Sinfray's khansaman makes a confession.
On arriving at Fulta, Desmond found that the European fugitives from
Calcutta were living for the most part on board the country ships in the
river, while the military were cantoned in huts ashore, on a plain
eastward of the town. The avenues leading to their camp were occupied by
Sepoys. Desmond lost no time in making his way to Major Killpatrick's hut
and presenting his credentials.
"Very glad to make your acquaintance," said the major heartily. "Oh yes,
I know all about you. Mr. Merriman has told me of the way you brought his
cargo through from Cossimbazar, and the plucky stand you made against
odds. By Jove, sir, 'twas an amazing good piece of work. You deserved a
commission if any youngster ever did, and I'm glad Mr. Clive has done the
right thing. Let me tell you, Mr. Clive don't make mistakes--in military
matters, that is to say. And Gheria, now: egad, sir, you must have a head
on your shoulders; and that en't flattery; we soldiers en't in the habit
of laying on the butter.
"You did well; and sure you'll be of the greatest use to us here. We need
a few men as are able to keep their heads in a warm place: and, begad, if
they'd such men in Bengal these last months we wouldn't be rotting here
in this fever-haunted place. Why, I've lost thirty-two officers and men
in less than a couple of months, and I'll be lucky if I've fifty fit for
service by the time Mr. Clive arrives. When may we expect him, sir?"
"He couldn't tell me, sir. The Madras Council can't make up their minds
who is to command the expedition, and they're waiting for ships from
home."
Major Killpatrick laughed.
"Why, I know how that will end. With Mr. Stringer Lawrence laid up there
is only one man fit to do this job, and that's Mr. Clive, and the sooner
the gentlemen on their office stools at Madras see that, the better in
the end for everybody.
"Now you're strong again, eh? Got rid of that touch of fever?"
"Yes, sir; I'm as well as ever."
"And want to be doing something, I'll be bound. Well, 'twill need some
thinking, what you've to do. We're badly served with news. We've got
spies, of course; but I don't set much store by native spies in this
country. We've information by the bushel, but when you come to sift it
out there's precious little of it you can trust. And the enemy has got
spies, too--hundreds of 'em. I'll bet my boots there's a regular system
of kasids for carrying news of us to Manik Chand and from him to the
Nawab. If the truth was known, I dare say that rascal knows how many
hairs I have on my bald crown under my wig--if that's any interest to
him.
"Well, I suppose you'll join Mr. Merriman on board one of the ships.
Better chance of escaping the fever there. I'll turn over a thing or two
I have in my mind and send for you when I've done turning."
On the way back to the shore Desmond met the serang who had accompanied
him down the river from Cossimbazar. The man explained that after the
capture of Calcutta his brother Hubbo, the Company's syr serang {head
boatman}, had been impressed into the service of the Nawab, and he
himself had been sent by Hubbo to Fulta to assist the Council and
merchants of the Company. He had there met Mr. Merriman, whom in common
with many others he had believed to be dead. Mr. Merriman, having no
immediate need for his services, had willingly permitted him to take his
brother's place in the employment of the Company.
Mr. Merriman welcomed Desmond with quite fatherly affection, and
congratulated him heartily on his appointment. The Hormuzzeer being
unlikely, owing to the complete cessation of trade, to make another
voyage for some months to come, he decided to take up his quarters on
board, and Desmond lived with him as a matter of course.
Desmond was shocked to see the change wrought on his friend by the loss
of his wife and daughter. All his gay spirits had left him; he had
thinned perceptibly, and his eyes had that strained look which only a
great sorrow can cause.
"I have been thinking it over, Desmond," he said as they sat in the
cabin, "and I can only conclude that this is one more of Peloti's
villainies. Good God! had he not done me and mine harm enough? Who else
would be so dead to all sense of right, of decency, as to seize upon two
helpless women? My brother was hanged, Desmond; hanging is too good for
that scoundrel; but we cannot touch him; he laughs at us; and I am
helpless--helpless!"
"Like you, sir, I have come to believe that you owe this terrible sorrow
to Diggle--I must always call him that. Don't give up heart, sir. What
his motive is, if he has indeed captured the ladies, I cannot tell. It
may be to use them as hostages in case he gets into trouble with us; it
is impossible to see into the black depths of his mind. But I believe the
ladies are safe, and, please God, I shall learn something about them and
maybe bring them back to you."
Desmond waited a couple of days in the hope of receiving a definite task
from Major Killpatrick. But that officer, while an excellent soldier, was
not fertile in expedients. The process of "turning things over in his
mind" did not furnish him with an inspiration.
He came on board the Hormuzzeer one afternoon, and confessed that he
didn't see how Desmond could possibly get up and down the river. Mr.
Merriman reminded him that in the early days of the stay at Fulta, Mr.
Robert Gregory had gone up with requests to the French and Dutch for
assistance. Under cover of a storm he passed Tanna and Calcutta unnoticed
by the Nawab's men.
"The French were very polite, but wouldn't move a finger for us," added
Mr. Merriman. "The Dutch were more neighborly, and sent us some
provisions--badly needed, I assure you. Mr. Gregory is still with them at
Chinsura."
"If he got through, why shouldn't I?" asked Desmond.
"My dear boy," said Killpatrick, "the river is narrowly watched. The
Moors know that Gregory outwitted them; sure no other Englishman could
repeat the trick. And if you were caught, there's no saying how Manik
Chand might serve you. He seems disposed to be friendly, to be sure: he's
made governor of Calcutta now, and wants to feel his feet. But he's a
weak man, by all accounts; and weak men, when they are afraid, are always
cruel. If he caught an Englishman spying out the land he'd most probably
treat him after oriental methods.
"In fact, the situation between him and us is such," concluded the major
with a laugh, "that he'd be quite justified in stringing you up."
Major Killpatrick left without offering any suggestion. When he had gone
Desmond spent an hour or two in "turning things over in his mind." He
felt that the major was well disposed and would probably jump at any
reasonable scheme that was put before him.
After a period of quiet reflection he sought out Hossain, the serang, and
had a long talk with him. At the conclusion of the interview he went to
see Mr. Merriman. He explained that Hossain wished to return to the
service of a former employer, a native grain merchant in Calcutta, who
did a large trade along the Hugli from the Sandarbands to Murshidabad.
The consent of the Council was required, and Desmond wished Mr. Merriman
to arrange the matter without giving any explanation.
The merchant was naturally anxious to know why Desmond interested himself
in the man, and what he learned drew from him an instant promise to
obtain the Council's consent without delay. Then Desmond made his way to
Major Killpatrick's hut, and remained closeted with that genial officer
till a late hour.
Six weeks later a heavily-laden petala, with a dinghy trailing behind,
was dropping down the river above Hugli. Its crew numbered four. One was
Hossain, the serang, who had left Fulta with Desmond on the day after his
interview with Major Killpatrick. Two were dark-skinned boatmen, Bengalis
somewhat stupid in appearance. The fourth, who was steering, was rather
lighter in hue, as well as more alert and energetic in mien: a lascar, as
Hossain explained in answer to inquiries along the river. He had lately
been employed on one of the Company's vessels, but it had been sunk in
the Hugli during the siege of Calcutta. He was a handy man in a boat, and
very glad to earn a few pice in this time of stagnant trade. Things were
not looking bright for boatmen on the Hugli; as only a few vessels had
left the river from Chandernagore and Chinsura since the troubles began
there was little or no opening for men of the shipwrecked crew.
The petala made fast for the night near the bank, at a spot a little
below Hugli, between that place and Chinsura. When the two Bengalis had
eaten their evening rice, Hossain told them that they might, if they
pleased, take the dinghy and attend a tamasha {entertainment} that was
being held in Chinsura that night in honor of the wedding of one of the
Dutch Company's principal gumashtas. The Bengalis, always ready for an
entertainment of this kind, slipped overboard and were soon rowing down
to Chinsura. Their orders were to be back immediately after the second
watch of the night. Only the lascar and Hossain were left in the boat.
Ten minutes after the men had disappeared from view, the serang lit a
small oil lamp in the tiny cabin. He then made his way to the helm,
whispered a word in the lascar's ear, and took his place. The latter
nodded and went into the cabin. Drawing the curtains, he squatted on a
mattress, took from a hiding place in the cabin a few sheets of paper and
a pencil, and, resting the paper on the back of a tray, began to write.
As he did so he frequently consulted a scrap of paper he kept at his left
hand; it was closely covered with letters and figures, these latter not
Hindustani characters, but the Arabic figures employed by Europeans.
The first line of what he wrote himself ran thus:
29 19 28 19 36 38 32 20 21 39 23 34 19 29 29 35 32 38 24 38 23 32
{constructed from the cipher actually used by Mr. Watts at Murshidabad}.
The letter or message upon which he was engaged was not a lengthy one,
but it took a long time to compose. When it was finished the lascar went
over it line by line, comparing it with the paper at his left hand. Then
he folded it very small, sealed it with a wafer, and, returning to the
serang, said a few words. Whereupon Hossain made a trumpet of his hands,
and, looking toward the left bank, sounded a few notes in imitation of a
bird's warble. The shore was fringed here with low bushes. As if in
answer to the call a small boat darted out from the shelter of a bush; a
few strokes brought it alongside of the petala; and the serang, bending
over, handed the folded paper to the boatman, and whispered a few words
in his ear. The man pushed off, and the lascar watched the boat float
silently down the stream until it was lost to sight.
Dawn was hardly breaking when Major Killpatrick, awakened by his servant,
received from his hands a folded paper which by the aid of a candle he
began to pore over, laboriously comparing it with a small code similar to
that used by the lascar. One by one he penciled on a scrap of paper
certain letters, every now and then whistling between his teeth as he
spelt out the words they made. The result appeared thus:
Magazines for ammunition and stores of grain being prepared Tribeni and
Hugli. Bazaar rumor Nawab about to march with army to Calcutta. Orders
issued Hugli traffic to be strictly watched. Dutch phataks {gate or
barrier} closed. Forth unable leave Chinsura. Tanna Fort 9 guns; opposite
Tanna 6 guns; Holwell's garden 5 guns; 4 each Surman's and Ganj; 2 each
Mr. Watts' house, Seth's ghat, Maryas ghat, carpenter's yard.
"Egad!" he exclaimed, on a second reading of the message, "the boy's a
conjurer. This is important enough to send to Mr. Clive at once. But I'll
make a copy of it first in case of accident."
Having made his copy and sealed the original and his first transcription,
he summoned his servant and bade him send for the kasid. To him he
intrusted the papers, directing him to convey them without loss of time
to Clive Sahib, whom he might expect to find at Kalpi.
It was December thirteenth. Two months before, the fleet containing
Colonel Clive and the troops destined for the Bengal expedition had
sailed from Madras. The force consisted of two hundred and seventy-six
king's troops, six hundred and seventy-six of the Company's, about a
thousand Sepoys, and two hundred and sixty lascars. They were embarked on
five of the king's ships, with Admiral Watson in the Kent, and as many
Company's vessels.
Baffling winds, various mishaps, and the calms usual at this time of the
year had protracted the voyage, so seriously that the men had to be put
on a two-thirds allowance of rations. Many of the European soldiers were
down with scurvy, many of the Sepoys actually died of starvation, having
consumed all their rice, and refusing to touch the meat provided for the
British soldiers, for fear of losing caste. When the admiral at length
arrived at Fulta, he had only six of the ten ships with which he started,
two that had parted company arriving some ten days later, and two being
forced to put back to Madras, under stress of weather.
While the Kent lay at Kalpi Clive received the message sent him by Major
Killpatrick, and was visited by Mr. Drake and other members of the
Council, from whom he heard of the sickness among the troops. On arriving
at Fulta he at once went on shore and visited the major.
"Sorry to hear of your sad case, Mr. Killpatrick," he said. "We're very
little better off. But we must make the best of it. I got your note.
'Twas an excellent greeting. Young Burke is a capital fellow; I have not
mistook his capacity."
"Faith, 'twas what I told him, sir. I said Colonel Clive never mistook
his men."
"Well, if that's true, what you said won't make him vain. This
information is valuable: you see that. Have you heard anything more from
the lad?"
"Nothing, sir."
"And you can't communicate with him?"
"No, 'twas a part of his scheme never to let me know his whereabouts, in
case the messages miscarried."
"So; 'twas his scheme, not yours?"
"Egad, sir, I've no head for that sort of thing," said Killpatrick with a
laugh. "Give me a company, and a wall to scale or a regiment to charge,
and--"
"My dear fellow," interrupted Clive, "we all know the king has no better
officer. Credit where credit is due, major, and you're not the man to
grudge this youngster his full credit for an uncommonly daring and clever
scheme. Did you see him in his disguise?"
"I did, sir, and at a distance he took in both Mr. Merriman and myself."
"Well, he's a boy to keep an eye on, and I only hope that tigers or
dacoits or the Nawab's Moors won't get hold of him; he's the kind of lad
we can't spare. Now, let me know the state of your troops."
When he had sent off his note to Major Killpatrick, Desmond enjoyed a
short spell on deck preparatory to turning in. Hossain was placidly
smoking his hubblebubble; from the far bank of the Hugli came the mingled
sounds of tom toms and other instruments; near the boat all was quiet,
the wavelets of the stream lapping idly against the sides, the stillness
broken only by the occasional howl of a jackal prowling near the bank in
quest of the corpses of pious Hindus consigned to the sacred waters of
the Ganges.
Desmond was half dozing when he was startled into wakefulness by a sudden
clamor from the native town. He heard shots, loud cries, the hideous
blare of the Bengal trumpets. For half an hour the shouts continued
intermittently; then they gradually died away.
Wondering whether the tamasha had ended in a tumult, Desmond was about to
seek his couch, when, just beneath him, as it seemed, he heard a voice--a
feeble cry for help. He sprang up and looked over the side. Soon a dark
head appeared on the water. With a cry to the serang to cast loose and
row after him, Desmond took a header into the stream, and with a few
strokes gained the drowning man's side.
He was clearly exhausted. Supporting him with one arm, Desmond struck out
with the other, and being a strong swimmer he reached the stern of the
boat even before the serang had slipped his moorings. With Hossain's aid
he lifted the man into the boat, and carried him to the cabin. He was all
but unconscious.
A mouthful of arrack {fermented liquor made from rice or the juice of the
palm} from the serang's jar revived him. No sooner was he in command of
his breath than he implored his rescuers for their help and protection.
He had escaped, he said, from Hugli Fort, not without a gunshot wound
behind his shoulder. He spoke in Bengali. Seeing that he was too much
exhausted and agitated to tell his story that night, Desmond bade the
serang assure him of his safety. Then they made shift to tend his wound,
and, comforting him with food and drink, left him to sleep and recover.
The two Bengalis who had been to Chinsura returned before they were
expected. They had been alarmed by the uproar. As soon as they were
aboard Desmond decided to drop a mile or two farther down the river. The
boat coming to a ghat below Chandernagore, the serang ordered the men to
pull in, and tied up for the night.
In the morning the Bengalis were despatched on some errand along the
bank, and the coast being clear Desmond went with the serang to the
wounded man to learn particulars of the escape. The Bengali had now
almost wholly recovered, and was very voluble in his gratitude for his
rescue. Happening to glance towards the bank, he suddenly uttered an
exclamation of fear, and begged the serang with frantic waving of the
hands to leave the spot at once.
"Why, O brother, this fear?" asked Hossain.
"I will tell you. It is a great fear. Just before the coming of the rains
I was at Khulna. There I was hired by the head serang of a lady traveling
to Calcutta. She was the wife of a burra sahib of the great Company, and
with her was her daughter. All went well until we came near
Chandernagore; we struck a snag; the boat sprang a leak; we feared the
bibis would be drowned. We rowed to this very ghat; a sahib welcomed the
ladies; they went into his house yonder. Presently he sent for us; we
lodged with his servants; but in the night we were set upon, bound, and
carried to Hugli. False witnesses accused us of being dacoits; we were
condemned; and I was confined with others in the prison.
"Always since then have I looked for a chance of escape. It came at last.
Some of the jailers went last night to the tamasha at Chinsura. I stole
out and got away. A sentry fired upon me, and hit me; but I am a good
swimmer and I plunged into the river. You know all that happened then, O
serang, and I beseech you leave this place; it is a dreadful place; some
harm will come to us all."
Desmond's knowledge of Bengali was as yet slight, and he caught only
portions of the man's narrative. But he understood enough to convince him
that he was at last on the track of the missing ladies; and when, shortly
afterwards, Hossain gave him in Urdu the whole of the story, he
determined at once to act on the information.
On the return of the two Bengalis, he arranged with the serang to set
them at work on some imaginary repairs to the boat: that pretext for
delay was as good as another. Then, Hossain having reassured the
fugitive, he himself landed and made his way up to the house.
It was closed. There was no sign of its being inhabited. But about a
hundred yards from the gate Desmond saw a basti {block of native huts},
and from one of the huts smoke was issuing. He sauntered up. Before the
door, lolling in unstudied dishabille, squatted a bearded, turbaned
Mohammedan, whom from his rotundity Desmond guessed to be the khansaman
of the big house.
"Salaam aleikam {peace be with you!}, khansaman!" said Desmond suavely.
"Pardon the curiosity of an ignorant sailor from Gujarat. What nawab owns
the great house yonder?"
The khansaman, beaming in acknowledgment of the implied compliment to his
own importance, replied:
"To Sinfray Sahib, worthy khalasi."
"The great Sinfray Sahib of Chandernagore? Surely that is a strange
thing!"
"Strange! What is strange? That Sinfray Sahib should own so fine a house?
You should see his other house in Chandernagore: then indeed you might
lift your eyes in wonder."
"Nay, indeed, I marveled not at that, for Sinfray Sahib is indeed a great
man. We who dwell upon the kala pani know well his name. Is it not known
in the bazaars in Pondicheri and Surat? But I marvel at this, khansaman:
that on one day, this day of my speaking to you, I should meet the
sahib's most trusty servant, as I doubt not you are, and also the man who
has sworn revenge upon the owner of this house--ay, and on all the
household."
"Bismillah! {'in the name of Allah!'--a common exclamation}" exclaimed
the khansaman, spitting out his betel. He was thoroughly interested, but
as yet unconcerned. "What do you mean, khalasi?"
"I parted but now, on the river, from a fellow boatman who of late has
lain in prison at Hugli, put there, they say, by order of Sinfray Sahib.
He is not a dacoit; no man less so; but false witnesses rose up against
him. And, I bethink me, he said that the sahib's khansaman was one of
these men with lying lips.
"Surely he was in error; for your face, O khansaman, is open as the sun,
your lips are fragrant with the very attar of truth. But he is filled
with rage and fury; in his madness he will not tarry to inquire. If he
should meet you--well, it is the will of Allah: no man can escape his
fate."
The khansaman, as Desmond spoke, looked more and more distressed; and at
the last words his face was livid.
"It is not true," he said. "But I know the blind fury of revenge. Do thou
entreat him for me. I will pay thee well. I have saved a few pice {coin,
value one-eighth of a penny}. It will be worth five rupees to thee; and
to make amends to the madman, I will give him fifty rupees, even if it
strips me of all I have. Allah knows it was not my doing; it was forced
upon me."
"How could that be, khansaman?" said Desmond, letting pass the man's
contradictory statements.
"It is not necessary to explain; my word is my word."
"No doubt; but so enraged is the khalasi I speak of that unless I can
explain to him fully he will not heed me. Never shall I dissuade him from
his purpose."
"It is the will of Allah!" said the khansaman resignedly. "I will tell
you. It was not Sinfray Sahib at all. He was at the Nawab's court at
Murshidabad. He had lent his house to a friend while he was absent. The
friend had a spite against Merriman Sahib, the merchant at Calcutta; and
when the bibi and the chota bibi came down the river he seized them.
Sinfray Sahib believes there was an attack by dacoits; but the bibi's
peons were carried away by the sahib's friend: it was he that brought the
evidence against them. The Angrezi Sahib induced me to swear falsely by
avouching that Sinfray Sahib was also an enemy of Merriman Sahib; but
when the judge had said his word the sahib bade me keep silence with my
master, for he was ignorant of it all. The Angrezi Sahib is a terrible
man: what could I do? I was afraid to speak."
"And what was the name of the Angrezi Sahib?"
"His name?--It was Higli--no, Digli Sahib--accursed be the day I first
saw him."
Desmond drew a long breath.
"And what became of the bibi and the chota bibi?"
"They were taken away."
"Whither?"
"I do not know."
The answer was glib; Desmond thought a little too glib.
"Why then, khansaman," he said, "I fear it would be vain for me to reason
with the man I spoke of. He has eaten the salt of Merriman Sahib; his
lord's injury is his also. But you acted for the best. Allah hafiz! that
will be a morsel of comfort even if this man's knife should find its way
between your ribs. Not every dying man has such consolation. Live in
peace, good khansaman."
Desmond, who had been squatting in the oriental manner--an accomplishment
he had learned with some pains at Gheria--rose to leave. The khansaman's
florid cheeks again put on a sickly hue, and when the seeming lascar had
gone a few paces he called him back.
"Ahi, excellent khalasi. I think--I remember--I am almost sure I can
discover where the two bibis are concealed."
"Inshallah! {'please God!'--a common exclamation} That is indeed
fortunate," said Desmond, turning back. "There lies the best chance of
averting the wrath of this much-wronged man."
"Wait but a little till I have clad myself duly; I will then go to a
friend yonder and inquire."
He went into his hut and soon returned clothed in the garments that
befitted his position. Walking to a hut at the end of the block, he made
pretense, Desmond suspected, of inquiring. He was soon back.
"Allah is good!" he said. "The khitmatgar yonder tells me they were taken
to a house three coss {the coss is nearly two miles} distant, belonging
to the great faujdar Manik Chand. It is rented from him by Digli Sahib,
who is a great friend of his Excellency."
"Well, khansaman, you will show me the way to the house."
But the khansaman appeared to have donned, with his clothes, a sense of
his own importance. The authoritative tone of the lascar offended his
dignity.
"Who are you, scum of the sea, that you tell a khansaman of Bengal what
he shall do? Hold your tongue, piece of seaweed, or by the beard of the
Prophet--"
The threat was never completed, for Desmond, stepping up close to the
man, caught him by the back of the neck and shook him till his teeth
rattled in his head.
"Quick! Lead the way! Foolish khansaman, do you want your fat body shaken
to a jelly? That is the way with us khalasis from Gujarat. Quick, I say!"
"Hold, khalasi!" panted the khansaman; "I will do what you wish. Believe
me, you are the first khalasi from Gujarat I have seen--"
"Or you would not have delayed so long. Quick, man!"
With a downcast air the man set off. The sun was getting high; being fat
and soft, the khansaman was soon in distress. But Desmond allowed him no
respite. In about two hours they arrived at the house he had mentioned.
The gate was ajar; the door broken open. Hastily entering, Desmond knew
instinctively by the appearance of the place that it was deserted.
He went through the house from bottom to top. Not a living person was to
be seen. But in one of the rooms his quick eye caught sight of a small
hairpin such as only a European woman would use. He picked it up. In
another room a cooking pot had been left, and it was evident that it had
but lately been used. The simple furniture was in some disorder.
The khansaman had with much labor managed to mount the stairs.
"Allah is Allah!" he said. "They are gone!"