The Fanatics
In spite of our hero's recent disgust he had quickly become reconciled
to the sweet girl who was to be his brother's wife. There was no
resisting her charms. He found her as full of fun and as fond of
adventure as any boy could wish, and he soon grew very anxious to win
her good opinion, even attempting to show off occasionally for her
benefit. Ethel had become no less attached to the honest,
healthy-minded, plucky lad, and wrote warningly to Jim that she had
fallen desperately in love with his jolly young brother.
A few weeks had elapsed since Captain Russell's departure, when
something happened to attach them still more closely. One beautiful
winter day Ethel asked the ensign if he would care to stroll through the
native _bazar_ with her, and the lad willingly complied.
Not being of a very curious disposition, he had hitherto neglected this
quarter of the town, and had spent most of his leisure time riding and
shooting in the country beyond. But on this occasion the girl was able
to make the visit much more interesting than he had anticipated. She
knew the people and more than one of the many dialects fairly well, and
she pointed out to her companion the men of various nationalities and
religions who swarmed in the narrow streets. He noticed with amazement
the difference between the strong fighting men of the North-west--the
sturdy Jat and stalwart Pathan--and the fat, mild, shrinking Babu from
Bengal, or the slender and weaker Hindu from the South.
This part of the town was quite distinct from the quarter in which the
Europeans lived, and was much more picturesque, if also more dirty. In
the narrow streets all the goods of the small shops were exposed to the
passer-by. Workmen could be seen plying their trade, undisturbed by the
inquisitive glances of the lookers-on. And what clumsy tools they had!
It would have been impossible for such delicate, exquisite work to have
been turned out therewith, had not the artisans put their whole soul
into the labour: for to do his work thoroughly and beautifully is a
religious duty with the Hindu.
Passing the stalls of the money-changers, fruit-sellers, and dealers in
native sweetmeats, their attention was attracted by certain curios in
one of the queer shops, and our ensign looked about for something worth
sending home. He fixed upon a queer silver bangle, set with turquoises.
The setting was uncommon, but the stones were only poor. The turbaned,
white-robed shopkeeper rose and came forward at once, salaaming
profoundly, and putting on one side the hubble-bubble he was smoking.
After a lengthy argument, in which Ted failed to understand the man's
rapid utterance, and his own Hindustani was beyond comprehension, Miss
Woodburn came to the rescue, fixed the price, and concluded the
business.
Attracted by the sahib's curious rendering of their native tongue, a
number of the many idlers around had drawn near. At a corner of the
narrow street, not fifty paces distant, voices had been meanwhile raised
in earnest and violent harangue. Having learned even during his short
sojourn in the land how furious an altercation may arise over a matter
of a couple of annas, Ted had not paid much attention to the noise; but
now the speakers rose and came towards them. Foremost was a tall,
half-naked man, with long and flowing beard--a mass of dirt and evil
smells; for with these strange people cleanliness is not on speaking
terms with godliness, and the most holy men are the most filthy. His
eyes were inflamed, and his looks and gestures wild. Ethel, from her
longer experience, saw that the mullah had rendered himself mad with
bhang, and that two of his companions were in a similar condition.
Pointing to the Feringhis, the mullah's voice rose to a wild shriek.
"What do these offspring of the evil one here? O followers of the
Prophet, how long will ye allow yourselves to be denied by these kafirs.
The time is even now at hand when Allah shall no longer permit this:
then shall his wrath fall upon them, and they shall be swept from the
face of the earth. The hundred years of the white man's _raj_[2] are
fulfilled, and the curse shall be lifted from us!"
[2] dominion.
The fanatic's voice rose to a wild shriek as he concluded the harangue.
Ted could not follow the speech: he could only gather from the tone and
gestures that he and his companion were the objects of abuse, and he
guessed from the half-angry, half-cringing manner of the tradesman that
something serious was being said. Ethel, however, understood every word,
and was alarmed.
They tried to leave the _bazar_, but found their progress barred.
"Out of the way, there!" the ensign commanded, but no one moved.
"Kill the kafir pigs!--there is no one to see!" called out a voice from
the rear.
"No, no!" objected others hastily. "What harm have they done? And will
not the vengeance of the Whites be upon us all? Make way there for the
sahib-log!"
But another of the bhang-drugged fanatics, who had been swaying to and
fro in his delirium, screamed:
"Aye! Why not kill now?" and he roughly seized the white-faced girl.
With a savage exclamation the English boy sprang forward and struck the
speaker behind the ear with all his force. Not for nothing had Edward
Russell been trained in gymnastics, in boxing and fencing--the fellow
dropped like a log. But before Ted could turn or draw his sword the
mullah had plucked a knife from beneath his scanty garment and plunged
it in the lad's side.
"Die, unbeliever!" he cried.
As the ensign pressed his hands to his side and dropped to the earth
with a feeble moan, the screaming and jabbering of the by-standers
ceased as if by magic. Even the mullah and his disciples drew back
appalled at what they had done, while the more timid of the crowd fled
to their homes in dread of the consequences and the sure wrath of the
sahibs, fearing lest vengeance should fall on innocent and guilty alike
for this murder of a white man. The merchants before whose shops the act
had been committed wrung their hands in despair, shrieking imprecations
down upon the heads of the fanatics, who stood gazing at their
handiwork.
The mullah's hesitation lasted but a second. He turned towards the
trembling girl, and called to his abettors:
"Finish off the lad while I slay the woman!"
Ethel Woodburn was a soldier's daughter: she had more than once looked
danger in the face bravely and calmly. Had she been alone she might have
hesitated, or had her companion been in a condition to protect her she
might have relied on him. But, seeing the boy of whom she was so fond
stretched at her feet, cruelly wounded and helpless, and at the mercy of
these madmen, her instinct prompted her to do the right thing without a
moment's hesitation, and she blessed the father who had taught her to
carry and use a pistol.
The little weapon was hardly more than a toy, but it checked the
assassins sufficiently to enable her to bend down swiftly and snatch
Ted's sword from its scabbard. The murderer was but a pace away when she
pulled the trigger and stepped back. He fell, writhing, the bullet in
his chest. The second received the point of the sword under his arm-pit
as he raised his hand to strike. The third assailant, dazed by the blow
from Ted's fist, had now risen, and was hesitating as to his next step,
when a couple of native police, attracted by the report and noise, ran
up, and, being Sikhs, they had no hesitation in securing the uninjured
Mohammedan, and they also prevented the crowd from carrying off the
wounded Wahabis.[3]
[3] The most fanatical and implacable Moslem sect.
Never losing her presence of mind, Ethel bound the unconscious lad's
wound to stop the bleeding, and ordered the by-standers to carry him to
his quarters, where the regimental surgeon attended to the injury. The
bangle had disappeared.
A few weeks later, when the injured persons had recovered, the three
would-be assassins were tried on the charge of attempted murder, and
were sentenced to long terms of imprisonment.
Some time elapsed before Ted was able to get about as usual. Had it not
been for the bandage so promptly applied by Ethel he must have bled to
death, so she had saved his life in two different ways. During his slow
and painful recovery he was nursed untiringly by his new sister; and
though she made light of her heroic deed, the girl's courage and
presence of mind were the chief themes of conversation with the
officers who frequently visited his bed-side, and the ensign's lucky
brother became more envied than ever. Ethel invariably checked his
expressions of gratitude, and would not allow him to talk about the
incident.
"Bosh, Ted!" she would say; "I was in such a state of abject fear that I
didn't know what I was doing. I only shot the man because my hand
trembled so that the trigger went off, and he happened to be in front."
"Certainly, Ethel, I quite understand. I'll just read you a letter I had
this morning from Jim. You'd p'r'aps like to hear his opinion?"
"Oh, that boy's demented! I had a note also from him this morning. He's
quite wild."
"Good chap Jim,--knows a thing or two!" said Ted, nodding his head
sagely.