Chapter 2: The Young Writer.
Chapter 3: A Brush With Privateers.
Chapter 4: The Pirates Of The Pacific.
Chapter 5: Madras.
Chapter 6: The Arrival Of Clive.
Chapter 7: The Siege Of Arcot.
Chapter 8: The Grand Assault.
Chapter 9: The Battle Of Kavaripak.
Chapter 10: The Fall Of Seringam.
Chapter 11: An Important Mission.
Chapter 12: A Murderous Attempt.
Chapter 13: An Attempt At Murder.
Chapter 14: The Siege Of Ambur.
Chapter 15: The Pirates' Hold.
Chapter 16: A Tiger Hunt.
Chapter 17: The Capture Of Gheriah.
Chapter 18: The "Black Hole" Of Calcutta.
Chapter 19: A Daring Escape.
Chapter 20: The Rescue Of The White Captive.
Chapter 21: The Battle Outside Calcutta.
Chapter 22: Plassey.
Chapter 23: Plassey.
Chapter 24: Mounted Infantry.
Chapter 25: Besieged In A Pagoda.
Chapter 26: The Siege Of Madras.
Chapter 27: Masulipatam.
Chapter 28: The Defeat Of Lally.
Chapter 29: The Siege Of Pondicherry.
Chapter 30: Home.
Preface.
In the following pages I have endeavoured to give a vivid picture of
the wonderful events of the ten years, which at their commencement saw
Madras in the hands of the French--Calcutta at the mercy of the Nabob
of Bengal--and English influence apparently at the point of extinction
in India--and which ended in the final triumph of the English, both in
Bengal and Madras. There were yet great battles to be fought, great
efforts to be made, before the vast Empire of India fell altogether
into British hands; but these were but the sequel of the events I have
described.
The historical details are, throughout the story, strictly accurate,
and for them I am indebted to the history of these events written by
Mr. Orme, who lived at that time, to the "Life of Lord Clive,"
recently published by Lieutenant Colonel Malleson, and to other
standard authorities. In this book I have devoted a somewhat smaller
space to the personal adventures of my hero than in my other
historical tales, but the events themselves were of such a thrilling
and exciting nature that no fiction could surpass them.
A word as to the orthography of the names and places. An entirely new
method of spelling Indian words has lately been invented by the Indian
authorities. This is no doubt more correct than the rough-and-ready
orthography of the early traders, and I have therefore adopted it for
all little-known places. But there are Indian names which have become
household words in England, and should never be changed; and as it
would be considered a gross piece of pedantry and affectation on the
part of a tourist on the Continent, who should, on his return, say he
had been to Genova, Firenze, and Wien, instead of Genoa, Florence, and
Vienna; it is, I consider, an even worse offence to transform Arcot,
Cawnpoor, and Lucknow, into Arkat, Kahnpur, and Laknao. I have tried,
therefore, so far as possible, to give the names of well-known
personages and places in the spelling familiar to Englishmen, while
the new orthography has been elsewhere adopted.
G. A. Henty.
Chapter 1: Leaving Home.
A lady in deep mourning was sitting, crying bitterly, by a fire in
small lodgings in the town of Yarmouth. Beside her stood a tall lad of
sixteen. He was slight in build, but his schoolfellows knew that
Charlie Marryat's muscles were as firm and hard as those of any boy in
the school. In all sports requiring activity and endurance, rather
than weight and strength, he was always conspicuous. Not one in the
school could compete with him in long-distance running, and when he
was one of the hares there was but little chance for the hounds. He
was a capital swimmer, and one of the best boxers in the school. He
had a reputation for being a leader in every mischievous prank; but he
was honorable and manly, would scorn to shelter himself under the
semblance of a lie, and was a prime favourite with his masters, as
well as his schoolfellows. His mother bewailed the frequency with
which he returned home with blackened eyes and bruised face; for
between Dr. Willet's school and the fisher lads of Yarmouth there was
a standing feud, whose origin dated so far back that none of those now
at school could trace it. Consequently, fierce fights often took place
in the narrow rows, and sometimes the fisher boys would be driven back
on to the broad quay shaded by trees, by the river, and there being
reinforced from the craft along the side, would reassume the offensive
and drive their opponents back into the main street.
It was but six months since Charlie had lost his father, who was the
officer in command at the coast guard station, and his scanty pension
was now all that remained for the support of his widow and children.
His mother had talked his future prospects over, many times, with
Charlie. The latter was willing to do anything, but could suggest
nothing. His father had but little naval interest, and had for years
been employed on coast guard service. Charlie agreed that, although he
should have liked of all things to go to sea, it was useless to think
of it now, for he was past the age at which he could have entered as a
midshipman.
The matter had been talked over four years before, with his father;
but the latter had pointed out that a life in the navy, without
interest, is in most cases a very hard one. If a chance of
distinguishing himself happened, promotion would follow; but if not,
he might be for years on shore, starving on half pay and waiting in
vain for an appointment, while officers with more luck and better
interest went over his head.
Other professions had been discussed, but nothing determined upon,
when Lieutenant Marryat suddenly died. Charlie, although an only son,
was not an only child, as he had two sisters both younger than
himself. After a few months of effort, Mrs. Marryat found that the
utmost she could hope to do, with her scanty income, was to maintain
herself and daughters, and to educate them until they should reach an
age when they could earn their own living as governesses; but that
Charlie's keep and education were beyond her resources. She had,
therefore, very reluctantly written to an uncle, whom she had not seen
for many years, her family having objected very strongly to her
marriage with a penniless lieutenant in the navy. She informed him of
the loss of her husband, and that, although her income was sufficient
to maintain herself and her daughters, she was most anxious to start
her son, who was now sixteen, in life; and therefore begged him to use
his influence to obtain for him a situation of some sort. The letter
which she now held in her hand was the answer to the appeal.
"My dear Niece," it began, "Since you, by your own foolish conduct and
opposition to all our wishes, separated yourself from your family, and
went your own way in life, I have heard little of you, as the death of
your parents so shortly afterwards deprived me of all sources of
information. I regret to hear of the loss which you have suffered. I
have already taken the necessary steps to carry out your wishes. I
yesterday dined with a friend, who is one of the directors of the
Honorable East India Company, and at my request he has kindly placed a
writership in the Company at your son's service. He will have to come
up to London to see the board, next week, and will probably have to
embark for India a fortnight later. I shall be glad if he will take up
his abode with me, during the intervening time. I shall be glad also
if you will favour me with a statement of your income and expenses,
with such details as you may think necessary. I inclose four
five-pound bank notes, in order that your son may obtain such garments
as may be immediately needful for his appearance before the board of
directors, and for his journey to London. I remain, my dear niece,
yours sincerely,
"Joshua Tufton."
"It is cruel," Mrs. Marryat sobbed, "cruel to take you away from us,
and send you to India, where you will most likely die of fever, or be
killed by a tiger, or stabbed by one of those horrid natives, in a
fortnight."
"Not so bad as that, Mother, I hope," Charlie said sympathizingly,
although he could not repress a smile; "other people have managed to
live out there, and have come back safe."
"Yes," Mrs. Marryat said, sobbing; "I know how you will come back. A
little, yellow, shrivelled up old man with no liver, and a dreadful
temper, and a black servant. I know what it will be."
This time Charlie could not help laughing.
"That's looking too far ahead altogether, Mother. You take the two
extremes. If I don't die in a fortnight, I am to live to be a
shrivelled old man. I'd rather take a happy medium, and look forward
to coming back before my liver is all gone, or my temper all
destroyed, with lots of money to make you and the girls comfortable.
"There is only one thing. I wish it had been a cadetship, instead of a
writership."
"That is my only comfort," Mrs. Marryat said. "If it had been a
cadetship, I should have written to say that I would not let you go.
It is bad enough as it is; but if you had had to fight, I could not
have borne it."
Charlie did his best to console his mother, by telling her how
everyone who went to India made fortunes, and how he should be sure to
come back with plenty of money; and that, when the girls grew up, he
should be able to find rich husbands for them; and at last he
succeeded in getting her to look at matters in a less gloomy light.
"And I'm sure, Mother," he said, "Uncle means most kindly. He sends
twenty pounds, you see, and says that that is for immediate
necessities; so I have no doubt he means to help to get my outfit, or
at any rate to advance money, which I can repay him out of my salary.
The letter is rather stiff and businesslike, of course, but I suppose
that's his way; and you see he asks about your income, so perhaps he
means to help for the girls' education. I should go away very happy,
if I knew that you would be able to get on comfortably. Of course it's
a long way off, Mother, and I should have liked to stay at home, to be
a help to you and the girls; but one can't have all one wishes. As far
as I am concerned, myself, I would rather go out as a writer there,
where I shall see strange sights and a strange country, than be stuck
all my life at a desk in London.
"What is Uncle like?"
"He is a short man, my dear, rather stiff and pompous, with a very
stiff cravat. He used to give me his finger to shake, when I was a
child, and I was always afraid of him. He married a most disagreeable
woman, only a year or two before I married, myself. But I heard she
died not very long afterwards;" and so Mrs. Marryat got talking of her
early days and relations, and was quite in good spirits again, by the
time her daughters returned from school; and she told them what she
was now coming to regard as the good fortune which had befallen their
brother.
The girls were greatly affected. They adored their brother, and the
thought that he was going away for years was terrible to them. Nothing
that could be said pacified them in the slightest degree, and they did
nothing but cry, until they retired to bed. Charlie was much affected
by their sorrow; but when they had retired, he took his hat and went
out to tell the news of his approaching departure to some of his
chums.
The next day, Mrs. Marryat wrote thanking her uncle for his kindness,
and saying that Charlie would go round to London by the packet which
sailed on the following Monday; and would, if the wind were fair and
all went well, reach London on the Wednesday.
School was, of course, at once given up, and the girls also had a
holiday till their brother's departure. When the necessary clothes
were ordered, there was little more to do; and Charlie spent the time,
when his boy friends were in school, in walking with the girls along
the shore, talking to them of the future, of the presents he would
send them home, and of the life he should lead in India; while at
other times he went out with his favourite schoolfellows, and joined
in one last grand battle with the smack boys.
On Monday morning, after a sad farewell to his family, Charlie
embarked on board the Yarmouth Belle, a packet which performed the
journey to and from London once a fortnight. She was a roomy lugger,
built for stowage rather than speed, and her hold was crammed and her
deck piled with packages of salted fish. There were five or six other
persons also bound for London, the journey to which was, in those
days, regarded as an arduous undertaking.
As soon as the Yarmouth Belle issued from the mouth of the river, she
began to pitch heavily; and Charlie, who from frequently going out
with his father in the revenue cutter, was a good sailor, busied
himself in doing his best for his afflicted fellow passengers. Towards
evening the wind got up, and shifting ahead, the captain dropped
anchor off Lowestoft. The next morning was finer, and the Yarmouth
Belle continued her way. It was not, however, till Thursday afternoon
that she dropped anchor in the Pool.
Charlie was soon on shore, and giving his trunk to a porter, desired
him to lead the way to Bread Street, in which his uncle resided; for
in the last century, such things as country villas were almost
unknown, and the merchants of London for the most part resided in the
houses where they carried on their business. Keeping close to the
porter, to see that he did not make off with his trunk, for Charlie
had received many warnings as to the extreme wickedness of London, he
followed him through the busy streets, and arrived safely at his
uncle's door.
It was now dusk, and Charlie, on giving his name, was shown upstairs
to a large room, which was lighted by a fire blazing in the hearth.
Standing with his back to this was a gentleman whom he at once
recognized, from his mother's description, as her uncle, although he
was a good deal more portly than when she had seen him last.
"So you are my grandnephew," he said, holding out what Charlie
considered to be a very limp and flabby hand towards him.
"Yes, Uncle," Charlie said cheerfully; "and we are very much obliged
to you, Mamma and I, for your kindness."
"Humph!" the old gentleman grunted.
"And how is it," he asked severely, "that you were not here yesterday?
My niece's letter led me to expect that you would arrive yesterday."
"We came as fast as we could, Uncle," Charlie laughed; "but of course
the time depends upon the wind. The captain tells me that he has been
as much as three weeks coming round."
Mr. Tufton grunted again as if to signify that such unpunctuality was
altogether displeasing to him.
"You are tall," he said, looking up at Charlie, who stood half a head
above him, "and thin, very thin. You have a loose way of standing,
which I don't approve of."
"I'm sorry I'm loose, sir," Charlie said gravely, "if you do not
approve of it; but you see, running about and playing games make one
lissome. I suppose, now that's all over and I am going to spend my
time in writing, I shall get stiffer."
"I hope so, I hope so," Mr. Tufton said encouragingly, and as if
stiffness were one of the most desirable things in life. "I like to
see young men with a sedate bearing.
"And you left my niece and grandnieces well, I hope?"
"Quite well, thank you, sir," Charlie said; "but, of course, a good
deal upset with parting from me."
"Yes," Mr. Tufton said; "I suppose so. Women are so emotional. Now
there's nothing I object to more than emotion."
As Charlie thought that this was probably the case, he was silent,
although the idea vaguely occurred to him that he should like to
excite a little emotion in his uncle, by the sudden insertion of a
pin, or some other such means. The silence continued for some little
time, and then Mr. Tufton said:
"I always dine at two o'clock; but as probably you are hungry--I have
observed that boys always are hungry--some food will be served you in
the next room. I had already given my housekeeper orders. No doubt you
will find it prepared. After that, you may like to take a walk in the
streets. I have supper at nine, by which hour you will, of course,
have returned."
Charlie, as he ate his meal, thought to himself that his uncle was a
pompous old gentleman, and that it would be very hard work getting on
with him, for the next three weeks. However, he consoled himself by
the thought:
"Kind is as kind does after all, and I expect the old gentleman is not
as crusty as he looks."
Charlie had handed to Mr. Tufton a letter which his mother had given
him, and when he returned from a ramble through the streets, he found
that gentleman sitting by the fire, with lights upon a small table
beside him. Upon this Mrs. Marryat's letter lay open.
"So you have soon become tired of the streets of London, Grandnephew!"
he said.
"There is not much to see, sir. The lamps do not burn very brightly,
and the fog is coming on. I thought that, if it grew thicker, I might
lose my way, and in that case I might not have been in at the hour you
named for supper."
"Humph!" the other gentleman grunted. "So your mother has taught you
to be punctual to meals. But, no; boys' appetites teach them to be
punctual then, if never at any other time.
"And why, sir?" he asked severely, "Did my niece not write to me
before?"
"I don't know, sir," Charlie said. "I suppose she did not like--that
is, she didn't think--that is--"
"Think, sir! Like, sir!" said his uncle. "What right had she either to
think or to like? Her duty clearly was to have made me acquainted, at
once, with all the circumstances. I suppose I had a right to say
whether I approved of my grandnieces going tramping about the world as
governesses, or not. It isn't because a woman chooses, by her folly,
to separate herself from her family, that they are to be deprived of
their rights in a matter of this kind. Eh, sir, what do you say to
that?" and Mr. Tufton looked very angry, indeed.
"I don't know, sir," Charlie said. "I have never thought the matter
over."
"Why, sir, suppose she had made you a tinker, sir, and you turned out
a thief, as likely as not you would have done, and you'd been hung,
sir, what then? Am I to have such discredit as this brought upon me,
without my having any option in the matter?"
"I suppose not, sir," Charlie said. "I hope I shouldn't have turned
out a thief, even if I'd been a tinker; but perhaps it was because my
mother feared that this might be the case, that she did give you the
option."
His uncle looked at him keenly; but Charlie, though with some
difficulty, maintained the gravest face.
"It is well she did so," Mr. Tufton said; "very well. If she had not
done so, I should have known the reason why. And you, sir, do you like
the thought of going to India?"
"Yes, Uncle, I like the thought very much, though I would rather, if I
may say so, have gone as a cadet."
"I thought so," Mr. Tufton said, sarcastically. "I was sure of it. You
wanted to wear a red coat and a sword, and to swagger about the
streets of Calcutta, instead of making an honorable living and
acquiring a fortune."
"I don't think, sir," Charlie said, "that the idea of the red coat and
sword entered into my mind; but it seemed to me the choice of a life
of activity and adventure, against one as a mere clerk."
"Had you entered the military service of the Company, even if you
didn't get shot, you could only hope to rise to the command of a
regiment, ranking with a civilian very low down on the list. The
stupidity of boys is unaccountable. It's a splendid career, sir, that
I have opened to you; but if I'd known that you had no ambition, I
would have put you into my own counting house; though there, that
wouldn't have done either, for I know you would have blotted the
ledger, and turned all the accounts topsy-turvy.
"And now, sir, supper is ready;" and the old gentleman led the way
into the next room.
Upon the following day Charlie was introduced, by his uncle, to the
director who had given him his nomination, and was told by him that
the board would sit upon the following day, and that he must call at
the India House, at eleven o'clock. The ordeal was not a formidable
one. He was shown into a room where eight or ten elderly gentlemen
were sitting round a large table. Among these was his friend of the
day before. He was asked a question or two about his age, his father's
profession, and his place of education. Then the gentleman at the head
of the table nodded to him, and said he could go, and instructions
would be sent to him, and that he was to prepare to sail in the Lizzie
Anderson, which would leave the docks in ten days' time, and that he
would be, for the present, stationed at Madras.
Much delighted at having got through the ordeal so easily, Charlie
returned to his uncle's. He did not venture to penetrate into the
latter's counting house, but awaited his coming upstairs to dinner, to
tell him the news.
"Humph!" said his uncle; "it is lucky they did not find out what a
fool you were, at once. I was rather afraid that even the two minutes
would do it. After dinner, I will send my clerk round with you, to get
the few things which are necessary for your voyage.
"I suppose you will want to, what you call amuse yourself, to see the
beasts at Exeter Change, and the playhouses. Here are two sovereigns.
Don't get into loose company, and don't get drinking, sir, or out of
the house you go."
Charlie attempted to express his thanks, but his uncle stopped him
abruptly.
"Hold your tongue, sir. I am doing what is right; a thing, sir, Joshua
Tufton always has done, and doesn't expect to be thanked for it. All I
ask you is, that if you rob the Company's till and are hung, don't
mention that you are related to me."
After dinner was over, Charlie went out under the charge of an old
clerk, and visited tailors' and outfitters' shops, and found that his
uncle's idea of the few necessaries for a voyage differed very widely
from his own. The clerk, in each case, inquired from the tradesmen
what was the outfit which gentlemen going to India generally took with
them, and Charlie was absolutely appalled at the magnitude of the
orders. Four dozen shirts, ten dozen pairs of stockings, two dozen
suits of white cotton cloth, and everything else in proportion.
Charlie in vain remonstrated, and even implored the clerk to abstain
from ordering what appeared to him such a fabulous amount of things;
and begged him, at any rate, to wait until he had spoken to his uncle.
The clerk, however, replied that he had received instructions that the
full usual outfit was to be obtained, and that Mr. Tufton never
permitted his orders to be questioned. Charlie was forced to submit,
but he was absolutely oppressed with the magnitude of his outfit, to
carry which six huge trunks were required.
"It is awful," Charlie said to himself, "positively awful. How much it
will all come to, goodness only knows; three or four hundred pounds,
at least."
In those days, before steam was thought of, and the journey to India
was often of six months' duration, men never came home more than once
in seven years, and often remained in India from the day of their
arrival until they finally retired, without once revisiting England.
The outfits taken out were, therefore, necessarily much larger than at
the present time, when a run home to England can be accomplished in
three weeks, and there are plenty of shops, in every town in India,
where all European articles of necessity or luxury can be purchased.
After separating from the clerk, Charlie felt altogether unable to
start out in search of amusement. He wandered about vaguely till
supper time, and then attempted to address his uncle on the subject.
"My dear Uncle," he began, "you've been so awfully kind to me, that I
really do not like to trespass upon you. I am positively frightened at
the outfit your clerk has ordered. It is enormous. I'm sure I can't
want so many things, possibly, and I would really rather take a much
smaller outfit; and then, as I want them, I can have more things out
from England, and pay for them myself."
"You don't suppose," Mr. Tufton said sternly, "that I'm going to have
my nephew go out to India with the outfit of a cabin boy. I ordered
that you were to have the proper outfit of a gentleman, and I
requested my clerk to order a considerable portion of the things to be
made of a size which will allow for your growing, for you look to me
as if you were likely enough to run up into a lanky giant, of six feet
high. I suppose he has done as I ordered him. Don't let me hear
another word on the subject."