The little group of prisoners received several additions, until the
number mounted up to twenty. The spot where they were placed was
close to the bank of the river and, as all were suffering severely
from thirst, Stanley asked and obtained permission from the guard
to fetch some water. He first knelt down and took a long drink;
then he bathed his head and, soaking his handkerchief with water,
made it into a pad, placed it on the wound, and put his cap on over
it. Then he filled a flask that he carried, and joined his
companions. These were permitted to go down, one by one, to the
river to drink and bathe their wounds.
Stanley had already learned, from them, all they knew of what had
happened after he had been stunned by the bullet. Two of them had
crossed the rivulet, before being wounded; and these said that they
believed all the white officers had been killed, but that they
thought most of the troops had got away.
"It is more than they deserved," Stanley said indignantly. "I don't
say much about the Mugs. They had very little drill or discipline
and, naturally, were afraid of the Burmese, who had long been their
masters; but if the sepoys had kept together under their officers,
they might all have escaped, for the Burmese would never have been
able to break their ranks."
"Some of the officers had been killed, and most of them wounded,
before the retreat began, sahib," one of the sepoys said
apologetically, "and they were ten to one against us."
"Yes, I know that; but you who had fought before should have known
well enough that, as long as you kept together, you could have
beaten them off; and they would have been glad enough to have given
up the pursuit, at last. No doubt they all wanted to have a share
in the plunder of Ramoo."
"What do you think that they are going to do with us, sahib?"
"From what they said as they brought me here, I think that we shall
be sent to Ava, or Amarapura. They lie close together, and the
court is sometimes at one place and sometimes at the other. What
they will do with us when we get there, I don't know. They may cut
off our heads, they may put us in prison; anyhow, you may be sure
that we shall not have a pleasant time of it.
"All we have to hope for is that the capture of Rangoon, by our
fleet, may lower their pride and bring them to treat for terms. It
sailed nearly six weeks ago from Calcutta, and was to have been
joined by one from Madras and, allowing for delays, it ought to
have been at Rangoon a fortnight since, and would certainly capture
the place without any difficulty. So possibly by the time we reach
Ava we shall find that peace has been made.
"Still, the Burmese may not consider the loss of Rangoon to be
important, and may even try to recapture it--which you may be sure
they won't do, for I heard at Chittagong that there were some
twenty thousand troops coming; which would be quite enough, if
there were but good roads and plenty of transport for them, to
march through Burma from end to end."
In the evening food was brought to the prisoners and, talking with
some of the Burmese who came up to look at them, Stanley learned
that Bandoola himself had not accompanied the force across the
Naaf, and that it was commanded by the rajahs who ruled the four
provinces of Aracan. Upon the following morning the prisoners were
marched away, under a strong guard. Six days later they reached the
camp of Bandoola. They were drawn up at a distance from the great
man's tent. He came down, accompanied by a party of officers, to
look at them. He beckoned to Stanley.
Stanley is brought before Bandoola, the Burmese general.
"Ask him if he is an officer," he said to an interpreter, standing
by his side.
The man put the question in Hindustani. Stanley replied, in
Burmese:
"I am an officer, your lordship, but a temporary one, only. I
served in the Mug levy, and was appointed for my knowledge of their
tongue."
"How is it that you come to speak our language?" Bandoola asked, in
surprise.
"I am a trader, your lordship, but when our trade was put an end
to, by the outbreak of the war, I entered the army to serve until
peace was made. I learned the language from a servant in the
service of my uncle, whose assistant I was."
The Burmese general was capable of acts of great cruelty, when he
considered it necessary; but at other times was kindly and good
natured.
"He is but a lad," he said to one of his officers, "and he seems a
bold young fellow. He would be useful as an interpreter to me, for
we shall want to question his countrymen when we make them all
prisoners. However, we must send him with the others to Ava, as he
is the only officer that we have taken; but I will send a message
to some of my friends, at the court, asking them to represent that
I consider he will be useful to me; and praying that he may be kept
for a time and treated well, and may be forwarded to me, again,
when I make my next move against the English."
The following day the prisoners started under the escort of twenty
soldiers, commanded by an officer of some rank, who was specially
charged to take them safely to Ava. It was a fortnight's march to
the Irrawaddy. Until they neared the river the country was very
thinly populated but, when they approached its banks, the villages
were comparatively thick, standing for the most part in clearings
in a great forest. On the march the Burmese officer frequently
talked with Stanley, asked many questions about England and India;
and was evidently surprised, and somewhat sceptical, as to the
account the lad gave him of the fighting strength of the country.
He treated him with considerable indulgence, and sent him dishes
from his own table.
When not talking with him, Stanley marched at the head of the
little party of prisoners--all of whom were sepoys, no quarter
having been given to the native levies. Of an evening, Stanley
endeavoured to keep up the sepoys' spirits by telling them that
probably, by this time, the British expedition had arrived at
Rangoon, and captured it; and that peace would most likely follow,
and they might be exchanged for any Burmese who fell into the hands
of the English.
When they reached a village on the banks of the river the
population, on seeing them, came round and would have maltreated
them; had not the officer interfered, and said he had Bandoola's
orders to carry them safely to the court, and that anyone
interfering with them would be severely punished. The head man of
the village bent low, on hearing the general's name.
"I ask your pardon, my lord. The prisoners shall not be touched.
But have you heard the news?"
"I have heard no news," the officer said.
"It arrived here yesterday, my lord. The barbarians have had the
audacity to sail up, with a great fleet of ships, to Rangoon. They
had vessels of war with them and, though our forts fired upon them,
they had so many cannon that we could not resist them, and they
have captured the town. This happened a fortnight since."
The officer stood thunderstruck at what appeared, to him, to be an
act of audacious insolence. However, after a moment's pause, he
said wrathfully:
"It is of little matter. The town was weak, and in no position for
defence; but a force will soon go down to sweep these barbarians
away. Now, get ready your war galley, as soon as possible."
Each village on the river was compelled, by law, to furnish a war
galley for the king's service whenever it might be required. These
carried from fifty to a hundred men, and some three hundred of
these boats were always available for service, and constituted one
of the strongest divisions of the fighting force of the Burman
empire. The village was a large one, and in half an hour the crew
of the galley were on board and, rowing forty oars, started up the
river.
"What think you of this news?" the officer said, beckoning to
Stanley to take his place in front of him. "These men must be mad,
to tempt the anger of the Lord of the Golden Stool, the mighty
Emperor. Had you heard aught of this?"
"I heard but a vague rumour that a fleet had been collected, but I
heard nothing for certain as to its destination."
"It is madness," the officer repeated. "We shall sweep them into
the sea. How many of them are there, do you think?"
"As to that I can say little, my lord. I only heard a report that
some ships and troops were to sail--some from Madras and some from
Calcutta--but of the number of the men and ships, I know nothing
for certain."
"They have taken evil council," the officer said, gravely. "I have
heard that they gained some slight advantage, in Cachar; but there
they had but irregular troops to meet, largely Assamese, who are
but poor cowards. This little success must have turned their heads.
They will now have our regular forces to deal with, and these will
number a hundred thousand--or twice as many, if necessary. Think
you that the handful that would be transported in ships can stand
against such a host?"
"There may be more than you think, my lord. Many of the ships will
be very big, much bigger than those that trade with Rangoon; and
some of them will carry as many as five hundred men."
"Even so," the officer said scornfully; "if there were twenty-five
such ships, or even fifty, the force would be as nothing to us.
They will have to take to their vessels, as soon as our army
approaches."
"It may be so, sir; but I think that they will scarce go without
fighting. I would represent to you that, although much fewer in
numbers than your army which attacked us, at Ramoo, the troops made
a stout fight of it; and that they fought steadily, until the Mugs
ran away. After that, from what I hear, I admit that they fled
shamefully. But the troops that come to Rangoon will be better than
those were, for there will be white regiments among them; and
though these may, as you say, be overpowered with numbers and
destroyed, I do not think that you will see them running away."
"And you think that they will really venture to withstand us?
"I think that they will endeavour to do so."
"Why, there will scarce be an occasion for fighting," the officer
said, disdainfully. "They were mad to come; they are madder, still,
to come now. The rainy season is just at hand. In another week it
will be upon us. The rivers will spread, the flat country will be a
marsh. Even we, who are accustomed to it, suffer. In places like
Rangoon fever and disease will sweep them away and, when the dry
season comes and our troops assemble to fight them, there will be
none left. They will die off like flies. We shall scarce capture
enough to send as prisoners to the emperor."
Stanley felt that, in this respect, the Burman's prophecies were
but too likely to be fulfilled. He knew how deadly were the swamp
fevers to white men; and that in spite of his comfortable home on
board the dhow and boat, he had himself suffered although, during
the wet season, his uncle made a point of sailing along the coast,
and of ascending only rivers that flowed between high banks and
through a country free from swamps. He remembered that his uncle
had spoken, very strongly, of the folly of the expedition being
timed to arrive on the coast of Burma at the beginning of the wet
season; and had said that they would suffer terribly from fever
before they could advance up the country, unless it was intended to
confine the operations to the coast towns, until the dry season set
in.
It would indeed have been impossible to have chosen a worse time
for the expedition but, doubtless, the government of India thought
chiefly of the necessity for forcing the Burmese to stand on the
defensive, and of so preventing the invasion of India by a vast
army. Unquestionably, too, they believed that the occupation of
Rangoon, and the stoppage of all trade, would show the court of Ava
that they had embarked in a struggle with no contemptible foe; and
would be glad to abate their pretensions, and to agree to fair
terms of peace.
The Bengal force that had been embarked consisted of two British
regiments--the 13th and 38th--a battalion of native infantry, and
two batteries of European artillery, amounting in all to 2175 men.
The Madras force--of which one division was sent on at once, the
other was to follow shortly--consisted of the 41st and 89th
Regiments, the Madras European regiment, seven battalions of native
infantry, and four batteries of artillery, amounting to 9300 men;
making a total of 11475 fighting men, of whom nearly five thousand
were Europeans. In addition to the transports, the Bengal force was
accompanied by a flotilla of twenty gun-brigs and as many
row-boats, each armed with an eighteen-pounder; the Larne and
Sophia sloop, belonging to the Royal Navy; several of the Company's
cruisers; and the steamboat Diana. General Sir A. Campbell was
appointed to the chief command, and Colonel M'Bean, with the rank
of Brigadier General, commanded the Madras force.
The Bengal squadron sailed from Saugur in the middle of April; and
reached the rendezvous, Port Cornwallis, in the Andaman Islands, at
the end of the month. The Madras first division sailed at the same
time, and joined them a few days later; and the whole force, under
the escort of H. M. frigate Liffey and the Slaney, sloop of war,
left Port Cornwallis on the 5th of May, and arrived on the 9th at
the mouth of the Irrawaddy.
Forces were detached for the capture of the islands of Chuduba and
Negrais. On the 10th the fleet entered the river and anchored
within the bar and, on the following morning, proceeded with the
flood tide up to Rangoon, the Liffey and the Larne leading the way.
A few shots were fired as they went up the river; but the Burmese
were taken wholly by surprise, the idea that the English would
venture to invade them never having entered their minds.
There was considerable disappointment on board the fleet, when
Rangoon came into sight. It was situated on the north bank of the
main branch of the river, thirty miles from the sea. It extended
about nine hundred yards along the bank, and was six or seven
hundred yards wide, at its broadest part. Beyond the town were some
suburbs, outside the palisade that inclosed it. The palisades were
ten or twelve feet high, strengthened by embankments of earth
thrown up against them, on the inner side. One face of the defences
ran along the river bank, while the others were protected by a
shallow creek communicating with the river. The town itself
consisted, for the most part, of miserable and dirty hovels; and of
a few official buildings of larger size.
At twelve o'clock the Liffey anchored abreast of the principal
battery, close to the water gate; the transports being ranged in a
line in rear of her. A proclamation had been sent on shore, on the
previous day, giving assurances of protection to the people at
large, and to all who should offer no resistance.
When the guns of the fleet were loaded, a pause ensued. The town
was evidently incapable of offering resistance, and it was hoped
that it would capitulate. The Burmese were seen standing at their
guns, but they also remained inactive, apparently paralysed at the
appearance of this great fleet of vessels--of a size hitherto
undreamt of by them--and the threatening guns pointed towards them.
However, they were at last goaded, by the orders and threats of
their officers, to open fire upon the ships.
The frigate at once replied with a broadside. In a very few
minutes, every gun on shore was silenced, and the Burmese fled in
confusion from their works. As soon as they did so, the signal for
disembarkation was made. The troops crowded into the boats, which
rowed for the shore; and the soldiers entered the town without
resistance, and found it completely deserted.
The whole of the population had been driven out by the governor on
the previous day and, according to Burmese custom, the men had all
been formed into a levy, while the women and children were held
under guard, as hostages for their husbands and fathers--their
lives being forfeited in case of desertion, or cowardice, by their
male relations.
The foreigners in the town had all been seized. They were few in
number, consisting of some eight or ten British traders and
American missionaries. These, after being fettered, were taken to
the Custom House prison. They were brought up and tried, early on
the morning of the attack, and were accused of having arranged the
assault on the town. They naturally urged that, if they had had the
least knowledge that it was going to be made, they would have left
the place in time. But the Burmese at once condemned them to death,
and they were taken back to the prison to be executed.
The sentence was not carried out. The Burmese had intended to
execute them on the walls, in sight of their countrymen; and the
authorities had all assembled at the prison for the purpose when,
fortunately, a shot from the first broadside fired passed through
the building, causing an instant stampede. The chiefs at once left
the city; and the prisoners, heavily chained, were marched some
distance into the country. A party of British troops were, however,
pushed forward in advance of the town, as soon as it was occupied;
and the guard, in alarm for their own safety, placed the prisoners
in a house and made off; and a patrol found them there, on the
following morning, and brought them into the town.
The great pagoda, standing two miles and a half from the town, was
at once occupied as an advanced position by the British. It stood
upon a conical hill, rising seventy-five feet above the plain. The
area on the top was somewhat over two acres; and in the centre rose
the pagoda, three hundred and thirty-eight feet high.
Every boat on the river was found to have been removed. In spite of
proclamations promising good treatment, none of the inhabitants
returned to the town, being prevented from doing so by the Burmese
authorities and troops. No stores whatever had been found and, till
the end of the wet season, the army had to depend entirely upon the
fleet for provisions; and remained cooped up in the wretched and
unhealthy town, suffering severely from fever and malaria.
The boat in which Stanley and the other prisoners were conveyed was
changed at every village going up the river, as the officer was
carrying the despatches from Bandoola to the court. A flag was
hoisted as the boat came in sight of a village. This was the signal
that another was required and, within two or three minutes of their
arrival, the prisoners, their guard and officer were on their way
again.
Thus they proceeded, night and day and, in four days, arrived at
Ava. Leaving the prisoners in charge of the guard, the officer at
once proceeded to the palace. In an hour guns were fired, drums
beat, and the bells of the pagodas rung, to give notice to the
population that a great victory had been won over the English, and
their army annihilated, by Bandoola and his valiant troops. This
obliterated the impression produced by the news that had arrived, a
few days previously, of the landing at Rangoon; and there were
great rejoicings among the population.
An officer from the palace presently came down to the boat, and the
prisoners were marched through the streets to a jail, amid the
jeers of the mob. Stanley was surprised at the meanness of the
town; the great majority of the houses being built of bamboo, and
thatched with grass, and having a very poor appearance. The public
buildings and the houses of the great officers were constructed of
planks, and tiled; but were heavy and tasteless, and it was only
upon the innumerable pagodas, in and around the town, that any care
seemed to have been bestowed.
He had wondered much at the numerous pagodas that they had seen,
near every town and village, as they passed up; but the officer had
informed him that these were all private property, and that it was
considered the most meritorious of actions to erect one;
consequently every man who had means to do so built a pagoda, large
or small in proportion to the sum that he could bestow upon it. On
Stanley's remarking upon the great number that were in ruins, the
officer replied that it was considered so much more meritorious an
action to build a pagoda than to repair one that, after the death
of the founder, they were generally suffered to fall into decay.
For some days the prisoners were taken out, every day, and marched
about the town for some time, so as to afford the population ocular
proof of the victory gained by Bandoola. The place in which they
were confined was small and filthy but, at the end of a week,
Stanley was taken out and placed in a room by himself; and here the
officer who had had charge of him paid him a visit, an hour or two
later.
"I have expressed to the court," he said, "the wishes of the
general, and have had permission accorded for you to receive
different treatment from the others; partly because you are an
officer, but principally because the general thinks that you may be
made useful to him. I have informed the officer of the prison that
you are to be at liberty to walk about in the city, when you
please; but that to protect you from violence, an officer and two
soldiers are to accompany you, so long as you may think such a
precaution necessary. I have ordered a dress of our fashion to be
brought to you as, otherwise, you could not go into the streets
without being mobbed."
Stanley expressed his gratitude to the officer for obtaining these
indulgences, and the latter replied:
"I acted upon the orders of the general, but it has been a pleasure
to me; for I see that you are a young man of merit, and I have
learned much from you about your people during the journey; and
have seen that, foolish as they have been to undertake to match
themselves against us, there are yet some things that might be
learned from them; and that, if they had remained in their island,
many months' journey away from here, they might have been worthy of
our friendship."
A short time after the officer had left, a soldier brought up some
food of a very much better nature than that with which Stanley had
been hitherto supplied. Half an hour later, the dress arrived. It
was that of a Burmese officer of inferior grade; and consisted of a
tunic of thick cloth, coming down to the knees; leathern sword
belt; a sort of tippet resembling that of an English coachman, with
three layers of cloth thickly quilted; and a leathern helmet going
up to a point in the centre, with a flap to protect the neck and
ears. With it were worn tight-fitting stockings of cloth, and low
shoes.
Presently an officer came in.
"I am ordered to go out with you, once a day, at whatever hour you
may desire. I am a relative of the officer who brought you here,
and he has requested me to look after your safety."
"I am much obliged to you, sir," Stanley said, "and shall be glad,
indeed, to go out to see the city. Your kinsman has kindly sent me
a dress; but if I am not to be noticed, it will be necessary for me
to stain my face and hands, somewhat."
"That I have thought of," the officer said, "and have brought with
me some dye which will darken your skin. It would be worse than
useless for you to dress as a Burman, unless you did so; for it
would seem even more singular, to the people in the streets, that a
white man should be seen walking about dressed as an officer, than
that a white prisoner should be taken through the streets under a
guard.
"I am ready to go out with you now, if you wish it."
"I shall be ready in a few minutes," Stanley replied and, on being
left alone, at once changed his attire and stained his face and
hands.
He had just finished when the officer returned. He smiled and said:
"There is no fear of your being suspected, now; and you might
really go about safely without a guard, unless you were to enter
into conversation with anyone. You speak the language very well,
but your accent is not quite the same as ours, here, though in
Aracan it would pass unremarked."
As they went out from the prison, the officer told two soldiers who
were waiting there to follow, at a distance.
"Do not approach us," he said, "unless I call you up."
The houses were not constructed in continuous rows, but were very
scattered, each house having its inclosure or garden. The
population was very small, in comparison to the area occupied by
the town. This was divided into two parts--the inner and outer
town. The whole was surrounded by a brick wall, five miles and a
half in circumference, some sixteen feet high and ten feet in
thickness, strengthened on the inside by a great bank of earth. The
inner town was inclosed by a separate wall, with a deep ditch on
two sides, the river Irrawaddy on the third, and a tributary river
on the fourth.
A considerable portion of the inclosed area was occupied by the
royal quarter; containing the palace, the court of justice, the
council chamber, arsenal, and the houses of the ministers and chief
officials. This was cut off from the rest by a strong and
well-built wall, twenty feet high, outside which was a stockade of
the same height. The total population of Ava was but 25,000.
The officer did not take Stanley to the royal quarter, observing
that it was better not to go there as, although he had leave to
walk in the town, it might give offence were he to show himself
near the palace; but after going through the wall, they visited two
or three of the markets, of which there were eleven in the town.
The markets consisted of thatched huts and sheds, and were well
supplied with the products of the country. Here were rice, maize,
wheat, and various other grains; sticks of sugar cane, tobacco,
cotton, and indigo; mangoes, oranges, pineapples, custard apples,
and plantains were in abundance; also peacocks, jungle fowl,
pigeons, partridges, geese, ducks, and snipes--but little meat was
on sale, as the Burman religion forbids the killing of animals for
food. Venison was the only meat allowed to be sold in the markets;
but there were lizards, iguanas, and snakes, which were exposed
freely for sale; and there were large quantities of turtle and
tortoise eggs, which had been brought up from the delta.
Stanley saw that there had really been no great occasion for him to
stain his skin, as the people were, for the most part, lighter in
colour than the Hindoos. Many of the men had, however, stained
their faces to a darker colour; and all were tattooed, more or
less. Men, women, and children were all smoking; and frequently,
when both hands were required for any purpose, thrust their cigars
into the large holes bored in the lobes of their ears. Both men and
women were somewhat short in stature, but squarely built and
muscular and, in the majority of cases, inclined to be fat.
The men wore a sort of kilt, consisting of a double piece of cloth,
wrapped round the body and falling to the knee. Over this was a
loose tunic, with sleeves open in front. The headdress was a scanty
white turban.
The dress of the women was somewhat similar to that of the Hindoos,
consisting of a single garment like a sheet wrapped round the body,
fastening under the arms and falling to the ankles. Those of the
upper classes were more elaborate. The rank among the women was
distinguished, so Stanley's guide pointed out to him, by the manner
in which the hair was plaited and twisted, and by the ornaments in
it.
The men, like the women, wore their hair long but, while the men
wore theirs in a knot at the top of the head, the women gathered it
in at the back. Their faces were broad at the cheekbones, but
narrowed in sharply, both at the forehead and chin. The narrow and
oblique eyes showed the relationship between the Burmese and their
Chinese neighbours. They seemed to Stanley a light-hearted, merry
people, going about their business with much chatter and laughter;
and the sound of musical instruments could often be heard, inside
the houses. Several men, in bright yellow garments, mingled with
the crowds in the market. These were priests, the officer told him;
and it would be a mortal act of sacrilege, were anyone else to wear
that colour.
Stanley remarked upon seeing so few soldiers, and the officer told
him that there was no regular army in Burma. Every man capable of
carrying arms was obliged to serve in case of war but, with the
exception of the king's bodyguard, and a very small body of men who
were police, rather than soldiers, there was no force permanently
kept up. Every man was expected to know something of military duty,
and all were able to build stockades. From the fact that the flesh
of wild fowl formed one of the principal articles of food, the
peasantry throughout the country were all accustomed to the use of
the gun, and were fair marksmen.
"But you yourself are an officer," Stanley said.
"At present, yes; but tomorrow I may return to my land. It is the
same with the highest minister. One day he may be a trader but, if
recommended to the king as one possessing ability, straightway he
is chosen to be a high official. If he does not please the king, or
fails in his duties, then the next day he may be selling cloth in
the bazaar again.
"Everything is at the will of the king. Nobody is born with fortune
or rank, for everything belongs to the king and, at a man's death,
all goes back to him. Thus everyone in the land has an equal
chance. In war the bravest becomes a general, in peace the
cleverest is chosen as a councillor."
Walking about, Stanley soon found that there were a great variety
of dialects talked in the streets, and that the language of the
Burmese of the coast, of the natives of Pegu and the central
province, and of those from districts bordering on the Shan states
or the frontiers of China, differed as widely as those of the most
remote parts of Great Britain did from each other. This being so,
he was convinced that there would be no difficulty, whatever, in
passing as a native, without attracting any observation or inquiry,
so far as the language went.
His features and, still more, the shape of his face might, however,
be noticed by the first comer, in the daytime. He thought, indeed,
that a little tinge of colour in the corner of the eyes, so as to
lengthen their appearance and give an oblique cast to them, would
make a difference. The general shape of the head was unalterable,
but the Burmese nose and mouth did not differ very greatly from the
European; except that the nostrils were smaller and, in shape, were
round rather than oval.
For three weeks he continued the same life, and then the Burmese
officer, with whom he had now become very friendly, said when he
entered one morning:
"You must not go out today. There is news that your people have
made two forward marches. The first was against a stockade, which
they took, and killed many of our men; the other time they marched
out four or five miles, had a fight with our troops, and again
killed many. These things have angered the king and the people. Of
course it is nothing, for our troops are only beginning to
assemble; but it is considered insolent in the extreme, and the
king's face is darkened against your countrymen. Four of the
prisoners have been taken out this morning and publicly executed
and, if the news of another defeat comes, I fear that it will be
very dangerous, even for you."
"What had I best do, my friend?"
"I would fain save you, for we have come to know each other; and I
see that there is much good in your ways, though they differ
greatly from ours. Were I to take you out, as usual, you might be
killed in the streets; were you to slip away and escape, I should
assuredly be put to death; but if in any way I can help you, I
would fain do so. My relation who brought you up here left, a
fortnight since, to rejoin Bandoola; so his influence cannot serve
you.
"I do not say that you might not escape from this prison--since you
are not, like the others, confined in a dungeon--but I see not what
you could do, or where you could go. Were you to disappear, orders
would be sent down the river to every village, and every passing
craft would be examined, and you would be sure to be detected;
while it would be well-nigh impossible to travel the country on
foot, for it is but thinly inhabited. There are often very long
distances between the villages, and much of the country is swamp
and forest, without paths; for the village trade goes by the river,
and they have little communication with each other.
"I know that, from what you say, you think that your troops will
beat ours, even when we assemble in large numbers. Were this so, I
fear that there would be little chance of your life being spared.
Were it not for that, I should say that, Bandoola having
recommended you, you would be in no danger here, and had better
remain until peace is made.
"What think you, yourself?"
"It is very difficult to reply, at once," Stanley said, "but I
thank you greatly for your offer to befriend me, in any way you
can. I do not say that I had not thought of escape, for I have of
course done so. But it seemed to me a thing in the distance; and
that, at any rate until the rains were over and the rivers had
sunk, it would be useless to attempt it. I see, now, that it will
be safest for me to try without delay. If you will come in again,
this afternoon, I will tell you what I have thought of."
"I will do so; and I, myself, will try to think how best the matter
can be managed. We must remember that the great thing is for you to
find concealment, for the present. After the search for you has
been made for some time, it will die away; and it will then be the
easiest plan for you to make your way down the river."