon our hands. The Bengal
gentlemen, it’s true, can think of nothing but their own hard case,
for while the Company’s merchandise was found for the most part
untouched in the Fort, all their private property is gone. Their
houses are destroyed and their livelihood lost, while there remains a
standing memorial of their humiliation in the shape of the mosque
built within the very walls of the Fort by the Moors. ’Tis, perhaps,
not wonderful that these gentlemen should be anxious for peace to be
made, when they can fall to their money-making once more, but their
conduct in the past forbids any excess of sympathy with their present
situation. As for me, madam, I experience a melancholy pleasure in
tracing the scenes associated in my mind with the memory of my lost
charmer. The ruins of her father’s abode, the chamber in the Fort
where, detained by a more than filial devotion, she risqued, and as we
now know, sacrificed her life in her tender care of Mr Freyne, are my
daily resort. Captain Labaume and young Mr Fisherton have filled my
gratified yet regretful ear with praises of her demeanour during the
siege and in the awful events which succeeded it, and will it shock
Mrs Hurstwood if I confess that in all my natural grief for my angel’s
loss I can’t escape a sentiment of grateful pride that so glorious a
creature would condescend to entertain a particular regard for Colvin
Fraser?
Calcutta, _Feb. ye_ 14_th._
Oh, madam, I can scarce bring myself to sit down quietly and write to
you, and yet this time it’s no bad news that forbids me to proceed.
What bad news, indeed, could I send to Mrs Hurstwood in any degree
comparable with that contained in my letter announcing the death of
her friend? And what joy, then, must inspire my pen when the charming
task before me is to cheer the heart of the most faithful of women by
reversing that announcement? Yes, madam, the news I have to
communicate is the best, the very best--or if not the very best that
our dear Miss Freyne’s well-wishers could desire, at least so good
that the delighted mind foresees immediately the best of all following
it. Miss Freyne, madam, is living, and to Colvin Fraser has been
vouchsafed the honour of attempting to restore her to her enraptured
friends.
But how my pen hastens along now that ’tis dipped in joy! Pardon me,
madam, for my disorderly method of procedure. And yet ’tis better to
have uttered the charming truth, for to write of all the circumstances
without letting slip the all-important fact until the right moment
arrived, would be impossible to me. Oh, madam, the amiable Sylvia
still lives!
But once again, to my sober history. During the latter part of
January, after my last letter was wrote, the Nabob amused himself and
us with sending an Armenian named Coja Petruce[15.07] backwards and
forwards with feigned offers of peace, while the entire time he was
advancing steadily with his army, burning, as he approached our
bounds, the villages which acknowledged our authority, and at last
passing our furthest outpost. Finding a parcel of _louchees_
plundering within our boundary, the officer in command at Perins
Redoubt stopped them with a sally, but the head of the Moorish army
coming up, began to entrench themselves on t’other side of the
rivulet. Colonel Clive, marching out from Cossipore with a
considerable force, treated them to a slight cannonade, but returning
at night to his camp, the main body came up and established themselves
before morning, the Soubah sending word from Nabob-gunge, a hamlet
about six miles off, that he desired deputies from the English to
attend him and treat of peace. Mess. Walsh and Scrafton were the
gentlemen chosen for this perilous office, and setting out in good
time reached Nabob-gunge only to find the Nabob departed, discovering,
moreover, that the perfidious prince had crossed Dum Dumma Bridge, and
was actually encamped in Omichund’s garden, within the circuit of the
Morattoe-ditch. Our envoys, introduced by Rungeet Roy to the _duan_
Roydoolub, were treated with great indignity, their persons being
searched before they were admitted to the _durbar_, where they found
Surajah Dowlah surrounded with a host of attendants, all huge and
ferocious in appearance, and dressed out with thick stuffed clothes
and prodigious turbands, in order to strike terror into the gentlemen.
These, however, retained sufficient spirit to protest against the
usage they had received, when the Nabob at once cut short their
complaint by referring them back to Roydoolub. On returning to the
tent assigned them, the deputies were warned by Omichund that the
Soubah aimed only at keeping them in play until his cannon were come
up, and with much presence of mind the two gentlemen, putting out
their lights, as though they were about to wait on Roydoolub, went
instead along the high road inside the Ditch until they came safely to
Perins, and so to Colonel Clive’s camp. Since no one could now
entertain a doubt as to the hostile intentions of the Nabob, an action
was determined upon, the Colonel’s plans being precipitated by the
desertion of all our servants and cooleys to the enemy, rendering it
alarmingly difficult to obtain provisions.
Mess. Walsh and Scrafton arriving in the camp about seven in the
evening, Colonel Clive, on hearing their report, repaired immediately
on board the fleet, and asked and obtained from our brave Admiral the
assistance of a body of seamen from the ships, designing to make an
attack on the Nabob’s camp and seize his cannon. At three o’clock the
next morning, the fifth of this month, the expedition left the camp at
Cossipore, an example of that extraordinary promptitude in dealing
with an enemy which has gained the Colonel his reputation among the
Indians. So poorly was our army furnished with the means of transport,
owing to the Council’s fears of offending the Nabob should they set on
foot any warlike preparations, that it was necessary to employ men as
beasts of burden. There was no bullocks, such as you, madam, know are
commonly used in this country for the transport of artillery, and in
all the army but one horse, which came with us from Madrass. The order
of our march was first a body of Seapoys, then six hundred and fifty
Europeans, both soldiers and volunteers, then another body of Seapoys,
and lastly the guns, which were six field-pieces and a
haubitzer,[15.08] all dragged by our gallant seamen, and with their
ammunition carried on the heads of Lascars. A hundred artillerymen
accompanied them, and the whole of the train was guarded by the
remainder of the sailors, amounting to six hundred men, among whom was
your humble correspondent. With the Europeans in front was Colonel
Clive. Reaching the vicinity of the Morattoe-ditch, we found the huts
and tents of the Nabob’s camp scattered in a disorderly manner on both
sides of it, and coming suddenly upon the enemy, drove in their
advanced guard, who fired off their matchlocks and other arms and
fled. One of their rockets chancing to strike the cartouch-box of a
Seapoy, the consequent explosion caused a temporary confusion in our
ranks, but this being alleviated, we advanced as best we might, for no
sooner had daylight appeared than one of those thick fogs peculiar to
this season in Bengal immediately enwrapped the entire scene,
concealing us from the enemy and them from us.
Arrived opposite Omichund’s garden and the Nabob’s quarters, we were
startled by the fog lifting suddenly and showing us a prodigious force
of Persian cavalry, who had discovered us by the noise we made in
marching, about to charge our line. But, as has often been remarked,
’tis in such alarming moments as this that Colonel Clive is at his
best, and steadying the troops by his voice and example, they poured a
volley into the horsemen at thirty yards’ distance, which caused them
quickly to scamper off. There being now no hope of surprising the
enemy, we proceeded in a very warlike manner, directing a constant
fire both of cannon and musquetry on either hand into the fog, which
was descended afresh, but this bravado on our part was like to have
led us into a serious disaster. Some distance in front of us was a
causeway, where a road crosses the Morattoe-ditch, and this causeway
was strongly held by the enemy, whom the Colonel designed to drive
off, and having reached the inner side of the Ditch, to retrace our
steps to Omichund’s garden, and beat up the Nabob’s headquarters. But
our cannon continuing to fire when our leading files turned to the
right to cross the causeway, killed several Seapoys, which cast the
rest into a panic, and while Colonel Clive was rallying ’em the enemy
opened a smart fire from two cannon they had mounted in a redoubt to
the right of the causeway, which threw the whole battalion into great
confusion, so that the notion of forcing the barricade was given up,
and all pressed forward to reach the next bridge, that at the
commencement of the avenue called Lol Buzar. The necessity of dragging
the field-pieces along the ditches between the rice-fields caused us
incredible labour, while we were now and again compelled to raise ’em
up the banks and bring ’em into action, in order to keep off the
enemy’s horse, who were perpetually at our heels. A strong party held
the bridge when we reached it, but giving way before our fire, we
drove back also the horsemen pressing upon our rear, and gained our
own territory, where the Colonel thought it well to give up the
further prosecution of his design, in view of the prodigious fatigue
to which the troops had been exposed, and we marched back to Fort
William through the Lol Buzar. In fact, madam, we returned safely,
though with considerable loss, having gained a victory in spite of our
retreat, for the tyrannic and feeble-minded Surajah Dowlah was so
deeply impressed by our performances that, hearing falsely that the
Colonel had not lost a single man, and finding his own army much more
disheartened than ours, he sent Rungeet Roy the next day to propose
terms of peace.
But now for the affair which will make this indecisive battle for ever
more memorable to Colvin Fraser than the most brilliant victory. I had
been looking to the comfort of my men, who were permitted a rest and a
mid-day meal at the Fort, and was expecting to receive orders to carry
them on board the Tyger again, when there came up to me Lieutenant
Carnac of Adlercron’s Regiment of foot, whose acquaintance I had made
on the expedition against Houghley.
“The very man I was seeking!” he cried. “Pray do me the favour to
accompany me, Mr Fraser. Your presence is desired.”
“And who may it be that desires it, sir?” said I.
“Why, certain very weighty persons, and for weighty reasons,” says the
young gentleman, passing his arm through mine with an agreeable
familiarity. “It seems you have been consorting with traitors, sir,
and you must justify yourself.”
“Sure you’re in very good spirits, Captain.”
“Believe me, sir, I en’t rallying you. You’re needed to help clear up
a strange affair. In seeking to find a way across the rice-fields this
morning, I and some twenty of my men became separated from the
battalion, and were brought up suddenly by coming upon two of the
enemy’s guns, mounted in a rude battery. The men in charge of ’em were
as much astonished as we were, and for a moment we stood staring at
one another with open mouths. Then one of the Moors recovered his
intellects sufficiently to rush to one of the pieces, intending to
discharge it by firing his pistol into the touch-hole, but before he
could reach it, up jumps one of the men at the gun and fells him with
a rammer, then turns upon the rest, and lays about him with such good
will that he had ’em all drove out of the battery in an instant.
Having chased ’em all away, he returns suddenly, and seeing us with
our pieces raised, cries out in a lamentable voice, ‘Don’t fire,
gentlemen, for the love of heaven! I’m a Briton like yourselves!’ This
confession inflamed the men so deeply, finding a European fighting on
the side of the Moors, that they would have cut the poor wretch to
pieces if I hadn’t held ’em back almost by force, but he pointing out
that he had saved us all from destruction by the enemy, they cooled a
little, when he showed us further that he had loaded both guns up to
the very muzzle with stones and rubbish and such a quantity of powder
that they must sure have burst and destroyed all the Moors in the
place had they been fired. This proving him to be well affected, we
spiked up the guns and carried him back with us, since he desired to
be confronted with Mr Hastings or any of the Calcutta gentlemen that
survived the Black Hole, saying they could vouch for his honesty.
Since we returned to the Fort, hearing some one mention your name, he
demanded vehemently to see you, saying that he had news of infinite
gravity to give you.”
“Questionless the poor wretch is my cousin Colquhoun’s sergeant, who
was forced to enter the Nabob’s service,” said I, and attended the
Captain into Colonel Clive’s presence. No sooner had I entered than
the unfortunate prisoner, who was standing loaded with chains while
the Colonel interrogated him, sprang forward and cast himself at my
feet.
“Thank God, sir, that you’re come!” he cried. “I’ve thought every
moment as how the General was going to order me out to be shot, but I
don’t care how soon he do it now. There’s one thing been on my mind,
and that’s to give you this,” and he pulled a small shred of paper
from some hiding-place in his clothes. “Not being no scholar, I can’t
read all the words, but ever since I had it I’ve feared as how I’d led
you and the other gentlemen into a horrid mistake, and perhaps ruined
the poor young lady as I’d wished to give my life for.”
I tore the paper from his hand, but the mist before my eyes forbade me
to read it for a moment. Then I saw that on one side ’twas covered
with my own handwriting. Madam, ’twas a part of the letter I writ to
my dear Miss Freyne near a year ago from Vizagapatnam, that letter on
which you have been pleased to rally me more than once. But on the
other side--oh, madam, figure to yourself my sensations at the
moment--were a few words scratched in a brownish sort of ink with some
blunt instrument, scratched, as I could not doubt, by my charmer’s own
hand.
“I am not dead, but in the power of the wretch S ...” (this name is
illegible, owing to the folding of the paper) “at Muxadavad. Help me,
any Christian that may read this, for the l ... God, or at least tell
those escaped from Calcutta where they may ... the unhappy Sylvia
Freyne.”
Was ever such an affecting billet handed to a lover before, madam? I
am not ashamed to say that I found myself incapable of speech as,
after pressing the message to my lips, I handed it to Colonel Clive,
who demanded it with an impatient gesture, nor did it surprise me that
the Colonel’s face was moved when he read it.
“Wrote with the poor woman’s own blood!” he said, as though to account
for his emotion, and I started forward to reclaim the paper with a
cry, for the notion had not occurred to me. To what alarms, madam,
must the dear creature have been exposed before resorting to so
dreadful an expedient for revealing her situation! “Wait a moment,
sir,” says the Colonel; “what’s this? Something wrote in broken
Moors--‘Take this to any hat-wearer, and he will give you ten rupees,’
but in the English character! How did the poor soul expect it to be
read? Where and how did you get hold of this, fellow?” he asked of the
prisoner, who was risen again to his feet.
“I had it of a Moorman, your honour, who said as how he had lighted on
it in a street of Muxidavad, but he could not, or maybe would not,
tell me the place. He kept it for a charm, but I chanced to have a
leaf out of a printed song-book about me, that I had picked up among
the spoils, which I gave him in exchange for it, telling him as how
’twas a more powerful charm than his. And when I had it, I did naught
but look out for a chance of escape, that I might bring it to Miss’s
friends, but they watched me so as I couldn’t nohow get away before
to-day.”
“Do you believe the man worthy of credit, Mr Fraser?” says the Colonel
aside to me.
“Why, sir, how would I do otherwise?” I asked.
“You’re a prejudiced witness, sir, I see. But since Mr Fisherton has
testified to the man’s motives in entering the Soubah’s service, and
Mr Hastings speaks of seeing him conducted by force to Muxidavad after
the lady’s supposed death, I think we need scarce doubt him. What do
you say to returning to the Company’s service, my man?”
“There’s naught could please me better, your honour.”
“Then be it so, and let me hear a good report of you in the future.
Hark ye, sir,” to me, “I thought at first of demanding the restoration
of the lady from the Nabob as an indispensable condition of peace, but
I en’t so sure now that ’twill be the most prudent plan. Think the
matter over, and let me know to-morrow what your judgment is. Till
then I will say nothing to any one.”
I bowed and withdrew, feeling a prodigious great surprise that Mr
Clive should entertain any doubts on what seemed to me to be a matter
of such simplicity; and finding Mr Hastings, who is serving as a
volunteer in the European ranks, outside the place, I begged leave to
attend him to his quarters, and laid the question before him, showing
him the precious paper, though I would not trust it out of my own
hands.
“How do you fill up the blanks in this message, sir?” said he. “Not
the two latter, which are of slight importance, but the first?”
“Why, with the Nabob’s name, sir. How else? ‘In the power of the
wretch Surajah’--sure ’tis as clear as daylight.”
“It’s possible,” said he; “but why not the Nabob or the Soubah? Either
term would surely come more readily to the pen. There’s others beside
Surajah Dowlah whose names begin with an S, sir. For example, there’s
Meer Sinzaun.”
“The renegado?” I cried.
“No other. The fellow, as I have heard, piques himself upon his fine
taste, and he might well prefer a European lady to the Moorish
wenches. ’Tis but a notion of mine, but if you’ll permit, we’ll ask
Captain Labaume and Mr Fisherton, who were well acquainted with the
lady, if they know of anything that would argue any truth in it.”
He called his Indian servant, who had remained faithful when his
fellows deserted their masters, and gave him an order, while I kept
silence, regarding the matter in this new and disagreeable light.
Presently Mess. Labaume and Fisherton entered the apartment, the
former feigning anger at being summoned.
“I’faith, Mr Hastings, you’re an insolent dog!” he cried. “How dare
you send your commands to your superior officer, sir? I was but just
sitting down to my dinner when up comes your blackfellow with,
‘Hasteen Siab’s compliments, and will the Captain Siab[15.09] wait on
him immediately?’ Sure you’ll have to learn that you en’t President of
Bengal yet.”
“Indeed, Captain, that’s a lesson I shan’t learn if my friends are so
complaisant in pardoning my incivilities. But here’s the reason for my
breach of discipline. You’ve heard the joyful news of Miss Freyne’s
safety which our friend Mr Fraser has received by means of a billet
from herself. Now there’s something in the letter inclines me to think
that the lady’s present custodian en’t the Nabob at all, but perhaps
the apostate Sinzaun. Is’t possible that he can have heard of her
before the siege, and plotted to get her into his power?”
“Possible?” cried Captain Labaume. “Why, sir, to the best of my belief
the fellow was so captivated by the report of Miss’s beauty that he
adventured his person in Calcutta itself for the sake of seeing her,
and forced his company upon her at a masquerade. It’s in my mind that
he pursued her for some time with his solicitations, but poor Jack
Bellamy could have told you more of that than I.”
“And his knowledge lies buried in the ditch of the ravelin yonder,”
says Mr Hastings.
“But I can tell you more than that, sir,” says Mr Fisherton. “When the
Fort was taken, and before we poor wretches were drove into the Black
Hole, Sinzaun came to scrutinise us, looking for Miss, as she
believed. She testified such terror in view of the villain’s efforts
to discover her, that Captain Colquhoun assisted her to disguise
herself in a man’s hat and cloak, and she escaped notice for the
time.”
“This is as I feared,” said Mr Hastings. “We can’t doubt but the
apostate has got the unhappy lady into his power by some device to
hoodwink the Nabob. Now you perceive, Mr Fraser, why the Colonel
thought best not to demand her release openly. Miss is hid in some
spot known neither to us nor to the Nabob, but whence she could be
quickly removed if enquiry was made touching her. To broach the topic
would be to unite the Nabob with Sinzaun against us, and destroy all
hope of liberating the captive. Your plan will be to despatch a secret
agent to Muxidavad to discover where the lady is confined, and then to
frame some means of effecting her escape. There’s a parcel of
Armenians and Moorish traitors would do the work for you, if you paid
’em high enough.”
“Sure Omichund’s the man,” says Captain Labaume. “He has rogues enough
in his pay to corrupt all India.”
“Oh no, sir,” cried Mr Fisherton. “Sure you can’t know that the vile
wretch sought to decoy Miss to his house by a promise of safety on the
night of the Black Hole, acting, as every one present believed, in
Sinzaun’s interest. I fear this new misfortune is also of his
hatching, since ’twas he had the woman fetched that was to attend upon
the lady to Muxidavad, and though he feigned she was a stranger to
him, I doubt she was his tool.”
“’Tis well we know this,” said Mr Hastings, “or we should questionless
have applied to Omichund for advice and assistance, as in all other
cases. We must find you another messenger, Mr Fraser.”
“I thank you, sir,” said I, “but if there’s any art can smuggle me
through the enemy’s lines, I’ll go myself to Muxidavad.”
“There’s none,” said he. “No disguise could ensure your safety, sir,
and you might not only fail to help the lady, but even endanger her.”
“If there’s any power on earth can get me into Muxidavad, sir, thither
I’ll go.”
Mr Hastings and his friends shook their heads and lamented over my
obstinacy, but as you’ll hear, madam, there was assistance in store
for me of which we did not dream. Had any one told us at that moment
that after our march through his camp, which led to nothing, the Nabob
would treat for peace, we would have laughed at him, and yet the
treaty was signed only four days later, on the 9th. The Nabob
covenanted with us that he would restore the plunder taken at the fall
of Calcutta (this, which appears but a silly condition, the spoils
being dispersed through a whole army, was insisted on by the Bengal
gentlemen), permit the fortifying of the city and the erection of a
mint, and allow the Company’s _dustucks_ to pass untaxed and unopposed
in his dominions. He also restores the villages granted to the factory
by the Emperor Ferokshere, and all the former privileges, from
whomsoever obtained, asking in return an alliance offensive and
defensive against all his enemies. Mr Clive replied to this by
demanding liberty to attack the French at Chandernagore, but the Nabob
answered cunningly enough that if the Colonel would oblige him by
preventing Mr Bussey from invading Bengal from the Decan, and Count
Lally’s fleet, of the despatch of which he had heard, from attacking
it by sea, there would be time to think about Chandernagore
afterwards. The Soubah further asked for twenty English gunners for
his artillery, and Mr Watts, the late chief of Cossimbuzar, to reside
at his Court, believing him to be a meek sort of a person, destitute
of guile, and both these requests have been granted. When the treaty
was signed, the Nabob sent a present, comprising in each case an
elephant richly caparisoned, a robe of honour, and an elegant jewelled
ornament for the head, to Colonel Clive, Admiral Watson, and Mr Drake,
presenting _surpaus_ or dresses of state also to Omichund and Runjeet
Roy, for their assistance in the negociations. The Admiral, who is
hugely dissatisfied with the treaty, thinking it shame to make peace
when the blood of our fellow-countrymen remains unavenged, refused to
accept his present, but willing to show some civility to the noblemen
that brought it, carried them on board the Kent and exhibited to them
his lower tyre[15.10] of 32-pounders, of which they, returning, made
a dreadful report to their master.
And what, Mrs Hurstwood will say, was Colvin Fraser doing all this
time? He was waiting for his chance, madam, and he found it three days
ago, when Mr Watts was but just started on his way to Muxidavad,
taking with him Omichund and the gunners for whom the Nabob had asked,
as well as Mr Ranger, whose name won’t be unknown to Mrs Hurstwood, as
commandant of the Cossimbuzar garrison. Colonel Clive was engaged in
preparations, carried on with the greatest secrecy imaginable, for an
advance against Chandernagore, to be undertaken without the Nabob’s
knowledge, when there arrived in the camp a venerable divine, newly
come from England in one of the Company’s ships, who brought letters
of commendation to Mr Watts, as head of the Cossimbuzar factory,
having left Europe long before anything was known of the melancholy
revolution here. This excellent person, the Rev. Dr Dacre, is
interested in observing the manners and studying the antiquities of
the Indians, and has undertaken this prodigious journey at an advanced
age in the hope of conversing with the learned among that people on
their own soil. In place of being deterred by the terrible events that
have transpired since his voyage was planned, the venerable man is
solely eager to let slip no part of this period of peace, and desired
to follow Mr Watts immediately on his way to Muxidavad, where he looks
to obtain much enlightenment both from the Moorish _Imaums_ and the
Gentoo _Pundits_. Here, madam, was my chance, for I knew well that I
could never have prevailed upon Mr Watts to permit me to be of his
company, and therefore did not ask him. Guessing that the Admiral was
devising some means by which Dr Dacre might be despatched up the
river, I waited upon him in his cabin and asked his leave to visit
Muxidavad in attendance upon the worthy divine. You would have smiled,
madam, to behold Mr Watson’s astonishment at my request.
“I think you forget, Mr Fraser, that you han’t yet near made up the
time you lost at the beginning of this cruise. There’s not an officer
in the fleet but could ask leave for such a jaunt as this with a
better grace than yourself.”
“Indeed, sir, if it were only a jaunt I desired, I would not venture
to ask it.”
“What is it, then? Sure it can’t be true what I heard Billy Speke
chattering about t’other night, that you still have a notion of
rescuing the lady of whom you told me at Madrass?”
“That’s my hope, sir.”
“I had thought better of your sense, child. If the lady be still
alive, sure you can do her little good by approaching her, and you
may, by arousing the suspicion of her captors, bring about her
destruction.”
“Trust me, sir, I won’t act rashly. If the lady have--have formed
other ties, I’ll bow humbly to her discretion, and nothing will induce
me so to act as to bring suspicion on her. But I must know if she’s
satisfied to remain a prisoner.”
“You’ll embroil us afresh with Surajah Dowlah’s whole horde, to say
nothing of risking your own life and losing sea-time, and very likely
affronting Colonel Clive. No, Mr Fraser, I can’t have you go.”
I had expected this. “Then permit me to resign my commission into your
hands, sir,” I said, laying it on the table before him.
“What, sir?” cried Mr Watson, with mingled grief and indignation, “are
you serious? Do you know what you’re doing, with this expedition
against Chandernagore close at hand? D’you know what will be said of
you throughout the fleet?”
“I have considered that, sir, but the lady has no friend to attempt
her rescue but myself. I am all she has to look to for help, and I
won’t abandon her for the sake of my own advancement.”
“For the sake of your duty to his Majesty and the service, sir! D’you
know you are a very foolish and wayward youth?”
“Since you tell me so, sir, I can’t but believe it.”
“You’re a foolish and wayward youth, sir, but I tell you this. If you
had been willing to desert the lady in her extremity, Charles Watson
would have took away your commission himself. That man’s no British
seaman that would leave a woman a prisoner in the hands of the Moors.
Take back your papers, child; I’ll make things right for you with
Captain Latham. You shall carry despatches to Muxidavad from me to the
Nabob, and you shall remain there as long as I can conveniently spare
you, but I rely on you to do your business as speedily as may be. You
will leave this on Tuesday by the boat that carries Dr Dacre.”
And that Tuesday, madam, is now to-morrow.