During the nine months that had elapsed since the retreat from before
Seringapatam, Dick had been occupied in following out the main object
of his presence in Mysore. Finding that Purseram Bhow's army was the
first that would be engaged in active service, he asked permission
from the general to join it. This was at once granted, and Lord
Cornwallis introduced him to the officer in command of the Bombay
troops attached to that army, informing him of the object that he had
in view.
"He will not be of much use as an interpreter," he said, "for as the
country in which you are going to operate formed, until lately, a part
of the Mahratta dominions, Mahratti will be principally spoken. He
will, therefore, go simply as an officer of my staff, attached for the
present to your command. He has asked me to allow him to take with him
twenty men, belonging to the troop of his uncle, the Rajah of
Tripataly. His object, in doing so, is that he will be able to
traverse the country independently, and can either rejoin me here, or
go to one of the other columns operating against the hill forts, if it
should seem to him expedient to do so. Should you desire to make a
reconnaissance at any time, while he is with you, you will find him
useful as an escort, and will not be obliged to ask Purseram Bhow for
a party of his cavalry."
Dick was sorry to leave his uncle, whose tent he had now shared for
the last ten months. He found himself, however, very comfortable with
the Bombay troops, being made a member of the mess, consisting of the
officer in command and the four officers of his staff. Wishing to have
some duties with which to occupy himself, he volunteered to act as an
aide-de-camp; and although the work was little more than nominal, it
gave him some employment. When not otherwise engaged, he generally
rode with Surajah, whom his uncle had appointed to command the twenty
troopers.
In the year that had elapsed since his arrival in India, Dick had
grown considerably, and broadened out greatly, and was now a powerful
young fellow of over seventeen. He had, since the troop joined the
army of Lord Cornwallis, exchanged his civilian dress for the undress
uniform of an officer, which he had purchased at the sale of the
effects of a young lieutenant on the general's staff, who had died
just as the army arrived before Bangalore. It was, indeed, necessary
that he should do this, riding about, as he did, either on the staff
of the general, or with the officers of the quartermasters'
department. There would be no difficulty in renewing his uniform, for
hardship, fever, and war had carried off a large number of officers,
as well as men; and the effects were always sold by auction, on the
day following the funeral.
Many hill fortresses were captured by the Mahrattis, but few offered
any resistance; as their commanders knew well that there was no chance
of their being relieved, while the men were, in most cases, delighted
at the prospect of an escape from their enforced service, and of
freedom to return to their homes. In a few of these forts, English
captives were found. Some had been there for years, their very
existence being apparently forgotten by the tyrant. Some had been
fairly treated by the Mysore governor, and where this was the case,
the latter was furnished by the British officers with papers,
testifying to the kindness with which they had treated the prisoners,
and recommending them to the officers of any of the allied forces they
might encounter on their way home, or when established there.
Upon the other hand, some of the prisoners were found to have been all
but starved, and treated with great brutality. In two cases, where the
captives said that some of their companions had died from the effects
of the ill treatment they had received, the governors were tried by
court martial and shot, while some of the others they sentenced to be
severely flogged.
Every captive released was closely scrutinised by Dick, and eagerly
questioned. From one of them, he obtained news that his father had
certainly been alive four years previously, for they had been in
prison together, in a hill fort near Bangalore.
"I was a civilian and he a sailor," he said, "consequently neither of
us were of any use in drilling Tippoo's battalions, and had been sent
up there. Your father was well, then. The governor was a good fellow,
and we had nothing much to complain of. Mr. Holland was a favourite of
his, for, being a sailor, he was handy at all sorts of things. He
could mend a piece of broken furniture, repair the lock of a musket,
and make himself generally useful. He left there before I did, as the
governor was transferred to some other fort--I never heard where it
was--and he took your father with him. I don't know whether he had
Tippoo's orders to do so, or whether he took him simply because he
liked him.
"At any rate, he was the only prisoner who went with him. The rest of
us remained there till a few months back, when the fort was abandoned.
It was just after the capture of Bangalore, and the place could have
offered no resistance, if a body of troops had been sent against it.
At any rate, an order arrived one morning, and a few hours afterwards
the place was entirely abandoned, and we and the garrison marched
here."
"My father was quite well?"
"Quite well. He used to talk to me, at times, of trying to make his
escape. Being a sailor, I have no doubt that he could have got down
from the precipice on which the fort stood; but he knew that, if he
did so, we should all suffer for it, and probably be all put to death,
as soon as Tippoo heard that one of us had escaped--for that was
always done, in order to deter prisoners from trying to get away."
"Do you think that there is any chance of his being still alive?"
"That is more than I can possibly say. You see, we have not known much
of what is passing outside our prison. Some of the guards were good
natured enough, and would occasionally give us a scrap of news; but we
heard most from the ill-tempered ones, who delighted in telling us
anything they knew that would pain us.
"Three or four months ago, we heard that every white prisoner in
Seringapatam had been put to death, by Tippoo's orders, and that
doubtless there would be a similar clearance everywhere else. Then,
again, we were told that the English had retreated, beaten, from
before Seringapatam, and that the last of them would soon be down the
ghauts. But whether the prisoners have been killed in other hill forts
like this, I cannot say, although I suppose not, or we should not have
escaped."
"Certainly no such orders can have been sent to the forts here, for we
have found a few prisoners in several of them. Of course, it may be
otherwise in the forts near the capital, which Tippoo might have
thought were likely to fall into our hands; while he may not have
considered it worth while to send the same orders to places so far
away as this, where no British force was likely to come. Still, at any
rate, it is a great satisfaction that my father was alive four years
ago, and that he was in kind hands. That is all in favour of my
finding him, still alive, in one of the places we shall take, for Lord
Cornwallis intends to besiege some of the fortresses that command the
passes, because he cannot undertake another siege of Seringapatam
until he can obtain supplies, freely and regularly, from beyond the
ghauts; as nothing whatever can be obtained from the country round, so
completely is it wasted by Tippoo's cavalry. I have, therefore, great
hopes that my father may be found in one of these forts."
"I hope, indeed, that you may find him. I am convinced that the
governor would save his life, if he could do so; though, on the other
hand, he would, I am sure, carry out any order he might receive from
Tippoo. Of course, he may not be in charge of a fort now, and may have
been appointed colonel of one of the regiments. However, it is always
better to hope that things will come as you wish them, however
unlikely it may seem that they will do so. We have been living on hope
here, though the chances of our ever being released were small,
indeed. Of course, we did not even know that Tippoo and the English
were at war, until we heard that an English army was besieging
Bangalore; and even then we all felt that, even if Tippoo were beaten
and forced to make peace, it would make no difference to us. He kept
back hundreds of prisoners when he was defeated before, and would
certainly not surrender any he now holds, unless compelled to do so;
and no one would be able to give information as to the existence of
captives in these distant forts.
"And yet, in the teeth of all these improbabilities, we continued to
hope, and the hopes have been realised."
The capture of forts by the Mahratta army was abruptly checked.
Having, so far, met with such slight opposition, Purseram Bhow became
over confident, and scattered his force over a wide extent of country,
in order that they might more easily find food and forage. In this
condition they were suddenly attacked by Tippoo, who took advantage of
the English being detained at Bangalore, while the transport train was
being reorganised, to strike a blow at the Mahrattis.
The stroke was a heavy one. Many of the detached parties were
completely destroyed; and the Mahratta general, after gathering the
rest to his standard, was forced to retreat, until strong
reinforcements were sent him from Bangalore.
Learning, from them, that it was probable Lord Cornwallis would
advance as soon as they rejoined him, Dick determined to go back to
Bangalore, as it was unlikely that, after the severe check they had
received, the Mahrattis would resume the offensive for a time.
Surajah and the men were glad to return to the troop, and as soon as
the Mysorean force returned to Seringapatam, Dick, without waiting for
the infantry to get in motion, rode rapidly across the country with
his little party.
He accompanied the English army during their operations, obtaining
permission to go with the columns engaged in the siege of the hill
fortresses, and was present at the capture of all the most important
strongholds. To his bitter disappointment, no English prisoners were
found in any of them, and it was but too certain that all who might
have been there had been massacred, by Tippoo's orders, on the first
advance of the British against Seringapatam.
Great indeed was the satisfaction of the army when they at last came
in sight of the city. The capital of Mysore stood on an island, in the
river Cauvery. This was four miles in length, and two in breadth. The
town stood in its centre, the fort at the northern end. The island was
approached by two bridges, one close to the fort, the other at the
south, both being defended by strong batteries. There were also three
fords, two of these being at the north end of the island, and also
defended by batteries; the third was near the centre of the island, a
mile below the fort, and leading to the native town.
The fort was separated from the rest of the island by a deep ditch cut
across it. It was defended by numerous batteries. There were two
gardens on the island, full of large trees, one of them being the
burial place of Hyder Ali. This was connected with the fort by two
avenues of trees. The country round was flat, a considerable portion
being almost level with the river, and devoted to the cultivation of
rice, while at other points a forest extended, almost to the bank.
After obtaining a view, from some high ground, of the city and of
Tippoo's army encamped beyond its walls, the British force took up its
position six miles to the northwest of the city. No sooner had the
army reached their camping ground than Lord Cornwallis, with his
staff, reconnoitred the approaches.
A thick hedge, formed by a wide belt of thorny shrubs, interlaced and
fastened together by cords, extended from the bank of the river, about
a thousand yards above Seringapatam; and, making a wide sweep, came
down to it again opposite the other end of the island.
It was within the shelter of this formidable obstacle that Tippoo's
army was encamped. Within the enclosed space were seven or eight
eminences, on which strong redoubts had been erected. Fearing that
Tippoo might, as soon as he saw the position taken up by the
assailants, sally out with his army, take the field, and, as before,
cut all his communications, Lord Cornwallis determined to strike a
blow at once.
At sunset, orders were accordingly issued for the forces to move, in
three columns, at three o'clock; by which time the moon would be high
enough to light up, thoroughly, the ground to be traversed. The centre
column, consisting of 3,700 men, under Lord Cornwallis himself, was to
burst through the hedge at the centre of the enemy's position, to
drive the enemy before them, and, if possible, to cross the ford to
the island with the fugitives.
This, however, was not to be done until the centre column was
reinforced by that under General Meadows, which was to avoid a strong
redoubt at the northwest extremity of the hedge, and, entering the
fence at a point between the redoubt and the river, drive the enemy
before it, until it joined the centre column. Colonel Meadows had
3,300 under his command. The left column, consisting of 1,700 men
under Colonel Maxwell, was first to carry a redoubt on Carrygut Hill,
just outside the fence; and, having captured this, to cut its way
through the hedge, and to cross the river at once, with a portion of
the centre column.
Unfortunately, owing to a misunderstanding as to the order, the
officer guiding General Meadow's column, instead of taking it to a
point between the northwestern redoubt and the river, led it directly
at the fort. This was stoutly defended, and cost the British eighty
men and eleven officers. Leaving a strong garrison here, the column
advanced, but came upon another redoubt, of even greater strength and
magnitude; and the general, fearing that the delay that would take
place in capturing it would entirely disarrange the plan of the
attack, thought he had better make his way out through the hedge,
march round it to the point where the centre column had entered it,
and so give Lord Cornwallis the support he must need, opposed as he
was to the whole army of Tippoo.
In the meantime, Colonel Maxwell's force had stormed the work on
Carrygut Hill, and had made its way through the hedge; suffering
heavily, as it did so, from the fire of a strong body of the enemy,
concealed in a water course. The head of the centre column, under
General Knox, after cutting its way through the hedge, pushed on with
levelled bayonets, thrust its way through the enemy's infantry, and,
mingling with a mass of fugitives, crossed the main ford close under
the guns of the fort, and took possession of a village, half way
between the town and the fort.
Unfortunately, in the confusion but three companies had followed him.
The rest of the regiment and three companies of Sepoys crossed lower
down, and gained possession of a palace on the bank of the river. The
officer in command, however, not knowing that any others had crossed,
and receiving no orders, waited until day began to break. He then
recrossed the river and joined Lord Cornwallis, a portion of whose
column, having been reinforced by Maxwell's column, crossed the river
nearly opposite the town.
As they were crossing, a battery of the enemy's artillery opened a
heavy fire upon them; but Colonel Knox, with his three companies,
charged it in the rear, drove out the defenders, and silenced the
guns.
All this time Lord Cornwallis was with the reserve of the central
column, eagerly waiting the arrival of General Meadows' division.
This, in some unaccountable way, had missed the gap in the hedge by
which the centre column had entered, and, marching on, halted at last
at Carrygut Hill, where it was not discovered until daylight.
The Mysore army on its left was still unbroken, and had been joined by
large numbers of troops from the centre. On discovering the smallness
of the force under Lord Cornwallis, they attacked it in overwhelming
numbers, led by Tippoo himself. The British infantry advanced to meet
them with the bayonet, and drove them back with heavy loss. They
rallied, and returned to the attack again and again, but were as often
repulsed; continuing their attacks, however, until daylight, when Lord
Cornwallis, discovering at last the position of General Meadows,
joined him on Carrygut Hill.
When day broke, the commanders of the two armies were able to estimate
the results of the night's operations. On the English side, the only
positions gained were the works on Carrygut Hill, the redoubt at the
northwest corner of the hedge, another redoubt captured by the centre
column, and the positions occupied by the force under Colonels Stuart
and Knox, at the eastern end of the island.
The sultan found that his army was much reduced in strength, no less
than twenty-three thousand men being killed, wounded, or missing. Of
these, the missing were vastly the most numerous, for ten thousand
Chelahs, young Hindoos whom Tippoo had carried off in his raids, and
forced to become soldiers, and, nominally, Mohammedans, had taken
advantage of the confusion, and marched away with their arms to the
Forest of Coorg.
Tippoo made several determined efforts to drive Colonel Stuart's force
off the island, and to recapture the redoubts, but was repulsed with
such heavy loss that he abandoned the attempt altogether, evacuated
the other redoubts, and brought his whole army across on to the
island.
Tippoo now attempted to negotiate. He had already done so a month
before, but Lord Cornwallis had refused to accept his advances, saying
that negotiation was useless, with one who disregarded treaties and
violated articles of capitulation.
"Send hither," he wrote, "the garrison of Coimbatoor, and then we will
listen to what you have to say."
Lord Cornwallis alluded to the small body of troops who, under
Lieutenants Chalmers and Nash, had bravely defended that town when it
had been attacked by one of Tippoo's generals. The gallant little
garrison had surrendered at last, on the condition that they should be
allowed to march freely away. This condition had been violated by
Tippoo, and the garrison had been marched, as prisoners, to
Seringapatam. The two officers had been kept in the fort, but most of
the soldiers, and twenty-seven other European captives who had lately
been brought in from the hill forts, were lodged in the village that
Colonel Knox had first occupied, on crossing the river, and had all
been released by him. Some of these had been in Tippoo's hands for
many years, and their joy at their unexpected release was unspeakable.
Preparations were now made for the siege. General Abercrombie was
ordered up, with a force of six thousand men, but before his arrival,
Lieutenant Chalmers was sent in with a letter from Tippoo, asking for
terms of capitulation. Negotiations were indeed entered into, but,
doubting Tippoo's good faith, the preparations for the siege were
continued; and upon the arrival of General Abercrombie's force, on the
15th of February, siege operations were commenced at the end of the
island still in British possession.
A few days afterwards, the army was astounded at hearing that the
conditions had been agreed upon, and that hostilities were to cease at
once. So great was the indignation, indeed, that a spirit of
insubordination, and almost mutiny, was evinced by many of the corps.
They had suffered extreme hardships, had been engaged in most arduous
marches, had been decimated by fever and bad food, and they could
scarce believe their ears when they heard that they were to hold their
hands, now that, after a year's campaigning, Seringapatam was at their
mercy; and that the man who had butchered so many hundred English
captives, who had wasted whole provinces and carried half a million
people into captivity, who had been guilty of the grossest treachery,
and whose word was absolutely worthless, was to escape personal
punishment.
Still higher did the indignation rise, both among officers and men,
when the conditions of the treaty became known, and it was discovered
that no stipulation whatever had been made for the handing over of the
English prisoners still in Mysore, previous to a cessation of
hostilities. This condition, at least, should have been insisted upon,
and carried out previous to any negotiations being entered upon.
The reasons that induced Lord Cornwallis to make this treaty, when
Seringapatam lay at his mercy, have ever been a mystery. Tippoo had
proved himself a monster unfitted to live, much less to rule, and the
crimes he had committed against the English should have been punished
by the public trial and execution of their author. To conclude peace
with him, now, was to enable him to make fresh preparations for war,
and to necessitate another expedition at enormous cost and great loss
of life. Tippoo had already proved that he was not to be bound either
by treaties or oaths. And, lastly, it would have been thought that, as
a general, Lord Cornwallis would have wished his name to go down to
posterity in connection with the conquest of Mysore, and the capture
of Seringapatam, rather than with the memorable surrender of York
Town, the greatest disaster that ever befell a British army.
The conditions were, in themselves, onerous, and had they been imposed
upon any other than a brutal and faithless tyrant, might have been
deemed sufficient. Tippoo was deprived of half his dominions, which
were to be divided among the allies, each taking the portions adjacent
to their territory. A sum of 3,300,000 pounds was to be paid for the
expenses of the war. All prisoners of the allied powers were to be
restored.
Two of Tippoo's sons were to be given up as hostages. Even after they
had been handed over, there were considerable delays before Tippoo's
signature was obtained, and it was not until Lord Cornwallis
threatened to resume hostilities that, on the 18th of March, a treaty
was finally sealed. Of the ceded territory the Mahrattis and the Nizam
each took a third as their share, although the assistance they had
rendered in the struggle had been but of comparatively slight utility.
It may, indeed, be almost said that it was given to them as a reward
for not accepting the offers Tippoo had made them, of joining with him
against the British.
The British share included a large part of the Malabar coast, with the
forts of Calicut and Cananore, and the territory of our ally, the
Rajah of Coorg. These cessions gave us the passes leading into Mysore
from the west. On the south we gained possession of the fort of
Dindegul, and the districts surrounding it; while on the east we
acquired the tract from Amboor to Caroor, and so obtained possession
of several important fortresses, together with the chief passes by
which Hyder had made his incursions into the Carnatic.
Dick felt deeply the absence of any proviso, in the treaty, that all
prisoners should be restored previous to a cessation of hostilities;
at the same time admitting the argument of his uncle that, although
under such an agreement some prisoners might be released, there was no
means of insuring that the stipulation would be faithfully carried
out.
"You see, Dick, no one knows, or has indeed the faintest idea, what
prisoners Tippoo still has in his hands. We do not know how many have
been murdered during the years Tippoo has reigned. Men who have
escaped have, from time to time, brought down news of murders in the
places where they had been confined, but they have known little of
what has happened elsewhere. Moreover, we have learned that certainly
fifty or sixty were put to death, at Seringapatam, before we advanced
upon it the first time. We know, too, that some were murdered in the
hill forts that we have captured. But how many remain alive, at the
present time, we have not the slightest idea. Tippoo might hand over a
dozen, and take a solemn oath that there was not one remaining; and
though we might feel perfectly certain that he was lying, we should be
in no position to prove it.
"The stipulation ought to have been made, if only as a matter of
honour, but it would have been of no real efficiency. Of course, if we
had dethroned Tippoo and annexed all his territory, we should
undoubtedly have got at all the prisoners, wherever they were hidden.
But we could hardly have done that. It would have aroused the jealousy
and fear of every native prince in India. It would have united the
Nizam and the Mahrattis against us, and would even have been
disapproved of in England, where public opinion is adverse to further
acquisitions of territory, and where people are, of course, altogether
ignorant of the monstrous cruelties perpetrated by Tippoo, not only
upon English captives, but upon his neighbours everywhere.
"Naturally, I am prejudiced in favour of this treaty, for the handing
over of the country from Amboor to Caroor, with all the passes and
forts, will set us free at Tripataly from the danger of being again
overrun and devastated by Mysore. My people will be able to go about
their work peacefully and in security, free alike from fear of
wholesale invasion, or incursions of robber bands from the ghauts. All
my waste lands will be taken up. My revenue will be trebled.
"There is another thing. Now that the English possess territory beyond
that of the Nabob of Arcot, and are gradually spreading their power
north, there can be little doubt that, before long, the whole country
of Arcot, Travancore, Tanjore, and other small native powers will be
incorporated in their dominions. Arcot is powerless for defence, and
while, during the last two wars, it has been nominally an ally of the
English, the Nabob has been able to give them no real assistance
whatever, and the burden of his territory has fallen on them. They
took the first step when, at the beginning of the present war, they
arranged with him to utilise all the resources and collect the
revenues of his possessions, and to allow him an annual income for the
maintenance of his state and family. This is clearly the first step
towards taking the territory into their own hands, and managing its
revenues, and the same will be done in other cases.
"Lord Cornwallis the other day, in thanking me for the services that
you and I and the troop have rendered, promised me that an early
arrangement should be made, by which I should rule Tripataly under the
government of Madras, instead of under the Nabob. This, you see, will
be virtually a step in rank, and I shall hold my land direct from the
English, instead of from a prince who has become, in fact, a puppet in
their hands."
A few days later, the army set off on its march from Mysore, and the
same day the Rajah, after making his adieus to Lord Cornwallis,
started with his troop for Tripataly, making his way by long marches,
instead of following the slow progress of the army. After a couple of
days at Tripataly, they went down to Madras, and brought back the
Rajah's household.
The meeting between Dick and his mother was one of mixed feeling. It
was twenty months since the former had left with his uncle, and he was
now nearly eighteen. He had written whenever there was an opportunity
of sending any letters; and although his position as interpreter on
the staff of the general had relieved her from any great anxiety on
his account, she was glad, indeed, to see him again.
Upon the other hand, the fact that, as the war went on, and fortress
after fortress had been captured, no news came to her that her hopes
had been realised; and that the war had now come to a termination,
without the mystery that hung over her husband being in any way
cleared up, had profoundly depressed Mrs. Holland, and it was with
mingled tears of pleasure and sorrow that she fell on his neck on his
return to Madras.
"You must not give way, Mother," Dick said, as she sobbed out her
fears that all hope was at an end. "Remember that you have never
doubted he was alive, and that you have always said you would know if
any evil fate had befallen him; and I have always felt confident that
you were right. There is nothing changed. I certainly have not
succeeded in finding him, but we have found many prisoners in some of
the little out-of-the-way forts. Now, some of them have been captives
quite as long as he has; therefore there is no reason, whatever, why
he should not also be alive. I have no thought of giving up the search
as hopeless. I mean to carry out our old plans; and certainly I am
much better fitted to do so than I was when I first landed here. I
know a great deal about Mysore, and although I don't say I speak the
dialect like a native, I have learnt a good deal of it, and can speak
it quite as well as the natives of the ghauts and outlying provinces.
Surajah, who is a great friend of mine, has told me that if I go he
will go too, and that will be a tremendous help. Anyhow, as long as
you continue to believe firmly that Father is still alive, I mean to
continue the search for him."
"I do believe that he is alive, Dick, as firmly as ever. I have not
lost hope in that respect. It is only that I doubt now whether he will
ever be found."
"Well, that is my business, Mother. As long as you continue to believe
that he is still alive, I shall continue to search for him. I have no
other object in life, at present. It will be quite soon enough for me
to think of taking up the commission I have been promised, when you
tell me that your feeling that he is alive has been shaken."
Mrs. Holland was comforted by Dick's assurance and confident tone,
and, putting the thought aside for a time, gave herself up to the
pleasure of his return. They had found everything at Tripataly as they
had left it, for the Mysore horsemen had not penetrated so far north,
before Tippoo turned his course east to Pondicherry. The people had,
months before, returned to their homes and avocations.
One evening the Rajah said, as they were all sitting together:
"I hear from my wife, Dick, that your mother has told her you still
intend to carry out your original project."
"Yes, Uncle. I have quite made up my mind as to that. There are still
plenty of places where he may be, and certainly I am a good deal more
fitted for travelling about in disguise, in Mysore, than I was
before."
The Rajah nodded.
"Yes. I think, Dick, you are as capable of taking care of yourself as
anyone could be. I hear that Surajah is willing to go with you, and
this will certainly be a great advantage. He has proved himself
thoroughly intelligent and trustworthy, and I have promised him that
someday he shall be captain of the troop. You are not thinking of
starting just yet, I suppose?"
"No, Uncle. I thought of staying another month or two, before I go off
again. Mother says she cannot let me go before that."
"I fancy it will take you longer than that, Dick, before you can pass
as a native."
Dick looked surprised.
"Why, Uncle, I did pass as a native, eighteen months ago."
"Yes, you did, Dick; but for how long? You went into shops, bought
things, chatted for a short time with natives, and so on; but that is
not like living among them. You would be found out before you had been
a single day in the company of a native."
Dick looked still more surprised.
"How, Uncle? What do I do that they would know me by."
"It is not what you do, Dick, but it is what you don't do. You can't
sit on your heels--squat, as you call it. That is the habitual
attitude of every native. He squats while he cooks. He squats for
hours by the fire, smoking and talking. He never stands for any length
of time and, except upon a divan or something of that sort, he never
sits down. Before you can go and live among the natives, and pass as
one for any length of time, you must learn to squat as they do, for
hours at a stretch; and I can tell you that it is not by any means an
easy accomplishment to learn. I myself have quite lost the power. I
used to be able to do it, as a boy, but from always sitting on divans
or chairs in European fashion, I have got out of the way of it, and I
don't think I could squat for a quarter of an hour, to save my life."
Dick's mother and cousins laughed heartily, but he said, seriously,
"You are quite right, Uncle. I wonder I never thought of it before. It
was stupid of me not to do so. Of course, when I have been talking
with Surajah or other officers, by a camp fire, I have sat on the
ground; but I see that it would never do, in native dress. I will
begin at once."
"Wait a moment, Dick," the Rajah said. "There are other things which
you will have to practise. You may have to move in several disguises,
and must learn to comport yourself in accordance with them. You must
remember that your motions are quicker and more energetic than are
those of people here. Your walk is different; the swing of the arms,
your carriage, are all different from theirs. You are unaccustomed to
walk either barefooted or in native shoes. Now, all these things have
to be practised before you can really pass muster. Therefore I propose
that you shall at once accustom yourself to the attire, which you can
do in our apartments of an evening. The ranee and the boys will be
able to correct your first awkwardness, and to teach you much.
"After a week or two, you must stain your face, arms, and legs, and go
out with Rajbullub in the evening. You must keep your eyes open, and
watch everything that passes, and do as you see others do. When
Rajbullub thinks that you can pass muster, you will take to going out
with him in the daylight, and so you will come, in time, to reach a
point that it will be safe for you to begin your attempt.
"Do not watch only the peasants. There is no saying that it may not be
necessary to take to other disguises. Observe the traders, the
soldiers, and even the fakirs. You will see that they walk each with a
different mien. The trader is slow and sober. The man who wears a
sword walks with a certain swagger. The fakir is everything by turns;
he whines, and threatens; he sometimes mumbles his prayers, and
sometimes shrieks at the top of his voice.
"When you are not riding or shooting, lad, do not spend your time in
the garden, or with the women. Go into the town and keep your eyes
open. Bear in mind that you are learning a lesson, and that your life
depends upon your being perfect in every respect.
"As to your first disguise, I will speak to Rajbullub, and he will get
it ready by tomorrow evening. The dress of the peasant of Mysore
differs little from that here, save that he wears rather more clothing
than is necessary in this warm climate."