RUJUB, THE JUGGLER
By G. A. Henty.
PUBLISHERS’ INTRODUCTION.
“Rujub, the Juggler,” is mainly an historical tale for young and old,
dealing with the Sepoy Mutiny, in India, during the years 1857 to 1859.
This famous mutiny occurred while the reins of British rule in India
were in the hands of Lord Canning. Chupattees (cakes of flour and water)
were circulated among the natives, placards protesting against British
rule were posted at Delhi, and when the Enfield rifle with its greased
cartridges was introduced among the Sepoy soldiers serving the Queen it
was rumored that the cartridges were smeared with the forbidden pig’s
fat, so that the power of the Sepoys might forever be destroyed.
Fanatical to the last degree, the Sepoys were not long in bringing the
mutiny to a head. The first outbreak occurred at Meerut, where were
stationed about two thousand English soldiers and three thousand native
troops. The native troops refused to use the cartridges supplied to them
and eighty-two were placed under arrest. On the day following the native
troops rebelled in a body, broke open the guardhouse and released the
prisoners, and a severe battle followed, and Meerut was given over to
the flames. The mutineers then marched upon Delhi, thirty-two miles
away, and took possession. At Bithoor the Rajah had always professed a
strong friendship for the English, but he secretly plotted against them,
and, later on, General Wheeler was compelled to surrender to the Rajah
at Cawnpore, and did so with the understanding that the lives of all
in the place should be spared. Shortly after the surrender the English
officers and soldiers were shot down, and all of the women and children
butchered.
The mutiny was now at its height, and for a while it was feared that
British rule in India must cease. The Europeans at Lucknow were besieged
for about three months and were on the point of giving up, when they
were relieved through the heroic march of General Havelock. Sir Colin
Campbell followed, and soon the city was once more in the complete
possession of the British. Oude was speedily reduced to submission,
many of the rebel leaders were either shot or hanged, and gradually the
mutiny, which had cost the lives of thousands, was brought to an end.
The tale, however, is not all of war. In its pages are given many true
to life pictures of life in India, in the barracks of the soldiers and
elsewhere. A most important part is played by Rujub, the juggler, who is
a warm friend to the hero of the narrative. Rujub is no common conjuror,
but one of the higher men of mystery, who perform partly as a religious
duty and who accept no pay for such performances. The acts of these
persons are but little understood, even at this late day, and it is
possible that many of their arts will sooner or later be utterly lost to
the world at large. That they can do some wonderful things in juggling,
mind reading, and in second sight, is testified to by thousands of
people who have witnessed their performances in India; how they do these
things has never yet been explained.
Strange as it may seem, the hero of the tale is a natural born coward,
who cannot stand the noise of gunfire. He realizes his shortcomings, and
they are frequently brought home to him through the taunts of his fellow
soldiers. A doctor proves that the dread of noise is hereditary, but
this only adds to the young soldier’s misery. To make himself brave he
rushes to the front in a most desperate fight, and engages in scout work
which means almost certain death. In the end he masters his fear, and
gives a practical lesson of what stern and unbending will power can
accomplish.
In many respects “Rujub, the Juggler,” will be found one of the
strongest of Mr. Henty’s works, and this is saying much when one
considers all of the many stories this well known author has already
penned for the entertainment of young and old. As a picture of life in
the English Army in India it is unexcelled.
CHAPTER I.
It would be difficult to find a fairer scene. Throughout the gardens
lanterns of many shapes and devices threw their light down upon the
paths, which were marked out by lines of little lamps suspended on wires
a foot above the ground. In a treble row they encircled a large tank or
pond and studded a little island in its center. Along the terraces were
festoons and arches of innumerable lamps, while behind was the Palace or
Castle, for it was called either; the Oriental doors and windows and the
tracery of its walls lit up below by the soft light, while the outline
of the upper part could scarce be made out. Eastern as the scene was,
the actors were for the most part English. Although the crowd that
promenaded the terrace was composed principally of men, of whom the
majority were in uniform of one sort or another, the rest in evening
dress, there were many ladies among them.
At the end of one of the terraces a band of the 103d Bengal Infantry
was playing, and when they ceased a band of native musicians, at the
opposite end of the terrace, took up the strains. Within, the palace was
brilliantly lighted, and at the tables in one of the large apartments
a few couples were still seated at supper. Among his guests moved
the Rajah, chatting in fluent English, laughing with the men, paying
compliments to the ladies, a thoroughly good fellow all round, as his
guests agreed. The affair had been a great success. There had first been
a banquet to the officers and civilians at the neighboring station. When
this was over, the ladies began to arrive, and for their amusement there
had been a native nautch upon a grand scale, followed by a fine display
of fireworks, and then by supper, at which the Rajah had made a speech
expressive of his deep admiration and affection for the British. This he
had followed up by proposing the health of the ladies in flowery terms.
Never was there a better fellow than the Rajah. He had English tastes,
and often dined at one or other of the officers’ messes. He was a good
shot, and could fairly hold his own at billiards. He had first rate
English horses in his stables, and his turnout was perfect in all
respects. He kept a few horses for the races, and was present at every
ball and entertainment. At Bithoor he kept almost open house. There was
a billiard room and racquet courts, and once or twice a week there were
luncheon parties, at which from twelve to twenty officers were generally
present. In all India there was no Rajah with more pronounced English
tastes or greater affection for English people. The one regret of his
life, he often declared, was that his color and his religion prevented
his entertaining the hope of obtaining an English wife. All this, as
everyone said, was the more remarkable and praiseworthy, inasmuch as he
had good grounds of complaint against the British Government.
With the ladies he was an especial favorite; he was always ready to show
them courtesy. His carriages were at their service. He was ready to
give his aid and assistance to every gathering. His private band played
frequently on the promenade, and handsome presents of shawls and jewelry
were often made to those whom he held in highest favor. At present he
was talking to General Wheeler and some other officers.
“I warn you that I mean to win the cup at the races,” he said; “I have
just bought the horse that swept the board on the Bombay side; I have
set my heart on winning the cup, and so secured this horse. I am ready
to back it if any of you gentlemen are disposed to wager against it.”
“All in good time, Rajah,” one of the officers laughed; “we don’t know
what will be entered against it yet, and we must wait to see what the
betting is, but I doubt whether we have anything that will beat the
Bombay crack on this side; I fancy you will have to lay odds on.”
“We shall see,” the Rajah said; “I have always been unlucky, but I mean
to win this time.”
“I don’t think you take your losses much to heart, Rajah,” General
Wheeler said; “yet there is no doubt that your bets are generally
somewhat rash ones.”
“I mean to make a coup this time. That is your word for a big thing,
I think. The Government has treated me so badly I must try to take
something out of the pockets of its officers.”
“You do pretty well still,” the General laughed; “after this splendid
entertainment you have given us this evening you can hardly call
yourself a poor man.”
“I know I am rich. I have enough for my little pleasures--I do not know
that I could wish for more--still no one is ever quite content.”
By this time the party was breaking up, and for the next half hour the
Rajah was occupied in bidding goodby to his guests. When the last had
gone he turned and entered the palace, passed through the great halls,
and, pushing aside a curtain, entered a small room. The walls and the
columns were of white marble, inlaid with arabesque work of colored
stones. Four golden lamps hung from the ceiling, the floor was covered
with costly carpets, and at one end ran a raised platform a foot in
height, piled with soft cushions. He took a turn or two up and down the
room, and then struck a silver bell. An attendant entered.
“Send Khoosheal and Imambux here.”
Two minutes later the men entered. Imambux commanded the Rajah’s troops,
while Khoosheal was the master of his household.
“All has gone off well,” the Rajah said; “I am pleased with you,
Khoosheal. One more at most, and we shall have done with them. Little do
they think what their good friend Nana Sahib is preparing for them. What
a poor spirited creature they think me to kiss the hand that robbed me,
to be friends with those who have deprived me of my rights! But the day
of reckoning is not far off, and then woe to them all! Have any of your
messengers returned, Imambux?”
“Several have come in this evening, my lord; would you see them now, or
wait till morning?”
“I will see them now; I will get the memory of these chattering men and
these women with their bare shoulders out of my mind. Send the men in
one by one. I have no further occasion for you tonight; two are better
than three when men talk of matters upon which an empire depends.”
The two officers bowed and retired, and shortly afterwards the attendant
drew back the curtain again, and a native, in the rags of a mendicant,
entered, and bowed till his forehead touched the carpet. Then he
remained kneeling, with his arms crossed over his chest, and his head
inclined in the attitude of the deepest humility.
“Where have you been?” the Rajah asked.
“My lord’s slave has been for three weeks at Meerut. I have obeyed
orders. I have distributed chupaties among the native regiments, with
the words, ‘Watch, the time is coming,’ and have then gone before I
could be questioned. Then, in another disguise, I have gone through
the bazaar, and said in talk with many that the Sepoys were unclean and
outcast, for that they had bitten cartridges anointed with pig’s fat,
and that the Government had purposely greased the cartridges with this
fat in order that the caste of all the Sepoys should be destroyed. When
I had set men talking about this I left; it will be sure to come to the
Sepoys’ ears.”
The Rajah nodded. “Come again tomorrow at noon; you will have your
reward then and further orders; but see that you keep silence; a single
word, and though you hid in the farthest corner of India you would not
escape my vengeance.”
Man after man entered. Some of them, like the first, were in mendicant’s
attire, one or two were fakirs, one looked like a well to do merchant.
With the exception of the last, all had a similar tale to tell; they
had been visiting the various cantonments of the native army, everywhere
distributing chupaties and whispering tales of the intention of the
Government to destroy the caste of the Sepoys by greasing the cartridges
with pig’s fat. The man dressed like a trader was the last to enter.
“How goes it, Mukdoomee?”
“It is well, my lord; I have traversed all the districts where we dwelt
of old, before the Feringhee stamped us out and sent scores to death and
hundreds to prison. Most of the latter whom death has spared are free
now, and with many of them have I talked. They are most of them old, and
few would take the road again, but scarce one but has trained up his son
or grandson to the work; not to practice it,--the hand of the whites was
too heavy before, and the gains are not large enough to tempt men to run
the risk--but they teach them for the love of the art. To a worshiper of
the goddess there is a joy in a cleverly contrived plan and in casting
the roomal round the neck of the victim, that can never die. Often in
my young days, when perhaps twelve of us were on the road in a party, we
made less than we could have done by labor, but none minded.
“We were sworn brothers; we were working for Kali, and so that we sent
her victims we cared little; and even after fifteen or twenty years
spent in the Feringhee’s prisons, we love it still; none hate the white
man as we do; has he not destroyed our profession? We have two things
to work for; first, for vengeance; second, for the certainty that if the
white man’s Raj were at an end, once again would the brotherhood follow
their profession, and reap booty for ourselves and victims for
Kali; for, assuredly, no native prince would dare to meddle with us.
Therefore, upon every man who was once a Thug, and upon his sons and
grandsons, you may depend. I do not say that they would be useful for
fighting, for we have never been fighters, but the stranglers will be of
use. You can trust them with missions, and send them where you choose.
From their fathers’ lips they have learnt all about places and roads;
they can decoy Feringhee travelers, the Company’s servants or soldiers,
into quiet places, and slay them. They can creep into compounds and into
houses, and choose their victims from the sleepers. You can trust them,
Rajah, for they have learned to hate, and each in his way will, when the
times comes, aid to stir up men to rise. The past had almost become a
dream, but I have roused it into life again, and upon the descendants of
the stranglers throughout India you can count surely.”
“You have not mentioned my name?” the Rajah said suddenly, looking
closely at the man as he put the question.
“Assuredly not, your highness; I have simply said deliverance is at
hand; the hour foretold for the end of the Raj of the men from beyond
the sea will soon strike, and they will disappear from the land like
fallen leaves; then will the glory of Kali return, then again will the
brotherhood take to the road and gather in victims. I can promise that
every one of those whose fathers or grandfathers or other kin died by
the hand of the Feringhee, or suffered in his prisons, will do his share
of the good work, and be ready to obey to the death the orders which
will reach him.”
“It is good,” the Rajah said; “you and your brethren will have a rich
harvest of victims, and the sacred cord need never be idle. Go; it is
well nigh morning, and I would sleep.”
But not for some time did the Rajah close his eyes; his brain was busy
with the schemes which he had long been maturing, but was only now
beginning to put into action.
“It must succeed,” he said to himself; “all through India the people
will take up arms when the Sepoys give the signal by rising against
their officers. The whites are wholly unsuspicious; they even believe
that I, I whom they have robbed, am their friend. Fools! I hold them in
the hollow of my hand; they shall trust me to the last, and then I will
crush them. Not one shall escape me! Would I were as certain of all the
other stations in India as I am of this. Oude, I know, will rise as
one man; the Princes of Delhi I have sounded; they will be the leaders,
though the old King will be the nominal head; but I shall pull the
strings, and as Peishwa, shall be an independent sovereign, and next in
dignity to the Emperor. Only nothing must be done until all is ready;
not a movement must be made until I feel sure that every native regiment
from Calcutta to the North is ready to rise.”
And so, until the day had fully broken, the Rajah of Bithoor thought
over his plans--the man who had a few hours before so sumptuously
entertained the military and civilians of Cawnpore, and the man who was
universally regarded as the firm friend of the British and one of the
best fellows going.
The days and weeks passed on, messengers came and went, the storm was
slowing brewing; and yet to all men it seemed that India was never more
contented nor the outlook more tranquil and assured.