am accused of being responsible for the present perilous position of
England. Well, I will accept that responsibility. Never in the world’s
history did a statesman entertain great plans without exposing his
country to certain risks. I remind you how Bismarck, after the war of
1866 had been fought to a successful issue, said that the old women
would have beaten him to death with cudgels had the Prussian army been
defeated. But it was not defeated, and he stood before them as a man
who had united Germany and made Prussia great. He exposed Prussia to the
greatest risks, in that by his agitation he made almost the whole world
Prussia’s enemy, declared war upon Austria and upon the whole of South
Germany, and forced the latter eventually to engage in the war against
France. England at that time pursued the luckless policy of observing
and waiting for an opportunity, merely because no agitator conducted its
policy. Had England in 1866 declared war against Prussia, Germany would
not to-day be so powerful as to be able to wage war upon us. Since those
days, profound changes have taken place in England itself, and entirely
owing to the growth of the German power. Since the fall of Napoleon,
we have not troubled ourselves sufficiently about events upon the
Continent, but in our proud self-assurance have thought ourselves so
powerful, that we only needed to influence the decisions of foreign
governments, in order to pursue our own lines of policy. But this
self-assurance suffered a severe shock in the events of 1866 and 1870,
and England has, and rightly enough, become nervous. The Englishman down
to that period despised the forward policy of the Continental powers.
This is no longer the case, but, on the other hand patriotic tendencies
are at work even in England itself, which are branded by the weak-minded
apostles of peace as chauvinistic. Let that pass, I am proud to call
myself a chauvinist in the sense that I do not desire peace at any
price, but peace only for England’s welfare. The patriotic tendencies
of our people have been directed into their proper channel by my
predecessor Chamberlain. And has not the Government for the last thirty
years hearkened to these patriotic feelings, in that, whether led by
Disraeli or Gladstone, it has brought about an enormous strengthening of
our defensive forces both on land and sea? These military preparations,
whilst not only redounding to the advantage of the motherland, but also
to that of the colonies (which they shall ever continue to do) have
saddled the mother country with the entire burden of expenditure. But
how shall the enormous cost of this war be met for the future? How shall
the commerce of the English world-empire be increased in the future and
protected from competition, if the colonies do not share in the expense?
I vote for a just distribution of the burdens, and maintain that not
England alone but that the colonies also should share in bearing them.
The plan of Imperial Federation, a policy which we are pursuing, is the
remedy for our chronic disease, and will strengthen the colonies and the
mother country in economic, political, and military respects. Certainly,
my lords, such utterances will appear to you to be somewhat impertinent,
at a time when a Russian army has invaded India and our army has
suffered a severe defeat, but I should wish to remind you that every war
that England has yet waged has begun with defeats. But England has never
waged other than victorious wars since William the Conqueror infused
Romanic blood into England’s political life and thus gave it a
constitution of such soundness and tenacity that no other body politic
has ever been able permanently to resist England. We shall again, as in
days of yore, drive the Russians out of India, shall force the fleets
of France, Germany, and Russia who are now hiding in their harbours
into the open, annihilate them, and thwart all the insolent plans of our
enemies, and finally raise the Union Jack as a standard of a world-power
that no one will for evermore be able to attack.”
XVIII
THE YOUNG RUSSIAN CAPTAIN OF DRAGOONS
The news of Edith’s kidnapping--for, in Heideck’s opinion, this was the
only explanation, because she would otherwise have left a message for
him--fell upon Heideck as a crushing blow.
He remembered the terrible cruelties narrated of the period of the Sepoy
mutiny. And he only needed to remember his own experiences in Lahore to
be convinced that all those horrible stories were no exaggeration, but,
rather, well within the actual truth of the facts.
But if it was not a like fate that awaited Edith Irwin, yet perhaps
another ignominious lot would be hers, and this could not fail to
appear, to the man who loved her, more terrible even than death itself.
His alarm and deep despondency had not escaped the notice of the Prince.
He laid his hand sympathetically on Heideck’s shoulder, and said--
“I am really quite miserable, comrade! for I now see what you and the
lady are to each other. But perhaps you make yourself uneasy without
cause; the departure of the lady is capable, perhaps, of a quite simple
explanation.”
Heideck shook his head.
“I do not entertain any hope in this respect, for everything points to
the fact that the Maharajah of Chanidigot is the man who has got the
lady into his power. This sensual despot has for months past schemed how
to obtain possession of her. What, in Heaven’s name, is to be done to
free the unhappy creature from his clutches?”
“I will inform the General, and doubt not that he will institute an
inquiry. If your supposition is correct, the Maharajah will, of course,
be compelled to set the lady free. But I doubt if this is the case. The
despot of Chanidigot is at present far away.”
“That would not prevent others from acting on his orders. And do you
really believe that your General would, for the sake of an English
lady, offend an influential Indian prince, whose alliance would at this
present moment be very advantageous for Russia?”
“Oh, my dear friend, we are not the barbarians we are held to be in
Western Europe. We do not intend to be behind the rest of the world in
chivalrous actions, and we certainly should not begin our rule in India
by allowing execrable deeds of violence to take place before our very
eyes. I am convinced that the General does not in this matter think
differently from myself.”
“You do not know what a great comfort it is to me to hear that; for I
shall myself be unable to do anything more for Mrs. Irwin. Since I know
that Germany is engaged in the war, I can have no further interest but
to join my army as quickly as possible.”
“Of course! A soldier’s duty first. But how shall you manage to get to
Germany? It will be a devilish hard job.”
“I must try all the same. Under no circumstances could I remain quietly
here.”
“Well, then, let us consider matters. The best plan would be for you to
return by sea from Bombay or some other port, like Calcutta, Madras,
or Karachi. Karachi is nearest. It has even been given the name of the
Entrance Gate to Central Asia. And from Lahore, Quetta, or Mooltan,
Karachi can be most readily reached by the railway. Steamship
communication between Karachi and Europe is only possible by way of
Bombay; there is thence no other direct line of steamers than that
plying up the Persian Gulf. You must accordingly go by one of the
English steamers of the P. and O. line, which start twice a week. The
French Messageries Maritimes, which usually sail between Karachi
and Marseilles, will, of course, have long since discontinued their
services. You could, therefore, just as well go by railway to Bombay.
Via Calcutta or Madras would be a roundabout journey.”
“And I should be entirely dependent upon the English steamship lines?”
“I consider it quite out of the question that the ships of the North
German Lloyd or the Austrian Lloyd are still running.”
“Then I shall have to give up the idea of this route altogether. For if
I am not to make use of a forged passport, which, moreover, will be very
hard to obtain, no English steamer will take me as a passenger.”
“That is certainly very probable,” the Prince rejoined, after some
thought. “And then--how are you to get to Bombay? The English are, of
course, destroying all the railways on their line of retreat.”
“Well, so far as that is concerned, I could go on horseback.”
“What! right through the English army? and at the risk of being arrested
for a spy? Are you not aware that the conquered are, as a rule, smarter
at shooting those whom they regard as spies than are the victors?”
Heideck could not suppress a smile.
“In this respect the promptness of the Russian procedure could
scarcely be excelled. But I allow, that your fears are quite justified.
Accordingly, only the road to the north remains open.”
“Yes, you must go to the Khyber Pass on an empty train or with
a transport of English prisoners, and then on horseback through
Afghanistan to the frontier, and thence again by railway to
Kransnovodsk. Your journey would then be across the Caspian to Baku or
by railway by way of Tiflis to Poti on the Black Sea and thence by ship
to Constantinople. But, my dear comrade, that’s a very long and arduous
journey.”
“I shall have to attempt it all the same. Honour commands; and you
yourself say that there is no other route than that you have described.”
“Right!--I will take care you are provided with a passport, and will
request the General to furnish you with an authority which will
enable you to have at any time an escort of Cossacks upon our lines of
communication through Afghanistan--But--”
A gleam of pleasure in his face showed that in his view he had hit upon
a very happy thought--“Might there not, perhaps, after all be found some
solution which would save you all this exertion? The Germans and the
Russians are allies. In the ranks of our army you would also be able to
serve your fatherland. And an officer who knows India as well as you,
would be invaluable to us at the present time. I will, if you like,
speak at once with the General; and I am certain that he will not
hesitate a moment to attach you to his staff with the rank that you hold
in the German army.”
Heideck shook his friend’s hand with emotion.
“You make it difficult for me to thank you as you deserve. Without your
intervention, my existence would have come to an inglorious close, and
the proposal you now make to me is a new proof of your amiable sympathy.
But you will not be vexed if I decline your offer--will you? It would
certainly be a great honour to serve in your splendid army, but you see
I cannot dispose of myself as I would, but must, as a soldier, return to
my post irrespective of the difficulties I may have to encounter. I beg
you--Lord! what’s that? in this land of miracles even the dead come to
life again.”
The astonishment that prompted this question was a very natural one, for
the lean, dark-skinned little man who had just appeared at the entrance
of the tent was no other than his faithful servant Morar Gopal whom he
had believed to be dead. Round his forehead he wore a fresh bandage. For
a moment he stood stock-still at the entrance to the tent, and his dark
eyes beamed with pleasure at having found his master again unharmed.
Hardly able to restrain his emotion, Morar Gopal advanced towards
Heideck, prostrated himself on the ground, Hindu fashion, in order to
touch the earth with his forehead, and then sprang to his feet with all
the appearance of the greatest joy.
But Heideck was scarcely less moved than the other, and pressed the
brown hand of his faithful servant warmly.
“These lunatics did not kill you after all then? But I saw you felled to
the ground by their blows.”
Morar Gopal grinned cunningly.
“I threw myself down as soon as I saw that further resistance was
useless. And, because I was bleeding from a wound in the head, they
thought, I suppose, that they had finished me. Directly afterwards the
Cossacks came, and in front of their horses, which would otherwise have
trampled upon me, I quickly scrambled to my feet.”
“You have great presence of mind! But where did you get this fine suit
of clothes?”
“I ran back to the hotel--through the back door, where the smoke was
not so stifling--because I thought that sahib would perhaps have taken
refuge there. I did not find sahib, but I found these clothes, and
thought it better to put them on than to leave them to burn.”
“Quite right, my brave fellow! you will hardly be brought up for this
little theft.”
“I looked for sahib everywhere, where English prisoners are; and when
I came to Anar Kali just at the moment that Mrs. Irwin was being driven
away in a carriage, I knew that I was at length on the track of my
master.”
Heideck violently clutched his arm.
“You saw it? and you know, too, who it was that took her away?”
“Yes, sir, it was Siwalik, the Master of the Horse to Prince Tasatat;
and the lady is now with him on the road to Simla.”
“Simla! How do you know that?”
“I was near enough to hear every word that the Indians spoke, and they
said that they were going to Simla.”
“And Mrs. Irwin? She didn’t resist? She didn’t cry for help? She allowed
herself to be carried off quietly?”
“The lady was very proud. She did not say a word.”
An orderly officer stepped into the tent and brought the Prince an order
to appear at once before the Commander-in-Chief.
“Do you know what about?” asked the Colonel.
“As far as I know, it concerns a report of Captain Obrutschev, who
commanded the file of men told off for the execution. He reported that
the Colonel had carried away a spy who was to be shot by order of the
court-martial.”
Heideck was in consternation.
“Your act of grace is, after all, likely to land you in serious
difficulties,” he said. “But, as I need now no longer conceal my quality
as German officer, I can, in case the field telegraph is working, be
able to establish my identity by inquiry at the General Staff of the
German Army.”
“Certainly! and I entreat you not to be uneasy on my account; I shall
soon justify the action I have taken.”
He disappeared in company of the orderly officer; and Heideck the
while plied the brave Morar Gopal afresh with questions as to the
circumstances connected with Edith’s kidnapping.
But the Hindu could not tell him anything more, as he had not dared
approach Edith. He was only concerned with the endeavour to find his
master. He had learnt that Heideck had been carried off by Cossacks and
indefatigably pursued his investigations until at last, with the inborn
acumen peculiar to his race, he had found out everything. That he, from
this time forth, would share the lot of his adored sahib appeared to him
a matter of course. And Heideck had not the heart, in this hour of their
meeting again, to destroy his illusion.
After the lapse of half an hour Prince Tchajawadse returned. His joyous
countenance showed that he was the bearer of good news.
“All is settled. My word was bond enough for the General, and he
considered an inquiry in Berlin quite superfluous.”
“In truth, you Russians do everything on a grand scale,” exclaimed
Heideck. “A great Empire, a great army, a wide, far-seeing policy, and a
great comprehension for all things.”
“I also talked to the General touching my suggestion to include you in
the ranks of our army, and he is completely of one mind with me in the
matter. He also considers the difficulties of a journey to Germany under
the present conditions to be almost unsurmountable. He makes you the
offer to enter his staff with the rank of captain. Under the most
favourable conditions you would only be able to reach Berlin after the
war is over.”
“I do not believe that this war will be so soon at an end. Only reflect,
half the globe is in flames.”
“All the same, you ought not to reject his offer. We could, to ease your
mind, make inquiries on your behalf in Berlin. The field telegraph
is open as far as Peshawar, and there is consequently connexion with
Moscow, St. Petersburg, and Berlin.”
“I accept without further consideration. I should be happy, if
permission were granted, to fight in your ranks.”
“There is no doubt of that whatever. I will at once procure you our
white summer uniform and that of a captain of dragoons; and this sword,
comrade, I hope you will accept from me as a small gift of friendship.”
“I thank you from my heart, Colonel.”
“I salute you as one of ours. I might even be in a position to give you
at once an order to carry out.”
“But not without permission from Berlin, Prince?”
“Well, then, we will wait for it; but it would be a great pity if,
contrary to our expectation, it were to be delayed. The commission that
I was on the point of procuring for you would certainly have greatly
interested you.”
“And may I ask--”
“The General has the intention to send a detachment to Simla.”
“To Simla, the summer residence of the Viceroy?”
“Yes.”
“But this mountain town is at the present moment not within the sphere
of hostilities; the Viceroy remains in Calcutta.”
“Quite right; but that does not preclude the news of the occupation
of Simla having a great effect on the world at large. Moreover, in
the Government offices there there might possibly be found interesting
documents which it would be worth while to intercept.”
“And you consider it possible that His Excellency would despatch me
thither?”
“As the detachment to which my dragoons, as well as some infantry and
two machine guns, would belong is under my command, I have begged the
General to attach you to the expedition.”
Heideck understood the high-minded intentions of the Prince, and shook
his hands almost impetuously.
“Heaven grant that permission from Berlin comes in time! I desire
nothing in the world so earnestly as to accompany you to Simla.”
XIX
ON THE ROAD TO SIMLA
Almost quicker than could have been expected, considering the heavy work
imposed upon the telegraph wires, the communication arrived from Berlin
that Captain Heideck should, for the time being, do duty in the Russian
army, and that it should be left to his judgment to take the first
favourable opportunity to return to Germany.
He forthwith waited upon the commanding general, was initiated into his
new role formally and by handshake, and was in all due form attached as
captain to the detachment that was commanded to proceed to Simla.
The next morning the cavalcade set out under the command of Prince
Tchajawadse.
Their route led across a part of the battlefield lying east of Lahore,
where the battle between the sepoys and the pursuing Russian cavalry had
principally taken place.
The sight of this trampled, bloodstained plain was shockingly sad.
Although numerous Indian and Russian soldiers under the military police
were engaged in picking up the corpses, there still lay everywhere
around the horribly mutilated bodies of the fallen in the postures in
which they had been overtaken by a more or less painful death. An almost
intolerable odour of putrefaction filled the air, and mingled with the
biting, stifling smoke of the funeral pyres upon which the corpses were
being burnt.
The greater part of the Russian army was in the camp and in the city.
Only the advance guard, which had returned from the pursuit of the
fleeing English, had taken up a position to the south of the city. The
reinforcements which had been despatched from Peshawar, and which had
been impatiently expected, had not yet arrived.
Heideck heard that about 4,000 English soldiers and more than 1,000
officers were dead and wounded, while 3,000 men and 85 officers were
prisoners in the hands of the Russians. The losses of the sepoy regiment
could not at present be approximately determined, as the battle had
extended over too wide an area.
Prince Tchajawadse, although showing the same friendly feeling towards
Heideck, now adopted more the attitude of his military superior. He
narrated during the journey that the Russian army was taking the road
through the west provinces, and would leave the valley of the Indus, and
the country immediately bordering it, unmolested.
“We shall march to Delhi,” he said, “and then probably advance upon
Cawnpore and Lucknow.”
The detachment was unable to make use of the railway which goes via
Amritsar and Ambala to Simla, because it had been to a great extent
destroyed by the English. But the rapidity of the march naturally
depended upon the marching capabilities of the infantry. And although
Heideck could not fail to admire the freshness and endurance of these
hardened soldiers, they yet advanced far too slowly for his wishes.
How happy he would have been if, with his squadron, he had been able
to make a forced march upon the road which the unhappy Edith must have
taken!
On the second day after their start, the blue and violet peaks of the
mountains were silhouetted in the distance. It was the mountainous
country lying beneath the Himalayas, whose low summer temperature
induces the Viceroy and the high officials of the Indian Government
every year to take refuge from the intolerably hot and sultry Calcutta
in the cool and healthy Simla. Moreover, the families of the rich
English merchants and officials living in the Punjab and the west
provinces are accustomed to take up their quarters there during the hot
season.
The vegetation as they advanced became ever richer and more luxuriant.
Their way led through splendid jungles, which in places gave the
impression of artificially made parks. Hosts of monkeys sprang about
among the palms, and took daring leaps from one branch to the other. The
approach of the soldiers did not appear to cause these lively creatures
any appreciable fear, for they often remained seated directly over
their heads and regarded the unaccustomed military display with as
much inquisitiveness as they evidently did with delight. Parrots in gay
plumage filled the air with shrill cries, while here and there herds
of antelopes were visible, who, however, always dashed away in rapid
flight, in which their strange manner of springing from all fours in the
air afforded a most strange and delightful spectacle.
On the third day a gay-coloured cavalcade crossed the path of the
detachment. They were evidently aristocratic Indians, who in the
half-native, half-English dress were seated upon excellent horses,
a cross-breed between the Arabian and Gujarat. At their head rode a
splendidly dressed, dark-bearded man upon a white horse of special
beauty.
He halted to exchange a few words of civil salutation with the Russian
colonel. When he had again set himself in motion with his lancers, soon
to be lost to view in the thick jungle, the Prince motioned Heideck to
his side.
“I have news for you, comrade! The aristocratic Indian with whom I just
spoke was the Maharajah of Sabathu who is on the look-out for his guest
and friend, the Maharajah of Chanidigot, who is engaged on a hunting
expedition.”
“The Maharajah of Chanidigot?” Heideck exclaimed with sparkling eyes.
“The rogue is then really in our immediate neighbourhood?”
“The hunting-camp that the two Princes have formed lies directly in our
line of march, and the Maharajah has invited me to camp this night there
with my men. I have really more than half a mind to accept his kind
invitation.”
“And did you not inquire about Mrs. Irwin, Prince?”
The Colonel’s face assumed at Heideck’s question a strangely serious,
almost repellent expression.
“No.”
“But it is more than probable that she is in his camp.”
“Possibly, although up to now every proof of that is wanting.”
“But you will institute inquiries for her, will you not? You will compel
the Maharajah to give us news of her whereabouts?”
“I can, at most, politely ask him for information. But I cannot promise
you even that with certainty.”
Heideck was extremely surprised. He could not explain in any way the
change in the Prince’s demeanour. And he would have been inclined
to take his strange answers for a not too delicate jest, had not
the frigid, impenetrable expression of his face at once excluded any
suggestion of the sort.
“But I don’t understand, Prince,” he said, surprised. “It was only a few
days ago that you were kind enough to promise me your active support in
this matter.”
“I am to my regret compelled to cancel that promise; for I have received
strict instructions from His Excellency to avoid everything that can
lead to friction with the native Princes, and that my superiors laid
great stress upon a good understanding with the Maharajah of Chanidigot
was not known to me at the time of our conversation. He was the first
who openly declared for Russia and whose troops have come over to our
side. The happy issue of the Battle of Lahore is perhaps in no small
degree due to him. You understand, Captain, that it would make the worst
possible impression were we to come into conflict with a man so needful
to us for such a trifling cause.”
“Trifling cause?” Heideck asked earnestly, his eyes sparkling with
excitement.