It appears that the jealous and tyrannical Begum did not long suspend
her purpose of agonizing her rival by acquainting her with her intended
fate. By prayers or rewards, Menie Gray prevailed on a servant of Ram
Sing Cottah, to deliver to Hartley the following distracted note:--
“All is true your fears foretold--He has delivered me up to a cruel
woman, who threatens to sell me to the tyrant, Tippoo. Save me if you
can--if you have not pity, or cannot give me aid, there is none left
upon earth.--M. G.”
The haste with which Dr. Hartley sped to the Fort, and demanded an
audience of the Governor, was defeated by the delays interposed by
Paupiah.
It did not suit the plans of this artful Hindoo, that any interruption
should be opposed to the departure of the Begum and her favourite,
considering how much the plans of the last corresponded with his own.
He affected incredulity on the charge, when Hartley complained of
an Englishwoman being detained in the train of the Begum against her
consent, treated the complaint of Miss Gray as the result of some female
quarrel unworthy of particular attention, and when at length he took
some steps for examining further into the matter, he contrived they
should be so tardy, that the Begum and her retinue were far beyond the
reach of interruption.
Hartley let his indignation betray him into reproaches against Paupiah,
in which his principal was not spared. This only served to give the
impassable Bramin a pretext for excluding him from the Residency, with
a hint, that if his language continued to be of such an imprudent
character, he might expect to be removed from Madras, and stationed
at some hillfort or village among the mountains, where his medical
knowledge would find full exercise in protecting himself and others from
the unhealthiness of the climate.
As he retired, bursting with ineffectual indignation, Esdale was the
first person whom Hartley chanced to meet with, and to him, stung with
impatience, he communicated what he termed the infamous conduct of
the Governor's Dubash, connived at, as he had but too much reason to
suppose, by the Governor himself; exclaiming against the want of spirit
which they betrayed, in abandoning a British subject to the fraud of
renegades, and the force of a tyrant.
Esdale listened with that sort of anxiety which prudent men betray when
they feel themselves like to be drawn into trouble by the discourse of
an imprudent friend.
“If you desire to be personally righted in this matter,” said he at
length, “you must apply to Leadenhall Street, where I suspect--betwixt
ourselves--complaints are accumulating fast, both against Paupiah and
his master.”
“I care for neither of them,” said Hartley; “I need no personal
redress--I desire none--I only want succour for Menie Gray.”
“In that case,” said Esdale, “you have only one resource--you must apply
to Hyder himself”--
“To Hyder--to the usurper--the tyrant?”
“Yes, to this usurper and tyrant,” answered Esdale, “you must be
contented to apply. His pride is, to be thought a strict administrator
of justice; and perhaps he may on this, as on other occasions, choose to
display himself in the light of an impartial magistrate.”
“Then I go to demand justice at his footstool,” said Hartley.
“Not so fast, my dear Hartley,” answered his friend; “first consider
the risk. Hyder is just by reflection, and perhaps from political
considerations; but by temperament, his blood is as unruly as ever beat
under a black skin, and if you do not find him in the vein of judging,
he is likely enough to be in that of killing. Stakes and bowstrings are
as frequently in his head as the adjustment of the scales of justice.”
“No matter--I will instantly present myself at his Durbar. The Governor
cannot for very shame refuse me letters of credence.”
“Never think of asking them,” said his more experienced friend; “it
would cost Paupiah little to have them so worded as to induce Hyder to
rid our sable Dubash, at once and for ever, of the sturdy free-spoken
Dr. Adam Hartley. A Vakeel, or messenger of government, sets out
to-morrow for Seringapatam; contrive to join him on the road, his
passport will protect you both. Do you know none of the chiefs about
Hyder's person?”
“None, excepting his late emissary to this place, Barak el Hadgi,”
answered Hartley.
“His support,” said Esdale, “although only a Fakir, may be as effectual
as that of persons of more essential consequence. And, to say the truth,
where the caprice of a despot is the question in debate, there is
no knowing upon what it is best to reckon.--Take my advice, my dear
Hartley, leave this poor girl to her fate. After all, by placing
yourself in an attitude of endeavouring to save her, it is a hundred to
one that you only ensure your own destruction.”
Hartley shook his head, and bade Esdale hastily farewell; leaving him in
the happy and self-applauding state of mind proper to one who has given
the best advice possible to a friend, and may conscientiously wash his
hands of all consequences.
Having furnished himself with money, and with the attendance of three
trusty native servants, mounted like himself on Arab horses, and
carrying with them no tent, and very little baggage, the anxious Hartley
lost not a moment in taking the road to Mysore, endeavouring, in the
meantime, by recollecting every story he had ever heard of Hyder's
justice and forbearance, to assure himself that he should find the
Nawaub disposed to protect a helpless female, even against, the future
heir of his empire.
Before he crossed the Madras territory, he overtook the Vakeel, or
messenger of the British Government, of whom Esdale had spoken. This
man, accustomed for a sum of money to permit adventurous European
traders who desired to visit Hyder's capital, to share his protection,
passport, and escort, was not disposed to refuse the same good office
to a gentleman of credit at Madras; and, propitiated by an additional
gratuity, undertook to travel as speedily as possible. It was a journey
which was not prosecuted without much fatigue and considerable danger,
as they had to traverse a country frequently exposed to all the evils of
war, more especially when they approached the Ghauts, those tremendous
mountain-passes which descend from the table-land of Mysore, and
through which the mighty streams that arise in the centre of the Indian
peninsula, find their way to the ocean.
The sun had set ere the party reached the foot of one of these perilous
passes, up which lay the road to Seringapatam. A narrow path, which in
summer resembled an empty water-course, winding upwards among immense
rocks and precipices, was at one time completely overshadowed by dark
groves of teak-trees, and at another, found its way beside impenetrable
jungles, the habitation of jackals and tigers.
By means of this unsocial path the travellers threaded their way in
silence,--Hartley, whose impatience kept him before the Vakeel, eagerly
enquiring when the moon would enlighten the darkness, which, after the
sun's disappearance, closed fast around them. He was answered by the
natives according to their usual mode of expression, that the moon was
in her dark side, and that he was not to hope to behold her bursting
through a cloud to illuminate the thickets and strata of black and
slaty rocks, amongst which they were winding. Hartley had therefore no
resource, save to keep his eye steadily fixed on the lighted match
of the Sowar, or horseman, who rode before him, which, for sufficient
reasons, was always kept in readiness to be applied to the priming of
the matchlock. The vidette, on his part, kept a watchful eye on the
Dowrah, a guide supplied at the last village, who, having got more than
halfway from his own house, was much to be suspected of meditating how
to escape the trouble of going further. [Footnote: In every village the
Dowrah, or Guide, is an official person, upon the public establishment,
and receives a portion of the harvest or other revenue, along with
the Smith, the Sweeper, and the Barber. As he gets nothing from the
travellers whom it is his office to conduct, he never scruples to
shorten his own journey and prolong theirs by taking them to the
nearest village, without reference to the most direct line of route,
and sometimes deserts them entirely. If the regular Dowrah is sick or
absent, no wealth can procure a substitute.]
The Dowrah, on the other hand, conscious of the lighted match and loaded
gun behind him, hollowed from time to time to show that he was on his
duty, and to accelerate the march of the travellers. His cries were
answered by an occasional ejaculation of Ulla from the black soldiers,
who closed the rear, and who were meditating on former adventures, the
plundering of a _Kaffila_, (party of travelling merchants,) or some such
exploit, or perhaps reflecting that a tiger, in the neighboring jungle,
might be watching patiently for the last of the party, in order to
spring upon him, according to his usual practice.
The sun, which appeared almost as suddenly as it had left them, served
to light the travellers in the remainder of the ascent, and called forth
from the Mahomedans belonging to the party the morning prayer of Alla
Akber, which resounded in long notes among the rocks and ravines, and
they continued with better advantage their forced march until the pass
opened upon a boundless extent of jungle, with a single high mud fort
rising through the midst of it. Upon this plain rapine and war had
suspended the labours of industry, and the rich vegetation of the soil
had in a few years converted a fertile champaign country into an almost
impenetrable thicket. Accordingly, the banks of a small nullah, or
brook, were covered with the footmarks of tigers and other animals of
prey.
Here the travellers stopped to drink, and to refresh themselves and
their horses; and it was near this spot that Hartley saw a sight which
forced him to compare the subject which engrossed his own thoughts, with
the distress that had afflicted another.
At a spot not far distant from the brook, the guide called their
attention to a most wretched looking man, overgrown with hair, who was
seated on the skin of a tiger. His body was covered with mud and ashes,
his skin sunburnt, his dress a few wretched tatters. He appeared not
to observe the approach of the strangers, neither moving nor speaking a
word, but remaining with his eyes fixed on a small and rude tomb, formed
of the black slate stones which lay around, and exhibiting a small
recess for a lamp. As they approached the man, and placed before him
a rupee or two, and some rice, they observed that a tiger's skull and
bones lay beside him, with a sabre almost consumed by rust.
While they gazed on this miserable object, the guide acquainted them
with his tragical history. Sadhu Sing had been a Sipahee, or soldier,
and freebooter of course, the native and the pride of a half-ruined
village which they had passed on the preceding day. He was betrothed to
the daughter of a Sipahee, who served in the mud fort which they saw
at a distance rising above the jungle. In due time, Sadhu, with his
friends, came for the purpose of the marriage, and to bring home the
bride. She was mounted on a Tatoo, a small horse belonging to the
country, and Sadhu and his friends preceded her on foot, in all their
joy and pride. As they approached the nullah near which the travellers
were resting, there was heard a dreadful roar, accompanied by a shriek
of agony. Sadhu Sing, who instantly turned, saw no trace of his bride,
save that her horse ran wild in one direction, whilst in the other the
long grass and reeds of the jungle were moving like the ripple of the
ocean, when distorted by the course of a shark holding its way near the
surface. Sadhu drew his sabre and rushed forward in that direction; the
rest of the party remained motionless until roused by a short roar of
agony. They then plunged into the jungle with their drawn weapons, where
they speedily found Sadhu Sing holding in his arms the lifeless corpse
of his bride, where a little farther lay the body of the tiger, slain
by such a blow over the neck as desperation itself could alone have
discharged.--The brideless bridegroom would permit none to interfere
with his sorrow. He dug a grave for his Mora, and erected over it the
rude tomb they saw, and never afterwards left the spot. The beasts of
prey themselves seemed to respect or dread the extremity of his sorrow.
His friends brought him food and water from the nullah, but he neither
smiled nor showed any mark of acknowledgment, unless when they brought
him flowers to deck the grave of Mora. Four or five years, according to
the guide, had passed away, and there Sadhu Sing still remained among
the trophies of his grief and his vengeance, exhibiting all the symptoms
of advanced age, though still in the prime of youth. The tale hastened
the travellers from their resting-place; the Vakeel because it reminded
him of the dangers of the jungle, and Hartley because it coincided too
well with the probable fate of his beloved, almost within the grasp of a
more formidable tiger than that whose skeleton lay beside Sadhu Sing.
It was at the mud fort already mentioned that the travellers received
the first accounts of the progress of the Begum and her party, by a
Peon (or foot-soldier) who had been in their company, but was now on
his return to the coast. They had travelled, he said, with great speed,
until they ascended the Ghauts, where they were joined by a party of the
Begum's own forces; and he and others, who had been brought from Madras
as a temporary escort, were paid and dismissed to their homes. After
this, he understood it was the purpose of the Begum Mootee Mahul, to
proceed by slow marches and frequent halts, to Bangalore, the vicinity
of which place she did not desire to reach until Prince Tippoo, with
whom she desired an interview, should have returned from an expedition
towards Vandicotta, in which he had lately been engaged.
From the result of his anxious enquiries, Hartley had reason to hope,
that though Seringapatam was seventy-five miles more to the eastward
than Bangalore, yet, by using diligence, he might have time to throw
himself at the feet of Hyder, and beseech his interposition, before the
meeting betwixt Tippoo and the Begum should decide the fate of Menie
Gray. On the other hand, he trembled as the Peon told him that the
Begum's Bukshee, or General, who had travelled to Madras with her in
disguise, had now assumed the dress and character belonging to his rank,
and it was expected he was to be honoured by the Mahomedan Prince with
some high office of dignity. With still deeper anxiety, he learned
that a palanquin, watched with sedulous care by the slaves of Oriental
jealousy, contained, it was whispered, a Feringi, or Frankish woman,
beautiful as a Houri, who had been brought from England by the Begum, as
a present to Tippoo. The deed of villany was therefore in full train to
be accomplished; it remained to see whether by diligence on Hartley's
side, its course could be interrupted.
When this eager vindicator of betrayed innocence arrived in the capital
of Hyder, it may be believed that he consumed no time in viewing the
temple of the celebrated Vishnoo, or in surveying the splendid Gardens
called Loll-bang, which were the monument of Hyder's magnificence, and
now hold his mortal remains. On the contrary, he was no sooner arrived
in the city, than he hastened to the principal Mosque, having no doubt
that he was there most likely to learn some tidings of Barak el Hadgi.
He approached accordingly the sacred spot, and as to enter it would have
cost a Feringi his life, he employed the agency of a devout Mussulman to
obtain information concerning the person whom he sought. He was not
long in learning that the Fakir Barak was within the Mosque, as he had
anticipated, busied with his holy office of reading passages from the
Koran, and its most approved commentators. To interrupt him in his
devout task was impossible, and it was only by a high bribe that he
could prevail on the same Moslem whom he had before employed, to slip
into the sleeve of the holy man's robe a paper containing his name, and
that of the Khan in which the Vakeel had taken up his residence. The
agent brought back for answer, that the Fakir, immersed, as was to be
expected, in the holy service which he was in the act of discharging,
had paid no visible attention to the symbol of intimation which the
Feringi Sahib [European gentleman] had sent to him. Distracted with
the loss of time, of which each moment was precious, Hartley next
endeavoured to prevail on the Mussulman to interrupt the Fakir's
devotions with a verbal message; but the man was indignant at the very
proposal.
“Dog of a Christian!” he said, “what art thou and thy whole generation,
that Barak el Hadgi should lose a divine thought for the sake of an
infidel like thee?”
Exasperated beyond self-possession, the unfortunate Hartley was now
about to intrude upon the precincts of the Mosque in person, in hopes
of interrupting the formal prolonged recitation which issued from its
recesses, when an old man laid his hand on his shoulder, and prevented
him from a rashness which might have cost him his life, saying, at the
same time, “You are a Sahib Angrezie, [English gentleman;] I have been
a Telinga [a private soldier] in the Company's service, and have eaten
their salt. I will do your errand for you to the Fakir Barak el Hadgi.”
So saying, he entered the Mosque, and presently returned with the
Fakir's answer, in these enigmatical words:--“He who would see the sun
rise must watch till the dawn.”
With this poor subject of consolation, Hartley retired to his inn,
to meditate on the futility of the professions of the natives, and to
devise some other mode of finding access to Hyder than that which he
had hitherto trusted to. On this point, however, he lost all hope, being
informed by his late fellow-traveller, whom he found at the Khan, that
the Nawaub was absent from the city on a secret expedition, which might
detain him for two or three days. This was the answer which the Vakeel
himself had received from the Dewan, with a farther intimation, that
he must hold himself ready, when he was required, to deliver his
credentials to Prince Tippoo, instead of the Nawaub; his business being
referred to the former, in a way not very promising for the success of
his mission.
Hartley was now nearly thrown into despair. He applied to more than one
officer supposed to have credit with the Nawaub, but the slightest hint
of the nature of his business seemed to strike all with terror. Not one
of the persons he applied to would engage in the affair, or even consent
to give it a hearing; and the Dewan plainly told him, that to engage in
opposition to Prince Tippoo's wishes, was the ready way to destruction,
and exhorted him to return to the coast. Driven almost to distraction by
his various failures, Hartley betook himself in the evening to the Khan.
The call of the Muezzins thundering from the minarets, had invited the
faithful to prayers, when a black servant, about fifteen years old,
stood before Hartley, and pronounced these words, deliberately, and
twice over,--“Thus says Barak el Hadgi, the watcher in the Mosque: He
that would see the sun rise, let him turn towards the east.” He then
left the caravanserai; and it may be well supposed that Hartley,
starting from the carpet on which he had lain down to repose himself,
followed his youthful guide with renewed vigour and palpitating hope.