'What's this?' said Colonel Starr, looking up from his camp table,
where he was writing a final message for translation to the
Maharajah. The sun was on the point of rising, the air was crisp,
and the sky was splendid. Lalpore, on her buttressed slope, sat as
proud and as silent as ever; but something like a blue ribbon
floated from the south wall over the river.
'What's this?' said Colonel Starr, with the deepest possible
astonishment.
'Pris'ner, sir,' answered Thomas Jones, saluting.
'WHAT?' said the Colonel. 'Nonsense! Where did you get him?'
'Beg pardon, sir. Peters were on duty, sir, at the second outpost,
sir. It were about two hours ago as far as I could judge, sir, not
'avin' the time by me. Peters seed pris'ner a-comin' strite fer
the camp across the sands from the river, sir. Peters sings out
"Oo goes?" H'AND there been no notiss took, pints, sir.'
'Yes,' interposed Sunni, composedly, in his best English, 'he did.
But he did not fire. And that was well, for he might have hit me.
I am not broken.'
'Go on, Jones,' said the Colonel. 'This is very queer.'
'Pris'ner were about ten yards off, sir, 'an, as 'e says, Peters
MIGHT 'a hit 'im,' said Sergeant Jones, with solemn humour, 'but
afore he'd made up 'is mind to fire, 'e'd come so close Peters saw
'ow small he was, an' therefore didn't, sir.'
'Quite right,' remarked Sunni. 'Peters might have killed me.'
The Colonel nodded. He was looking with absorbed interest into
Sunni's eyes. He came out of his instant of abstraction with a
start, while Jones went on with respectful volubility.
'Beggin' pardon, sir, Peters says as 'ow 'e were all struck of a
heap, sir, at 'earin' the young 'un call out in English, sir, an'
bein' so light complected fer a native, sir, an' even lighter in
that light, Peters didn't rightly know wot 'e might be firin' at,
sir. Peters do be a bit superstitious.'
'Peters took him then, I suppose?' The Colonel smiled ironically.
'Beggin' YOUR pardon, sir, it was rather 'im as took Peters. 'E
walked strite up to 'im, an' "Ware is the burra[9] sahib?" says 'e.
Peters sends 'im into the guard tent to me as 'e passed on his
beat, and pris'ner says "YOU ain't the burra sahib," says he. Then
I says to pris'ner, "You bito[10] an' give an account of yerself,"
says I. Says 'e quite 'aughty like, "I'll account fer myself to
the burra sahib," an' wouldn't take no chaff. But 'e bitoes, an'
curls 'isself up in the sand, an' goes sound asleep in no time--an'
'ere 'e is, sir.'
[9] 'Principal.'
[10] 'Sit down on the ground.'
'Also,' corrected Sunni, 'he gave me some coffee. He is a good
man. Are you the burra sahib?' he asked the Colonel.
But Colonel Starr was not in a mood to answer questions regarding
his dignity. He looked at the queer slender figure before him, in
its torn coat of embroidered silk, and its narrow, shapeless, dirty
cotton trousers; and especially he looked at the boy's hair and
eyes--his wavy yellow hair and his blue eyes.
'You are not a Rajput, you are an English boy,' he said finally,
with amazed conviction.
At another time the Colonel would have been wild with excitement at
such a discovery, but for the moment his mind was full of graver
things. In an hour he meant to attack Lalpore. He dismissed his
kindling enthusiasm, and added simply, 'How came you here?'
'I came by a rope from the palace to the pipal-tree, and thence to
the south wall, and thence to the river bed. It was not hard.
Knowing the shallows of the river, I arrived quite easily by
wading.'
'You come from the fort? Are there any other English there?' The
Colonel's voice was quick and eager.
'Not even one! Ee-Wobbis was there, but he is killed.'
'Ah!' said Colonel Starr. 'When was he killed?'
'In the evening on the tenth day of the month. I do not properly
know for why. It was not the Maharajah,' added Sunni quickly; 'it
was Maun Rao. Ee-Wobbis was my countryman, and I hate Maun Rao.'
The orderly came for the final message that was to be sent to the
Maharajah. Colonel Starr told him it would be ready in half an
hour.
'Have they given you any breakfast?' he asked.
'No, thank you--not yet,' answered Sunni politely.
The Colonel wrote an order, and gave it to Thomas Jones. 'Be
smart,' he added.
Until Thomas Jones returned with some bread and bacon and a bowl of
milk, and until Sunni had eaten the bread and drunk the milk, the
Colonel looked at the boy as seldom as he could, and said only two
words. 'No bacon?' he asked.
Sunni flushed. 'If it is excusable,' said he, 'I do not eat of the
pig.'
At which Colonel Starr's face expressed curiosity, amusement, and
interest all at once; but he kept silence until Sunni had finished.
'Now,' said he pleasantly, 'listen, my small prisoner. I am sure
you have a great deal to tell me about yourself. Very good, I will
hear it. I should like to hear it. But not now--there is no time.
Since you have taken the trouble to escape from this place, you do
not want to go back again, I suppose?'
'I want to go to my own country--with you,' said Sunni. 'I can
march.'
The Colonel smiled. It was the smile of a brave man, and kindly.
His men knew it as well as they knew his sterner looks. Sunni
thought it a beautiful smile.
'You shall go,' he said, 'but we are not quite ready to start yet.
Perhaps in a few days, perhaps in a few weeks, we shall be. A good
deal depends on what you can tell me.'
Sunni looked straight into the Colonel's eyes, a little puzzled.
'How do they get water in Lalpore?' asked the Colonel, to begin
with.
'There are four wells,' said Sunni, 'and two of them have no
bottom.'
'H'm! And what is that white building with the round roof that we
see from here?'
'That is the mosque of Larulla,' said Sunni, 'but it is no longer
of consequence; there is so little Mussulmans in Lalpore. The
soldiers hang their guns there now.'
'Ah! And has the Maharajah many soldiers, and have they good
guns--new guns?'
Sunni looked into the Colonel's face with eager pleasure to reply;
but there he saw something that made him suddenly close his lips.
He had not lived ten years among the Rajputs without learning to
read faces, and in Colonel Starr's he saw that all this talk the
Colonel desired about Lalpore was not for Lalpore's good. The boy
thought for a minute, and tightened his lips, while a little firm
line came on each side of his mouth. He only opened them to say,
'Burra sahib, I cannot tell you that.'
'But you must tell me,' said Colonel Starr firmly.
'No,' returned Sunni, 'not that, nor any more informations about
the fort.'
The Colonel's face grew stern. He was not accustomed to
disobedience.
'Come,' he said; 'out with it, boy. I have no time to waste.' His
tone was so serious that Sunni felt a little nervous thrill run all
over him.
'No,' said he.
The Colonel tried another way:
'Come, my little chap,' said he gently, 'you are English, are you
not?'
Sunni nodded.
Then you must serve the English Queen. She has sent me here to
punish the Maharajah for killing the padre-sahib. You must help
me.'
'The Maharajah DID NOT kill ee-Wobbis,' cried Sunni excitedly. 'I
have already once said that. The Maharajah he LIKE ee-Wobbis. I
am English, but the Maharajah is my father and my mother. I cannot
speak against the Maharajah, burra sahib.'
There came a light into the Colonel's eyes which was not kindled by
anger. He found himself liking this slip of a ragged urchin with
fair hair, who defied him--liking him tremendously. But the crisis
was grave; he could not sacrifice his men to a child's scruple; he
could not let himself be defied. He took out his watch, and made
his face hard.
'Then,' said he coldly, 'you are either the Maharajah's deserter or
his spy. If you have deserted, I am disposed to send you back to
him, since you are of no use to us. If you are his spy, it is my
duty to have you shot. I will give you five minutes to save your
skin in.'
'But--but you are my COUNTRYMAN, burra sahib!' There was a sob in
his voice.
The only possible answer to that was a hug, so it went unanswered.
Colonel Starr set himself to think of his Midlanders.
Sunni lifted his blue eyes entreatingly to the Colonel's face, but
he had turned it away. He was watching a little brown lizard
sunning itself outside the tent door, and wondering how long he
could keep his disciplinary expression. You could hear nothing in
the tent but the ticking of the watch. Sunni looked down at the
lizard too, and so the minutes passed.
Three of them passed. Colonel Starr found himself hoping even more
that the boy should stand firm than that he should speak. Colonel
Starr began to say softly within himself, 'I am a brute.' The
fifth minute was up. 'Will you speak?' asked the Colonel.
'Burra sahib, no,' said Sunni.
At that instant Lieutenant Pink galloped up to the door of the
tent.
'They've come to their senses at last, sir. Six mounted men have
just left the north gate, signalling for a parley.'
The Colonel jumped to his feet and gave half a dozen orders without
stopping. The last one was to Sunni. 'Stay here,' he said; 'you
shall soon go back to your own country.'
The Chitan horsemen had ridden out to announce the coming of the
Maharajah, so that the English officer might meet him half-way.
They gave the message gravely, and rode slowly back. Half an hour
later there arose a great shouting and blowing of trumpets inside
the walls, the royal gate was flung open, and the Maharajah
appeared, swaying in a blaze of silk and jewels upon an enormous
elephant with a painted trunk and trappings fringed in gold and
silver. Trumpeters and the crimson flag of Chita went before him;
Maun Rao and the other generals rode behind him; at his side sat
his bard, his poet laureate, with glowing eyes, speaking constantly
into his royal ear the glorious annals of his house. Colonel Starr
and his little suite met this wonderful cavalcade a quarter of a
mile from the city, and the Maharajah and the Colonel dismounted.
Whereupon the magnificent Rajput, in his diamond aigrettes and his
silken swathings, and the broad shouldered British officer, in his
Queen's red coat, solemnly kissed each other. They exchanged other
politenesses, spoke of the health of the Viceroy and of his 'good
friend' the Maharajah, and His Highness arranged a durbar to be
held in his hall of audience at two that afternoon, when he would
hear the desires of the British Raj.
Strangely enough, it occurred to nobody to wonder why the Maharajah
had so suddenly changed his mind. To nobody, that is, except Sonny
Sahib. He guessed the reason, and sitting all morning in a corner
of the Colonel's tent, as he had been told, he thought about it
very seriously. Once or twice he had to swallow a lump in his
throat to help him to think. The Maharajah's reason was that he
supposed that Sonny Sahib had told the English about Lalpore's
ammunition; and that, under the circumstances, was enough to bring
lumps into anybody's throat.
The Colonel was very busy, and took no notice of him, except to say
that he should have some dinner. He heard talk of the Maharajah's
visit and of the durbar, and he revolved that too. When the time
came, Sunni had concluded that he also must go to the durbar. He
said so to Colonel Starr.
'Nonsense!' said the Colonel. 'And yet,' he added reflectively,
'it might be useful to have you there. I daresay you will be safe
enough. You are not afraid?'
Sunni said he was not afraid. So they all went, and the Maharajah,
rising from his ivory chair, received them with much state and
ceremony. He frowned when he saw Sunni, but said nothing. His
Highness felt that he was not in a position to resent anything, and
thought bitterly of Petroff Gortschakin.
The durbar proceeded. Formally, and according to strict
precedence, each man spoke. With great amiability Colonel Starr
presented the demands of the English Government; with greater
amiability the Maharajah and his officers repelled them. But
Colonel Starr was firm, and he had the unanswerable argument of
three hundred well-armed men and two nine-pounders, which Maun Rao
would have to meet with Petroff Gortschakin's cartridges. After
duly and sadly reflecting upon this, the Maharajah concluded that
he would give up ee-Wobbis's murderers--one of them at any rate--and
let himself be arranged, at all events for the present. Afterwards
he would say to Maun Rao that it was only for the present. He
summoned all his politeness to his aid, and said in the end that
such was his admiration for the English Lord Sahib in Calcutta,
such his friendship and respect, that he would welcome any one
who came to Lalpore in his name.
'Accompanied by a small force,' added Colonel Starr in the
vernacular, and the Maharajah also added, while Maun Rao behind him
ground his teeth, 'Accompanied by a small force.'
'One word more,' said the Maharajah, 'and the durbar is ended. The
opium pledge will appear, and we will drink it with you. From the
palm of your hand I will drink, and from the palm of my hand you
shall drink; but the lips of the boy who comes with you shall not
taste it. The Rajputs do not drink opium with their betrayers.'
Sunni heard, and his face grew crimson.
'Maharajah!' he shouted, 'I did not tell; I did not tell.'
The Maharajah shrugged his shoulders contemptuously.
'He is not of our blood; why should he have kept silence?' said the
old man.
'But he did keep silence,' said the Colonel, looking straight into
the Chitan's sunken eyes. 'I asked him about your men and your
ammunition. I commanded him, I threatened him. I give you my word
of honour as a soldier that he would say nothing.'
The English in India are always believed. A cry went up from the
other Chitans. Moti clapped his hands together, Maun Rao caught
the boy up and kissed him.
'Then,' said the Maharajah slowly, 'I love you still, Sunni, and
you shall drink the opium with the rest. Your son,' he added to
Colonel Starr, 'will bring praise to his father.'
The Colonel smiled. 'I have no children,' said he. 'I wish he
were indeed my son.'
'If he is not your son,' asked the Maharajah cunningly, 'why did
you bring him to the durbar?'
'Because he wished to come--'
'To say that I did not tell,' said Sunni.
'Call the woman,' ordered His Highness.
She was in the crowd in the courtyard, waiting to see her old master
pass again. She came in bent and shaking, with her head-covering
over her face. She threw herself at Colonel Starr's feet, and
kissed them.
'Captan Sahib!' she quavered, 'Captan Sahib! Mirbani do!'[11]
[11] 'Give mercy.'
There was absolute silence in the audience hall. A parrakeet
flashed through it screaming. The shadows were creeping east over
the marble floor; a little sun flamed out on the hilt of Maun Rao's
sword. The Colonel stooped over the old woman and raised her up.
His face whitened as he looked at her.
'It's Tooni!' he said, hoarsely. And then, in a changed voice,
unconscious of the time and place, 'Tooni, what happened to the
memsahib?' he asked.
The ayah burst into an incoherent torrent of words and tears. The
memsahib was very, very ill, she said. There were not five breaths
left in her body. The memsahib had gone in the cart--and the chota
baba[12]--the Sonny Sahib--had always had good milk--and she had
taken none of the memsahib's ornaments, only her little black book
with the charm in it.
[12] 'The little baby.'
'That is true talk,' interposed Sunni, 'Tooni's words are all true.
Here is the little black book.'
Colonel Starr had the face of a man in a dream, half conscious and
trying to wake up. His lips worked as he took the oilskin bag from
Sunni, and he looked at it helplessly. Little Lieutenant Pink took
it gently from him, slit it down the side with a pocket-knife, and
put back into the Colonel's hand the small leather-bound book. On
the back of it was printed, in tarnished gold letters, 'Common
Prayer.'
It was a very little book, but the Colonel was obliged to hold it
with both hands. Even then they trembled so that he could hardly
turn to the fly-leaf. His eyes filled as he read there, 'Evelyn
Starr from John Starr, December 5th, 1855,' and remembered when he
had written that. Still the shadows crept eastward, the mynas
chattered in the garden, the scent of the roses came across warm in
the sun. The Rajputs looked at him curiously, but no one spoke.
The Colonel's eyes were fixed upon Sunni's face. He made one or
two efforts to speak that did not succeed. Then 'And this is the
baby,' he said.
'Hazur, ha!'[13] replied Tooni, 'Sonny Sahib hai!'
[13] 'Your Honour, yes. It is Sonny Sahib.'
The Colonel looked at Sunni an instant longer, and the boy smiled
into his face. 'Yes,' said he assuredly, with a deep breath, 'it
is Sonny Sahib.'
'The woman saw your honour this morning, and the khaber was brought
to me then,' remarked the Maharajah complacently.
It was three weeks, after all, before the Maharajah of Chita was
satisfactorily arranged. For three weeks Thomas Jones indulged in
roast kid and curry every day from Lalpore, and Lieutenant Pink,
having no more warlike way of amusing himself, made sanguinary
water-colour sketches of the city to send home to the Misses Pink
in England. The day came at last when Colonel Starr and Sonny
Sahib went to pay their final respects to the Maharajah. With his
hand upon his son's shoulder the Colonel turned once more after the
last courtesy had been exchanged.
'Your Highness will remember,' said the English soldier for the
pleasure of saying it, 'he did not tell.'
THE END
End of Project Gutenberg's The Story of Sonny Sahib, by Sara Jeannette Duncan