himself a cadet of John Company.
Diggle's escape passed unnoticed until it was too late to pursue him. At
the sight of Toley and his messmates of the Hormuzzeer, Bulger had let
fall his musket and dropped to the ground, where he sat mopping his face
and crying, "Go it, mateys!" Desmond felt a strange faintness, and leaned
dizzily against one of the hackeris. But, revived by a draft from Mr.
Toley's flask, he thanked the mate warmly, and wanted to hear how he had
contrived to come up in time.
When Desmond's messenger arrived in Calcutta, Mr. Merriman was away up
the river, engaged in very serious business. The messenger had applied to
the governor, to members of the Council, to Captain Minchin and other
officers, and the reply of one and all was the same: they could do
nothing; it was more important that every man should be employed in
strengthening the defenses of Calcutta than in going upcountry on what
might prove a vain and useless errand. But Toley happened to be in the
town, and learning of the difficulties and perils of his friend Burke,
with the captain's consent he had hastily collected the crew of the
Hormuzzeer, that still lay off the fort, and led them, under the guidance
of the messenger, to support him. Meeting Surendra Nath, and learning
from him that a fight was imminent, he had pushed on with all speed, the
Babu leading the way.
"It was well done," said Desmond warmly. "We owe our lives to you, and
Mr. Merriman his goods. But what was the business that took Mr. Merriman
from Calcutta at this time of trouble?"
"Trouble of his own, Burke," said Mr. Toley. "I guess he'd better have
let the Nawab keep his goods and sent you to look after his womenfolk."
"What do you mean? I left the ladies at Khulna; what has happened to
them?"
"'Tis what Mr. Merriman would fain know. They've disappeared, gone clean
out of sight."
"But the peons?"
"Gone, too. Nothing heard or seen of them."
This serious news came as a shock to Desmond. If he had only known! How
willingly he would have let Coja Solomon do what he pleased with the
goods, and hastened to the help of the wife and daughter Mr. Merriman
held so dear! While in Cossimbazar, he had heard from Mr. Watts terrible
stories of the Nawab's villainy, which no respect of persons held in
check. He feared that if Mrs. Merriman and Phyllis had indeed fallen into
Sirajuddaula's hands, they were lost to their family and friends forever.
But, eager as he was to get back to Calcutta and join Mr. Merriman in
searching for them, he had a strange certainty that it was not to be. The
faintness that he had already felt returned. His head was burning and
throbbing; his ears buzzed; his limbs ached; his whole frame was seized
at moments with paroxysms of shivering which no effort could control.
Unknown to himself the seeds of malarial fever had found a lodgment in
his system. While listening to Toley's story, he had reclined on the
ground. When he tried to rise, he was overcome by giddiness and nausea.
"I am done up," he continued. "Mr. Toley, you must take charge and get
these goods conveyed to Calcutta. Lose no time."
Surendra Nath recognized the symptoms of the disease, and immediately had
a litter improvised for Desmond out of the linen covering of one of the
carts and a couple of muskets. Mr. Toley at once made preparations for
moving on with the convoy. The hackeriwallahs who had driven off the
cattle had not gone far; they had waited in the hope of getting the
bakshish promised them--if not from the young sahib, at least from the
leader of the attacking party, which from its numbers they believed would
gain the day.
The oxen were soon yoked up. Mr. Toley would not wait to recover the
loads of the carts that had toppled into the nullah, nor would he leave
men for that purpose, lest another attack should be made on them from
Hugli. He set off as soon as the teams were ready. Half an hour after
they started, Bulger, walking beside the litter, saw to his dismay that
Desmond had lost consciousness.
It was nearly a fortnight later when Desmond came to himself in his old
bunk on board the Hormuzzeer. He was alone. Lying on his back, feebly
trying to adjust his thoughts to his surroundings, he heard the faint
boom of guns. What was happening? He tried to rise, but all power was
gone from him; he could hardly lift an arm. Even the slight effort was
too much for him, and he swooned again.
When he once more recovered consciousness, he saw a figure by his side.
It was Mr. Toley. Again the distant thunder of artillery fell upon his
ears.
"What is happening?" he asked feebly.
"Almighty be praised!" said Toley fervently, "you're coming safe to port.
Hush! Lie you still. You'll want nussin' like a babby. Never you heed the
popguns; I'll tell you all about them when you're stronger. Food, sleep,
and air; that's my catechism, larned from the surgeon. Bless you, Burke,
I feared you was a done man."
With this Desmond had to be for the time content. But every day he heard
firing, and every day, as he slowly regained strength, he became more and
more anxious to know what it meant. Toley seemed to have left the ship;
Desmond was tended only by natives.
From them he learned that the Nawab was attacking Calcutta. How were the
defenders faring? They could not tell. He knew how small was the
garrison, how weak the fortifications; but, with an English lad's
unconquerable faith in his countrymen's valor, he could not believe that
they could fail to hold their own.
One day, however, he heard no more firing. In the afternoon Mr. Toley
came to his bunk, bringing with him Mr. Merriman himself. The merchant
had his head bound up, and wore his left arm in a sling. He was pale,
haggard, the shadow of his former self.
"What has happened, sir?" cried Desmond the instant he saw him. "Are the
ladies safe?"
"God pity us, Desmond! I shall never see them again. My poor Dora! my
sweet Phyllis! They are lost! All is lost! The Nawab has taken the fort.
We are beaten, shamed, ruined!"
"How did it happen? I heard the firing. Tell me; it can not be so bad as
that. Sure something can be done!"
"Nothing, nothing; we did all we could. 'Twas little; would that Drake
had heeded our advice! But I am rejoiced to see you on the road to
recovery, dear boy; 'twould have been another nail in my coffin to know
that you had lost your life in doing a service for me. I thank God for
that, from the bottom of my heart."
He pressed Desmond's hand affectionately.
"But tell me, sir; I want to know what has happened. How came you to be
wounded? Sure I am strong enough to hear now; it will do me no harm."
"It cuts me to the heart, Desmond, but you shall know. I was absent when
you were carried to my house--searching for my dear ones. But Dr. Gray
tended you; alas! the good man is now a prisoner. I returned three days
after, driven back from up the river by the advance of the Nawab's army.
I was worn out, distraught; not a trace had I found of my dear wife; she
had vanished; nor of my daughter; nor even of my peons; all had gone.
"And there was trouble enough in Calcutta for me and for all. 'Twas the
very day I returned that the news came of Sirajuddaula's approach. And a
letter from his chief spy was intercepted, addressed to Omichand, bidding
him escape while there was yet time and join the Subah. That seemed to
Mr. Drake clear proof that Omichand was in league with our enemies, and
he had him arrested and thrown into the fort prison. But Mr. Drake never
acts till 'tis too late. He gave orders next to arrest Krishna Das. The
man barricaded himself in his house and beat our peons off, till
Lieutenant Blagg and thirty Europeans drove in his gates. They found a
vast quantity of arms collected there. They stormed Omichand's house
also, where three hundred armed domestics made a stout fight against 'em.
When our men got in--'tis a horrid story--the head jamadar with his own
hands stabbed all his master's women and children, to prevent em falling
into our hands, and then set fire to the place.
"Our men had already been driven out of Tanna fort by Manik Chand, who
had come up with two thousand men and a couple of field pieces. Then came
up Mir Jafar, the Nawab's bakshi {commander in chief}, and began firing
from the Chitpur gate. We got all our women into the fort; the poor
creatures left all they had but their clothes and their bedding. You may
guess the confusion. The natives were flocking out of the town; most of
our servants fled with them; all our cooks were gone, so that though we
had a great stock of food we were like to starve in the midst of plenty.
"But we filled their places with some of the Portuguese who came crowding
into the fort. Two thousand of 'em, men, women, and children, filled the
courtyard, sitting among their bundles of goods, so that we could scarce
move for 'em. The enemy was in the town; they had set light to the Great
Bazaar, and were burning and plundering in the native parts. We fired the
bastis to the east and south, to deprive 'em of cover; and you may
imagine the scene, Desmond--the blazing sky, the tears and screams of the
women, the din of guns. We wrote to the French at Chandernagore begging
'em to lend us some ammunition, for the most of ours was useless; but
they sent us a genteel reply saying they'd no more than sufficient for
their own needs; yet the wretches made the Nawab a present of two hundred
chests of powder, 'tis said.
"Next day we were besieged in earnest. The Nawab had, we learned, nigh
fifty thousand men, with one hundred and fifty elephants and camels, and
two hundred and fifty Frenchmen working his artillery. Against 'em we had
about five hundred in all, only half of 'em Europeans. What could so few
do against so many? Our officers were all brave enough, but they've had a
slack time, and few of 'em are fit for the work. Ensign Picard, sure, did
wonders, and Lieutenant Smyth defended the north battery with exceeding
skill; but we had not men enough to hold our positions, and step by step
we were driven back.
"'Twas clear we could not hold out long, and on Friday night we held a
council of war, and decided to send the women on board the ships in the
river, to get 'em out of harm's way. Then by heaven! Desmond, two of the
Council shamed 'emselves for ever. Mr. Manningham and Mr. Frankland,
special friends of Mr. Drake, attended the ladies to the ship--'twas the
Dodalay, of which they are owners--and they stayed on board with 'em--the
cowards, to set such an infamous example! And well 'twas followed. 'Tis
scarce credible, but Captain Minchin, our gallant commander, and Mr.
Drake, our noble president, went down to the ghat and had 'emselves rowed
off to the shipping and deserted us: good God! do they deserve the name
of Englishmen? One of our gentlemen standing on the steps was so enraged
that he sent a bullet after the cravens; others did the same, and I would
to heaven that one of their shots had took effect on the wretches! We
made Mr. Holwell governor in the Quaker's place; and I tell you, Desmond,
had we done so before, there would have been a different story to tell
this day.
"Mr. Holwell saw 'twas impossible to withstand the Nawab's hordes much
longer, and spoke for an orderly retreat; but he was overrid by some of
the military officers; and besides, retreat was cut off, for the ships
that had lain in the river moved away, and though we hung out signals
from the fort asking 'em to come back and take us off, they paid no heed;
nay, they stood farther off, leaving us to our fate. What could we do?
Mr. Holwell sent to Omichand in his prison and offered to release him if
he would treat with the Nawab for us. But the Gentoo refused. All he
would do was to write a letter to Manik Chand asking him to intercede for
us. Mr. Holwell threw the letter over the wall among the enemy, and by
heaven! Desmond, never did I suppose Englishmen would be reduced to such
a point of humiliation.
"But 'twas of no effect. The enemy came on with the more determination,
and brought bamboos to scale the walls. We drove 'em off again, but with
frightful loss; twenty-five of our bravest men were killed outright and
sixty wounded. 'Twas there I got my wounds, and 'twould have been all
over with me but for that fine fellow Bulger; he turned aside with his
hook a slashing blow from a scimitar and gave my assailant his quietus.
Bulger fought like a hero, and the very look of him, black with powder
and stained with blood, seemed to drive all the fight out of the Moors
that came his way.
"All this time the shots of the Nawab's cannon annoyed us, not to much
harm, for they were most villainously served; their fire arrows did us
more mischief, flying into the thick of the crowds of screaming women and
children. It made my heart sick to think of the poor innocent people
suffering through the weakness and incompetence and the guilty neglect of
our Council. The heat and the glare, the want of food, the uproar and
commotion--may I never see or hear the like again!
"Yesterday there was a lull in the fighting about midday. The enemy were
still outside the fort, though they had possession of all the houses
around. They showed a flag of truce, whereupon Mr. Holwell writ a letter
asking 'em for terms. But 'twas a trick to deceive us. While we were
resting, waiting the result of the parley, the Moors poured out of their
hiding places and swarmed upon the eastern gate of the fort and the
pallisadoes on the southwest. In the interval many of our common men had
fallen asleep; some, alas! were drunk, so that we had no force to resist
the invaders, who scaled the roof of the godowns on the north wall with
the aid of their bamboos and swept over into the fort.
"Most of us Europeans who were left collected in the veranda in front of
the barracks--you know, between the great gate and the southeast bastion.
Scarce a man of us but was wounded. There we were unmolested, for the
enemy, as soon as they burst into our private rooms, made busy with their
spoil; and, as it appeared, the Nawab had given orders that we were to be
spared.
"At five o'clock he came into the fort in a gay litter and held a durbar
in our Council room, Mir Jafar salaaming before him and making fulsome
compliments on his great victory. Then the wretch sent for Mr. Holwell.
We bade him farewell; sure we thought we should never see him more. But
he returned to us presently, and told us the Nawab was vastly enraged at
the smallness of the treasure he had found; the stories of the French had
led him to expect untold wealth. Omichand and Krishna Das had been took
out of prison, and treated with great affability, and presented by the
Nawab with siropas--robes of honor, a precious token of his favor. But
the Nawab. Mr. Holwell told us, had promised no harm should befall us. A
guard of five hundred gunmen was set over us with matches lighted, and
the sun being now nigh setting, men came with torches, though sure they
were not needed, a great part of the factory being in flames, so that
indeed we feared we should be suffocated. But we were shortly afterwards
told to go into the barracks, nigh the veranda where we stood.
"Then it was that I, by the mercy of God, was enabled to escape. I was at
the end of the veranda, farthest from the barracks. Just as I was about
to move off after the rest, one of the guards came in front of me, and
whispered me to hide behind the last of the thick pillars till he came
for me. I recognized the man: 'twas an old peon of mine. Thank God for a
faithful servant! More dead than alive I did what he said. For hours I
lay there, fearing I know not what, not daring to stir lest some eye
should see me, and suffering agonies from my untended wounds. At last the
man came to me.
"'Sahib,' he said, 'you were good to me. I shall save you. Come,
quickly.'
"I got up and stumbled after him. He led me by dark ways out of the fort,
past the new godown, across the burying ground, down to Chandpal ghat.
There I found Mr. Toley awaiting me with a boat, and 'tis thanks to my
old peon and him I now find myself safe."
"And do you know what became of Bulger?" asked Desmond.
"He is with the rest, sorely battered, poor man."
"What will happen to the prisoners? How many are there?"
"There are nigh a hundred and fifty. The Nawab has promised they shall
suffer no harm, and after a night in barracks I suppose he will let 'em
go. We shall drop down the river till we reach the other vessels at
Surman's, and then, by heaven! I shall see what I can do to bring Mr.
Drake to a sense of his duty, and persuade him to come back and take off
the Europeans.
"Sure this action of Sirajuddaula's will not go unavenged. We have
already sent letters to Madras, and within two months, I hope, succor
will reach us from thence, and we shall chastise this insolent young
Nawab."
"Do you think he will keep his word?--I mean, to do the prisoners no
harm."
"I think so. He has done no harm to Mr. Watts, whom he brought with him
from Cossimbazar; and our people will be more valuable to him alive than
dead. Yes; by this time tomorrow I trust Mr. Holwell and the others will
be safe on board the ships, and I do not envy Mr. Drake his bitter
experience when the men he has deserted confront him."
While Mr. Merriman was telling his story, the Hormuzzeer was slowly
drifting down the river. At Surman's garden, about five miles south of
Calcutta, it joined the other vessels belonging to British owners, and
dropped anchor. Several gentlemen came on board, eager to learn what had
been the last scene in the tragic drama. Mr. Merriman told them all he
knew, and every one drew a long breath of relief when they learned that
though prisoners, Mr. Holwell and the gallant few who had stuck to their
posts had been assured of good treatment. During the day the vessel
dropped still lower down the river to Budge Budge, running the gauntlet
of a brisk but ineffective fire from Tanna Fort, now in the hands of the
Nawab's troops.
When the Hormuzzeer lay at anchor at Budge Budge, Mr. Merriman explained
to Desmond the plans he had formed for him. The vessel now had her full
cargo, and would sail immediately for Penang. Mr. Merriman proposed that
Desmond should make the voyage. In his weak state the climate of Fulta,
where the Europeans intended to stay until help reached them from Madras,
might prove fatal to him; while the sea air would complete his cure.
His share of the sale price of the Tremukji, together with the Gheria
prize money, amounted to more than a thousand pounds, and this had been
invested for him by his friend.
"For myself," added Merriman, "I shall remain. My wounds are not severe;
I am accustomed to the climate; and though India is now odious to me, I
shall not leave Indian soil until I find traces of my dear wife and
daughter. God grant that by the time you return I shall have some news of
them."
Desmond would have liked to remain with the merchant, but he knew that in
his weakness he could do him no service, and he acquiesced in the
arrangement.
That same evening the fugitives received news that made their blood run
cold. Two Englishmen, Messrs. Cooke and Lushington, who had remained
staunchly by Mr. Holwell's side, came from the shore in a small boat and
boarded the Dodalay. Their appearance struck every one with amazement and
horror. Mr. Cooke was a merchant, aged thirty-one; Mr. Lushington a
writer in the Company's service, his age eighteen; but the events of one
night had altered them almost beyond recognition. They said that when the
order had been given to confine them in the barracks, the prisoners had
all expected to pass the night in comparative comfort. What was their
amazement when they were escorted to the Black Hole, a little chamber no
more than eighteen feet square, which was only used as a rule for the
confinement of one or two unruly prisoners. In vain they protested; their
brutal guards forced them, a hundred and forty-six in number, into the
narrow space, and locked the door upon them. It was one of the hottest
nights of the year; there was but one small opening in the wall, and
before long the want of air and the intense heat drove the poor people to
fury. They trampled each other down in their mad attempts to get near the
opening for air and the water which one of their jailers, less brutal
than the rest, handed in to them.
The horror of the scenes that passed in that small room baffles
description. Men and women in the agonies of thirst and suffocation
fought like tigers. Many prayed their guards to shoot them and end their
sufferings, only to meet with jeers and laughter. Some of the native
officers took pity on them and would have opened the door, but none durst
move without the Nawab's permission, or brave his fury if they roused him
from his sleep. From seven in the evening till six in the morning the
agony continued, and when at length the order came for their release,
only twenty-three of the hundred and forty-six tottered forth, the
ghastliest wrecks of human beings.
Mr. Holwell and three others were then conveyed as prisoners in a bullock
cart to Omichand's garden, and thence to Murshidabad; the rest were
bidden to go where they pleased.
The news was kept from Desmond. It was not till weeks after that he heard
of the terrible tragedy. Then, with the horror and pity he felt, there
was mingled a fear that Bulger had been among those who perished. The
seaman, he knew, had taken a stout part in the defense of the fort; Mr.
Merriman had not mentioned him as being among the prisoners; it was
possible that he had escaped; but the thought that the brave fellow had
perhaps died in that awful hole made Desmond sick at heart.
Though the season was now at its hottest, the fresh sea air proved a
wonderful tonic to him, and he rapidly regained his strength. The voyage
was slow. The Hormuzzeer beat down the Bay of Bengal against the monsoon
now beginning, and it was nearly two months before she made Penang. She
unloaded there: her cargo was sold at great profit, she being the only
vessel that had for some time left the Hugli; and Desmond found his
capital increased by nearly a hundred per cent. She then took on a cargo
for Madras, where she arrived in the first week of September.
Desmond took the earliest opportunity of going on shore. The roads were
studded with Admiral Watson's fleet, and he learned that Clive was in the
town preparing an expedition to avenge the wrong suffered by the English
in Calcutta. He hastened to obtain an interview with the colonel.
"'Tis no conventional speech when I say I am glad to see you alive and
well, Mr. Burke," said Clive. "Have you come direct from Calcutta?"
"No, sir. I left there some ten weeks ago for Penang."
"Then I have later news of my friend Merriman than you. Poor fellow! He
is distraught at the loss of his wife and girl. I have received several
letters from him. He spoke of you; told me of what you had done at
Cossimbazar. Gad, sir, you did right well in defending his goods; and I
promise myself if ever I lay hands on that villain Peloti he shall smart
for that piece of rascaldom and many more. Are you still minded to take
service with me?"
"I should like nothing better, sir, but I doubt whether I can think of it
until I see Mr. Merriman."
"Tut, man, that is unnecessary. 'Twas arranged between Mr. Merriman and
me in Bombay that he would release you as soon as a vacancy occurred in
the Company's military establishment. There are several such vacancies
now, and I shall be glad to have a Shropshire man as a lieutenant. I trow
you are not averse to taking a hand in this expedition?"
"No one who knows what happened in Calcutta can be that, sir."
"That is settled, then. I appoint you a cadet in the Company's service."
"Thank you indeed, sir," said Desmond, flushing with pleasure. "I have
longed all my life to serve under you."
"You may find me a hard taskmaster," said Clive, setting his lips in the
grim way that so many had cause to fear.
"When do we start, sir?"
"That I can't say. 'Tis not by my wish we have delayed so long. I will
let you know when I require your services. Meanwhile, make yourself
acquainted with the officers."
Desmond learned from his new comrades that there was some disagreement
among the Madras Council about the command of the expedition. Clive had
volunteered to lead it as soon as the news of the fall of Calcutta
arrived; but he was inferior in rank to Colonel Adlercron of the
Thirty-ninth Regiment, and that officer was a great stickler for military
etiquette. The Council had some reason for anxiety. They were expecting
to hear, from outcoming ships, of the outbreak of war between France and
England; and as the French were strong in Southern India, it required
much moral courage to weaken the force disposable for the defense of
Madras.
One day, before the matter of the command had been definitely settled,
Desmond received a summons from Clive. He found the great soldier alone.
"You have heard of the discussions in the Council, Mr. Burke," began
Clive without ceremony. "I tell you this: I and no other will command
this expedition. In that confidence I have sent for you. What I have
heard of you speaks well for your readiness and resource, and I think you
could be more useful to me in the Hugli than waiting here until our
respected Council can make up their minds. The men here are not
acquainted with Bengal. You are: you know the country from Calcutta to
Murshidabad, at all events, and you speak Hindustani with some fluency.
You can serve me best by picking up any information you can get regarding
the enemy's movements. You are willing, I take it, to run some risks?"
"I'll do anything you wish, sir."
"As I expected. Well, you will go at once to Fulta. Not to Mr. Drake:
I've no confidence in him and the other old women who are conducting the
Company's affairs in Bengal. Major Killpatrick, an excellent officer,
left here in June with a small reinforcement. He is now at Fulta. You
will join him. I shall ask him to give you a free hand in going and
coming and collecting information. You understand that in a sense you are
on secret service. I want you to keep an eye particularly on the
movements of the French. 'Tis reported that they are in league with
Sirajuddaula: find out whether that's the case: and gad, sir, if it is,
I'll not be satisfied till I've turned 'em neck and crop out of Bengal.
You'll want money: here are five thousand rupees; if you want more, ask
Major Killpatrick. Now, when can you start?"
"The Hormuzzeer is sailing in ballast tomorrow, sir. She'll go light, and
aboard her I should get to Fulta as quickly as on any other vessel."
"Very well. I trust you: much depends on your work; go on as you have
begun and I promise you Robert Clive won't forget it. Goodby.
"By the way, your duties will take you through the parts where Mrs.
Merriman disappeared. Your first duty is to me, and through me to your
king and country, remember that. But if you can get any news of the
missing ladies, so much the better. Mrs. Merriman is a cousin of my
wife's, and I am deeply concerned about her fate."
Next day the Hormuzzeer sailed, and by the middle of September Desmond
had reached Fulta, and reported himself both to Major Killpatrick and to
Mr. Merriman there.