court-yard, ordered them in Punjaubi to follow him. To Percy's great
satisfaction he led the way up a staircase, instead of, as the lad had
feared might be the case, down one leading into some subterranean
chamber. After ascending some twenty steps they went along a narrow
passage, at the end of which was a strong door studded with nails. One
of the men produced a key and opened it, and on entering Percy found
himself in a chamber some fifteen feet square. It was not uncomfortably
furnished, and had two native bedsteads. The floor was covered with
rugs. A low table stood in the centre, and there were two low wooden
stools near it. Percy's first glance, however, was towards the window.
It was of good size, and reached to within a foot from the floor. It
was, however, closed by a double grating of strong iron bars, with
openings of but four or five inches square.
"Do not fear, no harm is intended you," the officer said. "For a time
you must make yourselves as comfortable as you can here. Your servant
will be allowed to be with you. If there is anything you require it
will be supplied to you."
So saying he left the room, and the door was then locked.
"Thank goodness you are left with me, Akram," Percy exclaimed. "The
thing I have been dreading most of all is that we should be separated;
and if that had been so, I should have lost all hope of escape."
"I have feared that too, sahib, though I did not speak of it; but before
we think of anything farther, let us hide one of the knives and half the
money in the beds."
"Why not hide them both?" Percy asked.
"Because we might be moved suddenly, sahib. Ghoolab might order us to
be taken to another prison, or might send for us down to Jummoo; there
is never any saying; so it is well to keep some of the money about us.
Of course we may be searched, but in that case we should lose but half.
However, I do not think they will do that now. They will make quite
sure that the dacoits will have taken everything there was to take."
*CHAPTER XIII.*
*ESCAPE.*
Having carefully hidden one of the knives and nine pieces of gold in the
beds, they divided the remaining eight pieces between them. Akram took
off his turban, unrolled his hair, and hid his four pieces in it. He
then, with the point of a knife, unripped two or three stitches in the
lining of Percy's coat and dropped his money into the hole.
"How about the knife, Akram? That is a much harder thing to hide."
"It must be hidden on you, sahib, so that if we are separated you will
be able to use it if you see an opportunity."
He took the knife, and with it cut off a strip an inch wide from his
cloak; then he pulled up one of the legs of Percy's long Sikh trousers,
and with the strip of cloth strapped the knife tightly against the side
of the shin-bone; the handle came close up to the knee, the point
extended nearly to the ankle-bone.
"There is no fear of that shifting," he said when he had fastened the
bandage and pulled the leg of the trouser down again. "And even if they
felt you all over they might well omit to pass their hands over the leg
below the knee."
"It is certainly a capital hiding-place, Akram; I should never have
thought of putting it there, and it is the last place they would think
of searching for anything. Now, we can have a look at the window; it is
very strongly grated."
Akram shook his head. "There is no getting through there, sahib; these
bars have not been up many years. The stonework is perfect, and with
only our knives it would be absolutely impossible to cut through that
double grating. The room has doubtless been meant for someone whom they
wanted to hold fast and yet to treat respectfully. We may give up all
idea of escaping through the window. That stonework was evidently put
up at the same time as the gratings. You see the rest of the wall is of
brick."
"I don't see it, Akram; it is all covered with this white plaster."
"Yes, sahib; but all the houses here are built of brick, that is to say
of brick and woodwork, and I noticed this one is also; besides, if you
look at the plaster carefully you can make out the lines of the courses
of brick underneath it; it is a thin coat, and badly laid on."
"It is a nuisance it is there," Percy remarked. "If it hadn't been for
that it might have been possible with our knives to have cut away the
mortar between the bricks, and so have got them out one by one, till we
made a hole big enough to get through. Of course it would be a long
job, but by replacing the bricks carefully in their places and working
at night it might have been managed. But this white plaster renders it
quite impossible unless the whole thing could be done in one night,
which would be out of the question. There is the floor; we must examine
that presently. I have read of escapes from prison by men who managed
to raise a flooring stone, made a hole underneath big enough to work in,
and so made their way either into another room or through the outside
wall. It would need time, patience, and hard work; but unless we are
able to bribe the man who brings us in food, that is how it must be
done."
He pushed aside one of the rugs. The floor was composed of smooth slabs
of stone about a foot square. "It could not be better," he said.
"There should be no great difficulty in getting up a couple of these
slabs. They are fitted pretty closely, but we ought to be able to find
one where there is room for the blade of a knife to get in between it
and those next to it."
"That is good, sahib; I should never have thought of getting out that
way. However, if you tell me what to do I will do it;" and Akram went
to the place where he had hidden his knife.
"There is no hurry, Akram. We can fix on a stone while there is
daylight, but we can't begin until we are sure that everyone is asleep.
They may bring us in some food at any moment; and before we begin in
earnest we shall have to find out the hours at which they visit us, and
how late they come in at night."
At this moment they heard steps coming along the passage.
"Sit down on that stool," Percy said, while he threw himself down on one
of the _charpoys_. "We must look as dull and stupid as we can."
A man brought in a dish of boiled rice and meat. Akram addressed him in
Punjaubi, but he shook his head and went out without a word.
"If none of these fellows speak anything but their own language, sahib,
it will be difficult to try and get them to help us, for it will not do
to let out that I can talk the language; for if we once get free, that
will be our best hope of getting through the country."
"We will try the other way first at any rate, Akram. The money we have
is not sufficient to induce a man to risk his life in assisting us, and
he might possibly think he could do better by betraying us; in which
case we might be separated and put in a much worse place than this."
"That is true enough, sahib; at the same time the money we have is a
very large amount here. He would not get above three or four rupees a
month, so that it would be four or five years' pay. Still there is the
danger of his betraying us. As you say, we had better try in the first
place to get out as you propose."
"It is nothing to what men have done sometimes, Akram. They have escaped
through walls of solid stone. They don't build like that here. The
bricks are not generally well baked, and are often only sun-dried. As
soon as we have finished this food we will examine the stones. We will
begin near the outside wall--we might get into an inhabited room if we
went the other way--and working towards the outside we know we have only
to get through it to be free, for these rugs will make ropes by which we
can slide down without difficulty."
Examining the flags along the side of the outer wall they found two or
three where, without much difficulty, they could insert a knife in the
interstices.
"Let us set to work at once, Akram; we can hear the man's footstep right
along the passage, and shall have plenty of time to drop the stone in
and throw the rug over it before he reaches the door. I want to see
what is underneath, and I specially want to have a place to hide the two
knives in case they should take it into their heads to search us."
The cement in which the flat slabs were laid was by no means hard, and
in half an hour they had cut it all round one of the stones. This was,
however, still firmly attached to the cement below it. "I am afraid to
use any pressure, Akram, for we might break the knives."
"That is so, sahib; if we had an iron bar we might break the stone, but
I see no other way of loosening it. Perhaps if we were to jump upon it
we might shake it."
"I don't think there would be much chance of that, and if there is
anyone in the room below they might come up to see what we are doing.
We might fill the cracks with water all round and by pouring in more
water from time to time it might soak in and soften the cement, but of
course that depends entirely upon its quality; however we might as well
do that at once."
They filled the cracks with water, drew the rug over the place, and then
returned to their seats. Presently Akram said:
"We might try wedges, sahib."
"So we might, I did not think of that; and there are the beds, of
course."
"Yes; I could cut away some pieces from the under part of the framework
of one of the beds."
"That will do capitally."
It was slow work cutting out a piece of bamboo sufficiently large to
make a couple of dozen of wedges, and it was dark long before Akram had
finished. It took another three hours to split it up and make it into
wedges. As soon as these were completed, they drove them in close to
each other along one side of the stone, pressing them in with the haft
of a knife with their united weight. When all were wedged in Akram
tried the stone.
"It is as firm as ever, sahib."
"Yes; I did not expect that we should be able to move it, especially as
we have not hammered in the wedges. If it does not move by morning we
must tap them in, giving a tap every four or five minutes; that would
not be noticed; but I hope we shall find it is loose then. You see the
crack is full of water, and so the wedges will swell and exercise a
tremendous pressure. In some places they split stone like that."
They threw themselves down on the beds and slept till morning broke.
Percy was the first to open his eyes, and at once leapt up, ran across
the room, moved the rug, and examined the stone.
"It has moved, Akram. The side opposite the wedges is jammed hard up
against the next stone."
"It is as firm as ever, sahib," Akram said, trying it with his knife.
"Yes, because it is held by the pressure of the wedges. When we get them
out we shall find that it is loose from the cement."
They found, however, that there was no possibility of getting out the
strips of wood.
"We have only to wait," Percy said. "As soon as they are dry they will
be loose." It was, however, two days before the moisture had evaporated
sufficiently for them to be able to draw out the wedges.
"Now let us both put our knives in on this side and try and lift it."
Repeated trials showed them that this could not be done. In the evening,
however, when the lamp was brought them, they heated the point of one of
the knives in the flame until it had so far lost its temper that they
were able to bend the point over by pressing it on one of the flags.
Again heating it they dipped it in water to harden. They then ground
the point down on one of the stones until they were able to pass it down
the joint that the action of the wedges had widened. The bent point
caught under the stone, and they had no difficulty in raising it.
"There is the first step done," Percy exclaimed in delight. "You had
better warm the knife and straighten the point again."
They experienced no great difficulty in getting up the next stone, which
they had loosened in a similar way to the first while waiting for the
wedges to dry. As soon as this was up they began cutting into the
cement. The surface was hard, and the knives at first did little more
than scratch it; but below they found it much softer and got on more
rapidly. As they removed the cement they placed the powder a handful at
a time on the window-sill, and blew it gradually out through the
grating. After three nights of continuous work they had made a hole a
foot deep and come down upon wooden planking.
"This is doubtless the ceiling of the room underneath," Percy said.
"There can be no one sleeping there or they would have heard the
scratching overhead." By lifting up the stones, which they always
replaced at daybreak, they could hear voices, and did not recommence
their work at night till they were well assured that no one was stirring
below. As the stones they had taken out were next to the wall, they now
commenced operations on the brickwork. This they found much easier, as
the mortar was nothing like so hard as the cement, and on cutting it out
between the bricks they had no great difficulty in moving these. After
two nights' work they had taken them all out with the exception of the
outside layer, as they were able to calculate by the thickness of the
wall at the window. During the daytime the bricks that had been removed
were stowed away in the hole.
"We shall be out to-night," Percy said exultantly, as they replaced the
flags for the last time. "This last layer will be easy work, for as
soon as we have cut round one brick we shall be able to pull it in, and
can then get a hand through the hole, and the others will come quite
easily as soon as we cut away the mortar a bit. There will be no
occasion to tear up the rugs to make a rope. We are not more than
eighteen or twenty feet from the ground, and two or three of them
knotted together will be enough. We will set one of the beds over the
hole and tie the end to that."
Percy felt nervous all day, being in fear every time he heard a footstep
in the passage that something might occur which would upset all their
plans. They had now been ten days in their prison, so there was time
for a messenger to have gone to Jummoo, and thence to the fortress and
back. Still he hoped that his uncle would at any rate refuse to accept
Ghoolab Singh's first offer, whatever it might be, and that lengthy
negotiations would go on. Nothing out of the ordinary routine happened;
their guard came three times a day as usual with their food; and after
his last visit Percy sprang from the couch.
"Hurrah! Next time he comes he will find the place empty, Akram. Now
let us set to work at once."
Four hours of hard work sufficed to make a hole large enough for them to
crawl through. The _charpoy_ was brought over the hole, the money
stowed away in their clothes, and the rugs knotted. Then, feet
foremost, Percy wriggled out through the hole, holding the rope tightly,
and slid down to the ground, while two minutes later Akram stood beside
him. They had already taken off their turbans and rewound them much more
loosely, so as to resemble closely those worn in Cashmere. They started
at once up the hill, and continued their course until they reached a
wood high up on the mountain side. They had already determined upon
their course. It was of the greatest importance that they should obtain
dresses of the country, for though they might have made their way along
the hills they would have difficulty in buying food, and might find
horsemen already posted at the various passes by which the mountain
ranges were traversed. At daybreak Akram took off his long coat,
arranged his clothes in the fashion of Cashmere peasants, and started
boldly for the town.
"The shops will soon be open," he said, "and unless anyone happens to go
round to the back of our prison, which is not likely, they will not find
out that we are gone until the man enters at nine o'clock with our food,
and long before that I shall be here again. You need not be uneasy
about me, sahib. Being really a native of the valley, no one can suspect
me of being anything else."
Soon after eight o'clock he returned with two complete suits, in which
they were soon attired. As the natives of Cashmere are fairer than
those of the plains of India, it needed but a slight wash of some dye
Akram had brought up with him to convert Percy's bronzed face to the
proper tint, and as soon as this was done they descended the hill and
came upon the main road below the city. Soon afterwards some horsemen
passed them, galloping at a furious rate. These did not even glance at
the supposed peasants, but continued their course down the valley.
Other and much larger bodies of horsemen afterwards passed them, but,
like the first, without asking a question.
"Doubtless they think we have at least twenty miles start," Akram said.
"I expect the first party were going right down to the mouth of the
valley, warning all the towns and villages to be on the look-out for us.
The others, when they think they must have passed us, will scatter and
occupy all the roads and passes. Some of them will push on until almost
within sight of the fortress, so as to catch us there if we manage to
get through the woods and pass the lines of watchers."
At a leisurely pace they proceeded down the valley, Akram sometimes
entering into conversation with peasants they met, and going into shops
and buying provisions; he learnt in the villages that strict orders had
been given to watch for a Sikh with a young Englishman who had escaped
from a prison at Serinagur. Akram joined in their expressions of wonder
as to how an Englishman could have got there, and how the escape had
been managed, and mentioned that he was on his way to visit some
relations at Jummoo.
When near the mouth of the valley he purchased some cotton cloths, such
as peasants working in the fields would wear, and presently they put on
these and left those behind them that had proved so useful, Percy's skin
being stained brown wherever exposed by this more scanty costume. Thus
attired they issued out from the mouth of the valley and went forward
into Ghoolab Singh's country, as they agreed that this was the place
where they were the least likely to be looked for. They had been four
days on their way down from Serinagur, and decided to travel still
farther west, so as to return to the fortress from the side opposite to
that where a watch was likely to be kept up for them.
Three days' more walking, and, having made the detour, they approached
the fortress on the west. They met with no suspicious party on their
way, and as they ascended the zigzag road from the valley felt with
delight that they were now perfectly safe. As usual the drawbridge was
down and the gates open, and they passed in without question from the
men on guard there. As they went down the street they saw a figure they
recognized, and Percy ran forward and exclaimed:
"Bhop Lal, I am indeed glad to see you! So those rascally dacoits did
not kill you after all?"
"Blessed be the day, sahib!" Bhop Lal exclaimed with delight. "There
has been sore grief over you. The colonel has been in a terrible state
since I was carried in here and told him how you had been seized by
dacoits, and still more has he been troubled since, ten days ago, he
learned from a messenger of Ghoolab Singh that you had fallen into the
clutches of that notorious scamp Goolam Tej. The Ranee is ill and keeps
her bed.
"Ah, Akram Chunder! truly I am rejoiced to see you also. I was glad
indeed that you were with the young sahib, for I knew you to be a man of
resources."
"It was the young sahib himself who devised the plan by which we
escaped, Bhop Lal; and how are your wounds?"
"They are very sore yet, and the hakim says that it will be many weeks
before I am fit to sit in the saddle again; but now that our sahib is
back safely I shall have no more to fret about, and shall mend rapidly."
By this time they had arrived at the door of the colonel's residence,
and Percy ran in.
"You cannot enter here, fellow," a servant said, as he was about to push
aside the hangings of the entrance to the private apartments.
Percy laughed, and without waiting to explain pushed the man aside and
ran in.
"Well, uncle, here I am," he exclaimed, as he entered the room where his
uncle was sitting writing. The latter leapt to his feet with a cry of
joy.
"Why, Percy, is it you in this disguise? Welcome back, my boy, a
thousand times! But before you tell me anything, come in to see Mahtab,
who has been downright ill from grief since Bhop Lal brought in the news
of your being carried off by dacoits."
The Ranee's delight at seeing Percy was unbounded, and it was some time
before she and her husband could sit down quietly and listen to his
story.
"All is well that ends well," the colonel said when he had brought it to
a conclusion. "You have had a bad time of it, Percy; but I doubt if
your aunt and I have not had a worse. Of course, I was a good deal
troubled when I heard that you were carried off; but as to that Bhop Lal
could tell us nothing, having been shot down at once, and so hacked that
he knew nothing of what took place until he was revived by water being
poured down his throat. Three traders coming along the road on their
way here had found him, and as soon as they learned from him who he was
and what had occurred, they bandaged his wounds and had him carried here
in a dhoolie. They reported that they had seen nothing of you, and one
of them at once rode back with me with a troop of horse to the spot
where they had found your man, and as, after a most careful search, we
could find no trace of blood, we concluded that you had been carried
off.
"We followed the traces of the band for some distance, but then lost
them just as it was becoming dark. As they had had some eight hours'
start of us, and were making for the mountains, we gave up the pursuit
and returned here. I made sure that in the morning I should receive a
message from the rascal demanding a ransom for you, but as the day went
on I became more uneasy, as the idea struck me that they might not be
dacoits, but fellows in the pay of Ghoolab. It certainly did not seem
likely that he could have heard that you would be on your way back; but
his men might have been there for weeks, for he would guess that when
the war was over you would be making your way back here again.
"For the next six days I sent out parties of horsemen all over the
country, but could obtain no news whatever, and was getting in a
terrible state of mind when a man rode in with a letter from Ghoolab
Singh. He stated that he had learned that you were in the power of
dacoits somewhere among the mountains. He said that it would be a long
and difficult task to find them, but that he would use every effort to
do so, and would either by force or bribery obtain you and restore you
if I, on my part, would undertake to resign the government that I held
in defiance of the orders of the durbar. As a rebel, he felt that he
should not be justified in exerting himself on my behalf, but if I would
submit to the orders of the durbar he would guarantee that my past
conduct should be overlooked and that you should be restored to me. I
had very little doubt that you were already in the scoundrel's hands
when he sent the message, but in any case I saw that he had me on the
hip. I don't suppose he expected a direct answer to his proposal, and he
did not get one. I sent an answer back that I was ready to pay any
reasonable sum for your ransom; but as for resigning my governorship and
handing over the fortress, I wished to know what guarantee he could
offer that I should be permitted to retire from the Punjaub in safety
with my family and treasures. To that I received an answer that he was
ready to take the most solemn pledge for my safety, and that he was
sending off to Lahore to obtain a free pardon for me from the durbar,
and a permission for me to retire with all my family and as many of my
followers as might wish to accompany me across the Sutlej. I then wrote
back that this would be perfectly satisfactory, but that, naturally, I
should require that you should be handed over to me prior to my
evacuating the fortress. To this I received no answer. I thought
perhaps he was waiting for a reply from Lahore, but I now understand
that before the messenger returned with my second letter you had already
slipped through his fingers. I should have liked to have seen him when
he received the news of your escape. Now, Percy, tell us all about your
adventures since you left us. There was no believing any of the reports
that reached us about the various battles. I know, of course, that the
Sikhs must have been thoroughly thrashed, or we should never have had a
British occupation of Lahore. Beyond that I really know nothing for
certain."
It took some time for Percy to describe all the military operations.
"I knew that it would be so," the colonel said gleefully when he
concluded. "I told them over and over again that if they thought,
because they had won victories over the Afghans and other tribes, that
they were a match for the English they were completely mistaken.