and Colonel Clive prepares to astonish Angria.
The entrance of a strange grab had not passed unnoticed. Before the
anchor had been dropped, the harbor master put off in a toni.
"What grab is that?" he shouted in Urdu, as he came alongside.
"The Tremukji, sir," replied Desmond in English.
"Eh! what! who in the name of Jupiter are you?"
"You'd better come aboard, sir, and I'll explain," said Desmond with a
smile.
The harbor master mounted the side, rapping out sundry exclamations of
astonishment that amused Desmond not a little.
"Don't talk like a native! H'm! Queer! Turn him inside out! No nonsense!"
"Well, here I am," he added, stepping up to Desmond. "My name's Johnson,
and I'm harbor master. Now then, explain; no nonsense."
Desmond liked the look of the little man. He was short and stout, with a
very large red face, a broad turn-up nose, and childlike blue eyes that
bespoke confidence at once.
"My name is Desmond Burke, sir, and I've run away from Gheria in this
grab."
"The deuce you have!"
"Yes, sir. I've been a prisoner there for six months and more, and we got
off a few nights ago in the darkness."
"H'm! Any more Irishmen aboard?"
"Not that I'm aware of, sir."
"And you got away from Gheria, did you? You're the first that ever I
heard did so. Nothing to do with Commodore James, eh?"
"No, sir. I don't know what you mean."
"Why, Commodore James started t'other day to take a good sea-look at
Gheria. There's an expedition getting ready to draw that rascally
Pirate's teeth. You saw nothing of the squadron? No nonsense, now."
"Not a thing, sir. We were blown out to sea, and I suppose the commodore
passed us in the night."
"H'm! Very likely. And you weathered that storm, did you? Learned your
seamanship, eh?"
"Picked up a little on board the Good Intent, sir. I was ship's boy
aboard."
"Mighty queer ship's boy!" said Mr. Johnson in an audible aside. "The
Good Intent's a villainous interloper; how came you aboard of her?"
"I was in a sense tricked into it, sir, and when we got to Gheria Captain
Barker and Mr. Diggle, the supercargo, sold me to Angria."
"Sold you to the Pirate?"
"Yes, sir."
"And where do you hail from, then?"
"Shropshire, sir; my father was Captain Richard Burke in the Company's
service."
"Jupiter! You're Dick Burke's son! Gad, sir, give me your hand; I knew
Dick Burke; many's the sneaker of Bombay punch we've tossed off together.
No nonsense about Dick; give me your fist.
"And so you sneaked out of Gheria and sailed this grab, eh? Well, you're
a chip of the old block, and a credit to your old dad. I want to hear all
about this. And you'll have to come ashore and see the governor."
"It's very kind of you, Mr. Johnson, but really I can't appear before the
governor in this rig."
He glanced ruefully at his bare legs and feet and tattered garments.
"True, you en't very shipshape, but we'll soon alter that. Ever use a
razor?"
"Not yet, sir," replied Desmond with a smile.
"Thought not. Plenty of native barbers. You must get shaved. And I'll rig
you up in a suit of some sort. You must see the governor at once, and no
nonsense."
"What about the grab, sir?"
"Leave that to me. You've got a pretty mixed crew, I see. All escaped
prisoners, too?"
"All but four."
"And not one of 'em to be trusted, I'll swear. Well, I'll put a crew
aboard to take charge. Come along; there's no time to lose. Colonel Clive
goes to bed early."
"Colonel Clive! Is he here?"
"Yes; arrived from home two days ago. Ah! that reminds me; you're a
Shropshire lad; so's he; do you know him?"
"No, sir; I've seen him; I--I--"
Desmond stammered, remembering his unfortunate encounter with Clive in
Billiter Street.
"Well, well," said the harbor master, with a quizzical look; "you'll see
him again. Come along."
Desmond accompanied Mr. Johnson on shore. A crowd had gathered. There
were Sepoys in turban, cabay {cloak}, and baggy drawers; bearded Arabs;
Parsis in their square caps; and a various assortment of habitues of the
shore--crimps, landsharks, badmashes {bad characters}, bunder {port}
gangs. Seeing Desmond hold his nose at the all-prevailing stench of fish,
Mr. Johnson laughed.
"You'll soon get used to that," he said. "'Tis all fish oil and bummaloes
{small fish the size of smelt, known when dried as 'Bombay duck'} in
Bombay."
Having sent a trustworthy crew on board the Tremukji, the harbor master
led Desmond to his house near the docks. Here, while a native barber
plied his dexterous razor on Desmond's cheeks and chin, Mr. Johnson
searched through a miscellaneous hoard of clothes in one of his capacious
presses for an outfit. He found garments that proved a reasonable fit,
and Desmond, while dressing, gave a rapid sketch of his adventures since
he left the prison shed in Gheria.
"My wigs, but you've had a time of it. Mutiny and all! Dash my buttons,
here's a tale for the ladies! Let me look at you. Yes, you'll do now, and
faith you're a pretty fellow. And Dick Burke's son! You've got his nose
to a T; no nonsense about that. Now you're ready to make your bow to Mr.
Bourchier. He's been a coursing match with Colonel Clive and Mr. Watson
{it was customary to use the title Mr. in speaking to or of both naval
and military officers} up Malabar Hill, and we'll catch him before he
sits down to supper.
"How do you feel inside, by the way? Ready for a decent meal after the
Pirate's pig's wash, eh?"
"I'm quite comfortable inside," said Desmond, smiling, "but, to tell you
the truth, Mr. Johnson, I feel mighty uneasy outside. After six months of
the dhoti these breeches and things seem just like bandages."
"It en't the first time you've been swaddled, if you had a mother. Well
now, if you're ready. What! That rascal gashed you! Tuts! 'tis a scratch.
Can't wait to doctor that. Come on."
The two made their way into the fort inclosure, and walked rapidly to the
Government House in the center. In answer to Mr. Johnson the darwan
{doorkeeper} at the door said that the governor would not return that
night. After the coursing match he was giving a supper party at his
country house at Parell.
"That's a nuisance. But we can't have any nonsense. The governor's a bit
of an autocrat; too much starch in his shirt, I say; but we'll go out to
Parell and beard him, by Jove! 'Tis only five miles out, and we'll drive
there in under an hour."
Turning away he hurried out past the tank house on to the Green, and by
good luck found an empty shigram {carriage like a palanquin on wheels}
waiting to be hired. Desmond mounted the vehicle with no little
curiosity. These great beasts with their strange humps would surely not
cover five miles in less than an hour. But he was undeceived when they
started. The two sturdy oxen trotted along at a good pace in obedience to
the driver's goad, and the shigram rattled across Bombay Green, past the
church and the whitewashed houses of the English merchants, their
oyster-shell windows already lit up; and in some forty-five minutes
entered a long avenue leading to Mr. Bourchier's country house. Twice
during the course of the journey Desmond was interested to see the
shigramwallah {wallah is a personal affix, denoting a close connection
between the person and the thing described by the main word.
Shigramwallah thus is carriage driver} pull his team up, dismount, and,
going to their heads, insert his hand in their mouths.
"What does he do that for?" he asked.
"To clear their throats, to be sure. When the beasts go at this pace they
make a terrible lot of foam, and if he didn't swab it out they'd choke,
and no nonsense.
"Well, here we are. Dash my wig, won't his Excellency open his eyes!"
Since their departure from the fort the sky had become quite dark. At the
end of the avenue they could see the lights of Governor Bourchier's
bungalow, and by and by caught sight of figures sitting on the veranda.
Desmond's heart beat high; he made no doubt that one of them was Clive;
the moment to which he had looked forward so eagerly was at last at hand.
He was in no dream land; but his dream had come true. He felt a little
nervous at the prospect of meeting men so famous, so immeasurably above
him, as Clive and Admiral Watson; but with Clive he felt a bond of union
in his birthplace, and it was with recovered confidence that he sprang
out of the cart and accompanied Mr. Johnson to the bungalow. He was
further reassured by a jolly laugh that rang out just as he reached the
steps leading up to the veranda.
"Hullo, Johnson," said a voice, "what does this mean?"
"I've come to see the governor, Captain."
"Then you couldn't have come at a worse time. The supper's half an hour
late, and you know what that means to the governor."
Mr. Johnson smiled.
"He'll forget his supper when he has heard my news. 'Tis about the
Pirate."
"What's that?" said another voice. "News of the Pirate?"
"Yes, Mr. Watson. This young gentleman--"
But he was interrupted by the khansaman {butler}, who came out at this
moment and with a salaam announced that supper was served.
"You'd better come in, Johnson," said the first speaker. "Any news of the
Pirate will be sauce to Mr. Bourchier's goose."
The gentlemen rose from their seats, and went into the house, followed by
Desmond and the harbor master. In a moment Desmond found himself in a
large room brilliantly lighted with candles. In the center was a round
table, and Mr. Bourchier, the governor, was placing his guests. He did
not look very pleasant, and when he saw Mr. Johnson he said:
"You come at a somewhat unseasonable hour, sir. Can not your business
wait till the morning?"
"I made bold to come, your Excellency, because 'tis a piece of news the
like of which no one in Bombay has ever heard before. This young
gentleman, Mr. Desmond Burke, son of Captain Burke, whom you'll remember,
sir, has escaped from Gheria."
The governor and his guests were by this time seated, and instantly all
eyes were focused on Desmond, and exclamations of astonishment broke from
their lips.
"Indeed! Bring chairs, Hossain."
One of the native attendants left the room noiselessly, and returning
with chairs placed them at the table.
"Sit down, gentlemen. This is amazing news, as you say, Mr. Johnson.
Perhaps Mr. Burke will relate his adventure as we eat."
Desmond took the chair set for him. The guests were five. Two of them
wore the laced coats of admirals; the taller, a man of handsome presence,
with a round chubby face, large eyes, small full lips, his head crowned
by a neat curled wig, was Charles Watson, in command of the British
fleet; the other was his second, Rear Admiral Pocock. A third was Richard
King, captain of an Indiaman, in a blue coat with velvet lappets and gold
embroidery, buff waistcoat and breeches. Next him sat a jolly red-faced
gentleman in plain attire, and between him and the governor was Clive
himself, whose striking face--the lawyer's brow, the warrior's nose and
chin, the dreamer's mouth--would have marked him out in any company.
Desmond began his story. The barefooted attendants moved quietly about
with the dishes, but the food was almost neglected as the six gentlemen
listened to the clear low voice telling of the escape from the fort, the
capture of the grab, and the eventful voyage to Bombay harbor.
"By George! 'tis a famous adventure," exclaimed Admiral Watson, when the
story was ended. "What about this Pirate's den? Gheria fort is said to be
impregnable; what are the chances if we attack, eh? The approaches to the
harbor, now; do you know the depth of the water?"
"Vessels can stand in to three fathoms water, sir. Seven fathoms is
within point-blank shot of the fort. The walls are about fifty feet high;
there are twenty-seven bastions, and they mount more than two hundred
guns."
"And the opposite shore?"
"A flat tableland, within distance for bombarding. A diversion might be
made from there while the principal attack could be carried on in the
harbor, or from a hill south of the fort."
"Is the landing easy?"
"Yes, sir. There are three sandy bays under the hill, without any surf to
make landing difficult. One is out of the line of fire from the fort."
"And what about the land side? There's a town, is there not?"
"On a neck of land, sir. There's a wall, but nothing to keep out a
considerable force. If an attack were made from that side the people
would, I think, flock into the fort."
"And is that as strong as rumor says?"
"'Tis pretty strong, sir; there are double walls, and thick ones; they'd
stand a good battering."
"It seems to me, Admiral," said the red-faced gentleman with a laugh,
"that you've learned all you sent Commodore James to find out.
"What do you say, Mr. Clive?"
"It seems so, Mr. Merriman. But I think, Mr. Watson, in our eagerness to
learn something of Gheria, we must seem somewhat cavalier to this lad,
whose interest in our plans cannot be equal to our own.
"You have shown, sir," he added, addressing Desmond, "great spirit and
courage, not less ingenuity, in your daring escape from the Pirate. But I
want to go farther back. How came you to fall into the Pirate's hands?
You have told us only part of your story."
"Yes, indeed," said Mr. Bourchier. "If you are not tired, we shall be
vastly pleased to hear more, Mr. Burke."
"Your name is Burke?" interrupted Clive. "I had not before caught it. May
I ask what part of Ireland you come from, sir? Pardon me, but your accent
smacks more of Shropshire than of County Dublin."
"'Tis Shropshire, sir; I come from Market Drayton."
("Like yourself!" his glowing cheeks and flashing eyes seemed to say.
This was the proudest moment in Desmond's life as yet.)
"I was not mistaken," said Clive. "I remember a schoolfellow of mine of
your name; let me see--"
"Richard Burke, sir, my brother; my father was Captain Burke in the
Company's service."
"Sure I have it now. I remember him: a tall, fine old sea dog whom I saw
at times in Market Drayton when I was a child. I had a great awe of
Captain Burke--i'faith, the only man I was afraid of. And you are his
son!--But come, I am interrupting your story."
Desmond spoke of his longing for adventure, which had led him to leave
home in search of fortune. He glossed over his brother's ill treatment.
He told how he had been inveigled on board the Good Intent, and handed
over to Angria when the vessel arrived at Gheria. He mentioned no names
except that of Captain Barker, though he could not have explained his
motive in keeping silence about Diggle.
"Barker is a villain, ripe for the gallows," said Captain King. "But, Mr.
Burke, I don't understand how you came to be so hoodwinked in London.
Sure you must have known that a boy without an ounce of experience would
never be made supercargo. Had you any enemies in London?"
"I didn't know that I had, sir, till the Good Intent had sailed. I was
deceived, but the man who promised me the berth was very friendly, and I
didn't suspect him."
"It was not Barker, then?"
"No, sir; it was a man I met at Market Drayton."
"At Market Drayton?" said Clive. "That's odd. What was his name?"
"His name was Diggle, and--"
"A stranger? I remember no one of that name," said Clive.
"I thought he was a stranger, sir; but of late I have begun to suspect he
was not such a stranger as he seemed."
"How did you meet him?"
"Accidentally, sir, the night of your banquet in Market Drayton."
"Indeed! 'Tis all vastly curious. Was he lodging in the town?"
"He came in from Chester that night and lodged at the Four Alls."
"With that disreputable sot Grinsell!" Clive paused. "Did he tell you
anything about himself?"
"Very little, sir, except that he'd been unlucky. I think he mentioned
once that he was a fellow at a Cambridge college, but he spoke to me most
about India."
As he put his questions Clive leaned forward, and seemed to become more
keenly interested with every answer. He now turned and gave a hard look
at the bluff man whom he had called Mr. Merriman. The rest of the company
were silent.
"Do you happen to know whether he went up to the Hall?" asked Clive.
"Sir Willoughby's? I met him several times walking in that neighborhood,
but I don't think he went to the Hall. He did not appear to know Sir
Willoughby.--And yet, sir, I remember now that I heard Diggle and
Grinsell talking about the squire the night I first saw them together at
the Four Alls."
"And you were with this--Diggle, in London, Mr. Burke?"
"Yes, sir."
Desmond began to feel uncomfortable. Clive had evidently not recognized
him before, and he was hoping that the unfortunate incident in Billiter
Street would not be recalled. Clive's next words made him wish to sink
into the floor.
"Do you remember, Mr. Burke, in London, throwing yourself in the way of a
gentleman that was in pursuit of your friend Mr. Diggle, and bringing him
to the ground?"
"Yes, sir, I did, and I am sorry for it."
Desmond did not like the grim tone of Clive's voice; he wished he would
address him as "my lad" instead of "Mr. Burke."
"That was a bad start, let me say, Mr. Burke--an uncommonly bad start."
"Oh come, Mr. Clive!" broke in Mr. Merriman, "say no more about that. The
boy was in bad company: 'twas not his fault. In truth, 'twas my own
fault: I am impetuous; the sight of that scoundrel was too much for me.
"I bear you no grudge, my lad, though I had a bump on my head for a week
afterwards. Had you not tripped me I should have run my rapier through
the villain, and there would like have been an end of me."
"Shall I tell the boy, Mr. Merriman?" said Clive.
"Not now, not now," said Merriman quickly.
The other gentlemen, during this dialogue, had been discussing the
information they had gained about Gheria fort.
"Well," said Clive, "you are lucky, let me tell you, Mr. Burke, to be out
of this Diggle's clutches. By the way, have you seen him since he sold
you to the Pirate?"
"He came a few days before I escaped, and wanted me to come here as a
spy. Angria promised me my freedom and a large sum of money."
"What's that?" cried Merriman. "Wanted you to come as a spy?"
"Yes, sir."
"And what did you say?"
"I told him he might do it himself."
"A palpable hit!" said Merriman with a grim laugh, "and a very proper
answer. But he'll have more respect for his skin."
"Gentlemen," said Mr. Bourchier, "we have kept Mr. Burke talking so much
that he hasn't had a mouthful of food. I think we might go out on the
veranda and smoke our cigars while he takes some supper.
"Mr. Johnson, you've done most justice to my viands, I think. Perhaps you
will join us."
The harbor master became purple in the face. He had in fact been eating
and drinking with great gusto, taking advantage of the preoccupation of
the company to insure that the excellent fare should not be wasted. He
rose hurriedly and, with a sheepish look that scarcely fitted his
cheerful features, followed his sarcastic host to the veranda. All the
guests save Mr. Merriman accompanied Mr. Bourchier.
"They all want to talk shop; this expedition against the Pirate," said
Mr. Merriman. "You and I can have a little chat."
Desmond was attracted by the open face of his new acquaintance, slightly
disfigured, as he noticed, by a long scar on the left temple.
"You're plucky and lucky," continued Merriman, "and in spite of what Mr.
Clive calls your bad start in bowling me over, you'll do well."
His face clouded as he went on.
"That man Diggle: why should he have sold you to the Pirate: what had he
against you?"
"I can not imagine, sir."
"You are lucky to have escaped him, as Mr. Clive said. I think--yes, I
will tell you about him. His name is not Diggle; it is Simon Peloti. He
is a nephew of Sir Willoughby's. His mother married a Greek, against her
brother's wish; the man died when the child was a year old. As a boy
Peloti was as charming a little fellow as one could wish: handsome, high
spirited, clever. He did well at school, and afterwards at Cambridge: won
a fellowship there. Then he went to the dogs--not all at once; men never
do. He was absolutely without principle, and thought of nothing but his
own ease and success. One thing led to another; at last, in the
forty-five--"
He paused. After a moment he went on:
"I had a brother, my lad--"
He stopped again, his face expressing poignant grief.
"I know, sir," said Desmond. "Sir Willoughby told me."
"He told you! He did not mention Peloti?"
"No, sir; but I see it all now. It was Diggle--Peloti, I mean--who
betrayed your brother. I understand now why the squire took no steps
against Grinsell. His accomplice was Diggle."
He related the incident of the house breakers.
"Yes," said Merriman, "that throws a light on things. Peloti, I imagine,
had previously seen the squire, and tried to get money from him. Sir
Willoughby refused: he gave him a thousand pounds ten years ago on
condition he left the country and did not return. So the villain resolved
to rob him. 'Twas fortunate indeed you appeared in time. That is the
reason for his hating you."
"There was another, sir," said Desmond with some hesitation. "He thought
I was hankering after the squire's property--aiming at becoming his heir.
'Twas ridiculous, sir; such an idea never entered my head."
"I see. Peloti came to India and got employment in the Company's service
at Madras. But he behaved so badly that he had to be turned out--he said
Mr. Clive hounded him out. What became of him after that I don't know.
But let us leave the miserable subject. Tell me, what are your ideas?
What are you going to do, now that you are a free man once more? Get
another berth as supercargo?"
His eyes twinkled as he said this.
"No, thank you, sir; once bit twice shy. I haven't really thought of
anything definite, but what I should like best of all would be a
cadetship under Colonel Clive."
"Soho! You're a fighter, are you? But of course you are; I have reason to
know that. Well, we'll see what my friend Mr. Clive says. You've no
money, I suppose?"
"Not a half penny, sir; but if the governor will admit that the grab is
my lawful prize, I thought of selling her; that will bring me a few
pounds."
"Capital idea. Punctilio won't stand in the way of that, I should think.
Well now, I'll speak to Mr. Clive for you, but don't build too much on
it. He cannot give you a commission, I fear, without the authority of the
governor of Madras; and though no doubt a word from him would be
effectual, he's a very particular man, and you'll have to prove you're
fit for a soldier's life.
"Meanwhile, what do you say to this? I've taken a fancy to you. I'm a
merchant; trade pays better than soldiering, in general. I've got ships
of my own, and I dare say I could find a berth for you on one of them.
You seem to know something of navigation?"
"Very little, sir; just what I picked up on the Good Intent."
"Well, that's a beginning. I've no doubt that Admiral Watson will wish
you to go to Gheria with him: your knowledge of the place will be useful.
He won't start for a month or two: why not occupy the time in improving
your navigation, so that if there are difficulties about a cadetship
you'll be competent for a mate's berth? Nothing like having two strings
to your bow. What do you say to that?"
"'Tis very good of you, sir; I accept with pleasure."
"That's right. Now when you've finished that curry we'll go out on the
veranda. Before you came they were talking of nothing but their dogs; but
I wager 'tis nothing but the Pirate now."
They soon rejoined the other gentlemen.
"Come, Mr. Burke," said Admiral Watson, "we've been talking over the
information you've given us. You've nothing to do, I suppose?"
"I've just suggested that he should read up navigation, Mr. Watson," said
Merriman.
"You're a wizard, Mr. Merriman. I was proposing to engage Mr. Burke to
accompany us on our expedition against the Pirate. He can make himself
useful when we get to Gheria. We'll see how James' information tallies
with his.
"You won't object to serve his Majesty, Mr. Burke?"
"'Tis what I should like best in the world, sir."
"Very well. Meanwhile learn all you can; Captain King here will take
charge of you, I've no doubt."
"Certainly, Mr. Watson."
"You will give Mr. Burke quarters for the present, Mr. Johnson?" said
Merriman.
"To be sure. And as 'tis late we'd better be going.
"Good night, your Excellency; good night, gentlemen."
Early next day Admiral Watson himself rode down to the harbor to inspect
the grab. He was so much pleased with her that he offered to buy her for
the service. Before the day was out Desmond found himself in possession
of seven thousand rupees. After paying the Marathas the wages agreed
upon, he proceeded to divide the balance. He retained two shares for
himself, and gave each of the men who had escaped with him an equal part.
No one was more surprised than Fuzl Khan when he received his share in
full. He had expected to get the punishment he knew he well deserved. But
Desmond, against the advice of the harbor master, determined to overlook
the man's misconduct. He went further. At his request Admiral Watson gave
him a place on the grab. The Gujarati seemed overwhelmed by this
generosity on the part of a man he had wronged, and for the nonce
breaking through his usual morose reserve, he thanked Desmond, awkwardly
indeed, but with manifest sincerity.
The other men were no less delighted with their good fortune. The sums
they received made them rich men for life. None was more elated than
Surendra Nath. It happened that Mr. Merriman came on board to see the
grab at the moment when Desmond was distributing the prize money. Desmond
noticed a curious expression on the Babu's face, and he was compelled to
laugh when the man, after a moment's hesitation, walked up to Mr.
Merriman, and with a strange mixture of humility and importance said:
"I wish you a very good morning, your Honor."
"Good gad!--Surendra Nath Chuckerbutti! I'm uncommonly glad to see you."
He shook hands warmly, a mark of condescension which made the Babu beam
with gratification.
"Why," continued Merriman, "we'd given you up for dead long ago. So
you're the plucky and ingenious fellow who did so much to help Mr. Burke
in the famous escape!
"Surendra Nath was one of my best clerks, Mr. Burke. His father is my
head clerk for Company's business.
"He hasn't been the same man since you disappeared. You must tell me your
story. Come up to Mr. Bowman's house on the Green tonight; I am staying
there."
"I shall be most glad to return to my desk in Calcutta, your Honor," said
the Babu. "But I do not like the sea. It has no sympathy with me. I think
of accomplishing the journey by land."
"Good heavens, man! it would take you a year at the least, if you weren't
swallowed by a tiger or strangled by a Thug on the way. You'll have to go
by water, as you came."
The Babu's face fell.
"That is the fly in the ointment, your Honor. But I will chew majum and
bestow myself in the cabin; thus perhaps I may avoid squeamishness. By
the kindness of Burke Sahib I have a modicum of money, now a small
capital; and I hope, with your Honor's permission, to do trifling trade
for myself."
"Certainly," said Merriman with a laugh. "You'll be a rich man yet,
Surendra Nath. Well, don't forget; you'll find me at Mr. Bowman's on the
Green at eight o'clock."