"Dhurm Singh?"
"_Huzoor_."
After five and twenty years the same appeal--the same reply. But on
that May night and July day neither the man nor the woman had any doubt
as to what was to come next; the universe held no possibility save "the
_mem sahib_" or "Sonny _baba_ But the latter, now it came to his turn,
hesitated; even while he was conscious that to a well-balanced mind
capable of weighing advantage and disadvantage fairly, there ought to
be no difficulty in telling any one that you had no further need for
his services. The recollection of certain thin-lipped, dignified,
self-respecting conversations overheard at home sprang to memory
obtrusively. "Then, Mary Ann, it had better be this day month." "Yes,
ma'am, this day month, if you please; and if you please, ma'am,
Wednesdays and Saturdays from eleven till one, if convenient, for a
character."
But things were different somehow in this heathen country, which was so
backward in education, so ignorant of liberty, equality, and--ahem!
"Dhurm Singh," began Sonny once more rather hurriedly.
"_Huzoor_."
"I--I am going to make a complete change of plan, Dhurm Singh. I--I am
going to begin work on a new principle. I--I am going to start in
another part of the country where I shall not require--er--many things
I have hitherto required." He paused, well satisfied at his plunge _in
medias res_.
Dhurm Singh, standing attention at the door, smiled approvingly. "It is
a good word, _Huzoor_. So said the _Gurus_ also. When do we start?"
Half an hour afterwards Sonny _baba_ in rather a shamefaced manner,
told the doctor that, after all, he had come to the conclusion it would
be better not to dismiss Dhurm Singh. To begin with, the village
children delighted in his tales, and then--it was a triviality, no
doubt, perhaps in a measure a giving in to prejudice--the elders
certainly set store by position; for instance, they were always more
ready to listen to him if the old swash-buckler had had an opportunity
of giving the family history, embellishments and all. In addition,
Dhurm Singh had promised to amend his ways generally; to spend his days
in compounding pills and potions instead of hectoring about. Finally,
he had agreed to an allowance of opium, swearing _dhurm nal_ to take no
more than was served out by the master.
"Of course," said Sonny _baba_ at this juncture, with a considerate
superiority which raised every atom of the doctor's original sin, "I
shall be careful, I shall not dock it too much at once; but in the
course of a year or two I hope to break him entirely of this most
pernicious habit."
"Which has never done him or his surroundings the least harm," growled
Taylor savagely. "Upon my soul, I begin to wish I were five and twenty
again, if only that I might be as cock-sure of being right about
everything as you are. As it is, even the _bacillus_--" He wrinkled his
eyes over the microscope once more, and did not finish his sentence.
After this Dhurm Singh might have been seen any day of the week in the
dispensary verandah grinding away vigorously with pestle and mortar at
unsavoury medicaments, rolling pills under his flexible brown fingers,
or polishing up surgical instruments with all the fervour bestowed of
yore on the old sword.
"Lo! if the _Baba-sahib_ cares not for being a big _Hakm_ (magistrate,
ruler), sure the next best thing is to be a big _Hakeem_ (doctor)," he
would say, smiling simply at his own wit. "And doth not the _Guru_ say,
'Fight with no weapon but the sword of the Spirit'? Besides, when I
feel like fighting I can put an edge to the knives or pound harder with
the pestle. God knows they may both do more damage than a sabre. Then
the rolling of pills is ever the first step towards dream-getting. Thus
in all ways, I, Dhurm Singh, Sikh, ex-_duffadar_, _pinson-wallah_, and
_Akali_, am consoled. But there! God is good to the Sikh. Know you that
He never made an ugly one yet?"
This was a favourite boast of the old man's, backed always, should
doubts be expressed, by a modest appeal to his own looks, joined to an
assertion--which, by the way, was perfectly true--that he was the
meanest looking of ten brothers.
So, in due season, the doctor once more watched the odd couple pass out
together into the wilderness; and this time, noticing the change in
Sonny _baba_ and remembering the raw lad who had been his cabin
companion, he, so to speak, put his whole pile on Dhurm Singh--unless
the boy killed him with philanthropy.
The rains, after an unusually heavy fall, had ceased early, the result
being an epidemic of autumnal fever. Now the cholera may kill its
thousands, but year by year, with every now and again a sort of jubilee
over its own strength, malaria kills its tens of thousands quietly,
unostentatiously; so quietly, that it is only when the officer in
charge of a district finds himself during his cold weather camp
deciding the rival claims to hereditary offices day after day in
village after village, that even he realises how widely the archangel
Azrael has spread his wings over the people. The doctor, however,
judging simply by the weather, sent Sonny into the jungles well
supplied with that carmine-tinted quinine which carries the fact of its
being Government property in its colour: a useless attempt to prevent
the sale of charity in a land where the regulation five grain powder is
as much a part of the currency as a two anna bit. Well supplied, yet at
the same time with cautions not to be over generous except in genuine
cases. Let him stick to the country medicines as prophylactics. Opium
and aconite were to be had for the buying; and if he did wander into
the low jungles close to the hills, and if he could be tolerant and
learn not to despise old wisdom, let him prescribe the former in
preference to the latter--though perhaps that was too much to expect
from a five-and-twenty-year old who was cock-sure he knew best.
"I know nothing of myself," replied Sonny in all seriousness. "The
Eternal Right decides. There lies the difference between you and
me--pardon me if I say between the Christian and the Unbeliever. You
trust to your finite mind, I to Something which is and was, which
cannot err."
And Dhurm Singh, gleefully employed in turning a cash transport mule
with its fixings into a perambulating dispensary, was keeping up his
character of devotee by repeating verses from the _Adhee Grunt'h_[14]
in sing-song; his round, mellow voice echoing out through the
sunshine--
"Remember, oh man, the primal truth--the Truth ere the
world began.
The Truth which is and the Truth which must remain.
How can this Truth be told, save by doing the will of the
Lord?"
"Listen!" said Taylor, and Sonny _baba_ moved uneasily in his chair.
When these same preparations were complete, the old man's delight was
huge; and he drove the mule forth to the wilderness before him with
much futile waving of the stick which had replaced the sword. Even over
that abnegation he was cheerful.
"Lo! I am turned a _dhundi-wallah_[15] in mine old age, as becomes the
pious-minded. _Ari!_ thou misbegotten offspring of a mixed race doomed
to childless extinction, wilt stray from the beaten path! Wouldst steal
the corn of others, when thy master is a _missen sahib_, and thy tender
a devotee? May the uttermost--"
Then to Sonny's pained reproof he would reply, cheerfully as ever, that
he had understood the refraining of his tongue from abuse was to be
towards those born of Adam; and this was not even a God-created thing,
but a nondescript invented by the _sahib-logue_.
Cheerful always; even when, as time went on, his daily pills of opium
were mixed with quinine. He sat and compounded them himself _dhurm
nal_, keeping no grain of the beloved dream-giver from the sacrilegious
mixture, and telling the full tale of the "_fiat pillulae_" into the
master's locked medicine chest, whence they were doled out daily.
For the first month or more, everything went smoothly. Never before had
Sonny _baba_ had such attentive listeners to the great truths he
expounded as a preliminary to his other work; never before had he felt
that he was really on the right tack, really had his opportunity of a
fair hearing. The letters he wrote home to his aunt who, fond woman,
had faithfully followed, as woman can do, every step in the career of
her darling with unswerving confidence, filled that excellent creature
with sheer, unalloyed delight. She told all her circle of friends that
her nephew had fulfilled her dearest wishes in going in for the medical
mission, which was undoubtedly the only way of getting at the poor,
dear natives.
And Sonny, in less emotional fashion, felt this to be so true that he
worked as he had never worked before. A sort of feverish desire to
utilise every opportunity, to lose no occasion for preaching the great
Gospel of Peace came over him, and he spared himself not at all, after
the manner of his kind.
So that sometimes returning tired out in evening from some long tramp,
it was a relief to find the old swash-buckler ready with kid _pullao_
or "_rose chikken_,"[16] and to see the tea-kettle swinging over a fire
of twigs. Sometimes after they entered the tract of forest-land near
the foot of the hills, the indefatigable old poacher would produce a
stew of black partridge; and once Sonny, coming home to the tiny tent
late at night, found his henchman keeping an eye on roast pork, and at
the same time utilising the flame-light in giving a suspicious clean to
the biggest surgical knife--a queer picture seen by the fire, leaping
and dancing up into the shadows of a mango grove.
But one evening Sonny came home with no appetite for dinner, and half
an hour afterwards he was blue and shivering in the cold fit of ague.
"If the _Huzoor_ would take some of my pills," said Dhurm Singh
wistfully; "look at me! nothing touches me, and, lo! am I not three
times as near the grave as the _Baba-sahib_?"
There is no need to describe the scorn which this suggestion met. As
for the pills, where would the old sinner be but for the quinine
contained therein? This was nothing but a chill, an isolated attack. He
would take an extra dose of the specific and be done with it.
But the third day, suddenly, in the very middle of an eloquent appeal
he felt goose skin going in thrills down his back, and five minutes
after the only sound he could make was the chattering of his teeth.
"If the _Huzoor_," began Dhurm Singh, but was checked by the frown on
the master's face; for the lad had grit and fire in him.
Neither of these, however, avail much against a tertian ague, and it
was not long before Sonny _baba_ in the half-querulous, half-hysterical
stage before the hot fit merges into perspiration, confided with tears
to the old swash-buckler that it was no use. He was an accursed being.
From the very beginning had it not been so? And then he retailed
garrulously many and many an incident of the past three years,
forgotten by his retainer, in which something had occurred to mar the
smooth working of good luck. Something as often as not, it struck the
listener, to be referred to his own share in the business. To the
speaker it was otherwise. He was not fit for the work; he was of no
account, and now when at long last the time had come, when he felt that
his hand was on the plough--
"It is time the _Baba-sahib_ took his quinine," remarked Dhurm Singh
sagely, unsympathetically. "If the _Huzoor_ will give the keys of the
chest, this dust-like one will bring the medicine--_dhurm nal_." The
last words came softly, half to himself, and an important,
self-satisfied smile broadened the open face as he made his choice
among the bottles. "Lo! there it is," he continued, laying two pills in
the burning hand before passing his one arm under the burning body,
"but the _Huzoor_ must have faith. Without it medicine is but a bad
taste in the mouth. He who believes shall be saved."
Perhaps Sonny _baba_ took his advice yet once again, perhaps the
quinine got a fair hold of the enemy at last. Certain it is that from
the time Dhurm Singh commenced to bring the pills _dhurm nal_, the ague
began to abate. At the end of a week Sonny _baba_ was eating "_rose
chicken_" once more with appetite. That evening, as the sun was setting
red over the thick brakes of sugar-cane, the old man sat pounding
diligently with pestle and mortar while he intoned away at the _Adhee
Grunt'h_--
"God asks no man of his birth,
He asks him what he has done,
Since all are the seed of God,
Lo! what is the world but clay,
Tho' the pots are of many moulds."
And Sonny _baba_ lying out in the shade blissfully conscious that he
was getting better, nay, that he was better, raised himself on one arm
and looked over with moist eyes to the old man.
"What are you doing, Dhurm Singh?"
"This slave makes pills. The _Huzoor_ hath eaten so many, and those of
the dust-like one have given out also. Lo! I fill the bottles against
the return of the _Baba-sahib_ to his medicine chest."
"But, I say! are you sure you have made them right?"
"The _Huzoor_ may rest satisfied. Five grains of the blessed medicine
for the master, and the other as before. It is _dhurm nal, Huzoor_."
"So you call it a blessed medicine now, Dhurm Singh?"
"Wherefore not, since the master is better?"
"Well! the addition of that small quantity of ipecacuanha which I
began--let me see--that day when I was so bad, certainly had a
marvellous effect. I shall write and tell Taylor about it; he was
inclined to sneer at the idea just because he didn't suggest it.
Doctors are awfully jealous of each other. That's the worst of them."
These remarks were made mostly for his own benefit, as he lay
comfortably watching the stars come out one by one as the daylight
died.
It was that same night that Dhurm Singh had his first go of ague. It
shook him as a sharp attack of malarious fever does shake a native past
his prime, and Sonny _baba_ amid his regrets, could not avoid a certain
elation.
"So much for opium," he said, and yet in his heart of hearts a fear
gained ground that perhaps he might have been over rapid in diminishing
the dose. Now that the old man was actually ill, it seemed unkind to
deny him comfort; so an addition was made to the number of pills, thus
increasing the amount both of opium and quinine.
It was more than a month later that a small procession of two men
carrying a string bed on their heads, and one man driving a pack mule,
turned into the dispensary compound.
"It is the old man," said Sonny _baba_ to the doctor, "and I'm
afraid--" he paused before the break in his own voice. "It was that
_terai_ land. I was as bad as could be, and thought I should have to
give up; but, under Providence, quinine and ipec. pulled me round to do
the best work I have ever done in my life. But he--he would stick to
the opium, and then I'm afraid that at first I hardly noticed--you see
he went round as usual, bragging he was better. So I didn't think--the
work was so absorbing, and I myself felt so fit. Otherwise, I might
have gone to a healthier part, though, of course, the impression would
not have been so good. Still--it came upon me quite by surprise three
days ago--and--and I've brought him in by forced marches. You--" The
voice failed again. Indeed, there was no need for more, the doctor
being already on his knees by the bed, making his examination. Suddenly
he looked up.
"Why the devil did you stop his opium, you young fool? Here, Boota
Mull, the syringe and a disc of morphia--sharp. But, after all, what
does anything matter so long as you save your own soul alive!"
Sonny _baba_ looking very white, drew himself up into dignity. "We can
discuss that question by and by, Dr. Taylor. In the mean time, let me
warn you, that the man has already had ten grains of opium in the last
twenty-four hours."
The doctor's quick hands were at the closed eyelids. "Ten grains--bosh!
But, as you say, those questions can be settled by and by--when he is
dead, if you like."
Sonny _baba's_ face had grown whiter still. "I tell you he has had the
opium--I gave it to him myself--I was afraid--" he paused abruptly, and
the doctor looking up shot a rapid glance of negation towards him.
"There's a mistake, or else-- It doesn't matter now, at any rate. The
thing is done."
But Sonny _baba_ did not hear the latter words; he was beside the mule,
fumbling hastily in the travelling dispensary, of which the old man had
been so proud, for the medicine chest. His hands trembled as he brought
it back; and Dr. Taylor, his face unseen, yet with its keenness shown
in every movement of the capable hands busy over the morphia, heard an
odd sound--something between a gasp and a cry--behind him. Then some
one came and knelt down at the other side of the bed.
"Dhurm Singh!"
But there was no answer.
"Dhurm Singh, you can tell them it was _dhurm nal_, and that I killed
you."
* * * * *
"Killed him--fudge! Though, upon my soul, it would serve you right if
you had. So the old sinner changed the pills, and it wasn't the ipec.
after all. Most reprehensible practice, and, upon my soul, it would
serve him right if he did die. Now--don't be a fool, man! I tell you he
shan't die--I won't let him die. Besides, he can't die--it's
impossible--absolutely impossible."
Despite his despair and dejection, the young man gave a wan smile at
the other's vehemence.
"And why?"
"Because of you, naturally. You don't suppose that you're fit to be
trusted alone with a medicine chest, do you? Boota Mull, if you don't
hurry up with that turpentine and the brandy mixture I'll report you.
So it wasn't the ipec. after all! I'm glad of that."
In after years the young fellow used to deny strenuously that it had
been the opium either. Plainly and palpably he had been cured of his
fever "by faith." And as for Dhurm Singh? What the doctor said was
true; he could not be spared as yet. How could he be spared when even
now from the verandah came a woman's voice, soft, confident--
"Dhurm Singh, Sonny _baba_."
"_Huzoor! dhurm nal_."
And any one looking out might have seen a very old man, gorgeous in
scarlet raiment, decked with golden lace and golden curls, as a child's
head nestled up against a solitary arm, and a child's fingers played
with the solitary medal, or tugged unavailingly at the hilt of the old
sword.
"The _Huzoor_ is too young," would come the broad, arrogant voice, "but
he will learn--he will learn. Even a Sikh is made, not born. He must
wait till the years bring the Sacred Steel. Let the _Huzoor_ rest
awhile peacefully, and old Dhurm will sing to him."
Then there would be a surreptitious swallowing of a pill before the
drowsy chant began.
"He is of the _Khalsa_[17]
Who combats in the van,
Who gives in charity,
Who loves the Poor.
He is of the _Khalsa_
Whose mind is set on God,
Who never fears though often overcome,
Knowing all men created of one God.
He is of the _Khalsa_
Who lives in arms,
Who combats with the wrong,
Who keeps--the--faith--"
So there would be a silence broken only by the even breathing of the
old man and the child.
For Sonny _baba_ and his wife, watching the scene from within, only
looked into each other's eyes and said nothing.