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diff --git a/5315-h/5315-h.htm b/5315-h/5315-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f7b5381 --- /dev/null +++ b/5315-h/5315-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10939 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Told in the East, by Talbot Mundy + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Told in the East, by Talbot Mundy + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Told in the East + +Author: Talbot Mundy + +Release Date: June 10, 2009 [EBook #5315] +Last Updated: March 16, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOLD IN THE EAST *** + + + + +Produced by Jake Jaqua, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + TOLD IN THE EAST + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Talbot Mundy + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <p> + [[Original Book edition published by Bobbs-Merrill, Indianapolis, 1920. + Source of the following edition is the omnibus “Romances of India” which + was a reprint of three of Talbot Mundy's novels.]] + </p> + <p> + Romances of India + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +By Talbot Mundy - King of the Khyber Rifles + - Guns of the Gods + - Told in the East +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b><a href="#link2H_4_0001"> TOLD IN THE EAST </a></b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>HOOKUM HAI</b> </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> VII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> VIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> IX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> X. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XIV. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> <b>FOR THE SALT HE HAD EATEN</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PROL"> Prologue </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> VII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> VIII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> IX. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> X. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> XI. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> <b>MACHASSAN AH</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> V. </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + TOLD IN THE EAST + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HOOKUM HAI + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I. + </h2> + <p> + A Blood-red sun rested its huge disk upon a low mud wall that crested a + rise to westward, and flattened at the bottom from its own weight + apparently. A dozen dried-out false-acacia-trees shivered as the faintest + puff in all the world of stifling wind moved through them; and a hundred + thousand tiny squirrels kept up their aimless scampering in search of food + that was not there. + </p> + <p> + A coppersmith was about the only living thing that seemed to care whether + the sun went down or not. He seemed in a hurry to get a job done, and his + reiterated “Bong-bong-bong!”—that had never ceased since sunrise, + and had driven nearly mad the few humans who were there to hear it—quickened + and grew louder. At last Brown came out of a square mud house, to see + about the sunset. + </p> + <p> + He was nobody but plain Bill Brown—or Sergeant William Brown, to + give him his full name and entitlements—and the price of him was two + rupees per day. + </p> + <p> + He stared straight at the dull red disk of the sun, and spat with + eloquence. Then he wiped the sweat from his forehead, and scratched a + place where the prickly heat was bothering him. Next, he buttoned up his + tunic, and brushed it down neatly and precisely. There was official + business to be done, and a man did that with due formality, heat or no + heat. + </p> + <p> + “Guard, turn out!” he ordered. + </p> + <p> + Twelve men filed out, one behind the other, from the hut that he had left. + They seemed to feel the heat more than Brown did, as they fell in line + before Brown's sword. There was no flag, and no flag-pole in that nameless + health-resort, so the sword, without its scabbard, was doing duty, point + downward in the ground, as a totem-pole of Empire. Brown had stuck it + there, like Boanerges' boots, and there it stayed from sunrise until + sunset, to be displaced by whoever dared to do it, at his peril. + </p> + <p> + They had no clock. They had nothing, except the uniforms and arms of the + Honorable East India Company, as issued in this year of Our Lord, 1857—a + cooking-pot or two, a kettle, a little money and a butcher-knife. Their + supper bleated miserably some twenty yards away, tied to a tree, and a + lean. Punjabi squatted near it in readiness to buy the skin. It was a big + goat, but it was mangy, so he held only two annas in his hand. The other + anna (in case that Brown should prove adamant) was twisted in the folds of + his pugree, but he was prepared to perjure himself a dozen times, and take + the names of all his female ancestors in vain, before he produced it. + </p> + <p> + The sun flattened a little more at the bottom, and began to move quickly, + as it does in India—anxious apparently to get away from the day's + ill deeds. + </p> + <p> + “Shoulder umms!” commanded Brown. “General salute! Present-umms!” + </p> + <p> + The red sun slid below the sky-line, and the night was on them, as though + somebody had shut the lid. Brown stepped to the sword, jerked it out of + the ground and returned it to his scabbard in three motions. + </p> + <p> + “Shoulder-umms! Order-umms! Dismiss!” The men filed back into the hut + again, disconsolately, without swearing and without mirth. They had put + the sun to bed with proper military decency. They would have seen humor—perhaps—or + an excuse for blasphemy in the omission of such a detail, but it was much + too hot to swear at the execution of it. + </p> + <p> + Besides, Brown was a strange individual who detested swearing, and it was + a very useful thing, and wise, to humor him. He had a way of his own, and + usually got it. + </p> + <p> + Brown posted a sentry at the hut-door, and another at the crossroads which + he was to guard, then went round behind the but to bargain with the + goatskin-merchant. But he stopped before he reached the tree. + </p> + <p> + “Boy!” he called, and a low-caste native servant came toward him at a run. + </p> + <p> + “Is that fakir there still?” + </p> + <p> + “Ha, sahib!” + </p> + <p> + “Ha? Can't you learn to say 'yes,' like a human being?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sahib!” + </p> + <p> + “All right. I'm going to have a talk with him. Kill the goat, and tell the + Punjabi to wait, if he wants to buy the skin.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha, sahib!” + </p> + <p> + Brown spun round on his heel, and the servant wilted. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sahib!” he corrected. + </p> + <p> + Brown left him then, with a nod that conveyed remission of cardinal sin, + and a warning not to repeat the offence. As the native ran off to get the + butcher-knife and sharpen it, it was noticeable that he wore a chastened + look. + </p> + <p> + “Send Sidiki after me!” Brown shouted after him, and a minute later a + nearly naked Beluchi struck a match and emerged from the darkness, with + the light of a lantern gleaming on his skin. He followed like a snake, and + only Brown's sharp, authority-conveying footfalls could be heard as he + trudged sturdily—straight-backed, eyes straight in front of him—to + where an age-old baobab loomed like a phantom in the night. He marched + like a man in armor. Not even the terrific heat of a Central-Indian night + could take the stiffening out of him. + </p> + <p> + The Beluchi ran ahead, just before they reached the tree. He stopped and + held the lantern up to let its light fall on some object that was close + against the tree-trunk. At a good ten-pace distance from the object Brown + stopped and stared. The lamplight fell on two little dots that gleamed. + Brown stepped two paces nearer. Two deadly, malicious human eyes blinked + once, and then stared back at him. + </p> + <p> + “Does he never sleep?” asked Brown. + </p> + <p> + The Beluchi said something or other in a language that was full of harsh + hard gutturals, and the owner of the eyes chuckled. His voice seemed to be + coming from the tree itself, and there was nothing of him visible except + the cruel keen eyes that had not blinked once since Brown drew nearer. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Sahib, he does not answer.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell him I'm tired of his not answering. Tell him that if he can't learn + to give a civil answer to a civilly put question I'll exercise my + authority on him!” + </p> + <p> + The Beluchi translated, or pretended to. Brown was not sure which, for he + was rewarded with nothing but another chuckle, which sounded like water + gurgling down a drain. + </p> + <p> + “Does he still say nothing?” + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely nothing, sahib.” + </p> + <p> + Brown stepped up closer yet, and peered into the blackness, looking + straight into the eyes that glared at him, and from them down at the body + of the owner of them. The Beluchi shrank away. + </p> + <p> + “Have a care, sahib! It is dangerous! This very holy—most holy—most + religious man!” + </p> + <p> + “Bring that lantern back.” + </p> + <p> + “He will curse you, sahib!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you hear me?” + </p> + <p> + The Beluchi came nearer again, trembling with fright. Brown snatched the + lamp away from him, and pushed it forward toward the fakir, moving it up + and down to get a view of the whole of him. There was nothing that he saw + that would reassure or comfort or please a devil even. It was + ultradevilish; both by design and accident—conceived and calculated + ghastliness, peculiar to India. Brown shuddered as he looked, and it took + more than the merely horrible to make him betray emotion. + </p> + <p> + “What god do you say he worships?” + </p> + <p> + “Sahib, I know not. I am a Mussulman. These Hindus worship many gods.” + </p> + <p> + The fakir chuckled again, and Brown held the lantern yet nearer to him to + get a better view. The fakir's skin was not oily, and for all the + blanket-heat it did not glisten, so his form was barely outlined against + the blackness that was all but tangible behind him. + </p> + <p> + Brown spat again, as he drew away a step. He could contrive to express + more disgust and more grim determination in that one rudimentary act than + even a Stamboul Softa can. + </p> + <p> + “So he's holy, is he?” + </p> + <p> + “Very, very holy, sahib!” + </p> + <p> + Again the fakir chuckled, and again Brown held his breath and pushed the + lantern closer to him. + </p> + <p> + “I believe the brute understands the Queen's English!” + </p> + <p> + “He understanding all things, sahib! He knowing all things what will + happen! Mind, sahib! He may curse you!” + </p> + <p> + But Brown appeared indifferent to the danger that he ran. To the fakir's + unconcealed discomfort, he proceeded to examine him minutely, going over + him with the aid of the lantern inch by inch, from the toe-nails upward. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he commented aloud, “if the army's got an opposite, here's it! I'd + give a month's pay for the privilege of washing this brute, just as a + beginning!” + </p> + <p> + The man's toe-nails—for he really was a man!—were at least two + inches long. They were twisted spirally, and some of them were curled back + on themselves into disgusting-looking knots. What walking he had ever done + had been on his heels. His feet were bent upward, and fixed upward, by a + deliberately cultivated cramp. + </p> + <p> + His legs, twisted one above the other in a squatting attitude, were lean + and hairy, and covered with open sores which were kept open by the swarm + of insects that infested him. His loin-cloth was rotting from him. His + emaciated body—powdered and smeared with ashes and dust and worse—was + perched bolt-up-right on a flat earth dais that had once on a time been + the throne of a crossroads idol. One arm, his right one, hung by his side + in an almost normal attitude, and his right fingers moved incessantly like + a man's who is kneading clay. But his other arm was rigid—straight + up in the air above his head; set, fixed, cramped, paralyzed in that + position, with the fist clenched. And through the back of the closed fist + the fakir's nails were growing. + </p> + <p> + But, worse than the horror of the arm was the creature's face, with the + evidence of torture on it, and fiendish delight in torture for the + torture's sake. His eyes were his only organs that really lived still, and + they expressed the steely hate and cruelty, the mad fanaticism, the greedy + self-love—self-immolating for the sake of self—that is the + thoroughgoing fakir's stock in trade. And his lips were like the graven + lips of a Hindu temple god, self-satisfied, self-worshiping, contemptuous + and cruel. He chuckled again, as Brown finished his inspection. + </p> + <p> + “So that crittur's holy, is he? Well, tell him that I'm set here to watch + these crossroads. Tell him I'm supposed to question every one who comes, + and find out what his business is, and arrest him if he can't give a + proper account of himself. Say he's been here three days now, and that + that's long enough for any one to find his tongue in. Tell him if I don't + get an answer from him here and now I'll put him in the clink!” + </p> + <p> + “But, sahib—” + </p> + <p> + “You tell him what I say, d'you hear?” + </p> + <p> + The Beluchi made haste to translate, trembling as he spoke, and wilting + visibly when the baleful eyes of the fakir rested on him for a second. The + fakir answered something in a guttural undertone. + </p> + <p> + “What does he say?” + </p> + <p> + “That he will curse you, sahib!” + </p> + <p> + “Sentry!” shouted Brown. + </p> + <p> + “Sir!” came the ready answer, and the sling-swivels of a rifle clicked as + the man on guard at the crossroads shouldered it. There are some men who + are called “sir” without any title to it, just as there are some sergeants + who receive a colonel's share of deference when out on a non-commissioned + officer's command. Bill Brown was one of them. + </p> + <p> + “Come here, will you!” + </p> + <p> + There came the sound of heavy footfalls, and a thud as a rifle-butt + descended to the earth again. Brown moved the lamp, and its beams fell on + a rifleman who stood close beside him at attention—like a jinnee + formed suddenly from empty blackness. + </p> + <p> + “Arrest this fakir. Cram him in the clink.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good, sir!” + </p> + <p> + The sentry took one step forward, with his fixed bayonet at the “charge,” + and the fakir sat still and eyed him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, have a care, sahib!” wailed the Beluchi. “This is very holy man!” + </p> + <p> + “Silence!” ordered Brown. “Here. Hold the lamp.” + </p> + <p> + The bayonet-point pressed against the fakir's ribs, and he drew back an + inch or two to get away from it. He was evidently able to feel pain when + it was inflicted by any other than himself. + </p> + <p> + “Come on,” growled the sentry. “Forward. Quick march. If you don't want + two inches in you!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't use the point!” commanded Brown. “You might do him an injury. Treat + him to a sample of the butt!” + </p> + <p> + The sentry swung his rifle round with an under-handed motion that all + riflemen used to practise in the short-range-rifle days. The fakir winced, + and gabbled something in a hurry to the man who held the lamp. + </p> + <p> + “He says that he will speak, sahib!” + </p> + <p> + “Halt, then,” commanded Brown. “Order arms. Tell him to hurry up!” + </p> + <p> + The Beluchi translated, and the fakir answered him, in a voice that + sounded hard and distant and emotionless. + </p> + <p> + “He says that he, too, is here to watch the crossroads, sahib! He says + that he will curse you if you touch him!” + </p> + <p> + “Tell him to curse away!” + </p> + <p> + “He says not unless you touch him, sahib.” + </p> + <p> + “Prog him off his perch!” commanded Brown. + </p> + <p> + The rifle leaped up at the word, and its butt landed neatly on the fakir's + ribs, sending him reeling backward off his balance, but not upsetting him + completely. He recovered his poise with quite astonishing activity, and + shuffled himself back again to the center of the dais. His eyes blazed + with hate and indignation, and his breath came now in sharp gasps that + sounded like escaping steam. He needed no further invitation to commence + his cursing. It burst out with a rush, and paused for better effect, and + burst out again in a torrent. The Beluchi hid his face between his hands. + </p> + <p> + “Now translate that!” commanded Brown, when the fakir stopped for lack of + breath. + </p> + <p> + “Sahib, I dare not! Sahib—” + </p> + <p> + Brown took a threatening step toward him, and the Beluchi changed his + mind. Brown's disciplining methods were a too recently encountered fact to + be outdone by a fakir's promise of any kind of not-yet-met damnation. + </p> + <p> + “Sahib, he says that because your man has touched him, both you and your + man shall lie within a week helpless upon an anthill, still living, while + the ants run in and out among your wounds. He says that the ants shall eat + your eyes, sahib, and that you shall cry for water, and there shall be no + water within reach—only the sound of water just beyond you. He says + that first you shall be beaten, both of you, until your backs and the + soles of your feet run blood, in order that the ants may have an + entrance!” + </p> + <p> + “Is he going to do all this?” + </p> + <p> + The Beluchi passed the question on, and the fakir tossed him an answer to + it. + </p> + <p> + “He says, sahib, that the gods will see to it.” + </p> + <p> + “So the gods obey his orders, do they. Well, they've a queer sense of + duty! What else does he prophesy?” + </p> + <p> + “About your soul, sahib, and the sentry's soul.” + </p> + <p> + “That's interesting! Translate!” + </p> + <p> + “He says, sahib, that for countless centuries you and your man shall + inhabit the carcasses of snakes, to eat dirt and be trodden on and + crushed, until you learn to have respect for very holy persons!” + </p> + <p> + “Is he going to have the ordering of that?” + </p> + <p> + “He says that the gods have already ordered it.” + </p> + <p> + “It won't make much difference, then, what I do now. If that's in store + for me in any case, I may as well get my money's worth before the fun + begins! Tell him that unless he can give me a satisfactory reason for + being here I shall treat him to a little more rifle-butt, and something + else afterward that he will like even less!” + </p> + <p> + “He says,” explained the Beluchi, after a moment's conversation with the + fakir, “that he is here to see what the gods have prophesied. He says that + India will presently be whelmed in blood!” + </p> + <p> + “Whose blood?” + </p> + <p> + “Yours and that of others. He says, did you not see the sunset?” + </p> + <p> + “What of the sunset?” + </p> + <p> + Brown looked about him and, save where the lantern cast a fitful light on + the fakir and the sentry and the native servant, and threw into faint + relief the shadowy, snake-like tendrils of the baobab, his eyes failed to + pierce the gloom. The sunset was a memory. In that heavy, death-darkness + silence it seemed almost as though there had never been a sun. + </p> + <p> + “'A blot of blood,' he says. He says the order has been given. He says + that half of India shall run blood within a day, and the whole of it + within a week!” + </p> + <p> + “Who gave the order?” + </p> + <p> + “He answers 'Hookum hai!'—which means 'It is an order!' Nothing more + does the holy fakir say.” + </p> + <p> + “To the clink with him!” commanded Brown. “I'm tired of these Old Mother + Shipton babblings. That's the third useless Hindu fanatic within a week + who has talked about India being drenched in blood. Let him go in to the + depot under guard, and do his prophesying there! Bring him along.” + </p> + <p> + The sentry's rifle-butt rose again and threatened business. The Beluchi + gave a warning cry, and the fakir tumbled off his dais. Then, with the + trembling Beluchi walking on ahead with the lantern, and Brown and the + sentry urging from behind, the fakir jumped and squirmed and wabbled on + his all but useless feet toward the guardroom. When they reached the tree + where the goat had bleated, the Punjabi skin-buyer rose up, took one long + look at the fakir and ran. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll be!” exclaimed the sentry. + </p> + <p> + “You'll be worse than that,” said Brown, “if you use that language + anywhere where I'm about! I'll not have it, d'you hear? Get on ahead, and + open the door of the clink!” + </p> + <p> + The sentry obeyed him, and a moment later the fakir was thrust into a + four-square mud-walled room, and the door was locked on him. + </p> + <p> + “Back to your post,” commanded Brown. “And next time I hear you swearing, + I'll treat you to a double-trick, my man! About turn. Quick march.” + </p> + <p> + The sentry trudged off without daring to answer him, and Brown took a good + look at the fakir through the iron bars that protected the top half of the + door. Then he went off to see about his supper, of newly slaughtered + goat-chops and chupatties baked in ghee. His soul revolted at the thought + of it, but it was his duty to eat it and set an example to the men; and + duty was the only thing that mattered in Bill Brown's scheme of things. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe it's true,” he muttered, “and maybe it's all lies; there's no + knowing. Maybe India's going to run blood, as these fakirs seem to think, + and maybe it isn't. There'll be more blood shed than mine in that case! + 'Hookum hai'—'It is orders,' heh? Well—there's more than one + sort of 'Hookum hai!' I've got my orders too!” + </p> + <p> + He doubled the guard, when supper bad been eaten and the guardroom had + been swept and the pots and kettle had been burnished until they shone. + Then he tossed a chupatty to the imprisoned fakir, spat again from sheer + disgust, lit his pipe and went and sat where he could hear the footbeats + of the sentries. + </p> + <p> + “They can't help their religion,” he muttered. “The poor infidels don't + know no better. And they've got a right to think what they please 'about + me or the Company. But I've no patience with uncleanliness! That's wrong + any way you look at it. That critter can't see straight for the dirt on + him, nor think straight for that matter. He's a disgrace to humanity. + Priest or fakir or whatever he is, if I live to see tomorrow's sun I'll + hand him over to the guard and have him washed!” + </p> + <p> + Having formed that resolution, Brown dismissed all thoughts of the fakir. + His memory went back to home—the clean white cottage on the Sussex + Downs, and the clean white girl who once on a time had waited for him + there. For the next few hours, until the guard was changed, the only signs + or sounds of life were the glowing of Brown's pipe, the steady footfalls + of the sentries and occasional creakings from the hell-hot guard-room, + where sleepless soldiers tossed in prickly discomfort. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. + </h2> + <p> + Bill Brown, with his twelve, had not been set to watch a lonely crossroad + for the fun of it. One road was a well-made highway, and led from a walled + city, where three thousand men sweated and thought of England, to another + city, where five thousand armed natives drew England's pay, and wore + English uniforms. + </p> + <p> + The other road was a snake-like trail, nearly as wide but not nearly so + well kept. It twisted here and there amid countless swarming native + villages, and was used almost exclusively by natives, whose rightful + business was neither war nor peace nor the contriving of either of them. + It had been a trade-road when history was being born, and the laden + ox-carts creaked along it still, as they had always done and always will + do until India awakes. + </p> + <p> + But there are few men in the world who attend to nothing but their + rightful business, and there are even more in India than elsewhere who are + prone to neglect their own affairs and stir up sedition among others. + There are few fighting-men among that host. They are priests for the most + part or fakirs or make-believe pedlers or confessed and shameless + mendicants; and they have no liking for the trunk roads, where the + tangible evidence of Might and Majesty may be seen marching in + eight-hundred-man battalions. They prefer to dream along the byways, and + set other people dreaming. They lead, when the crash comes, from behind. + </p> + <p> + Though the men who made the policies of the Honorable East India Company + were mostly blind to the moving finger on the wall, and chose to imagine + themselves secure against a rising of the millions they controlled; and + though most of their military officers were blinder yet, and failed to + read the temper of the native troops in their immediate command, still, + there were other men who found themselves groping, at least two years + before the Mutiny of '57. They were groping for something intangible and + noiseless and threatening which they felt was there in a darkness, but + which one could not see. + </p> + <p> + Baines was one of them—Lieutenant-General Baines, commanding at + Bholat. His troops were in the center of a spider's web of roads that + criss-crossed and drained a province. There were big trunk arteries, which + took the flow of life from city to walled city, and a mass of winding + veins in the shape of grass-grown country tracks. He could feel, if any + man could, the first faint signs of fever rising, and he was placed where + he could move swiftly, and cut deep in the right spot, should the knife be + needed. + </p> + <p> + He was like a surgeon, though, who holds a lancet and can use it, but who + lacks permission. The poison in India's system lay deep, and the fever was + slow in showing itself. And meanwhile the men who had the ordering of + things could see neither necessity nor excuse for so much as a parade of + strength. They refused, point-blank and absolutely, to admit that there + was, or, could be, any symptom of unrest. + </p> + <p> + He dared not make new posts for officers, for officers would grumble at + enforced exile in the country districts, and the Government would get to + hear of it, and countermand. But there were non-commissioned officers in + plenty, and it was not difficult to choose the best of them—three + men—and send them, with minute detachments, to three different + points of vantage. Non-commissioned officers don't grumble, or if they do + no one gets to hear of it, or minds. And they are just as good as officers + at watching crossroads and reporting what they see and hear. + </p> + <p> + So where a little cluster of mud huts ached in the heat of a right angle + where the trunk road crossed a native road some seventy miles from Bholat, + Bill Brown—swordsman and sergeant and strictest of martinets, as + well as sentimentalist—had been set to watch and listen and report. + </p> + <p> + There were many cleverer men in the non-commissioned ranks of Baine's + command, many who knew more of the native languages, and who had more + imagination. But there was none who knew better how to win the unqualified + respect and the obedience of British and native alike, or who could be + better counted on to obey an order, when it came, literally, promptly and + in the teeth of anything. + </p> + <p> + Brown's theories on religion were a thing to marvel at, and walk + singularly wide of, for he was a preacher with a pair of fists when + thoroughly aroused. And his devotion to a girl in England whom no one in + his regiment had ever seen, and of whom he did not even possess a + likeness, was next door to being pitiable. His voice was like a raven's, + with something rather less than a raven's sense of melody; he was very + prone to sing, and his songs were mournful ones. He was not a social + acquisition in any generally accepted sense, although his language was + completely free from blasphemy or coarseness. His ideas were too cut and + dried to make conversation even interesting. But his loyalty and his sense + of duty were as adamant. + </p> + <p> + He had changed the double guard at the crossroads; and had posted two + fresh men by the mud-walled guardroom door. He had lit his pipe for the + dozenth time, and had let it go out again while he hummed a verse of a + Covenanters' hymn. And he had just started up to wall over to the cell and + make a cursory inspection of his prisoner, when his ears caught a distant + sound that was different from any of the night sounds, though scarcely + louder. + </p> + <p> + Prompt as a rifle in answer to the trigger, he threw himself down on all + fours, and laid his ear to the ground. A second later, he was on his feet + again. + </p> + <p> + “Guard!” he yelled. “Turn out!” + </p> + <p> + Cots squeaked and jumped, and there came a rush of hurrying feet. The + eight men not on watch ran out in single file, still buttoning their + uniforms, and lined up beside the two who watched the guardroom door. + </p> + <p> + “Stand easy!” commanded Brown. Then he marched off to the crossroads, + finding his way in the blackness more by instinct and sense of direction + than from any landmark, for even the road beneath his feet was barely + visible. + </p> + <p> + “D'you mean to tell me that neither of you men can hear that sound?” he + asked the sentries. + </p> + <p> + Both men listened intently, and presently one of them made out a very + faint and distant noise, that did not seem to blend in with the other + night-sounds. + </p> + <p> + “Might be a native drum?” he hazarded. + </p> + <p> + “No, 'tain't!” said the other. “I got it now. It's a horse galloping. + Tired horse, by the sound of him, and coming this way. All right, + Sergeant.” + </p> + <p> + “One of you go two hundred yards along the road, and form an advance-post, + so to speak. Challenge him the minute he's within ear-shot, and shoot him + if he won't halt. If he halts, pass him along to Number Two. Number Two, + pass him along to the guardroom, where I'll deal with him! Which of you's + Number One? Number One, then—forward—quick—march!” + </p> + <p> + The sentry trudged off in one direction, and Bill Brown in another. The + sentry concealed itself behind a rock that flanked the road, and Brown + spent the next few minutes in making the guard “port arms,” and carefully + inspecting their weapons with the aid of a lantern. He had already + inspected there once since supper, but he knew the effect that another + inspection would be likely to produce. Nothing goes further toward making + men careful and ready at the word than incessant and unexpected but quite + quietly performed inspection of minutest details. + </p> + <p> + He produced the effect of setting the men on the qui vive without alarming + them. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, the farthest advanced sentry's challenge rang out. + </p> + <p> + “Frie-e-e-e-nd!” came the answer, in nasal, high-pitched wail, but the + galloping continued. + </p> + <p> + “Halt, I tell you!” A breech-bolt clicked, and then another one. They were + little sounds, but they were different, and the guard could hear them + plainly. The galloping horse came on. + </p> + <p> + “Cra-a-a-a-ack!” went the sentry's rifle, and the flash of it spurted for + an instant across the road, like a sheet of lightning. And, just as + lightning might, it showed an instantaneous vision of a tired gray horse, + foam-flecked and furiously ridden, pounding down the road head-on. The + vision was blotted by the night again before any one could see who rode + the horse, or what his weapons were—if any—or form a theory as + to why he rode. + </p> + <p> + But the winging bullet did what the sentry's voice had failed to do. There + came a clatter of spasmodic hoof-beats, an erratic shower of sparks, a + curse in clean-lipped decent Urdu; a grunt, a struggle, more sparks again, + and then a thud, followed by a devoutly worded prayer that Allah, the + all-wise provider of just penalties, might blast the universe. + </p> + <p> + “Stop talkin'!” said the sentry, and a black-bearded Rajput rolled free, + and looked up to find a bayonet-point within three inches of his eye. + </p> + <p> + “Poggul!” snarled the Mohammedan. + </p> + <p> + “Poggul's no password!” said the sentry. “Neither to my good-nature nor to + nothing else. Put up your 'ands, and get on your feet, and march! Look + alive, now! Call me a fool, would yer? Wait till the sergeant's through + with yer, and see!” + </p> + <p> + The Rajput chose to consider a retort beneath his dignity. He rose, and + took one quick look at the horse, which was still breathing. + </p> + <p> + “Your bayonet just there,” he said, “and press. So he will die quickly.” + </p> + <p> + The sentry placed his bayonet-point exactly where directed, and leaned his + weight above it. The horse gave a little shudder, and lay still. + </p> + <p> + “Poggul!” said the Rajput once again. And this time the sentry looked and + saw cold steel within three inches of his eye! + </p> + <p> + “Your rifle!” said the Rajput. “Hand it here!” + </p> + <p> + And, to save his eyesight, the sentry complied, while the Rajput's + ivory-white teeth grinned at him pleasantly. + </p> + <p> + “Now, hands to your sides! Attention! March!” the Rajput ordered, and with + his own bayonet at his back the sentry had to march, whether he wanted to + or not, by the route that the other chose, toward the guardroom. The + Rajput seemed to know by instinct where the second sentry stood although + the man's shape was quite invisible against the night. He called out, + “Friend!” again as he passed him, and the sentry hearing the first + sentry's footsteps, imagined that the real situation was reversed. + </p> + <p> + So, out of a pall of blackness, to the accompanying sound of rifles being + brought up to the shoulder, a British sentry—feeling and looking + precisely like a fool—marched up to his own guardroom, with a man + who should have been his prisoner in charge of him. + </p> + <p> + “Halt!” commanded Brown. “Who or what have you got there, Stanley?” + </p> + <p> + “Stanley is my prisoner at present!” said a voice that Brown vaguely + recognized. + </p> + <p> + He stepped up closer, to make sure. + </p> + <p> + “What, you? Juggut Khan!” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, Brown sahib! Juggut Khan—with tidings, and a dead gray horse + on which to bear them! If this fool could only use his bayonet as he can + shoot, I think I would be dead too. His brains, though, are all behind his + right eye. Tie him up, where no little child can come and make him + prisoner!” + </p> + <p> + “Arrest that man!” commanded Brown, and two men detached themselves from + the end of the guard, and stood him between them, behind the line. + </p> + <p> + “Here's his rifle!” smiled Juggut Khan, and Brown received it with an ill + grace. + </p> + <p> + “How did you get past the other sentry?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, easily! You English are only brave; you have no brains. Sometimes one + part of the rule is broken, but the other never. You are not always + brave!” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you're angry because he killed your horse?” + </p> + <p> + “I am angry, Brown sahib, for greater happenings than that! The man + conceivably was right, since I did not halt for him, and I suppose he had + his orders. I am angry because the standard of rebellion is raised, and + because of what it means to me!” + </p> + <p> + “Are you drunk, Juggut Khan?” + </p> + <p> + “Your honor is pleased to be humorous? No, I am not drunk. Nor have I + eaten opium. I have eaten of the bread of bitterness this day, and drunk + of the cup of gall. I have seen British officers—good, brave fools, + some of whom I knew and loved—killed by the men they were supposed + to lead. I have seen a barracks burning, and a city given over to be + looted. I have seen white women—nay, sahib, steady!—I have + seen them run before a howling mob, and I have seen certain of them shot + by their own husbands!” + </p> + <p> + “Quietly!” ordered Brown. “Don't let the men hear!” + </p> + <p> + “One of them I slew myself, because her husband, who was wounded, sent me + to her and bade me kill her. She died bravely. And certain others I have + hidden where the mutineers are not likely to discover them at present. I + ride now for succor—or, I rode, rather, until your expert marksman + interfered with me! I now need another horse.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean that the native troops have mutinied?” “I mean rather more than + that, sahib. Mohammedans and Hindus are as one, and the crowd is with + them. This is probably the end of the powder-train, for, from what I heard + shouted by the mutineers, almost the whole of India is in revolt already!” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “God knows, sahib! The reason given is that the cartridges supplied are + greased with the blended fat of pigs and cows, thus defiling both Hindu + and Mohammedan alike. But, if you ask me, the cause lies deeper. In the + meantime, the rebels have looted Jailpore and burned their barracks, and + within an hour or two they will start along this road for Bholat, which + they have a mind to loot likewise. My advice to you is retire at once. Get + me another horse from somewhere, that I may carry warning. Then follow me + as fast as you and your men can move.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah!” said Brown. “They'll find General Baines to deal with them at + Bholat.” + </p> + <p> + “Who knows yet how many in Bholat have not risen? Are you positive that + the garrison there has not already been surrounded by rebels? I am not! I + would not be at all surprised to learn that General Baines is so busy + defending himself that he can not move in any direction. And—does + your honor mean to hold this guardroom here against five thousand?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean to obey my orders!” answered Brown. + </p> + <p> + “And your orders are?” + </p> + <p> + “My orders!” + </p> + <p> + “Would they preclude the provision of another horse for me?” + </p> + <p> + “There's a village about a mile away, down over yonder, where I think + you'll find a decent horse—along that road there.” + </p> + <p> + “And your honor's orders would possibly permit a certain payment for the + horse?” + </p> + <p> + “Positively not!” said Brown. + </p> + <p> + “Then—' + </p> + <p> + “To seize a horse, for military use, under the spur of necessity, and + after giving a receipt for it, would be in order.” + </p> + <p> + “So I am to spend the night wandering around the countryside, in a vain + endeavor to—” + </p> + <p> + But Brown was doing mathematics in his head. Two men to guard prisoners, + two on guard at the crossroads, two at the guardroom door—six from + twelve left six, and six were not enough to rape a countryside. + </p> + <p> + “Guard!” he ordered. “Release that prisoner. Now, you Stanley, let this be + a lesson to you, and remember that I only set you free because I'd have + been short-handed otherwise. Number One! Stand guard between the clink and + the guardroom door. Keep an eye on both. The remainder—form + two-deep. Right turn! By the left, quick-march! Left wheel!... Now,” he + said, turning to Juggut Khan, “if you'll come along I'll soon get a horse + for you!” + </p> + <p> + The Rajput strode along beside him, and gave him some additional + information as they went, Brown taking very good care all the time to keep + out of earshot of the men and to speak to Juggut Khan in low tones. He + learned, among other things, that Juggut Khan had lost every anna that he + owned, and had only escaped with his life by dint of luck and swordship + and most terrific riding. + </p> + <p> + “Are all of you Rajputs loyal?” asked Brown. + </p> + <p> + “I know not. I know that I myself shall stay loyal until the end!” + </p> + <p> + “Well—the end is not in doubt. There can only be one end!” commented + Brown. + </p> + <p> + “Of a truth, sahib, I believe that you are right. There can only be one + end. This night is not more black, this horizon is no shorter, than the + outlook!” + </p> + <p> + “Then, you mean—” + </p> + <p> + “I mean, sahib, that this uprising is more serious than you—or any + other Englishman—is likely to believe. I believe that the side I + fight for will be the losing side.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet, you stay loyal?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “All the same, Juggut Khan—I'm not emotional, or a man of many + words. I don't trust Indians as a rule! I—but—here—will + you shake hands?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, sahib!” said the Rajput. “We be two men, you and I! Why should + the one be loyal and the other not?” + </p> + <p> + “When this is over,” said Brown, “if it ends the way we want, and we're + both alive, I'd like to call myself your friend!” + </p> + <p> + “I have always been your friend, sahib, and you mine, since the day when + you bandaged up a boy and gave him your own drinking-water and carried him + in to Bholat on your shoulder, twenty miles or more.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, as for that—any other man would have done the same thing. That + was nothing!” + </p> + <p> + “Strange that when a white man does an honorable deed he lies about it!” + said Juggut Khan. “That was not nothing, sahib, and you know it was not + nothing! You know that from the heat and the exertion you were ill for + more than a month afterward. And you know that there were others there, of + my own people, who might have done what you did, and did not!” + </p> + <p> + “But, hang it all! Why drag up a little thing like this?” + </p> + <p> + “Because, sahib, I might have no other opportunity, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Well? And what?” + </p> + <p> + “And the Rajput boy whom you carried was my son!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. + </h2> + <p> + The finding of a remount for Juggut Khan was not so troublesome as might + have been supposed. The rumors and plans and whispered orders for the + coming struggle had been passed around the countryside for months past, + and every man who owned a horse had it stalled safely near him, for use + when the hour should come. + </p> + <p> + There were country-ponies and Arabs and Kathiawaris and Khaubulis among + which to pick, and though the average run of them was worse than merely + bad, and though both best and worst were hidden away whenever possible, + good horses were discoverable. Within an hour, Bill Brown; with the aid of + his men, had routed out a Khaubuji stallion for Juggut Khan, one fit to + carry him against time the whole of the way to Bholat. + </p> + <p> + The Rajput mounted him where Brown unearthed him, and watched the signing + of a scribbled-out receipt with a cynical smile. + </p> + <p> + “If he comes to claim his money for the horse,” said Juggut Khan, “I—even + I, who am penniless—will pay him. Good-by, Brown sahib!” He leaned + over and grasped the sergeant by the hand. “Take my advice, now. I know + what is happening and what has happened. Fall back on Bholat at once. + Hurry! Seize horses or even asses for your men, and ride in hotfoot. + Salaam!” + </p> + <p> + He drove his right spur in, wheeled the horse and started across country + in the direction of Bholat at a hand-gallop, guiding himself solely by the + soldier's sixth sense of direction, and leaving the problem of possible + pitfalls to the horse. + </p> + <p> + “If what he says is true,” said Brown, as the clattering hoof-beats died + away, “and I'm game to take my oath he wouldn't lie to me, I'd give more + than a little to have him with me for the next few hours!” + </p> + <p> + The men came clustering round him now, anxious for an explanation. They + had held their tongues while Juggut Khan was there, because they happened + to know Brown too well to do otherwise. He would have snubbed any man who + dared to question him before the Indian. But, now that the Indian was + gone, curiosity could stay no longer within bounds. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Sergeant? Anything been happening? What's the news? What's + that I heard him say about rebellion? They're a rum lot, them Rajputs. + D'you think he's square? Tell us, Sergeant!” + </p> + <p> + “Listen, then. Rebellion has broken out. The native barracks at Jailpore + have been burned, and all the English officers are killed—or so says + Juggut Khan. He's riding on, to carry the news to General Baines. He says + that the mutineers are planning to come along this way some time within + the next few hours!” + </p> + <p> + “What are we going to do, then?” + </p> + <p> + “That's my business! I'm in command here!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but, Sergeant—aren't you going back to Bholat? Aren't you + going to follow him? Are you going to stay here and get cut up? We'll get + caught here like rats in a trap!” + </p> + <p> + “Are you giving orders here?” asked Brown acidly. “Fall in! Come on, now! + Hurry! 'Tshun—eyes right—ri'—dress. Eyes—front. + Ri'—turn. By the left—quick—march! Silence, now! Left! + Left! Left!” + </p> + <p> + He marched them back toward the crossroads without giving them any further + opportunity to remonstrate or ask for information. + </p> + <p> + It was not until he reached the crossroads, without being challenged, that + he showed any sign of being in any way disturbed. + </p> + <p> + “Sentry!” he shouted. “Sentry!” + </p> + <p> + But there was no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Halt!” he ordered, and he himself went forward to investigate. The + blackness swallowed him, but the men could hear him move, and they heard + him fall. They heard him muttering, too, within ten paces of them. Then + they heard his order. + </p> + <p> + “Bring a light here, some one.” + </p> + <p> + One man produced a piece of candle, struck a match and lit it. A moment + later they had all broken order, and were standing huddled up together + like a frightened flock of sheep, peering through dancing, candle-lit + shadows at something horrible that Brown was handling. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, Sergeant?” + </p> + <p> + “What in hell's happened?” + </p> + <p> + “Who was that swearing?” inquired Brown, with a sudden look up across his + shoulder. “You, Taylor? You again? Swearing in the presence of death? + Talking of hell, with your two comrades lying dead at the crossroads, and + you like to follow both o' them at any minute?” + </p> + <p> + Both of the guards lay dead. They lay quite neatly, side by side, without + a sign about them to show that they had met with violence. Brown rolled + one body over, though, and then the cause of death became more obvious. A + stream of blood welled out of the man's back, from between the + shoulder-blades—warm blood, that had not even started to coagulate. + </p> + <p> + “They've been dead about three minutes!” commented Brown, rising, and + wiping his hands in the road-dust to get the blood off them. “Pick 'em up. + Carefully, now! Frog-march 'em, face-downwards. That's better! Now, + forward. Quick, march!” + </p> + <p> + The procession advanced toward the guardhouse in grim silence, and once + again there was no challenge when there should have been. The lamp was + still burning in the guardroom, for they could see it plainly as they drew + nearer, but there was no noise of a sentry's footfalls, or hoarse “Halt!” + and “Who comes there?” + </p> + <p> + Nor was there any sign yet of the man whom Brown had left to guard both + “clink” and guardroom. Brown let them take their dead comrades into the + guardroom first, then set two fresh guards at the door, and covered up the + bodies with a sheet before commencing to investigate. + </p> + <p> + He started off toward the cell where he had imprisoned the fakir. He went + by himself, and no one volunteered to go with him. + </p> + <p> + He had gone five yards when the second explanation met his eyes. This time + there was no need to stoop down, nor to turn any body over. The sentry + whom he had left to guard both cell and guardroom stood bolt upright, with + his mouth and his eyes wide open; skewered to the wall of the guardhouse + by an iron spike, which pierced his chest. + </p> + <p> + “A lamp and four men here!” ordered Brown, without waiting to let the + horror of the sight sink in. “Take that poor chap down, and lay him in the + guardroom beside the others. How? How should I know? Pull it out, or break + it off—I don't care which; don't leave him there, that's all.” + </p> + <p> + He walked on toward the cell-door, while they labored, and fingered + gingerly around the spike, which must have been driven through the + sentry's chest with a hammer. + </p> + <p> + “I thought as much!” he muttered. And, though he had not thought as much, + he might have done so. “I knew that a man who could maim his own body in + that way was capable of any crime in the calendar!” + </p> + <p> + The door of the cell stood open, and there was no sign of any fakir, or of + any one who might have helped him go—nothing but an empty cell, with + the haunting smell of the fakir still abiding in it. + </p> + <p> + Bill Brown spat, and closed the cell-door. + </p> + <p> + “I'm thinking that Juggut Khan told nothing but the truth,” he muttered. + “Things look right, don't they, if that's so! Obey, Obey! I'd have liked + to see England just once again—I would indeed. If I could only see + her just once. If I'd a letter from her, or her picture. This is a rotten, + rat-in-a-hole, lonely, uncreditable way to die! I wish Juggut Khan were + here. I'd have somebody to help me keep my good courage up in that case.” + </p> + <p> + The lock on the cell-door was broken, so he only closed it, then started + back toward the guardroom. + </p> + <p> + “Three rifles, and three ammunition pouches gone!” he muttered. “That's + three weapons they've got, in any case. A hornet's nest'd be better + stopping in than this place.” + </p> + <p> + He overtook the men who were carrying in the nail-killed sentry, and he + saw that their faces were drawn and white. So were those of the other men, + who were clustered in the guardroom door. + </p> + <p> + “What next, Sergeant? Hadn't we better be quick? Why not burn the place? + That'd do instead o' buryin' the dead ones, and it'd give us a light to + get away by. Might serve as a beacon, too. Might fetch assistance!” + </p> + <p> + It was evident that panic had set in. + </p> + <p> + “Fall in!” commanded Brown, and his straight back took on a curve that + meant straightness to the nth power. + </p> + <p> + “'Tshun! Ri'—dress! Eyes—front!” + </p> + <p> + He glared at them for just about one minute before he spoke, and during + that minute each man there realized that what was coming would be quite + irrevocable. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sergeant here. My orders are to hold this post until relieved. + Therefore—and I hope there's no man here holds any other notion; I + hope it for his own sake!—until we are relieved, we're going to hold + it! Moreover, this command is going to be a real command, from now on. + It's going to buck up. I'm going to put some ginger in it. There are three + dead men here to be avenged, and I'm going to avenge 'em, or make you do + it! And if any man imagines he's going to help himself by feeling afraid, + let me assure him that the only thing he needs to fear is me! I've a right + to command men—I know how—I intend to do it. And if I've got + to make men first out of whey-faced cowards, why, I'm game to do it, and + this is just where I begin! Now! Anybody got a word to say?” + </p> + <p> + There was grim silence. + </p> + <p> + “Good! I'll assume, then, until I'm contradicted, that you're all brave + men. Into the guardroom with you!” + </p> + <p> + “Sahib! Sahib!” said a voice beside him. + </p> + <p> + “Well? What?” + </p> + <p> + It was the Beluchi interpreter who had carried the lamp for him that + evening when he arrested the fakir. + </p> + <p> + “Run, sahib! It is time to run away!” + </p> + <p> + “Go on, then! Why don't you run?” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid, sahib.” + </p> + <p> + “Of what?” + </p> + <p> + “Of the men who slew the soldiers. Sahib! Remember what the fakir said. + You will be pegged out on an anthill, sahib, when you have been beaten. + Run, while there is yet time!” + </p> + <p> + “Did you see them kill my men?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, sahib!” + </p> + <p> + “How was that?” + </p> + <p> + “I ran away and hid, sahib.” + </p> + <p> + “How many were there?” + </p> + <p> + “Very many. The Punjabi skin-buyer brought them.” + </p> + <p> + “He did, did he? Very well! Did he go off with the fakir?” + </p> + <p> + “I think he did. I did not see.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we'll suppose he did, then. And when the day breaks; we'll suppose + that we can find him, and we'll go in search of him, and I wouldn't like + to be that Punjabi when I do find him! Get into the guard-room, and wait + in there until I give you leave to stir.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV. + </h2> + <p> + An Indian city that has yet to have its mysterie's laid bare and banished + by electric light is a stage deliberately set for massacre. The bazaars + run criss-crosswise; any way at all save parallel, and anyhow but + straight. Between them lies always a maze of passages, and alleys, deep + sided, narrow, overhung by trellised windows and loopholed walls and + guarded stairways. + </p> + <p> + For every square inch where the sun can shine there are a hundred where a + man could hide unseen. Through century piled on suspicious century, no + designer, no architect, no builder has neglected to provide a means of + secret ingress, and still more secret egress, to each new house. And the + newest house is built on secret passages that hid conspirators against the + kings of men who lived before the oldest house was thought of. + </p> + <p> + After the Mutiny of '57 came broader roads—so that a cannon might be + trained along them. + </p> + <p> + But in '57, Jailpore was a nest of winding alley-ways and blind bat and + rat holes, where weird smells and strange unlisted poisons and prophecies + were born. In its midst, tight-packed in a roaring babel-din of + many-colored markets, stood a stone-walled palace, built once by a Hindu + king to commemorate a victory over Moslems, added to by a Moslem Nizam, to + celebrate his conquest of the Hindus and added to once again by the + Honorable East India Company, to make a suitable barracks for its native + troops. + </p> + <p> + From the rat-infested slums, from the hot shadows and the mazy + back-bazaars, from temples, store-houses, shops, and from the sin-steeped + underworld, there screamed and surged and swept the many-graded, + many-minded polyglot rebellion-spume. A quarter of a million underdogs had + turned against their masters. A hundred factions and as many more + religions, all had one common end in view—to loot. All were agreed + on one thing—that the first stage of the game must be to turn + Jailpore and, after Jailpore, India, into a charnel-house. + </p> + <p> + Around and around the burning palace the mob screamed and swept + uncontrolled. Moslem looted Hindu, and Hindu Moslem. Armed sepoys, with + the blood of their British officers fresh-soaked on their British + uniforms, and the unspent pay of “John Company” still jingling in their + pockets, danced weird, wild devil-dances through the streets, clearing + their way, when they saw fit, with cold steel or wanton volleys. Women + screamed. Caste looted caste. Loose horses galloped madly through the + streets. Here and there a pitched battle raged, where a merchant who had + wealth had also courage, and apprentices and friends to help him defend + his store. + </p> + <p> + And through all the din and clamor, under and above the howling and the + volleys and the roar of flames, sounded the steady thumping of the sacred + war-drums. The whole sky glowed red. The Indian night was scorched and + smoked and lit by arson. Hell screamed with the cooking of red mutiny, and + throbbed with the thunder of the sacred temple-drums. And that was only + one of the hells, and a small one. India glowed red that night from end to + end! + </p> + <p> + Juggut Khan, free-lance Rajput and gentleman of fortune, had ridden out of + that caldron of Jailpore. His house was a heap of glowing ashes, and his + goods were tossed for and distributed among a company. But his mark lay + indelibly impressed upon the town. There were three European women and a + child who were nowhere to be found; and there was a trail that led from + somewhere near the palace to the western gate. It was a red trail. + </p> + <p> + In one spot lay a sepoy pierced through by a lance, and with half of the + lance-shaft still standing upright in him. That had been bad art—sheer + playing to the gallery! Juggut Khan had run him through and tried to lift + him on the lance-end for a trophy. It was luck that saved the day for him + that time, not swordsmanship. + </p> + <p> + But a man who has done what he had done that day may be forgiven. There + lay nine other men behind him where his lance was left, and each of them + lay face upward with a round red hole in his anatomy where the lance had + entered. + </p> + <p> + And from the point where he had broken his lance and left it, up to where + a self-appointed guard had refused at first to open the city gate for him, + there was a trail that did honor to the man who taught him swordsmanship. + One man lay headless, and another's head was only part of him, because the + sword had split it down the middle and the two halves were still joined + together at the neck. + </p> + <p> + There were men who claimed afterward that of the twenty-three who lay + between his lance-shaft and the city gate, some five or six had been slain + in brawls and looting forays. And Juggut Khan was never known to discuss + the matter. But the fact remains that every man of them was killed by the + blade or point of a cavalry-saber, and that Juggut Khan broke out of the + place untouched. + </p> + <p> + And another fact worthy of record is, that underneath a stone floor, in a + building that was partly powder-magazine-surrounded at every end and side + by mutineers who searched for them, and very nearly stifled by the dust of + decaying ages—there lay three women and a child, with a jar of water + close beside them and a sack of hastily collected things to eat. They lay + there in all but furnace-heat, close-huddled in the darkness, and they + shuddered and sobbed and blessed Juggut Khan alternately. Below them the + whispering echoes sighed mysteriously through a maze of tunnels. Around + them, and around their sack of food, the rats scampered. Above them, where + a ten-ton stone trapdoor lay closed over their heads, black powder stood + in heaps and sacks and barrels. Closing the trapdoor had been easy. One + pushed it and it fell. Not all the mutineers in Jailpore nor Juggut Khan + nor any one could open it again without the secret. And no man living knew + the secret. The three women and the child were safe from immediate + intrusion! + </p> + <p> + Those three women and that child were not so exceptionally placed for + India, of that date. Two of the women had seen their husbands slain that + afternoon, before their eyes. They were mother and daughter and grandson; + and the fourth was an English nurse, red-cheeked still from the kiss of + English Channel breezes. + </p> + <p> + “If only Bill were here!” the nurse wailed. “I know he'd find a way out. + There wasn't never nothing nowhere that beat Bill. Bill wouldn't ha' left + us! Bill'd ha' took us out o' here, an' saved our lives. Bill—snnff, + snnff—Bill wouldn't ha'—snnff, snnff—shoved us in a + rat-hole and took hisself off!” + </p> + <p> + She had not yet lost her English point of view. She still believed that + the strong right arm of an English lover could play ducks and drakes with + Destiny. One-half of the world, at least, still swears that she was wrong, + and her mistress and the other woman thought her despicable, ridiculous, + unenlightened. It was a hardship to them, to be endured with dignity and + patience, but none the less a hardship, that they should be left and + should have to die with this woman of the Ranks Below to keep them + company. She was an honest woman, or they would never have engaged her and + paid her passage all the way to India. But she was not of their jat, and + she was a fool. It happens, however, that her point of view saved England + for the English, and that the other point of view had brought England to + the brink of utter ruin. + </p> + <p> + “If you'd leave off talking about your truly tiresome lover, and would + pray to God, Jane,” said Mrs. Leslie, “the rest of us might have a chance + to pray to God too! This isn't the time, let me tell you, to be thinking + of carnal love-affairs. Recall your sins, one by one, and ask forgiveness + for them.” + </p> + <p> + In the gloom of the vault, poor Jane was quite invisible. The sound of her + snuffling and sobs was the only clue to her direction. But her bridling + was a thing that could be felt through the stuffy blackness, and there was + a ring in her retort that gave the lie to the tears that she was shedding. + </p> + <p> + “The only sin I ask forgiveness for,” she answered in a level voice, “is + having let Bill come to India alone. Pray to God, is it? Go on! Pray! If + Bill was here, he'd start on that stone door without no words nor + argument, unless some one tried to stop him. Then there'd be an argument! + And he'd get it open too. Bill's the kind that does his prayin' afterward, + and God helps men like Bill!” + </p> + <p> + “Well—I'm afraid that your Bill isn't here, and can't get here. So + the best thing that you can do is to pray and let us pray.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll pray for Bill!” said Jane defiantly. “Bill don't know that I'm in + India, and he surely doesn't know I'm here. But if he knew—Oh, God! + Let him know! Tell him! He'd come so quick. He'd—snnff, snnff—he'd—why, + he'd ha' been here long ago! Dear God, tell Bill I'm here, that's all!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V. + </h2> + <p> + General Baines was in a position to be envied. No soldier worthy of his + salt is other than elated at the thought of war. Now for the proving of + his theories. Now for the fruit of all his tireless preaching and + inspection and preparing—the planned, pegged-out swoop to victory! + </p> + <p> + He knew—as few men in India knew—the length and the breadth of + what was coming. And when two of his non-commissioned officers sent in + word that the whole country was ablaze, he realized, as few other men did + in that minute, that this was no local outbreak. The long-threatened + holocaust had come, and he had to act, to smite, to strike sure and swift + at the festering root of things, or Central India was lost. + </p> + <p> + But his hands were tied still. He knew. He could see. He could feel. He + could hear. But he had his orders. That very morning they had been + repeated to him, and with emphasis. In a letter from the Council he had + been told that “slight disturbances, of a purely local character, were not + without the bounds of possibility, due partly to religious unrest and + partly to local causes. Under no circumstances were any extended reprisals + to be undertaken until further orders, and generals commanding districts + were required to keep the bulk of their commands within cantonments.” + </p> + <p> + The countryside was up. All India probably was up. His own men, set by + himself to watch with one definite idea, had confirmed his worst fears. + And he was under orders to stay with the bulk of his command in Bholat! + Corked up in cantonments, with three thousand first-class fighting-men + squealing for trouble, and red rebellion running riot all around him + though it might be quelled by instant action! + </p> + <p> + And then worse happened. Juggut Khan clattered in to Bholat, spurring a + horse that was so spent it could barely keep its feet. It fell in a woeful + heap outside the general's quarters, and Juggut Khan—all but as + weary as the horse—swung himself free, staggered past the sentry at + the door and rapped with his hilt on the tough teak panel. They had to + give him brandy and feed him before he could summon strength enough to + tell what he had seen and heard and done. + </p> + <p> + “And Brown stayed on at the crossroads?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, General sahib! He stayed!” + </p> + <p> + The general sat back and drummed his heels together on the floor in a way + that his aides had come to recognize as meaning trouble. + </p> + <p> + “You say that all of the European officers in Jailpore have been killed?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not count. I did not even know them all by mine or sight. I think, + though, that all were killed. I heard men among the mutineers declare that + all had been accounted for, save only three women and a child, and me. + Those four I myself had hidden, and as for myself—I too was + accounted for, and not without credit to the Raj for whom I fight!” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you, Juggut Khan! Did you have to cut your way out?” + </p> + <p> + The Rajput smiled. + </p> + <p> + “There was a message to deliver, sahib! What would you? Should I have + waited while they arrested me?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! You managed to evade them, did you?” + </p> + <p> + “At least I am here, sahib!” + </p> + <p> + The general chewed at his mustache, leaned his chair back against the wall + and tapped at his boot with a riding-cane. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, Juggut Khan,” he said after another minute's thought, “what is + your idea? Is this sporadic? Is this a local outbreak? Will this die down, + if left to burn itself out?” + </p> + <p> + The Rajput laughed aloud. + </p> + <p> + “'Sporadic,”' he answered, “is a word of which I have yet to learn the + meaning. If 'sporadic' means rebellion from Peshawur to Cape Cormorin—revolution, + rape, massacre, arson, high treason, torture, death to every European and + every half-breed and every loyal native north, south, east and west—then, + yes, General sahib, 'sporadic' would be the proper word. If your Honor + should mean less than that, then some other word is needed!” + </p> + <p> + “Then you confirm my own opinion. You are inclined to think that this is + an organized and country-wide rebellion?” + </p> + <p> + “I know of what I speak, sahib!” + </p> + <p> + “You don't think that you are being influenced in your opinion by the fact + that you have seen a massacre, and have lost everything you had?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, sahib! This is no hour for joking, or for bearing of false tidings. + I tell you, up, sahib! Boots and saddles! Strike!” + </p> + <p> + The general chewed at his mustache another minute. + </p> + <p> + “You know this province well?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “None better than I. I have traversed every yard of it, attending to my + business.” + </p> + <p> + “And your business is?” + </p> + <p> + “Each to his trade, sahib. My trade is honorable.” + </p> + <p> + “I have good reasons for asking, and no impertinence is meant. Be good + enough to tell me. I wish to know what value I may place on your opinion.” + </p> + <p> + “Sahib, I am a full sergeant of the Rajput Horse retired. I bear one + medal.” + </p> + <p> + “And—” + </p> + <p> + “I sell charms, sahib.” + </p> + <p> + “What sort of charms?” + </p> + <p> + “All sorts. But principally charms against the evil eye, and the red + sickness, and death by violence. But, also love-charms now and then, and + now and then a death-charm to a man who has an enemy and lacks + swordsmanship or courage. I trade with each and every man, sahib, and + listen to the talk of each, and hold my tongue!” + </p> + <p> + “Strange trade for a soldier, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Would you have me a robber, sahib? Or shall I sweep the streets—I, + who have led a troop before now? Nay, sahib! A soldier can fight, and can + do little else. When the day comes that the Raj has no more need of him—or + thinks that it has no more need of him—he must either starve or + become a prophet. And his own home is no place for a prophet who would + turn his prophesying into silver coin!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Well-now, tell me! What is your opinion, without reference to what + anybody else may think? You have just seen the massacre at Jailpore, and + you know how many men I have here. And you know the condition of the road + and the number of the mutineers. Would you, if you were in my place, + strike at Jailpore immediately?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, sahib. That I would not. I would strike north. And I would strike so + swiftly that the mutineers would wonder whence I came. In Jailpore, all is + over. They have done the harm, and they are in charge there. They have the + powder-magazine in their possession, and the stands of arms, and the first + advantage. Leave them there, then, sahib, and strike where you are not + expected. In Jailpore you would be out of touch. You would have just that + many more miles to march when the time comes—and it has come, sahib!—to + join forces with the next command, and hit hard at the heart of things.” + </p> + <p> + “And the heart of things is—” + </p> + <p> + “Delhi!” + </p> + <p> + “You display a quite amazing knowledge of the game.” + </p> + <p> + “I am a soldier, sahib!” + </p> + <p> + “You would leave Jailpore, then, to its fate?” + </p> + <p> + “Jailpore has already met its fate, sahib. The barracks are afire, and the + city has been given over to be looted. Reckon no more with Jailpore! + Reckon only of the others. Listen, sahib! Has any message come from the + next command? No? Then why? Think you that even a local outbreak could + occur without some message being sent to you, and to the next division + south of you? Why has no message come? Where is the next command? The next + command north? Harumpore? Then why is there no news from Harumpore? I will + tell you, sahib.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean, I suppose, that the country is up, in between?” + </p> + <p> + “You know that it is up, sahib!” + </p> + <p> + “You think that no message could get through to me?” + </p> + <p> + “I know that it could not! Else had one already come. My advice to you, + sahib, as one soldier to another and tendered with all respect, is to up + and leave this Bholat. Here, of what use are you? Here you can hold a + small city, until the countryside has time to rise and lay siege to you + and hem you in! Outside of here, you can be a hornet-storm! They will burn + Bholat behind you. Let them! Let them, too, pay the price. Swoop down on + Harumpore, sahib—join there with Kendrick sahib's command. There + make a fresh plan, and swoop down on some other place. But move, quickly, + and keep on moving! And waste no time on places that are already lost.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you would have me leave those women and that child, that you tell me + of to their fate?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, sahib! I am not of your command. I have done my duty to the Raj, and + I now go about my own business.” + </p> + <p> + “And that is?” + </p> + <p> + “To repay a debt that I owe the Raj, sahib!” + </p> + <p> + “Your answers are rather unnecessarily evasive, Juggut Khan. Be good + enough to explain yourself!” + </p> + <p> + “I ride back to Jailpore, sahib. I would have stayed there, but it seemed + right and soldierly to bring through the news first. Now, I return to do + what I may to rescue those whom I hid there. I owe that to the Raj!” + </p> + <p> + “You mean that you will ride alone?” + </p> + <p> + “At least half of the distance, sahib. I had a favor to ask.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Are you marching north, sahib?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not determined yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Determined, sahib! This is no hour for dallying! Give orders now! Up! + Strike, sahib! Listen! Should you march on Jailpore, the mutineers, who + far outnumber you, will learn beforehand of your coming, and will put the + place in a state of defense. It may take you weeks to fight your way in! + Leave Jailpore, and those who are left in it to me, and lend me that + non-commissioned officer of yours who guards the crossroads, and his + twelve men. With a few, we can manage what a whole division might fail to + do. And you march north, sahib, and burn and harry and slay! Strike + quickly, where the trouble is yet brewing, and not where the day is lost + already!” + </p> + <p> + It was case of the British power in India on one side of the scale, + against three women and a child on the other; sentiment in the balance + against strategy. And strategy must win, especially since this Rajput was + offering his services. + </p> + <p> + “What are their names, you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Leslie, wife of Captain Leslie; Mrs. Standish, wife of Colonel + Standish and mother of Mrs. Leslie; Mrs. Leslie's child—I know not + his name, he is but a child in arms—and the child's nurse.” + </p> + <p> + The general still found it difficult to make up his mind. + </p> + <p> + “What proof have I of you?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Sahib, my honor is in question! I have a debt to pay!” + </p> + <p> + “What debt?” + </p> + <p> + “To the Raj.” + </p> + <p> + “To the Raj?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, Sahib! I have but one son, and his life was saved for me by a + British soldier. A life for a life. Four lives for a life. I ride! I need, + though, a fresh horse. And I ask for the loan of that sergeant, and those + twelve men.” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder whether a man such as you can realize exactly what it means to + us to know that white women are in Jailpore, at the mercy of black + mutineers? I mean, are you sufficiently aware of the extreme horror of the + situation?” + </p> + <p> + “Knew you Captain Collins Sahib, of the Jailpore command?” + </p> + <p> + “Know him well.” + </p> + <p> + “Knew you his memsahib?” + </p> + <p> + “She was a niece of mine.” + </p> + <p> + “I slew her myself, with this sword!” + </p> + <p> + “When? Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday. Because her husband could not get to her himself, and since he + and I knew each other, and he trusted me. I said to her, 'Memsahib! I have + your husband's orders!' She asked me 'What orders, Juggut Khan?' I said, + 'Why ask me, memsahib? Is my task easier, or yours?' She said 'Obey your + orders, Juggut Khan, and accept my thanks now, since I shall be unable to + thank you afterward!' And then she looked me bravely in the face, and met + her death, sahib. Of a truth I know! I am to be trusted!” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you, Juggut Khan. And, incidentally, I beg your pardon for + having doubted you. Have you slept?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, Sahib. And I sleep not on this side of the crossroads!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't place Sergeant Brown under your command—you'll understand + that's impossible—but, it's quite impossible for him to catch me up. + He may as well cooperate with you. Wait.” He paused, and wrote, then + continued, “Here is a note to him, in which I order him to work with you, + and to take your advice whenever possible. Go to the stables, and choose + any horse you like except my first charger. Here—here is money; you + may need some. Count that, will you. How much is it? Four hundred rupees? + Write out a receipt for it. Now, good luck to you, Juggut Khan. And if you + should get through alive—I'll pay you the compliment of admitting + that you won't come through without the women, and I know that Brown won't—if + you should have luck, and should happen to get through, why, look for me + at Harumpore, or elsewhere to the northward of it. I start with my + division in an hour.” + </p> + <p> + “Salaam, sahib!” said Rajput, rising and standing at the salute. + </p> + <p> + “Salaam, Juggut Khan! Take any food, or drink, or clothing that you want. + Good-by, and your good luck ride with you. I feel like a murderer, but I + know I've done the best that can be done!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI. + </h2> + <p> + Now if Sergeant Brown possessed a sweetheart, and the sweetheart lived in + England, and if Brown still loved her—as has already been more than + hinted at—it is not at all unreasonable to wonder why he had no + likeness of her, no news of her, nothing but her memory around which to + weave the woof of sentiment—at least, it's not unreasonable so to + wonder in this late year of grace. + </p> + <p> + Then, though, in 1857, when a newspaper cost threepence or thereabouts, + and schools were so far from being free that only the sons of gentlemen + (and seldom the daughters of even gentlemen, remember) attended them, the + art of reading was not so common as it now is. Writing was still more + uncommon. And it has not been pretended that Brown was other than a + commoner. He was a stiff-backed man, and honest. And the pride that had + raised him to the rank of sergeant was even stiffer than his stock. But he + came from the ranks that owned no vote, nor little else, in those days, + and he owned a sweetheart of the same rank as himself, who could neither + read nor write. And when people whose somewhat primitive ideas on right + and wrong lead them to look on daguerreotypes as works of the devil happen + too to be living more than five thousand miles apart, when one of the two + can not write, nor readily afford the cost of postage, and when the other + is nearly always on the move from post to post, it is not exactly to be + wondered at that memory of each other was all they had to dwell upon. + </p> + <p> + A journey to India in '57 meant, to the rank and file, oblivion and worse. + There were men then, of course, just as there are now, who would leave a + girl behind them tied fast by a promise of futile and endless devotion; + men who knew what the girls did not know—that India was all but + inaccessible to any one outside of government employ, and that a common + soldier's chance of sending for his girl, or of coming home again to claim + her, was something in the neighborhood of one in thirty thousand. + </p> + <p> + But there were other men, like William Brown, who were a shade too honest + and too stiff-chinned to buckle under to the social conditions of England + in those days, and who were consequently not exactly pestered with offers + of employment. And a man who could see the difference between doffing his + ragged cap to a dissolute squire or parson, and saluting his better on + parade, could also see the selfishness of leaving an honest girl to + languish for him. Brown could not get a living in England. So he told his + girl to get a better man, swung his canvas bag across his shoulder and + marched away. + </p> + <p> + “What kind of a man is a better man than Bill?” she had wondered. Men like + Bill seem to have a knack of judging character, and of picking girls who + are as steadfast as themselves. So it is not to be wondered at that almost + before her tears were dry she had set about attempting what few women of + her type and time would have dreamed of. If Bill had set her free, she + reasoned, Bill had no more authority over her, and she might do exactly + what she chose. Bill could release, but he could not make her take another + man. So, for all that the local yeomen, and local tradesmen even, haunted + the little cottage on the Downs, and pestered her with their attentions, + no one supplanted Bill. + </p> + <p> + Bill could tell her—and had told her—that India was no country + for a white woman; that there were snakes there, and black men and tigers + and even worse. But, since he had set her free, if she could manage it she + was quite at liberty to brave the tigers and the snakes. And, once there, + she would see whether she was free or not, and whether Bill was, either! + </p> + <p> + It took Bill Brown six years of constant honest effort to become a + sergeant. It took Jane Emmett six weeks of pride-consuming and vexatious + vigilance to procure for herself a job as nurse in a soldier-family. And + it took her six more years of unremitting diligence, sweetened by all the + attributes that seem desirable when nursing other people's children and + embittered by the shame of grudging patronage, before she was considered + dependable enough to be recommended for the service of a family just + leaving for Bengal. Then, however, her world was a real world again! + </p> + <p> + Five months on a sailing-ship around the Cape—deep-laden, gunwales + awash in a beam—on Bay-of-Biscay “snorer,” hove-to for a week off + Cape Agul—has, while the clumsy brigantine rolled the masts loose in + her, all but dismasted in a typhoon come astray from the China Sea, fed on + moldy bread, and even moldier pork, with a fretful child to nurse, and an + exacting mother to be pleased! Jane Emmett laughed at it. Bill had been + there before her, and had done more on his way, and worse Bengal did not + frighten her. Nor did the knowledge, when she reached it, that Bill was + very likely still some hundreds of miles away. She, who had come five + thousand miles as the crows are said to fly and nine thousand by the map, + could manage the odd hundreds. And she could wait. She had waited six long + years. What was another month or two? + </p> + <p> + She had not even a notion where Bill was, beyond a vague one that he + belonged to another province. For when the Honorable East India Company + was muddling the affairs of India, the honors and emoluments and + privileges—such as they were!—were reserved for the benefit of + the commissioned ranks. + </p> + <p> + So a transfer to Jailpore did not mean to Jane Emmett ten extra degrees of + heat, the neighborhood of jungle-fever and a brand-new breed of smells. + Those disadvantages, which weighted down the souls of her employers, were + completely overshadowed, so far as she was concerned, by the knowledge + that she was traveling nearer by a hundred leagues or so to where her Bill + was stationed. She was going west; and somewhere to the west was Bill. + Anything was good—fever, and prickly heat, and smells included—that + brought her any nearer him. + </p> + <p> + There would be no sense in endeavoring to analyze her sensations when the + sudden outburst overwhelmed the inner-guard at Jailpore. The sight of + white women being butchered, and of white men with the blood of their own + women on their hands, selling their lives as dearly as the God of War + would let them in a holocaust of flames, blinded her. It was probably just + a splurge of fire and noise and smoke and blood in her memory, with one or + two details standing out. The only real sensation that she felt—even + when a tall, lean Rajput flung her across his shoulder, ran with her and + dropped her down through a square hole into stifling darkness—was a + longing for Bill Brown, her Bill, the one man in the world who could + surely stop the butchery. + </p> + <p> + The others prayed. But she refused to pray. She felt angry—not + prayerful! Had she come nine thousand miles, and sacrificed six good years + of youth and youth's heritage, to be cast into a reeking dungeon and left + to die there in the dark? Not if Bill should know of it! And so she + changed her argument, and prayed for Bill. If only Bill knew—straight-backed, + honest, stiff-chinned, uncompromising, plain Bill Brown. He would change + things! + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Bill! Bill! Bill!” she sobbed. “Dear God, bring Bill to me!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII. + </h2> + <p> + When a man knows what is out against him, and from which direction he may + look to meet death, he only needs to be a very ordinary man to make at + least a gallant showing. Gallery or no gallery to watch, given + responsibility and trained men under hire, not one man in a thousand will + fail to face death with dignity. + </p> + <p> + But Brown knew practically nothing, and understood still less, of what was + happening. He had Juggut Khan's word for it that Jailpore was in flames, + and that all save four of its European population had been killed. He + believed that to be a probably exaggerated statement of affairs, but he + did not blink the fact that he might expect to be overwhelmed almost + without notice, and at any minute. That was a fact which he accepted, for + the sake of argument and as a working-basis on which to build a plan of + some kind—His orders were to hold that post, and he would hold it + until relieved by General Baines or death. But there are several ways of + holding a hot coal besides the rather obvious one of sitting on it. + </p> + <p> + It would have been a fine chance to be theatrical, had play-acting been in + his line. Many and many a full-blown general has risen to authority and + fame by means of absolutely useless gallery-play. He believed that he + would presently be relieved by General Baines, who he felt sure would + march at once on Jailpore; and had he chosen to he could have addressed + the men, have set them to throwing up defenses and have made a nice + theatrical redoubt that he could have held quite easily with the help of + nine men for a day or two. And since the really worthwhile things go often + unrewarded, but the gallery-plays never, nobody would have blamed him had + he chosen some such course as that. + </p> + <p> + But Brown's idea of holding down a place was to make that place a thorn in + the side of the enemy. And since he did not know who was the enemy, or + where he was, nor why he was an enemy, nor when he would attack, he + proposed to find out these things for himself preparatory to making the + said enemy as uncomfortable as his meager resources would permit, when + eked out by an honest “dogged-does-it” brain. + </p> + <p> + He buried the three men whom Fate had seemed to value at the price of a + fakir's freedom. And, being a religious man, to whom religion was a fact + and the rest of the universe a theory, he was able to say a full funeral + service over them from memory. He said it at the grave-end, with a lantern + in his hand and one man facing him across the grave—as the English + used to drink when the Danes had landed, each watching for the glint of + steel beyond the other's shoulder. + </p> + <p> + And, four on each side of the trench that they had dug, the remainder + knelt and faced the night each way—partly from enforced piety, and + partly because eight men back to back, with their bayonets outward and + their butts against their knees, are an awkward proposition for an enemy. + They mumbled the responses because Brown made them do it, and they kept + their eyes skinned because the night seemed full of other eyes, and + sounds. + </p> + <p> + “And now, you men,” said Brown, changing his voice to suit the nature of + his task, “you can get your sleep by fours. I don't care which four of you + goes to sleep first, but there are only two watches of us left, and there + are about four hours left to sleep in, by my reckoning. That's two hours' + sleep for each man. And we'll keep clear of the guardroom. As I understand + my orders, the important point's the cross-roads. I'm supposed to halt + every one who comes, and to ask him his business. And that'd be impossible + to do from the guardroom here. Let this be a lesson to you men, now. In + interpretin' orders, when a point's in doubt, always look for the meaning + of the orders rather than the letter of them, obeying the letter only when + the meaning and the letter are the same thing. The letter of our orders + says the guardroom. The meaning's clear. We're here to guard the + cross-roads. We take the meaning, and let the letter hang! + </p> + <p> + “Besides! The way it seems to me, if there's any more trouble cooking in + this neighborhood, it's going to cook pretty fast, and it's going to boil + around that guardroom; and if we're not in the guardroom, why, that's + point number one for us! Leave the guardroom lantern lighted, and bring + out nothing but your cartridge-pouches and the box of ammunition. Leave + everything else where it lies. Quick, now.” + </p> + <p> + They obeyed him on the run, afraid to be out of his sight for a moment + even, trusting him as little children trust a nurse, and ready to do + anything so long as he would only keep them up and doing, and not make + them stay by the scene of the murders. Brown knew their state of mind as + accurately as he knew the range of their service rifles, and he knew just + how he could best keep panic from them. He knew too, if not what was best + to do, at least what he intended doing, and he knew how he could best get + them in a state to do it. + </p> + <p> + Behind his own mind lay all the while a sense of loneliness and + hopelessness. He did not entertain the thought of failure to hold the + crossroads, and he was so certain that General Baines would come with his + division that he could almost see the advance-guard trotting toward him + down the trunk road. But there is no accounting for a soldier's moods, and + something told him—something deep down inside him that he could + neither name nor understand—that he was out now on the adventure of + a lifetime, and that the heart-cord which had held him tight to England + all these years had been cut. He felt gloomy and dispirited, but not a man + of the nine who followed him had the slightest inkling of it. + </p> + <p> + He halted them outside the guardroom, and bullydamned two of them because + some unimportant part of their accouterments was missing; and he + “'Tshuned” them, and stood them at ease, and “'Tshuned” them again, until + he had them jumping at the word. Then he marched them two abreast in and + out among the huts in search of any sign of native servants. They found no + sign of any one at all. Though in that black darkness it would have been + quite possible for half a hundred men to lie undetected. Brown decided + that the camp was empty. He thought it probable that any one concealed + there would have tried his luck on somebody at least, at close range as he + passed. + </p> + <p> + So he marched them back to the guard-room once again, and sent two of them + in to drag out the shivering Beluchi, who had taken cover underneath a cot + and refused to come out until he was dragged out by the leg. The native's + terror served to pull the men together quite a little, for Tommy Atkins + always does and always did behave himself with pride when what he is + pleased to consider his inferiors are anywhere about. They showed that + unfortunate Beluchi how white men marched into the darkness—best + foot foremost; without halt or hesitation, when ghosts or murderers or + unseen marksmen were close at hand. + </p> + <p> + The Beluchi let himself be dragged, trembling, between two of them. It was + he who first saw something move, or heard some one breathe. For he was + absolutely on edge, and had nothing to attend to but his own fear. The + others had to keep both eyes and ears lifting, to please Brown the + exacting. The Beluchi struggled and held back, almost breaking loose, and + actually tearing his loin-cloth. + </p> + <p> + “Sahib!” he whispered hoarsely. “Sahib!” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” demanded Brown, scarcely waiting for an answer, though. + Something told him what it was that moved, and his own skin felt + goose-fleshy from neck to heel. + </p> + <p> + “The fakir, sahib!” + </p> + <p> + There was a murmur through the ranks, a sibilant indrawing of the breath. + </p> + <p> + “Did I hear anybody swear?” asked Brown. + </p> + <p> + Nobody answered him. All nine men stood stock-still, leaning on their + rifles, their heads craned forward and their eyes strained in the + direction of the gloomy baobab. + </p> + <p> + “Form single rank!” commanded Brown. + </p> + <p> + There was no response. They stood there fixed like a row of chickens + staring at a snake! + </p> + <p> + “Form single rank!” + </p> + <p> + He leaped at them, and broke the first rule of the service—as a man + may when he is man enough, and the alternative would be black shame. + </p> + <p> + His fist was a hard one and heavy, and they felt the weight of it. + </p> + <p> + “Form single rank! Take one pace open order! Extend! Now, forward—by + the right! Right dress, there!” + </p> + <p> + He marched in front of them, and they followed him for very shame, now + that he had broken their paralysis. + </p> + <p> + “Halt! Port-arms! Charge bayonets!” + </p> + <p> + He was peering at something in the dark, something that chuckled and + smelled horrible, and sat unusually still for anything that lived. + </p> + <p> + “Numbers One, Two, Three—left wheel—forward! Halt! Numbers + Seven, Eight, Nine—right wheel—forward! Halt!” + </p> + <p> + They were standing now on three sides of a square. The fourth side was the + trunk of the baobab. Between them and the trunk, the streaming tendrils + swayed and swung, bats flitted and something still invisible sat still and + chuckled. + </p> + <p> + “One pace forward—march!” + </p> + <p> + They could see now. The fakir sat and stared at them and grinned. Brown + raised the lamp and let its rays fall on him. The light glinted off his + eyes, and off the only other part of him that shone—the long, + curved, ghastly fingernails that had grown through the palm of his + upstretched hand. + </p> + <p> + “How did you get here?” demanded Brown, not afraid to speak, for fear that + fright would take possession of himself as well as of his men, but quite + well aware that the fakir would not answer him. Then he remembered the + Beluchi. + </p> + <p> + “Ask him, you! Ask him how he came here.” + </p> + <p> + The Beluchi found his tongue, and stammered out a question. The fakir + chuckled, and following his chuckle let a guttural remark escape him. + </p> + <p> + “He says, sahib, that he flew!” + </p> + <p> + “Ask him, could he fly with nine fixed bayonets in him!” + </p> + <p> + There was a little laughter from the men at that sally. It takes very + little in the way of humor to dispel a sense of the uncanny or mysterious. + </p> + <p> + “He answers, sahib, that you have seen what comes of striking him. He asks + how many dead there be.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he want me to hold him answerable for those men's lives?” + </p> + <p> + “He says he cares not, sahib! He says that he has promised what shall + befall you, sahib, before a day is past—you and one other!” + </p> + <p> + “Ask him, where is the Punjabi skin-buyer?” + </p> + <p> + The fakir chuckled at that question, and let out suddenly a long, low, + hollow-sounding howl, like a she-wolf's just at sundown. He was answered + by another howl from near the guardroom, and every soldier faced about as + though a wasp had stung him. + </p> + <p> + “Front!” commanded Brown. “Now, one of you, about turn! Keep watch that + way! Is that the Punjabi?—ask him.” + </p> + <p> + “He says 'Yes!' sahib. He and others!” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. Now tell him that unless he obeys my orders on the jump, word + for word as I give them, I'll hang him as high as Haman by that withered + arm of his, and have him beaten on the toenails with a cleaning-rod before + I fill him so full of bayonet-holes that the vultures'll take him for a + sponge! Say I'm a man of my word, and don't exaggerate.” + </p> + <p> + The Beluchi translated. + </p> + <p> + “He says you dare not, sahib!” + </p> + <p> + “Advise him to talk sense.” + </p> + <p> + “He says, sahib, 'You have had one lesson!”' + </p> + <p> + “Now it's my turn to give him one. Men! We'll have to give up that sleep I + talked about. This limping dummy of a fakir thinks he's got us frightened, + and we've got to teach him different. There's some reason why we're not + being attacked as yet. There's something fishy going on, and this swab's + at the bottom of it! We want him, too, on a charge of murder, or + instigating murder, and the guardroom's the best place for him. To the + guardroom with him. He'll do for a hostage anyhow. And where he is, I've a + notion that the control of this treachery won't be far away! Grab him + below the arms and by the legs. One of you hold a bayonet-point against + his ribs. The rest, face each way on guard. Now—all together, + forward to the guardroom—march!” + </p> + <p> + The fakir howled. Ululating howls replied from the surrounding night, and + once a red light showed for a second and disappeared in front of them. + Then the fakir howled again. + </p> + <p> + “Look, sahib! See! The guardroom!” + </p> + <p> + It was the Beluchi who saw it first—the one who was most afraid of + things in general and the least afraid of Sergeant Brown. A little flame + had started in the thatch. + </p> + <p> + “Halt!” ordered Brown. “Two of you hold the fakir! The remainder—volley-firing—kneeling—point-blank-range. + Ready—as you were—independent firing—ready! Now, wait + till you see 'em in the firelight, then blaze away all you like!” + </p> + <p> + His last words were cut off short by the sound of rifle-fire. Each rifle + in turn barked out, and three rifles answered from the night. + </p> + <p> + “Let that fakir feel a bayonet-point, somebody!” + </p> + <p> + The fakir cursed between his teeth, in proof of prompt obedience by one of + the men who held him. + </p> + <p> + “Tell him to order his crowd to cease fire!” + </p> + <p> + The Beluchi translated, and the fakir howled again. The flames leaped + through the thatch, and in a minute more the countryside was lit for half + a mile or more by the glare of the burning guardroom. + </p> + <p> + The flames betrayed more than a hundred turbaned men, who hugged the + shadows. + </p> + <p> + “Keep that bayonet-point against his ribs. See? That comes o' moving + instead o' sitting still! If we'd shut ourselves in the guardroom there, + we'd have been merrily roasting in there now! We stole a march on them. + Beauty here was sitting on his throne to see the fun. Didn't expect us. + Thought we'd be all hiding under the beds, like Sidiki here! Goes to prove + the worst thing that a soldier can do is to sit still when there's + trouble. We're better off than ever. We're free and they won't dare do + much to us as long as we've got Sacred-Smells-and-Stinks in charge. Form + up round him, men, and keep your eyes skinned till morning!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII. + </h2> + <p> + Of course, discussing matters in the light of history, with full and + intimate knowledge of everything that had a bearing on the Mutiny, there + are plenty of club-armchair critics who maintain that England could not do + otherwise than win in '57. They always do say that afterward of the side + that won the day. + </p> + <p> + But then, with history yet to make, things looked very different, and + nobody pretended that there was any certainty of anything except a victory + for the mutineers. All that either side recognized as likely to reverse + conditions was the notorious ability that a beaten and cornered British + army has for upsetting certainties. So the rebels had more than a little + argument as to what steps should be taken next, once the initial butchery + and loot had taken place. + </p> + <p> + For instance, in Jailpore + </p> + <p> + More than a hundred fakirs and wandering priests and mendicants had sent + in word that the province from end to end was ready, and that the British + slept. But there were those in Jailpore who distrusted fakirs and + religious votaries of every kind. They believed them fully capable of + rousing the countryside, of working on the religious feelings of the + unsophisticated rustics and setting them to murdering and plundering right + and left. But they doubted their ability to judge of the army's + sleepiness. These doubters were the older men, who had had experience of + England's craft in war. They knew of the ability of some at least of + England's generals to match guile against guile, and back up guile with + swift, unexpected hammer-strokes. + </p> + <p> + There were men who claimed that what had happened in Jailpore would be + repeated in Bholat and elsewhere. There was no need, these maintained, to + march and join hands with other rebels. Each unit was sufficient to + itself. Each city would be a British funeral pyre. Why march? + </p> + <p> + Some said, “The general at Bholat will learn of the massacre, and will + learn too, that not quite all were killed. He will come hotfoot to find + the four we could not find. For these British are as cobras; slay the he + cobra and the she one comes to seek revenge. Slay the she one and beware! + Her husband will track thee down, and strike thee. They are not ordinary + folk!” + </p> + <p> + There were other factions that maintained that General Baines was strong + enough, with his three thousand, to hold Bholat, unless the men of + Jailpore marched, to join hands with the Bholatis—who were surely in + revolt by this time. There were others who declared that he would leave + Bholat and Jailpore to their fates without any doubt at all, and would + march to join hands with the nearest contingent, at Harumpore. + </p> + <p> + The bolder spirits of this latter faction were for setting off at once to + prevent this combination. For a little while their arguments almost + prevailed. + </p> + <p> + But another faction yet, and an even more numerous one, insisted it were + best to wait for news from other centers. + </p> + <p> + Why march, they argued, why strike, why run unnecessary risks, before they + knew what was happening elsewhere? + </p> + <p> + “Surely,” these argued, “the English will hear that four here are still + unaccounted for. Some attempt will be made to find and rescue them. But if + we find and slay them, and send their heads to Bholat, then will the + English know that they are indeed dead. Then there will be no attempt at + rescue, and we shall hold Jailpore unmolested as headquarters.” + </p> + <p> + That piece of logic won the day for a while, and parties were made up to + explore the place, and search in every nook and cranny for the three + women. and a child who surely had not passed out through any of the gates, + and who were therefore just as surely in the city. A reward was offered by + the committee of rebel-leaders and, although nobody believed that the + reward would actually be paid, the opportunities for looting privately + while searching were so great that the search was thorough. + </p> + <p> + It failed, though, for the very simple reason that nobody suspected that + the huge stone trap-door in the floor of the powder-magazine had ever been + opened, or ever could be opened. The magazine had been a white man's + watch. White men had kept guard over it for more than a hundred years, and + the natives had forgotten that a maze of tunnels and caverns lay beneath + it. + </p> + <p> + So, while bayonet-points and swords were pushed into crevices, while smoke + was sent down passages and tunnels and great, loose-limbed, slobbering + hounds were led on the leash and cast to find a trail, the three women and + the child lay still beneath the piled-up powder, and doled out water, and + biscuit in siege-time measures. They lay in pitch-darkness, in a vault + where not even a sound could reach them, except the whispered echo of + their own voices and the scampering of the rats. They were growing nearly + blind, and nearly crazed, with the darkness and the silence and the fear. + </p> + <p> + Every second they expected to see daylight through the cracks above, as + rebels levered up the door, or to hear feet and voices coming through the + vaults below, for doubtless the vaults led somewhere. But for their fear + of snakes and rats and unknown horrors, they would have tried to find a + way through the vaults themselves. But as each movement that they made, + and each word that they spoke, sent echoes reverberating through the + gloom, they lay still and shuddered. + </p> + <p> + Once they heard footsteps on the stone flags overhead. But the footsteps + went away again, and then all was still. Soon they lost all count of time. + They were only aware of heat and discomfort and fear and utter weariness. + </p> + <p> + One woman and an infant wept. One woman prayed aloud incessantly. The + third woman—the menial, the worst educated and least enlightened of + the three, according to the others' notion of it—stubbornly refused + to admit that there was not some human means of rescue. + </p> + <p> + “If Bill were here,” she kept on grumbling, “Bill'd find a way!” + </p> + <p> + And in the darkness that surrounded her she felt that she could see Bill's + face, as she remembered it—red-cheeked and clean-shaven—six + years or more ago. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX. + </h2> + <p> + The blazing roof of the guardroom lit up even the crossroads for a while, + and Brown and his men could see that for the present there was a good wide + open space between them and the enemy. The firelight showed a tree not far + from the crossroads, and since anything is cover to men who are surrounded + and outnumbered, they made for that tree with one accord, and without a + word from Brown. + </p> + <p> + “We've all the luck,” said Brown. “There's not a detachment of any other + army in the world would walk straight on to a find like this!” + </p> + <p> + He held up one frayed end of a manila rope, that was wound around the + tree-trunk. Some tethered ox had rendered them that service. + </p> + <p> + “Fifty feet of good manila, and a fakir that needs hanging! Anybody see + the connection?” + </p> + <p> + There was a chorus of ready laughter, and the two men who had the + unenviable task of carrying the fakir picked him up and tossed him to the + tree-trunk. The roof of the guardhouse was blazing fiercely, and now they + had fired the other roofs. The fakir, the tree and the little bunch of men + who held him prisoner were as plainly visible as though it had been + daytime. A bullet pinged past Brown's ear, and buried itself in the + tree-trunk with a thud. + </p> + <p> + “Let him feel that bayonet again!” said Brown. + </p> + <p> + A rifleman obeyed, and the fakir howled aloud. An answering howl from + somewhere beyond the dancing shadows told that the fakir had been + understood. + </p> + <p> + “And now,” said Brown, paraphrasing the well-remembered wording of the + drill-book, in another effort to get his men to laughing again, “when + hanging a fakir by numbers—at the word one, place the noose smartly + round the fakir's neck. At the word two, the right-hand man takes the + bight of the rope in the hollow of his left hand, and climbs the tree, + waiting on the first branch suitable for the last sound of the word three. + At the last sound of the word three, he slips the rope smartly over the + bough of the tree and descends smartly to the ground, landing on the balls + of his feet and coming to attention. At the word four, the remainder seize + the loose end of the rope, being careful to hold it in such a way that the + fakir has a chance to breathe. And at the last sound of the word five, you + haul all together, lifting the fakir off the ground, and keeping him so + until ordered to release. Now—one!” + </p> + <p> + He had tied a noose while he was speaking, and the fakir had watched him + with eyes that blazed with hate. A soldier seized the noose, and slipped + it over the fakir's head. + </p> + <p> + “Two!” + </p> + <p> + The tree was an easy one to climb. “Two” and “three” were the work of not + more than a minute. + </p> + <p> + “Four!” commanded Brown, and the rope drew tight across the bough. The + fakir had to strain his chin upward in order to draw his breath. + </p> + <p> + “Steady, now!” + </p> + <p> + The men were lined out in single file, each with his two hands on the + rope. Not half of them were really needed to lift such a wizened load as + the fakir, but Brown was doing nothing without thought, and wasting not an + effort. He wanted each man to be occupied, and even amused. He wanted the + audience, whom he could not see, but who he knew were all around him in + the shadows, to get a full view of what was happening. They might not have + seen so clearly, had he allowed one-half of the men to be lookers-on. + </p> + <p> + “Steady!” he repeated. “Be sure and let him breathe, until I give the + word.” Then he seized the cowering Beluchi by the neck, and dragged him up + close beside the fakir. “Translate, you!” he ordered. “To the crowd out + yonder first. Shout to 'em, and be careful to make no mistakes.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak, then, sahib! What shall I say?” + </p> + <p> + “Say this. This most sacred person here is our prisoner. He will die the + moment any one attempts to rescue him.” + </p> + <p> + The Beluchi translated, and repeated word for word. + </p> + <p> + “I will now talk with him, and he himself will talk with you, and thus we + will come to an arrangement!”' + </p> + <p> + There was a commotion in the shadows, and somewhere in the neighborhood of + fifty men appeared, keeping at a safe distance still, but evidently + anxious to get nearer. + </p> + <p> + “Now talk to the fakir, and not so loudly! Ask him 'Are you a sacred + person?' Ask him softly, now!” + </p> + <p> + “He says 'Yes,' sahib, 'I am sacred!”' + </p> + <p> + “Do you want to die?” + </p> + <p> + “All men must die!” + </p> + <p> + The answer made an opening for an interminable discussion, of the kind + that fakirs and their kindred love. But Brown was not bent just then on + dissertation. He changed his tactics. + </p> + <p> + “Do you want to die, a little slowly, before all those obedient worshipers + of yours, and in such a way that they will see and understand that you can + not help yourself, and therefore are a fraud?” + </p> + <p> + The Beluchi repeated the question in the guttural tongue that apparently + the fakir best understood. In the fitful light cast by the burning roofs, + it was evident that the fakir had been touched in the one weak spot of his + armor. + </p> + <p> + There can scarcely be more than one reason why a man should torture + himself and starve himself and maim and desecrate and horribly defile + himself. At first sight, the reason sounds improbable, but consideration + will confirm it. It is vanity, of an iron-bound kind, that makes the + wandering fakir. + </p> + <p> + “Ask him again!” said Brown. + </p> + <p> + But again the fakir did not answer. + </p> + <p> + “Tell him that I'm going to let him save his face, provided he saves mine. + Explain that I, too, have men who think I am something more than human!” + </p> + <p> + The Beluchi interpreted, and Brown thought that the fakir's eyes gleamed + with something rather more than their ordinary baleful light. It might + have been the dancing flames that lit them, but Brown thought he saw the + dawn of reason. + </p> + <p> + “Say that if I let my men kill him, my men will believe me superhuman, and + his men will know that he is only a man with a withered arm! But tell him + this: He's got the best chance he ever had to perform a miracle, and have + the whole of this province believe in him forevermore.” + </p> + <p> + Again the fakir's eyes took on a keener than usual glare, as he listened + to the Beluchi. He did not nod, though, and he made no other sign, beyond + the involuntary evidence of understanding that his eyes betrayed. + </p> + <p> + “His men can see that noose round his neck, tell him. And his men know me, + more or less, and British methods anyhow. They believe now, they're sure, + they're positive that his neck's got about as much chance of escaping from + that noose as a blind cow has of running from a tiger. Now then! Tell him + this. Let him come the heavy fakir all he likes. Tell him to tell his gang + that he's going to give an order. Let him tell them that when he says + 'Hookum hai!' my men'll loose his neck straight away, and fall down flat. + Only, first of all he's got to tell them that he needs us for the present. + Let him say that he's got an extra-special awful death in store for us by + and by, and that he's going to keep us by him until he's ready to work the + miracle. Meantime, nobody's to touch us, or come near us, except to bring + him and us food!” + </p> + <p> + The fakir listened, and said nothing. At a sign from Brown the rope + tightened just a little. The fakir raised his chin. + </p> + <p> + “And tell him that, if he doesn't do what I say, and exactly what I say, + and do it now, he's got just so long to live as it takes a man to choke + his soul out!” + </p> + <p> + The fakir answered nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Just ever such a wee bit tighter, men!” + </p> + <p> + The fakir lost his balance, and had to scramble to his feet and stand + there swaying on his heels, clutching at the rope above him with his one + uninjured hand, and sawing upward with his head for air. There came a + murmur from the shadows, and a dozen breech-bolts clicked. There seemed no + disposition to lie idle while the holiest thing in a temple-ridden + province dangled in mid-air. + </p> + <p> + “In case of a rush,” said Brown quietly, “all but two of you let go! The + remainder seize your rifles and fire independently. The two men on the + rope, haul taut, and make fast to the tree-trunk. This tree's as good a + place to die as anywhere, but he dies first! Understand?” + </p> + <p> + The fakir rolled his eyes, and tried to make some sort of signal with his + free arm. + </p> + <p> + “Just a wee shade tighter!” ordered Brown. “I'm not sure, but I think he's + seeing reason!” + </p> + <p> + The fakir gurgled. No one but a native, and he a wise one, could have + recognized a meaning in the guttural gasp that he let escape him. + </p> + <p> + “He says 'All right! sahib!'” translated the Beluchi. + </p> + <p> + “Good!” said Brown. “Ease away on the rope; men! And now! You all heard + what I told him. If he says 'Hookum hai!' you all let go the rope, and + fall flat. But keep hold of your rifles!” + </p> + <p> + The fakir's voice, rose in a high-pitched, nasal wail, and from the + darkness all around them there came an answering murmur that was like the + whispering of wind through trees. By the sound, there must have been a + crowd of more than a hundred there, and either the crowd was sneaking + around them to surround them at close quarters, or else the crowd was + growing. + </p> + <p> + “Keep awake, men!” cautioned Brown. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, aye, sir! All awake, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Listen, now! And if he says one word except what I told him he might say, + tip me the wink at once.” + </p> + <p> + Brown swung the Beluchi out in front of him where he could hear the fakir + better. + </p> + <p> + “I'll hang you, remember, after I've hanged him, if anything goes wrong!” + </p> + <p> + “He is saying, sahib, exactly what you said.” + </p> + <p> + “He'd better! Listen now! Listen carefully! Look out for tricks!” + </p> + <p> + The fakir paused a second from his high-pitched monologue, and a murmur + from the darkness answered him. + </p> + <p> + “Stand by to haul tight, you men!” + </p> + <p> + “All ready, sir!” + </p> + <p> + The rope tightened just a little—just sufficiently to keep the fakir + cognizant of its position. The fakir howled out a sort of singsong dirge, + which plainly had imperatives in every line of it. At each short pause for + breath he added something in an undertone that made the Beluchi strain his + ears. + </p> + <p> + “He says, sahib, that they understand. He says, 'Now is the time!' He says + now he will order 'Hookum hai!' He says, 'Are you ready?' He says, sahib,—he + says it, sahib,—not I—he says, 'Thou art a fool to stare thus! + Thou and thy men are fools! Stare, instead, as men who are bewitched!'” + </p> + <p> + “Try to look like boiled owls, to oblige his Highness, men!” said Brown. + “Now, that's better; watch for the word! Easy on the rope a little!” + </p> + <p> + The men did their best to pose for the part of semimesmerized victims of a + superhuman power. The flame from the burning roofs was dying down already, + for the thatch burned fast, and the glowing gloom was deep enough to hide + indifferent acting. With their lives at stake, though, men act better than + they might at other times. + </p> + <p> + The fakir spun round on his heels and, clutching with his whole hand at + the rope, began to execute a sort of dance—a weird, fantastic, + horrible affair of quivering limbs and rolling eyeballs, topped by a + withered arm that pointed upward, and a tortured fingernail-pierced fist + that nodded on a dried-out-wrist-joint. + </p> + <p> + “Hookum hai!” he screamed suddenly, waving his sound hand upward, and + bringing it down suddenly with a jerk, as though by sheer force he was + blasting them. + </p> + <p> + “Down with you!” ordered Brown, and all except Brown and the Beluchi + tumbled over backward. + </p> + <p> + “Keep hold of your rifles!” ordered Brown. + </p> + <p> + The fakir's wailing continued for a while. With his own hand he took the + noose from his neck and, now that the flames had died away to nothing but + spasmodic spurts above a dull red underglow, there was no one in the + watching ring who could see Brown's sword-point. Only Brown and the fakir + knew that it was scratching at the skin between the fakir's + shoulder-blades. + </p> + <p> + “It is done!” said the fakir presently. “Now take me back to my dais + again!” And the Beluchi translated. + </p> + <p> + “I'd like to hear their trigger-springs released,” suggested Brown. “This + has all been a shade too slick for me. I've got my doubts yet about it's + being done. Tell him to order them to uncock their rifles, so that I can + hear them do it.” + </p> + <p> + “He says that they are gone already!” translated the Beluchi. + </p> + <p> + “Tell him I don't believe it!” answered Brown, whose eyes were straining + to pierce the darkness, which was blacker than the pit again by now. + </p> + <p> + The fakir raised his voice into a howl—a long, low, ululating howl + like that he had uttered when they found him on his dais. From the + distance, beyond the range of rifles, came a hundred answering howls. The + fakir waited, and a minute later a hundred howls were raised again, this + time from an even greater distance. + </p> + <p> + Then he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “He says that they are gone,” translated the Beluchi. “He says he will go + back to his dais again.” + </p> + <p> + “'Tshun!” ordered Brown. “Now, men, just because we've saved our skins so + far is no reason why we should neglect precautions. We're going to put + this imitation angel back on his throne again, so the same two carry him + that brought him here. There's no sense in giving two more men the itch, + and all the other ailments the brute suffers from! Form up round him, the + rest. Take open order—say two paces—and go slow. Feel your way + with your fixed bayonet, and don't take a step in the dark until you're + sure where it will lead you. Forward-march! One of you bring that rope + along.” + </p> + <p> + The weird procession crawled and crept and sidled back to where it had + started from not so long before—jumping at every sound, and at every + shadow that showed deeper than the coal-black night around them. It took + them fifteen minutes to recross a hundred yards. But when they reached the + earthen throne again at last, and had hoisted the fakir back in position + on it, there had been no casualties, and the morale of the men in Sergeant + Brown's command was as good again as the breech-mechanism of the rifles in + his charge. + </p> + <p> + They were scarcely visible to him or one another in the blackness, but he + sensed the change in them, and changed his own tune to fit the changed + condition. + </p> + <p> + His voice had nothing in it but the abrupt military explosion when he gave + his orders now—no argument, no underlying sympathy. He was no longer + herding a flock of frightened children. He was ordering trained, grown + men, and he knew it and they knew it. The orders ripped out, like the + crack of a drover's whip. + </p> + <p> + “Fall in, now, properly! 'Tshun! Right dress! To two paces—open + order—from the center—extend! Now, then! Left and right wings—last + three at each end forward—right wheel—halt. That's it. 'Bout + face. Now each man keep two eyes lifting till the morning. If anything + shows up, or any of you hear a sound, shoot first and challenge + afterward!” + </p> + <p> + They were standing so when the pale sun greeted them, in hollow square, + with their backs toward the fakir, who was squatting, staring straight in + front of him, on his dais, with his back turned to the tree and his + withered arm still pointing up to heaven like a dead man's calling to the + gods for vengeance. + </p> + <p> + A little later, Brown made each alternate man lie down and get what sleep + he could just where he was, with a comrade standing over him. He himself + slept so for a little while. But one of the men heard something move among + the hanging tendrils of the baobab, investigated with his bayonet-point, + and managed to transfix a twelve-foot python. After that there was, not so + much desire for sleep. The fakir either slept with his eyes open or else + dispensed with sleep. No one seemed able to determine which. + </p> + <p> + When the day grew hotter, and the utterly remorseless Indian sun bore down + on them, and on the aching desolation of the plain and the burnt-out + guardhouse, the fakir still sat unblinking, gazing straight out in front + of him, with eyes that hated but did nothing else. He seemed to have no + time nor thought nor care for anything but hate and the expression of it. + </p> + <p> + At noon, three little children came to him, and brought him water in a + small brass bowl, and cooked-up vegetables wrapped in some kind of leaf. + Brown let him have theirs, and bribed the frightened children to go and + bring water for the men and himself. He gave them the unheard-of wealth of + one rupee between them, and they went off with it—and did not come + back. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile the fakir had drunk his water, and had poured out what was left. + He had also eaten what the children had brought him, and suddenly, from + vacant, implacable hatred, he woke up and began to be amused. + </p> + <p> + “Ha-ha!” he laughed at them. “Ho-ho!” And then he launched out with a + string of eloquence that Brown called on the Beluchi to translate. + </p> + <p> + “Who said there would be thirst, and the sound of water! Is there a + thirst? Who spoke of an anthill and of hungry ants and raw red openings in + the flesh for the little ants to run in and out more easily?” + </p> + <p> + The Beluchi translated faithfully, and the men all listened. + </p> + <p> + “Tell him to hold his tongue!” growled Brown at last. + </p> + <p> + “Ha-ha! Ho-ho-ho!” laughed the fakir. “The heat grows great, and the + tongues grow dry, and none bring water! Ho-ho! But I told them that I + needed these for a deadlier death than any they devised! Ho-ho-ho-ho! Look + at the little crows, how they wait in the branches! Ha-ha-ha-ha! See how + the kites come! Where are the vultures? Wait! What speck sails in the sky + there? Even the vultures come! Ho-ho-ho-ho!” + </p> + <p> + “I hear a horse, sir!” said one of the men who watched. + </p> + <p> + “I heard it more than a minute ago,” said Brown. + </p> + <p> + The fakir stopped his mockery, and even he listened. + </p> + <p> + “Ask him,” said Brown, “where are the men who set fire to the guardroom?” + </p> + <p> + “He says they are in the village, waiting till he sends for them!” said + the Beluchi. + </p> + <p> + “Keep an eye lifting, you men,” ordered Brown. “This'll be a messenger + from Bholat, ten to one. Mind they don't ambush him! Watch every way at + once, and shoot at anything that moves!” + </p> + <p> + “Clippety-clippety-clippety-cloppety—” + </p> + <p> + The sound of a galloping horse grew nearer; a horse hard-ridden, that was + none the less sure-footed still, and going strong in spite of sun and + heat. Suddenly a foam-flecked black mare swung round a bend between two + banks, and the sun shone on a polished saber-hilt. A turbaned Rajput rose + in his stirrups, gazed left and right and then in front of him—from + the burned-out guardhouse to the baobab—drew rein to a walk and + waved his hand. + </p> + <p> + “By all that's good and great and wonderful,” said Brown aloud, “if here's + not Juggut Khan again!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X. + </h2> + <p> + It is not easy to give any kind of real impression of India twenty-four + hours after the outbreak of the mutiny. Movement was the keynote of the + picture—stealthy, not-yet-quite-confident pack-movement on the one + hand, concentrated here and there in blood-red eddies, and, on the other + hand, swift, desperate marches in the open. + </p> + <p> + The moment that the seriousness of the outbreak had been understood, and + the orders had gone out by galloper to “Get a move on!” each commanding + officer strained every nerve at once to strike where a blow would have the + most effect. There was no thought of anything but action, and offensive, + not defensive action. Until some one at the head of things proved still to + be alive, and had had time to form a plan, each divisional commander acted + as he saw fit. That was all that any one was asked to do at first: to act, + to strike, to plunge in headlong where the mutiny was thickest and most + dangerous, to do anything, in fact; except sit still. + </p> + <p> + Even with the evidence of mutiny and treachery on every side, with red + flames lighting the horizon and the stench of burning villages on every + hand, the strange Anglo-Saxon quality persisted that has done more even + that the fighting-quality to teach the English tongue to half the world. + The native servants who had not yet run away retained their places still, + unquestioned. When an Englishman has once made up his mind to trust + another man, he trusts him to the hilt, whatever shade of brown or red or + white his hide may be. + </p> + <p> + But, since every rule has its exceptions, there were some among the native + servants, who remained ostensibly loyal to their masters, who would better + have been shot or hanged at the first suggestion of an outbreak. For + naturally a man who is trusted wrongly is far more dangerous than one who + is held in suspicion. But it never was the slightest use endeavoring to + persuade an average English officer that his own man could be anything but + loyal. He may be a thief and a liar and a proved-up rogue in every other + way; but as for fearing to let him sleep about the house, or fearing to + let him cook his master's food, or fearing to let him carry firearms—well! + Perhaps, it is conceit, or maybe just ordinary foolishness. It is not + fear! + </p> + <p> + So, in a country where the art of poisoning has baffled analysts since + analysts have been invented, and where blood-hungry fanatic priests, both + Hindu and Mohammedan, were preaching and promising the reward of highest + heaven to all who could kill an Englishman or die in the attempt, a native + cook whose antecedents were obscured in mystery cooked dinner for a + British general, and marched with his column to perform the same service + while the general tried to trounce the cook's friends and relatives! + </p> + <p> + But General Baines felt perfectly at ease about his food. He never gave a + thought to it, but ate what was brought to him, sitting his horse most + likely, and chewing something as he rode among the men, and saw that they + filled their bellies properly. He had made up his mind to march on + Harumpore, and to take over the five-hundred-strong contingent there. Then + he could swoop down on any of a dozen other points, in any one of which a + blow would tell. + </p> + <p> + He was handicapped by knowing almost too much. He had watched so long, and + had suspected for so long that some sort of rebellion was brewing that, + now that it had come, his brain was busy with the tail-ends of a hundred + scraps of plans. He was so busy wondering what might be happening to all + the other men subordinate to him, who would have to be acting on their own + initiative, that his own plans lacked something of directness. But there + was no lack of decision, and no time was lost. The men marched, and + marched their swiftest, in the dust-laden Indian heat. And he marched with + them, in among them, and ate what the cook brought him, without a thought + but for the best interests of the government he served. + </p> + <p> + So they buried General Baines some eighty-and-twenty miles from Harumpore, + and shot the cook. And, according to the easy Indian theology, the cook + was wafted off to paradise, while General Baines betook himself to hell, + or was betaken. But the column, three thousand perspiring Britons strong, + continued marching, loaded down with haversacks and ammunition and + resolve. + </p> + <p> + It was met, long before the jackals had dug down to General Baines' + remains, by the advance-guard of Colonel Kendrick's column, which was + coming out of Harumpore because things were not brisk enough in that place + to keep it busy. Kendrick himself was riding with the cavalry detachment + that led the way southward. + </p> + <p> + “Who's in command now?” he asked, for they had told him of General Baines' + death by poison. + </p> + <p> + “I am,” said a gray-haired officer who rode up at that moment. + </p> + <p> + “I'm your senior, sir, by two years,” answered Kendrick. + </p> + <p> + “Then you command, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good. Enough time's been wasted. The column can wait here until my + main body reaches us. Then we'll march at once on Jailpore. This idea of + leaving Jailpore to its fate is nonsense! The rebels are in strength + there, and they have perpetrated an abominable outrage. There we will + punish them, or else we'll all die in the attempt! If we have to raze + Jailpore to the ground, and put every man in it to the sword before we + find the four Europeans supposed to be left alive there, our duty is none + the less obvious! Here comes my column. Tell the men to be ready to march + in ten minutes.” + </p> + <p> + He turned his horse, to look through the dust at the approaching column, + but the man who had been superseded touched him on the sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “What's that? Better have a rest? Tired out, you say? Oh! Form them all up + in hollow square, then, and I'll say a few words to them. There are other + ways of reviving a leg-weary column than by letting it lie down.” + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later a dull roar rose up through a steel-shot dust-cloud, and + three thousand helmets whirled upward, flashing in the sun. Three thousand + weary men had given him his answer! There was no kind of handle to it; no + reserve—nothing but generous and unconditional allegiance unto + hunger, thirst, pain, weariness, disease or death. It takes a real + commander to draw that kind of answer from a tired-out column, but it is a + kind of answer, too, that makes commanders! It is not mere talk, on either + side. It means that by some sixth sense a strong man and his men have + discovered something that is good in each other. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI. + </h2> + <p> + “You've made good time, friend Juggut Khan!” said Brown, advancing to meet + him where the men and the fakir and the interpreter would not be able to + Overhear. + </p> + <p> + “Sahib, I killed one horse—the horse you looted for me—and I + brought away two from Bholat. One of them carried me more than fifty + miles, and then I changed to this one, leaving the other on the road. I + have orders for you, sahib.” + </p> + <p> + “Hand 'em over then,” said Brown. “Orders first, and talk afterward, when + there's time!” + </p> + <p> + The Rajput drew out a sealed envelope, and passed it to him. Brown tore it + open, and read the message, scowling at the half-sheet of paper as though + it were a death-sentence. + </p> + <p> + “Where's the general?” + </p> + <p> + “With his column-twenty or thirty miles away to the northward by now!” + </p> + <p> + “And he's left me, with this handful, in the lurch?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, sahib! As I understood the orders, he has left you with a very + honorable mission to fulfil!” + </p> + <p> + Brown stared hard at the half-sheet of notepaper again. Reading was not + his longest suit by any means, and at that he infinitely preferred to + wrestle with printed characters. + </p> + <p> + “Have you read it, Juggut Khan?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, sahib. I can speak English, but not read it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we're near to being in the same boat, we two!” said Brown with a + grin. “I'll have another try! It looks like a good-by message to me—here's + the word 'good-by' written at the end above his signature.” + </p> + <p> + “There were other matters, sahib. There was an order. I can not read, but + I know what is in the message.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “You, and your twelve—” + </p> + <p> + “Nine!” corrected Brown. + </p> + <p> + “Three dead?” + </p> + <p> + Brown nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Your nine, then, sahib, and you and I are to proceed immediately to + Jailpore, and to gain an entrance if we can, rescue those whom I concealed + there and bring them to Harumpore, or to the northward of Harumpore, + wherever we can find the column.” + </p> + <p> + “Eleven men are to attempt that?” + </p> + <p> + Brown was studying out the letter word by word, and discovering to his + amazement that its purport was exactly what Juggut Khan pretended. + </p> + <p> + “If there are no more than eleven of us, then yes, eleven! And, sahib, + since you seem to hold at least an island here where a man may lie down + unmolested, I propose to sleep for an hour or two, before proceeding. I + have had no sleep since I left Jailpore.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing of the sort!” said Brown. “If we're to march on Jailpore, off we + go at once! You can sleep on the road, my son! It's time we paid a visit + to that village, I'm thinking. Those treacherous brutes need a lesson. I'd + have been down there before, only I wanted to be in full view of the road + in case anybody came looking for me from Bholat. We'll need a wagon for + the fakir. You can sleep in it too.” + </p> + <p> + “Sleep with a fakir? I? Allah! I am a Rajput, sahib! A sergeant of the + Rajput Horse, retired!” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't want to sleep with him myself!” admitted Brown. “Come and look + at him. You can smell him from here, but the sight of him's the real + thing!” + </p> + <p> + The Rajput swaggered up beside Brown, after loosening his horse's girths + and lifting the saddle for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “He's not the only one that needs a drink!” said Brown. “We're all dry as + brick-dust here, except the fakir!” + </p> + <p> + “He must wait a while before he drinks. Show me the fakir. Why, Brown + sahib, know you what you have there?” + </p> + <p> + “The father of all the smells, and all the dirt and all the evil eyes and + evil tongues in Asia!” Brown hazarded. + </p> + <p> + “More than that, sahib! That is the nameless fakir—him whom they + know as HE! Has there been no attempt made to rescue him?” + </p> + <p> + “They rescued him once, and murdered three of my men to get him. When they + tried again, I put a halter round his neck and he and I arranged a sort of + temporary compromise.” + </p> + <p> + “And the terms of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he's supposed to have performed a miracle. He made us unslip the + halter, and fall down flat, and he's supposed to be keeping us by him, by + a sort of spell, so's to give us something extra-special in the line of + ghastly deaths at his own convenience. That way, I was able to wait for + news from Bholat—see?” + </p> + <p> + “You could have captured no more important prisoner than that, sahib, let + me tell you! They believe him to be almost a god; so nearly one that the + gods themselves obey his orders now and then! It was he, and no other, + that told the men of Jailpore that he would make them impervious to + bullets. If we have him, sahib, we have the key to Jailpore!” + </p> + <p> + “We, have certainly got him,” said Brown. “You can see him, and you can + smell him. I'll order one of the men to prick him with a bayonet, if you + want to hear him, too! I wouldn't feel him, if I were you!” + </p> + <p> + “He must come, too, to Jailpore!” + </p> + <p> + “Of course he comes!” + </p> + <p> + “Then, sahib, let us move away from here to where there is water. There + let us rest until sundown, and then march, in the cool of the evening. It + will be better so. And of a truth I must sleep, or else drop dead from + weariness.” + </p> + <p> + “Does that message put you in command?” asked Brown, a trifle truculently. + </p> + <p> + “No, sahib! But it orders you to listen to my advice whenever possible.” + </p> + <p> + “That means that you are under my orders?” + </p> + <p> + “That letter does not say so, sahib!” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, are you, or are you not?” + </p> + <p> + “We are supposed to act in concert, sahib.” + </p> + <p> + “It doesn't say so in the letter! Yes, or no? Are you going to obey + orders, or aren't you? In other words, are you coming with me, or do you + stay behind?” + </p> + <p> + “I come with you, sahib!” + </p> + <p> + “Then you obey my orders!” + </p> + <p> + “But the letter says—” + </p> + <p> + “That I'm to take your advice whenever possible! I don't need advice just + at the moment, thanks! I've got orders here to march, and I'm off at once! + You can please yourself whether you come with me or not, but if you come + you come on my terms.” + </p> + <p> + “I go with you, sahib.” + </p> + <p> + “Under my orders?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sahib.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, Juggut Khan. Here's my hand on it. Now, we'll swoop down on + that village, and take the fakir with us, with a halter round his neck for + the sake of argument. We'll get two bullock-carts down there, and we'll + stick him in one of them, with Sidiki the interpreter tied to him. Sidiki + won't like it, but he's only a Beluchi anyway! You get in the other, and + get all the sleep you can. You and I'll take turns sleeping all the way to + Jailpore, so's to be fresh, both of us, and fit for anything by the time + that we get there!” + </p> + <p> + “I am ready, sahib.” + </p> + <p> + “You two men who carried old Stinkijink before, pick him up again!” + shouted Brown. “Let him feel the bayonet if he makes a noise, but carry + him gently as though you loved him. The rest—'Tshun! Form two-deep—on + the center—close order, march. Ri' dress. Eyes front. Ri' turn. By + the left—quick march.” + </p> + <p> + The Rajput strode beside Brown, wondering wearily whether it was worth his + while to offer him advice or not, and keeping his tired eyes ever moving + in the direction of the distant huts. + </p> + <p> + “They have rifles, sahib?” he queried. + </p> + <p> + “Lots of 'em! Three that they took from my men, among others.” + </p> + <p> + “It would not be well to march into a trap at this stage.” + </p> + <p> + “As well now as later.” “True, sahib! And my time has not come yet; I know + it. Else had I died of weariness, as my horse did.” + </p> + <p> + Brown kept rigidly to that point of view in everything he did, from that + time on until he reached Jailpore. He believed himself to be engaged on a + forlorn hope that was so close to being an absolute impossibility as to be + almost the same thing. He had no doubt whatever in his own mind but that + his own death, and the death of those with him, was a matter now of hours, + or possibly of minutes. His one resolute determination was to die, and + make the others die, in a manner befitting their oath of service. He had + orders, and he would pass them on according to his interpretation of them. + He would obey his orders, and they theirs, and the rest was no business of + his or anybody's. + </p> + <p> + They put the fakir in a hut; where Juggut Khan—too weary for + foraging—stood guard over him. When a crowd collected round the hut, + and Juggut Khan applied the butt of a lighted cigarette to the tender skin + between the fakir's shoulder-blades, the anxious fakir-worshipers were + told that all was well. They were to let the white soldiers take two + wagons, or three even, if they wanted them. They were to return to their + houses at once, and hide, lest the devils who would shortly overwhelm the + white men should make mistakes and include them, too, in the whelming. He, + the fakir, intended to take the white men for a little journey along the + road toward Jailpore, where the devils who would deal with them would have + no opportunity to make mistakes. And, since the natives knew that Jailpore + was a rebel stronghold, and that ten white men and a native would have no + chance to do the slightest damage there, they chose to believe the fakir + and to obey him. + </p> + <p> + Hindus have as stubborn and unalterable a habit of obeying and believing + their priests—when the fancy suits them—as white men of other + religions have. + </p> + <p> + If the fakir had told them through the doorway of the hut that he intended + going with the white men in the direction of Bholat, they would most + surely have prevented him. But it suited them very well indeed to have the + white men killed elsewhere. It was not likely, but there might be a column + on its way from Bholat now; and if that column came, and found the bones + of British soldiers as well as a burned-out guard-house, vengeance would + be dire and prompt. Between where they were and Jailpore, the white men + could not possibly escape. And at Jailpore, if not sooner, they must + surely die. So they believed the fakir, and retired to the seclusion of + their houses. + </p> + <p> + It was wonderful, of course, but no more wonderful than a thousand other + happenings in '57. All laws of probability and general average were upset + that year, when sixty thousand men held down an armed continent. Even + stranger things were happening than that two bullock-carts should dawdle + through a rebel-seething district in the direction of a plundered, + blood-soaked rebel stronghold; stranger even than that on the foremost + bullock-cart a lean and louse-infested fakir should be squatting, guarded + by British soldiers, who marched on either hand; or that a Rajput, who + could trace his birth from a thousand-year-long line of royal chieftains, + should be sleeping in the bullock-cart behind, followed closely by a black + charger with a British saddle on its back, which ate corn from the + tail-board of the wagon; stranger things, even, than that a British + sergeant should be marching last of all, with his stern eyes roving a + little wildly but his jaw set firm and his tread as rigid and + authoritative and abrupt as though he were marching to inspect + accouterments. + </p> + <p> + In more than a dozen places, about a dozen men were holding a fort against + an army. They were using every wile and trick and dodge that ingenuity or + inspiration could provide them with, and they were mostly contriving to + hold out. But there were none who did anything more daring or more unusual + than to march to the attack of a city, with a hostile fakir in the van, + and nothing else but their eleven selves and their rifles to assist them. + There is a tremendous difference between defending when you have to, and + attacking when you might retire. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII. + </h2> + <p> + There were many more causes than one that worked together to make possible + the entry of Brown and his little force into Jailpore. They were brave + men; they were more than brave and they held the ace of trumps, as Brown + had stated, in the person of the fakir known as “He.” But luck favored + them as well, and but for luck they must have perished half a dozen times. + </p> + <p> + They marched the whole of the first afternoon, and met no one. They only + overtook little straggling parties of rebels, making one and all for + Jailpore, who bolted at the sight of them, imagining them probably to be + the advance-guard of a larger force. The very idiocy of marching eleven + strong through a country infested by their enemies was in their favor. + Nobody could believe that there were no more than eleven of them. Even the + English could not be such lunatics! + </p> + <p> + That night, they rested for a while, and then went on again. During the + day following they lay in a hollow between some trees and rested, and + slept by turns. They suffered agonies from the heat, and not a little from + hunger, and once or twice they were hard put to it to stop the Rajput's + charger from neighing when a native pony passed along the nearby road. But + night came again, and with it the screen of darkness for their strange, + almost defenseless caravan. Once or twice the fakir tried to shout an + alarm to passing villagers, but the quick and energetic application of a + cleaning-rod by Brown stopped him always in the nick of time, and they + came within sight of the battlements of Jailpore without an accident. + </p> + <p> + Then, though, their problem became really serious, and it was a series of + circumstances altogether out of their control and not connected with them + that made their entry possible. The mutineers in Jailpore had learned that + Kendrick sahib was coming down on them from the north by forced marches + with thirty-five hundred men or more. They were putting the place into a + state of siege, and getting ready by all means in their power to oppose + him. + </p> + <p> + Little attention was being paid to small parties of arrivals from no man + knew or cared where. And, in a final effort to find the four who were the + lure that was bringing Kendrick down on them, the city was once more being + turned upside down and inside out, and men were even being tortured who + were thought to know of hiding-places. + </p> + <p> + With purely Eastern logic, the leaders of the rebels had decided that the + sight of the bodies of the four, writhing in their last agony on the + sun-scorched outer wall, would mightily discourage the British when they + came. So no efforts were being spared and no stones left unturned to find + them. The hooks on the wall were sharp and ready, so that they might be + impaled without loss of time in full view of their would-be rescuers. + </p> + <p> + Almost every secret passage of the thousand odd had been explored. In the + hurry to run through them and explore the next one, doors had been left + open here and there that had been kept closed in some instances for + centuries. + </p> + <p> + One door in particular, placed cornerwise in a buttress of the outer wall, + was spotted by Juggut Khan as he circled round the city on his charger at + dusk on the day following their arrival. He brought his charger back to + where the others lay concealed, and then went on an exploring-expedition + on foot—to discover that the outer city wall was like a sponge, a + nest of honey-combed cells and passages wandering interminably in the + fifty-foot-thick brick and rubble rampart. + </p> + <p> + And while he searched amid the mazy windings of the wall, Bill Brown sat + in the forked top of a tree and studied out the ground-plan of the city. + He was imprinting landmarks in his memory for future reference, and trying—with + a brain that ached from the apparent hopelessness of the task—to + figure out a plan. + </p> + <p> + He knew by now that the four he had come to rescue were hidden underneath + the powder-magazine, and he could see the magazine itself. But he could + think of no way of rescuing them, for the city absolutely boiled with + frantic, mixed-up castes and creeds picked at random, and thrown in at + random from the whole of India. A mouse could not have passed through the + streets undetected! And yet, from a soldier's point of view, there were + certain fascinating details to be noticed about that powder-magazine. In + the first place, it had been constructed for a granary by an emperor who + never heard of Joseph, but who had the same ideal plan for cornering the + people's food-supply. And since labor had been unlimited, and cheap, he + had gone about building the thing on the most thoroughly unpractical and + most pretentious plan that he and his architects could figure out. It was + big enough to hold about ten times as much grain as the province could + grow in any one year of plenty. And, since that was the least practical + and most ungranary-like shape, he had caused it to be built like an + enormous beehive, with a tiny platform at the top. + </p> + <p> + Winding round and round the huge stone dome, and on the outside, was a + six-foot-wide trail, which was the elevator. Up this, each with a sack or + a basket on his head, the population was to have been induced to run in + single file, dumping its hard-won corn into the granary through an opening + at the top until the granary was full. + </p> + <p> + The emperor died—by poison—before he could see his cherished + project put into execution, but he had been a very thorough calculator, + and a builder who believed in permanency. He had foreseen that when the + granary was full, and the screw-jacks were turned beneath the cost of + living, there would probably be efforts made by unwashed, untutored, + unenlightened mobs to rape his storehouse. So he had made the little + platform at the top a veritable fortress of a place, such as a handful of + men could hold against a hundred thousand. + </p> + <p> + There was no known entrance to the granary above ground, except on the + ground level, where a huge stone gateway frowned above a teak-and-iron + door. Above that door there were galleries, and fortalices and cunningly + invented battlements in miniature, from behind whose shelter a resolute + defending-party could pour out a hundred different kinds of death on a + hungry crowd. The place was naturally fire-proof and naturally cool—as + far as any building can be cool in Central India. It was a first-class, + ideal powder-magazine, if useless as a granary; and the last new + conquerors of India had hastened to adopt it as a means of storing up the + explosive medicine with which they kept their foothold. + </p> + <p> + Naturally, none but White soldiers, and a very few of the more trusted + natives, had ever been allowed to go inside the powder-magazine. The + secret passages beneath it had never been intended for public convenience + or information. They had been designed as a means of rushing defenders + secretly into the granary, and they connected with a tunnel underneath the + palace that had just been burned. They also connected with the outer wall + in such a way that defenders from the ramparts might be rushed there too, + if wanted in a hurry. But, since there never had been corn kept in the + granary, and nobody had ever had the slightest need to force an entrance, + the knowledge even of the existence of the passages had become barely a + memory, and there was not a man living in Jailpore who knew exactly where + they began or where they ended. There was a man outside who knew, but none + inside. + </p> + <p> + The point about the powder-magazine which most appealed to Brown—next + after his knowledge of its contents, mineral and human—was the fact + that the little platform at its summit overlooked the city-wall, and that + the side of the granary actually touched the wall on the side of the city + farthest from where he sat and spied it out. Ten men on that protected + platform, he thought, might suffer from the sun, but they could hold the + building and command a good-sized section of the city ramparts against all + comers. + </p> + <p> + He noticed too, though that seemed immaterial at the time, that one + well-aimed shot from heavy ordnance might crash through the upper dome and + set off the powder underneath. There was no artillery that could be + brought against the place, either with the British force or with the + mutineers, but the thought set him to wondering how much powder there + might be stored on the huge round floor below, and what would happen + should it become ignited. It was a sanguinary, interesting, subtle kind of + thought, that suited the condition of his brain exactly! He climbed down + from the tree, feeling almost good-natured. + </p> + <p> + At the bottom he met Juggut Khan, waiting for him patiently. + </p> + <p> + “What have you seen, sahib?” he asked him. “Have you formed a plan?” + </p> + <p> + “I've been wishing I was Joshua!” said Brown. “I'd like to make my men + march round the city and blow trumpets, and then see the walls fall down. + I can think of several things to do, if we could only get inside. But I + can't think how to get there.” + </p> + <p> + “I have found a way in!” said Juggut Khan. “I have cross-questioned that + fakir of ours as well, with a little assistance from a cleaning-rod + wielded by one of your men. He knows the way too. He says he is the only + man who knows it—in which he lies, since I too have discovered it. + But his knowledge may help as well.” + </p> + <p> + “What's that about a cleaning-rod?” asked Brown. + </p> + <p> + “It was used on him to help him forget his vow of silence.” + </p> + <p> + “When?” + </p> + <p> + “When you were up that tree, sahib!” + </p> + <p> + “Have you been giving my man orders?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, sahib!” + </p> + <p> + “How did he come to beat the fakir, then?” + </p> + <p> + “We both arrived at the same conclusion at the same moment, and the fakir + received the benefit!” + </p> + <p> + “Who held him, you?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, sahib! God forbid! I am a clean man. I listened to his conversation. + The Beluchi held him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Well, I like you well enough, Juggut Khan, but there are things about + you that I don't like. You're too fond of doing things on your own + responsibility, and you're much too fond of using oaths. Y our soul is + none o' my business; you're a heathen anyhow, and no longer in the + Service. But, I'll trouble you not to use those disgraceful oaths of yours + in the presence of the men! Do you understand me?” + </p> + <p> + “I understand you, sahib. If my respect for all your other qualities were + not so profound, I would laugh at you! As it is, if your honor should see + fit to turn the bullocks loose, and tie the fakir fast between two men and + follow me, it seems to me dark enough by now, and I know the way. Might I + furthermore suggest that the ammunition-box would make a reasonable load + for another two men?” + </p> + <p> + “Hadn't we better bring our rifles too?” asked Brown sarcastically. “Upon + my honor, Juggut Khan! You're getting childish! Are your nerves upset, or + what? Lead on, man! Lead on!” + </p> + <p> + “Listen. There are two ways, sahib. One way leads from the burned-out + barracks to the cellar where the women lie hidden. That way is closed by + debris. The other way leads from the outer wall by a very winding route to + the cellar where the women are. The fakir knows that way, and I do not, + though I know of it. There is a third way, though, that leads from the + outer wall, where I have been exploring, straight almost, if you disregard + a wind or two, to the inside of the powder-magazine. It enters the + magazine through a doorway secretly contrived in an upright pillar—or + so the fakir swears. Now this is my notion, sahib. If we go in by the + lower way, we must come out that way, and run the risk of being caught as + we emerge. That risk will be greatly enhanced when we have frightened + women with us whose eyes have been blinded by the darkness. But, if we go + in by the upper way, and enter the magazine itself, I can make the fakir + show us how to lift the stone trapdoor I spoke of—the one that I + closed when I hid the women. Then I can ascend with him, and with say four + men, while you ascend to the platform at the top with the remainder of the + men, and guard our rear and our exit. From the top, you will be able to + see us as we emerge, and can cover our retreat, and follow.” + </p> + <p> + “That sounds like a roundabout sort of plan to me!” said Brown. “Why not + go straight in by the lower route, and gather up the women, and carry 'em + out, and make a bolt for it?” + </p> + <p> + “Because, sahib, we will be at the fakir's mercy.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! He's at our mercy.” + </p> + <p> + “Think, sahib! There, he will be in his own bat's nest, so to speak. These + fakirs are the only men who know the windings of all the secret passages. + They are the rats of religion and intrigue. At any step he might lead us + into an ambush, and we might be overwhelmed before we knew that we were + attacked. If we go the other way, though, I can lead the way myself, and + we need only take the fakir to show us how to open the door.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Brown. “Let's get a move on, though! I'm beginning to + think that you're a better talker than a fighter, Juggut Khan!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sahib? I trust there will be no fighting!” But the Rajput smiled as + he said it, and thought of a certain lance-shaft which had been broken in + the streets of Jailpore. + </p> + <p> + “Lead on! Fall in behind me, men! Walk quietly, now, and remember. Hold + your tongues! Each man keep his eye on me, and a finger on the trigger!” + </p> + <p> + The Beluchi and the fakir and Juggut Khan moved in the van, with two men + to hold the fakir. Next marched, or rather tiptoed, Sergeant Brown, + followed by the other men in single file. In that order they hastened + after Juggut Khan, through the darkness, across a dried-out moat and round + the corner of a huge stone buttress. There they disappeared inside the + wall, and a stone swung round and closed the gap behind the last of them. + There was no alarm given, and not a sign or a sound of any kind to betoken + that any one had seen them. Inside the walls the city roared like a + flood-fed maelstrom, and outside all was darkness and the silence of the + dead. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII. + </h2> + <p> + There was some smart work done inside the powder-magazine. To be able to + appreciate it properly one would be obliged to do what they did—wander + through a maze of tunnels in a city-wall, blinded by darkness, oppressed + by the stored-up stuffiness and heat of ages and deafened by the stillness—then + emerge unexpectedly in the lamp-lit magazine, among mutineers who + sprawled, and laughed; and chewed betel-nut at their ease upon the + powder-kegs. + </p> + <p> + Both sides were taken by surprise, but the mutineers had the nominal + advantage, for their eyes were accustomed to the light. They had the + advantage in numbers, too, by almost two to one. But they dared not fire, + for fear of setting off the magazine, whereas Brown and his little force + dared anything. They fully expected to die, and might as well die that way + as any other. And a quick death for the women down below would be better + than anything the rebels had in store for them. Brown yelled an order, and + the rest was too quick, nearly, for the eye to follow. + </p> + <p> + Three rebels died with bullets in them, and the rest stampeded for the + teak-and-metal door, to find it locked on them, and Brown and the Rajput + standing in front of it on guard. The mutineers attacked fiercely. They + flung themselves all together on the two. But they had yet to learn that + they were tackling, or endeavoring to tackle, the two finest swordsmen in + that part of India. And when they turned, to find more room to fight in, + or to draw their breath, they had to face nine bayonets that hemmed them + in, and drove them closer and even closer to the swords again. They + shouted, but no sound could pierce the walls or escape through that + tremendous door. Even the sound of firing merely echoed upward until it + reached the dome, and then filtered out and upward through the opening + above. They might as well have shouted to their friends in Bholat! + </p> + <p> + For ten minutes, perhaps, the battle surged and swayed on the stone floor + first one side rushing, then the other. But man after man of the mutineers + went down—appalled by the amazing swordsmanship, disheartened by the + grim determination of their adversaries, bewildered to feebleness by the + suddenness of the attack. + </p> + <p> + Soon there were but eight of them facing the blood-wet steel, and then + Brown shouted for a fresh formation, swung his contingent into line and + led them with a rush across the floor that swept the remaining mutineers + off their feet. + </p> + <p> + Three more went down with steel through them, and then the rest + surrendered, throwing down their arms, and begging mercy. Brown made a + bundle of their arms, stowed it in a corner and made the prisoners stand + together in a bunch, while he searched them thoroughly. + </p> + <p> + “If we can't get that trapdoor open now, with these to help us,” he + remarked, panting and wiping the dotted blood off his sword on a Hindu + prisoner's trousers, “it'll be a heavier proposition than I think!” + </p> + <p> + “There's a trick to it,” said Juggut Khan, panting too, for the battle had + been fierce and furious while it lasted. “The fakir knows the trick. It is + heavy, in any case. But, if we make him tell us, we can manage it.” + </p> + <p> + There followed delay while the fakir was induced to forego the pleasure of + a sulking fit. He seemed like a child, anxious to emphasize their + dependence on his knowledge, and needing to be recompelled to each new + thing they needed of him. He was perfectly content, though, to surrender + when he felt the weight of a cleaning-rod on his anatomy, or something in + the way of fire—a match or cigarette for instance—placed where + he would get the most sensation from it. + </p> + <p> + Then followed more delay, while they rigged a lever of sorts, and a rope + through an iron ring in the trap, and while Juggut Khan hunted for the + secret catch that the fakir swore was hidden underneath a smaller stone + that hinged in the middle of the floor. He found it at last, moved it and + came across to lend a hand with the lever and the rope. + </p> + <p> + The fakir sat still and smiled at them. His eyes gleamed more horridly + than ever, and his withered arm seemed more than ever to be calling down + dire vengeance on them. + </p> + <p> + “I believe that monster is up to tricks of some kind!” swore Brown. + </p> + <p> + “He can't do anything,” said Juggut Khan. “If we were all to put our + weight against this, all together, we and the prisoners, sahib, we could + get it open in a second.” + </p> + <p> + “All together, then!” said Brown. “Come on, there! Lend a hand!” + </p> + <p> + The prisoners and Brown's men and Juggut Khan and the Beluchi bent their + backs above the lever, or hauled taut on the rope, and the fakir wriggled + with some secret joke. + </p> + <p> + “At the word three!” said Brown. “Then all together!” + </p> + <p> + “One!” + </p> + <p> + “Two!” + </p> + <p> + The fakir writhed delightedly. He seemed more than ever like a wickedly + malicious child. + </p> + <p> + “Three!” + </p> + <p> + They strained their utmost, and the huge stone trap gave way with a sudden + jerk. + </p> + <p> + “For the love of—” + </p> + <p> + They all jumped, but they were strained in the wrong position for a quick + recovery, and the ten-ton rock rolled back on unseen hinges to crush them + all, and rolled back and yet farther back—and then stayed! Brown had + snatched a rifle, and had placed it between the rolling rock and the wall! + </p> + <p> + He stood wiping the sweat from his forehead, while the rest recovered + their lost balance and walked out from behind unscathed. The rifle creaked + and bent and split. Then the stone leaned farther back, reached the wall + and stayed there! + </p> + <p> + “A near thing that!” said Brown. “That fakir's a bright beauty, isn't he!” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I kick him, sir?” asked one of Brown's men. + </p> + <p> + “Kick him? No! What good'd that do? What next, Juggut Khan?” + </p> + <p> + But Juggut Khan was bending down, and listening at the hole laid bare by + the huge hinged trap. + </p> + <p> + “Silence!” commanded Brown. + </p> + <p> + The men held their breath, even, but not a sound came up from the darkness + down below. + </p> + <p> + “Are they dead, d'you suppose?” asked Brown. + </p> + <p> + And, even as he asked it, some one in the darkness snuffled, and he heard + a woman's voice that moaned. + </p> + <p> + “Snff-snff-snff! I wonder if I'm dead yet! I wouldn't be, I know, if Bill + were here! He'd ha' got us out!” + </p> + <p> + “There is one of them alive!” said Juggut Khan. + </p> + <p> + “So I notice!” answered Brown, with a strange dry quaver in his voice. “Go + down and bring her up, please! Take three or four men with you. It won't + do to bring women and a child up here and let 'em see this awful fakir and + these corpses. Take your time about bringing 'em up, while I make the + prisoners carry their dead up on to the roof. I'll take the fakir up there + too where he's out of mischief!” + </p> + <p> + Just as a six-foot-wide pathway ran round and round the outside of the + dome, another one, scarcely more than a yard wide, ran round the inside, + and formed a roadway to the top in place of a stair. It took the prisoners + and Brown's men fifteen minutes of continuous effort to carry up the dead + and the fakir, and lay them on the roof. + </p> + <p> + “Pitch the dead over!” ordered Brown, and the mutineers obeyed. + </p> + <p> + “I've a mind to pitch you over too!” he growled at the fakir, and the + strange creature seemed to understand him, for his eyes changed from their + baleful hatred to a look of fear. + </p> + <p> + The bodies slid and rolled down the rounded roof, and fell with a thud + against the battlements, or else went rolling down the circular causeway + that led to the street below. + </p> + <p> + Brown seemed to be garnering ideas from watching them. He gazed down at + the noisy tumult of the city, watching for a while the efforts of an + ill-directed crowd to put out a fire that blazed in a distant quarter of + the bazaar. + </p> + <p> + There seemed to him something strangely preconcerted about much of the + hurrying to and fro below him. It struck him as being far too orderly to + be the mere boiling of a loot-crazed mob. + </p> + <p> + His prisoners gave the secret to him. They were leaning against the + parapet on the other side—the side closest to the city-wall, and + farthest from the top of the causeway—and they were chattering + together excitedly in undertones. Brown walked round to where they stood, + and stared where they stared. Just as they had done, he recognized what + lay below him. + </p> + <p> + It was faintly outlined in the blackness, picked out here and there by + lanterns, and still too far away for most civilians to name it until the + sun rose and showed its detail. But Brown, the soldier, knew on the + instant, and so did his men. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly and unexpectedly and sweetly, like a voice in the night that + spoke of hope and strength and the rebirth of order out of chaos, a bugle + gave tongue from where the lanterns swung in straight-kept lines. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Juggut Khan! Oh, Juggut Khan!” + </p> + <p> + Bill Brown's voice boomed through the opening in the dome, and spread down + the walls of the powder-magazine as though in the inside of a + speaking-trumpet. + </p> + <p> + “Brown sahib?” + </p> + <p> + “The army has got here from the north! It has come down here from + Harumpore! It's outside the walls now, lying on its arms, and evidently + waiting to attack at daylight!” + </p> + <p> + “I, too, have news, Brown sahib! All four are living! All four lie here on + the floor of the magazine, and they recover rapidly. They are all but + strong enough to stand.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! Then come up here, Juggut Khan!” + </p> + <p> + That winding pathway up the inside of the dome took longer to negotiate + than an ordinary stairway would have done, but presently the Rajput leaned + against the parapet and panted beside Brown. + </p> + <p> + “D'you see them? There they are! Now, look on this side! D'you see the + preparations going on? D'you realize what the next thing's going to be? + They'll come for powder for the guns, so's to have it all ready for the + gun-crews when the fun begins at dawn! Listen! Here they are already!” + </p> + <p> + A thundering had started on the great teak door below—a thundering + that echoed through the dome like the reverberations of an earthquake. It + was punctuated by the screams of women. The prisoners changed their + attitude, and eyed Brown and the Rajput with an air of truculence again. + </p> + <p> + “They'll be up this causeway in a minute, sahib! Listen. There! They've + seen the dead bodies that you tossed over. Better it had been to keep them + up here for a while.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind! We can hold this causeway until morning! Men! Take close + order. Line up at the causeway-entrance. Kneel. Prepare for volley-firing. + Now, let 'em come!” + </p> + <p> + “I am for making an immediate escape, sahib!” + </p> + <p> + “Go ahead!” said Brown, almost dreamily. + </p> + <p> + He seemed to be thinking hard on some other subject as he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Sahib, one of the women there—she who is maid to the other two—asked + me where Bill Brown might be! She swore to me that she had recognized his + voice when the trapdoor opened up above her. Are you not Bill Brown?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'm William Brown!” + </p> + <p> + “Her name, she says, is Emmett!” + </p> + <p> + “You don't surprise me, Juggut Khan! I thought I had recognized her voice. + It seemed strangely familiar. Well—here come the rebels up the + causeway. See? They're at the bottom now with lanterns! Ready, men!” + </p> + <p> + There came the answering click of breech-bolts, and a little rustling as + each man eased his position, and laid his elbow on his knee. + </p> + <p> + “Can you find your way out through the way we came, Juggut Khan?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I can!” + </p> + <p> + “Are all the women on the floor?” + </p> + <p> + “Three women and the child.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you close the trap-door again?” + </p> + <p> + “Surely! It is only opening it that is difficult.” + </p> + <p> + “Then close it before you go. I've got a reason! Send one of my men up + here with a lantern—one of those that are burning in the magazine. I + want to signal.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sahib!” + </p> + <p> + “Then take the women, with four of my men to help them walk, and get out + as quickly as you can by the way we all came in. Wait for the rest of my + men when you reach the opening in the outer wall, and when they reach you + allot two men to carry each woman, and run—the whole lot of you—for + the army over yonder. One of the women will object. She will want to see + me first. Use force, if necessary!” + </p> + <p> + “Are you, then, not coming, sahib?” + </p> + <p> + “I have another plan. Here they come! Hurry now, be off with the women! + Volley-firing—ready—present!” + </p> + <p> + Pattering footsteps sounded on the causeway, and a little crowd of nearly + doubled figures came up it at a run. + </p> + <p> + “Fire!” + </p> + <p> + The volley took the rebels absolutely by surprise, and no man could miss + his mark at that short range. Five of the rebels fell back headlong, and + the rest, who followed up the causeway, turned on their heels and ran. + </p> + <p> + “'Bout turn!” Brown shouted suddenly. “Use the steel, men! Use the steel!” + </p> + <p> + His own sword was flashing, and lunging as he spoke, and he had already + checked a sudden rush by the prisoners. + </p> + <p> + They had thought the moment favorable for joining in the scrimmage from + the rear. + </p> + <p> + “All right! That'll do them! I'll attend to 'em now!” + </p> + <p> + A man came running up with the lantern Brown had asked for, and Brown took + it and began waving it above his head. + </p> + <p> + “They must have heard that volley!” he muttered to himself. “Ah! There's + the answer!” + </p> + <p> + A red light began to dance over in the British camp, moving up and down + and sidewise in sudden little jerks. Brown read the jerks, as he could + never have read writing, and a moment later he answered them. + </p> + <p> + “Now, down below, the lot of you! Give me your rifle, you. I'll need it.” + </p> + <p> + “Not coming, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet. There's something else yet, and I can do it best. Besides, some + one has got to guard the causeway still. There might be a rush again at + any minute. Listen now. Obey Juggut Khan implicitly as soon as you get + down. His orders are my orders. Understand? Very well, then. And you + without a weapon, your job is to shut the door that you leave the magazine + by tight from the outside—d'you understand me? Call up when you're + all through the door, and then shut it tight!” + </p> + <p> + “But, how'll you get out, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “That's my business. One minute, though. Here they come again. Get ready + to fire another volley!” + </p> + <p> + The mutineers made another and a more determined rush up the causeway, + coming up it more than twenty strong, and at the double. Brown let one + volley loose in the midst of them, then led his men at the charge down on + them and drove them over the edge of the causeway by dint of sheer impact + and cold steel. Not one of them reached the ground alive, and in the + darkness it must have been impossible for the mutineers below to divine + how many were the granary's defenders. + </p> + <p> + “That'll keep 'em quiet for a while, I'll wager! Now, quick, you men! Get + down below, and follow Juggut Khan, and don't forget to shut the door + tight on you. These prisoners here are going to follow you—they may + as well go down with you for that matter. No! that won't do. They could + open the door below, couldn't they? They'll have to stay up here. Got any + rope? Then bind them, somebody. Bind their hands and feet. Now, off with + you!” + </p> + <p> + Brown spent the next few minutes signaling with the lantern, and reading + answering flashes that zig-zagged in the velvet blackness of the British + lines. Then, as a voice boomed up through the granary, “All's well, sir! + I'm just about to shut the door!” he fixed his eyes on the fakir, and + laughed at him. + </p> + <p> + “You and I are going to turn in our accounts of how we've worked out this + 'Hookum hai' business, my friend!” he told him. “You've given orders, and + I've obeyed orders! We've both accounted for a death or two, and we've + both accepted responsibility. We're going to know in less than five + minutes from now which of us two was justified. There's one thing I know, + though, without asking. There's one person, and she a woman, who'll weep + for me. Will anybody weep for you, I wonder?” + </p> + <p> + A lantern waved wildly from the British camp, and Brown seized his own + lantern and signaled an answer. + </p> + <p> + “See that? That's to say, you glassy-eyed horror you, that our mutual + friend Juggut Khan has been seen emerging like a rat from a hole in the + wall. I'll give him and his party one more minute to get clear. Then + there's going to be a holocaust, my friend!” + </p> + <p> + He cocked his rifle, and examined the breech-bolt and the foresight + carefully. The fakir shuddered, evidently thinking that the charge was + intended for himself. + </p> + <p> + “No! It won't be that way. I know a better! I'm taking a leaf from your + book and doing harm by wholesale!” + </p> + <p> + Brown leaned down into the opening of the dome, and brought the rifle to + his shoulder. There was a chorus of yells from the prisoners, and a noise + like a wounded horse's scream from the fakir. The rest were bound, but the + fakir rose and writhed toward him on his heels, with his sound arm + stretched up in an attitude of despair beside the withered one. + </p> + <p> + A chorus of bugles burst out from the British camp, and a volley ripped + through the blackness. + </p> + <p> + “All right! Here goes!” said Brown. And he aimed down into the shadowy + powder-magazine, and pulled the trigger. + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later, an army three thousand and five hundred strong marched + in through the gap made in the outer wall by a granary that had spread + itself through—and not over—what was in its way. There were + seventeen tons of powder that responded to the invitation of Brown's + bullet. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV. + </h2> + <p> + Explosions are among the few things—or the many things, whichever + way you like to look at it!—that science can not undertake to + harness or account for. When a gun blows up, or a powder-magazine, the + shock kills whom it kills, as when a shell bursts in a dense-packed + firing-line. You can not kill any man before his time comes, even if a + thousand tons of solid masonry combine with you to whelm him, and go + hurtling through the air with him to absolutely obvious destruction. + </p> + <p> + The fakir's time had come, and the prisoners' time had come. But Sergeant + William Brown's had not. + </p> + <p> + They found him, blackened by powder, and with every stitch of clothing + blown from him, clinging to a bunch of lotus-stems in a temple-pond. There + was a piece of fakir in the water with him, and about a ton of broken + granary, besides the remnants of a rifle and other proof that he had come + belched out of a holocaust. The men who came on him had given their + officer the slip, and were bent on a private looting-expedition of their + own. But by the time that they had dragged him from the water, and he had + looted them of wherewithal to clothe himself, their thoughts of plunder + had departed from them. Brown had a way of quite monopolizing people's + thoughts! + </p> + <p> + There were twenty of them, and he led them all that night, and all through + the morning and the afternoon that followed. He held them together and + worked them and wheeled them and coached and cheered and compelled them + through the hell-tumult of the ghastliest thing there is beneath the dome + of heaven—house-to-house fighting in an Eastern city. And at the end + of it, when the bugles blew at last “Cease fire,” and many of the men were + marched away by companies to put out the conflagrations that were blazing + here and there, he led them outside the city-wall, stood them at ease in + their own line and saluted their commanding-officer. + </p> + <p> + “Twenty men of yours, sir. Present and correct.” + </p> + <p> + “Which twenty?” + </p> + <p> + “Of Mr. Blair's half-company.” + </p> + <p> + “Where's Mr. Blair?” + </p> + <p> + “Dunno, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Since when have you had charge of them?” + </p> + <p> + “Since they broke into the city yesterday, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And you haven't lost a man?” + </p> + <p> + “Had lots of luck, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Who are you, anyway?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm Sergeant Brown, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Of the Rifles?” + </p> + <p> + “Of the Rifles, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Were you the man who signaled to us from the magazine and blew it up and + made the breach in the wall for us to enter by?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you alive, or dead? Man or ghost?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm pretty much alive, sir, thank you!” + </p> + <p> + “D'you realize that you made the taking of Jailpore possible? That but for + you we'd have been trying still to storm the walls without artillery?” + </p> + <p> + “I had the chance, sir, and I only did what any other man would ha' done + under like circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + “Go and tell that to the Horse Marines—or, rather, tell it to + Colonel Kendrick! Go and report to him at once. Possibly he'll see it + through your eyes!” + </p> + <p> + So Brown marched off to report himself, and he found Colonel Kendrick + nursing a badly wounded arm before a torn and mud-stained tent. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you?” said the colonel, as Brown saluted him. + </p> + <p> + “I'm Sergeant Brown, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Not Bill Brown of the Rifles?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “You lie! He was blown up on the roof of the powder-magazine! I suppose + every man who's gone mad from the heat will be saying that he's Brown!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm Brown, sir! I had written orders from General Baines to enter + Jailpore and rescue three women and a child.” + </p> + <p> + “Where are your orders?” + </p> + <p> + “Lost 'em, sir, in the explosion.” + </p> + <p> + “For a madman, you're a circumstantial liar! What happened to the women?” + </p> + <p> + The colonel sat back, and smothered an exclamation of agony as the nerves + in his injured arm tortured him afresh. He had asked a question which + should settle once and for all this man's pretentions, and he waited for + the answer with an air of certainty. It was on his lips to call the guard + to take the lunatic away. + </p> + <p> + “Juggut Khan, the Rajput, took them, with nine of my men, and brought them + in to your camp last night, sir. I naturally haven't seen them since.” + </p> + <p> + “Will the women know you?” + </p> + <p> + “One of them will, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Which one?” + </p> + <p> + “Jane Emmett, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we'll see!” + </p> + <p> + The colonel called an orderly, and sent the orderly running for Jane + Emmett. A minute later two strong arms were thrown round Bill Brown from + behind, and he was all but carried off his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Bill—Bill—Bill! I knew you'd be all right! Turn round, + Bill! Look at me!” + </p> + <p> + She was clinging to him in such a manner that he could not turn, but he + managed to pry her hands loose, and to draw her round in front of him. + </p> + <p> + “I knew, Bill! I felt sure you'd come! And I recognized your voice the + minute that the trapdoor opened and I heard it! I did, Bill! I knew you in + a minute! I didn't worry then! I knew you wouldn't come and talk to me as + long as there was any duty to be done. I just waited! They said you were + killed in the explosion, but I knew you weren't! I knew it! I did! I knew + it!” + </p> + <p> + “Face me, please!” said Colonel Kendrick. “Now, Jane Emmett, is that man + Sergeant William Brown, of the Rifles?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he the man who entered Jailpore with nine men and a Rajput, and came + to your assistance?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir! He's the same man who spoke in the powder-magazine;” + </p> + <p> + “Do you confirm that?” he asked Brown. + </p> + <p> + “Under favor, sir, my men must be somewhere, if they're not all killed. + They'll recognize me. And there's the other lot I led all last night and + all today. They'll tell you where they found me!” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind! I've decided I believe you! D'you realize that you're + something of a marvel?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir—except that I've had marvelous luck!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I shall take great pleasure in mentioning your name in despatches. + It will go direct, at first hand, to Her Majesty the Queen! There are few + men, let me tell you, Sergeant Brown, who would dare what you dared in the + first place. But, more than that, there are even fewer men who would leave + a sweetheart in some one else's care while they blew up a powder-magazine + with themselves on top of it, in order to make a breach for the army to + come in by! My right hand's out of action unfortunately—you'll have + to shake my left!” + </p> + <p> + The colonel rose, held his uninjured hand out and Brown shook it, since he + was ordered to. + </p> + <p> + “I consider it an honor and a privilege to have shaken hands with you, + Sergeant Brown!” said Colonel Kendrick. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir!” said Brown, taking one step back, and then saluting. + “May I join my regiment, sir?” + </p> + <p> + He joined his regiment, when he had helped to sort out the bleeding + remnants of it from among the by-ways and back alleys of Jailpore. And the + chaplain married him and Jane Emmett out of hand. He sent her off at once + with her former mistress to the coast, and marched off with his regiment + to Delphi. And at Delphi his name was once more mentioned in despatches. + </p> + <p> + When the Mutiny was over, and the country had settled down again to peace + and reincarnation of a nation had begun, Brown found himself hoisted to a + civil appointment that was greater and more highly paid than anything his + modest soul had ever dreamed of. + </p> + <p> + He never understood the reason for it, although he did his fighting-best + consistently to fill the job; and he never understood why Queen Victoria + should have taken the trouble to write a letter to him in which she + thanked him personally, nor why they should have singled out for praise + and special notice a fellow who had merely done his duty. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps that was the reason why he was such a conspicuous success in civil + life. They still talk of how Bill Brown, with Jane his wife and Juggut + Khan the Rajput to advise him, was Resident Political Adviser to a + Maharajah, and of how the Maharajah loathed him, and looked sidewise at + him—but obeyed. That, though, is not a war-story. It is a story of + the saving of a war, and shall go on record, some day, beneath a title of + its own. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FOR THE SALT HE HAD EATEN + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PROL" id="link2H_PROL"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Prologue + </h2> + <p> + To the northward of Hanadra, blue in the sweltering heat-haze, lay Siroeh, + walled in with sun-baked mud and listless. Through a wooden gate at one + end of the village filed a string of women with their water-pots. Oxen, + tethered underneath the thatched eaves or by the thirsty-looking trees, + lay chewing the cud, almost too lazy to flick the flies away. Even the + village goats seemed overcome with lassitude. Here and there a pariah dog + sneaked in and out among the shadows or lay and licked his sores beside an + offal-heap; but there seemed to be no energy in anything. The bone-dry, + hot-weather wind had shriveled up verdure and ambition together. + </p> + <p> + But in the mud-walled cottages, where men were wont to doze through the + long, hot days, there were murmurings and restless movement. Men lay on + thong-strung beds, and talked instead of dreaming, and the women listened + and said nothing—which is the reverse of custom. Hanadra was what it + always had been, thatched, sun-baked lassitude; but underneath the thatch + there thrummed a beehive atmosphere of tension. + </p> + <p> + In the center of the village, where the one main road that led from the + main gate came to an abrupt end at a low mud wall, stood a house that was + larger than the others and somewhat more neatly kept; there had been an + effort made at sweeping the enclosure that surrounded it on all four + sides, and there was even whitewash, peeling off in places but still + comparatively white, smeared on the sun-cracked walls. + </p> + <p> + Here, besides murmurings and movement, there was evidence of real + activity. Tethered against the wall on one side of the house stood a row + of horses, saddled and bridled and bearing evidence of having traveled + through the heat; through the open doorway the sunshine glinted on a + sword-hilt and amid the sound of many voices rang the jingling of a spur + as some one sat cornerwise on a wooden table and struck his toe restlessly + against the leg. + </p> + <p> + Another string of women started for the water-hole, with their picturesque + brass jars perched at varying angles on their heads; and as each one + passed the doorway of this larger house she turned and scowled. A Rajput, + lean and black-bearded and swaggering, came to the door and watched them, + standing proudly with his arms folded across his breast. As the last woman + showed her teeth at him, he laughed aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Nay!” said a voice inside. “Have done with that! Is noticing the Hindu + women fit sport for a Rajput?” + </p> + <p> + The youngster turned and faced the old, black-bearded veteran who spoke. + </p> + <p> + “If I had my way,” he answered, “I would ride roughshod through this + village, and fire the thatch. They fail to realize the honor that we pay + them by a visit!” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, hothead! And burn thy brother's barn with what is in it! The Hindus + here are many, and we are few, and there will be burnings and saberings + a-plenty before a week is past, if I read the signs aright! Once before + have I heard such murmurings. Once before I have seen chupatties sent from + house to house at sunset—and that time blood ran red along the + roadside for a month to follow! Keep thy sword sharp a while and wait the + day!” + </p> + <p> + “But why,” growled another deep-throated Rajput voice, “does the Sirkar + wait? Why not smite first and swiftly?” + </p> + <p> + Mahommed Khan moved restlessly and ran his fingers through his beard. + </p> + <p> + “I know not!” he answered. “In the days when I was Risaldar in the Rajput + Horse, and Bellairs sahib was colonel, things were different! But we + conquered, and after conquest came security. The English have grown + overconfident; they think that Mussulman will always war with Hindu, the + one betraying the other; they will not understand that this lies deeper + than jealousy—they will not listen! Six months ago I rode to Jundhra + and whispered to the general sahib what I thought; but he laughed back at + me. He said 'Wolf! wolf!' to me and drew me inside his bungalow and bade + me eat my fill.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—what matters it! This land has always been the playground of + new conquerors!” + </p> + <p> + “There will be no new conquerors,” growled the old Risaldar, “so long as I + and mine have swords to wield for the Raj!” + </p> + <p> + “But what have the English done for thee or us?” + </p> + <p> + “This, forgetful one! They have treated us with honor, as surely no other + conquerors had done! At thy age, I too measured my happiness in cattle and + coin and women, but then came Bellairs sahib, and raised the Rajput Horse, + and I enlisted. What came of that was better than all the wealth of Ind!” + </p> + <p> + He spread his long legs like a pair of scissors and caught a child between + them and lifted him. + </p> + <p> + “Thou ruffian, thou!” he chuckled. “See how he fights! A true Rajput! Nay, + beat me not. Some day thou too shalt bear a sword for England, + great-grandson mine. Ai-ee! But I grow old.” + </p> + <p> + “For England or the next one!” + </p> + <p> + “Nay! But for England!” said the Risaldar, setting the child down on his + knee. “And thou too, hot-head. Before a week is past! Think you I called + my sons and grandsons all together for the fun of it? Think you I rode + here through the heat because I needed the exercise or to chatter like an + ape or to stand in the doorway making faces at a Hindu woman or to watch + thee do it? Here I am, and here I stay until yet more news comes!” + </p> + <p> + “Then are we to wait here? Are we to swelter in Siroeh, eating up our + brother's hospitality, until thy messengers see fit to come and tell us + that this scare of thine is past?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay!” said the Risaldar. “I said that I wait here! Return now to your own + homes, each of you. But be in readiness. I am old, but I can ride still. I + can round you up. Has any a better horse than mine? If he has, let him + make exchange.” + </p> + <p> + “There will be horses for the looting if this revolt of thine breaks out!” + </p> + <p> + “True! There will be horses for the looting! Well, I wait here then and, + when the trouble comes, I can count on thirteen of my blood to carry + swords behind me?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, when the trouble comes!” + </p> + <p> + There was a chorus of assent, and the Risaldar arose to let his sons and + grandsons file past him. He, who had beggared himself to give each one of + them a start in life, felt a little chagrined that they should now refuse + to exchange horses with him; but his eye glistened none the less at the + sight of their stalwart frames and at the thought of what a fighting unit + he could bring to serve the Raj. + </p> + <p> + “All, then, for England!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, all for thee!” said his eldest-born. “We fight on whichever side + thou sayest!” + </p> + <p> + “Disloyal one!” growled the Risaldar with a scowl. But he grinned into his + beard. + </p> + <p> + “Well, to your homes, then—but be ready!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I. + </h2> + <p> + The midnight jackals howled their discontent while heat-cracked India + writhed in stuffy torment that was only one degree less than unendurable. + Through the stillness and the blackness of the night came every now and + then the high-pitched undulating wails of women, that no one answered-for, + under that Tophet-lid of blackness, punctured by the low-hung, steel-white + stars, men neither knew nor cared whose child had died. Life and hell-hot + torture and indifference—all three were one. + </p> + <p> + There was no moon, nothing to make the inferno visible, except that here + and there an oil lamp on some housetop glowed like a blood-spot against + the blackness. It was a sensation, rather than sight or sound, that + betrayed the neighborhood of thousands upon thousands of human beings, + sprawling, writhing, twisting upon the roofs, in restless suffering. + </p> + <p> + There was no pity in the dry, black vault of heaven, nor in the bone-dry + earth, nor in the hearts of men, during that hot weather of '57. Men + waited for the threatened wrath to come and writhed and held their + tongues. And while they waited in sullen Asiatic patience, through the + restless silence and the smell—the suffocating, spice-fed, + filth-begotten smell of India—there ran an undercurrent of even + deeper mystery than India had ever known. + </p> + <p> + Priest-ridden Hanadra, that had seen the downfall of a hundred kings, + watched through heat-wearied eyes for another whelming the blood-soaked, + sudden flood that was to burst the dam of servitude and rid India of her + latest horde of conquerors. But eight hundred yards from where her high + brick walls lifted their age-scars in the stifling reek, gun-chains + jingled in a courtyard, and, sharp-clicking on age-old flagstones, rose + the ring of horses' feet. + </p> + <p> + Section Number One of a troop of Bengal Horse Artillery was waiting under + arms. Sabered and grim and ready stood fifty of the finest men that + England could produce, each man at his horse's head; and blacker even than + the night loomed the long twelve-pounders, in tow behind their limbers. + Sometimes a trace-chain jingled as a wheel-horse twitched his flank; and + sometimes a man spoke in a low voice, or a horse stamped on the pavement; + but they seemed like black graven images of war-gods, half-smothered in + the reeking darkness. And above them, from a window that overlooked the + courtyard, shone a solitary lamp that glistened here and there upon the + sleek black guns and flickered on the saber-hilts, and deepened the + already dead-black atmosphere of mystery. + </p> + <p> + From the room above, where the lamp shone behind gauze curtains came the + sound of voices; and in the deepest, death-darkest shadow of the door + below there stood a man on guard whose fingers clutched his sword-hilt and + whose breath came heavily. He stood motionless, save for his heaving + breast; between his fierce, black mustache and his up-brushed, two-pointed + beard, his white teeth showed through parted lips. But he gave no other + sign that he was not some Rajput princeling's image carved out of the + night. + </p> + <p> + He was an old man, though, for all his straight back and military + carriage. The night concealed his shabbiness; but it failed to hide the + medals on his breast, one bronze, one silver, that told of campaigns + already a generation gone. And his patience was another sign of age; a + younger man of his blood and training would have been pacing to and fro + instead of standing still. + </p> + <p> + He stood still even when footsteps resounded on the winding stair above + and a saber-ferrule clanked from step to step. The gunners heard and stood + squarely to their horses. There was a rustling and a sound of shifting + feet, and, a “Whoa,—you!” to an irritated horse; but the Rajput + stayed motionless until the footsteps reached the door. Then he took one + step forward, faced about and saluted. + </p> + <p> + “Salaam, Bellairs sahib!” boomed his deep-throated voice, and Lieutenant + Bellairs stepped back with a start into the doorway again—one hand + on his sword-hilt. The Indian moved sidewise to where the lamplight from + the room above could fall upon his face. + </p> + <p> + “Salaam, Bellairs sahib!” he boomed again. + </p> + <p> + Then the lieutenant recognized him. + </p> + <p> + “You, Mahommed Khan!” he exclaimed. “You old war-dog, what brought you + here? Heavens, how you startled me! What good wind brought you?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay! It seems it was an ill wind, sahib!” + </p> + <p> + “What ill wind? I'm glad to see you!” + </p> + <p> + “The breath of rumor, sahib!” + </p> + <p> + “What rumor brought you?” + </p> + <p> + “Where a man's honor lies, there is he, in the hour of danger! Is all well + with the Raj, sahib?” + </p> + <p> + “With the Raj? How d'you mean, Risaldar?” + </p> + <p> + Mahommed Khan pointed to the waiting guns and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “In my days, sahib,” he answered, “men seldom exercised the guns at + night!” + </p> + <p> + “I received orders more than three hours ago to bring my section in to + Jundhra immediately—immediately—and not a word of + explanation!” + </p> + <p> + “Orders, sahib? And you wait?” + </p> + <p> + “They seem to have forgotten that I'm married, and by the same token, so + do you! What else could I do but wait? My wife can't ride with the + section; she isn't strong enough, for one thing; and besides, there's no + knowing what this order means; there might be trouble to face of some + kind. I've sent into Hanadra to try to drum up an escort for her and I'm + waiting here until it comes.” + </p> + <p> + The Risaldar stroked at his beard reflectively. + </p> + <p> + “We of the service, sahib,” he answered, “obey orders at the gallop when + they come. When orders come to ride, we ride!”' + </p> + <p> + Bellairs winced at the thrust. + </p> + <p> + “That's all very fine, Risaldar. But how about my wife? What's going to + happen to her, if I leave her here alone and unprotected?” + </p> + <p> + “Or to me, sahib? Is my sword-arm withered? Is my saber rusted home?” + </p> + <p> + “You, old friend! D'you mean to tell me—” + </p> + <p> + The Risaldar saluted him again. + </p> + <p> + “Will you stay here and guard her?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, sahib! Being not so young as thou art, I know better!” + </p> + <p> + “What in Tophet do you mean, Mahommed Khan?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean, sahib,”—the Indian's voice was level and deep, but it + vibrated strangely, and his eyes glowed as though war-lights were being + born again behind them—“that not for nothing am I come! I heard what + thy orders were and—” + </p> + <p> + “How did you hear what my orders were?” + </p> + <p> + “My half-brother came hurrying with the news, sahib. I hastened! My horse + lies dead one kos from Hanadra here!” + </p> + <p> + The lieutenant laughed. + </p> + <p> + “At last, Mahommed? That poor old screw of yours? So he's dead at last, + eh? So his time had come at last!” + </p> + <p> + “We be not all rich men who serve the Raj!” said the Risaldar with + dignity. “Ay, sahib, his time was come! And when our time comes may thou + and I, sahib, die as he did, with our harness on! What said thy orders, + sahib? Haste? Then yonder lies the road, through the archway!” + </p> + <p> + “But, tell me, Risaldar, what brought you here in such a hurry?” + </p> + <p> + “A poor old screw, sahib, whose time was come—even as thou hast + said!” + </p> + <p> + “Mahommed Khan, I'm sorry—very sorry, if I insulted you! I—I'm + worried—I didn't stop to think. I—old friend, I—” + </p> + <p> + “It is forgotten, sahib!” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me—what are these rumors you have heard?” + </p> + <p> + “But one rumor, sahib-war! Uprising—revolution—treachery—all + India waits the word to rise, sahib!” + </p> + <p> + “You mean—?” + </p> + <p> + “Mutiny among the troops, and revolution north, south, east and west!” + </p> + <p> + “Here, too, in Hanadra?” + </p> + <p> + “Here, too, in Hanadra, sahib! Here they will be among the first to rise!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come! I can't believe that! How was it that my orders said nothing of + it then?” + </p> + <p> + “That, sahib, I know not—not having written out thy orders! I heard + that thy orders came. I knew, as I have known this year past, what storm + was brewing. I knew, too, that the heavenborn, thy wife, is here. I am thy + servant, sahib, as I was thy father's servant—we serve one Queen; + thy honor is my honor. Entrust thy memsahib to my keeping!” + </p> + <p> + “You will guard her?” + </p> + <p> + “I will bring her in to Jundhra!” + </p> + <p> + “You alone?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, sahib! I, and my sons, and my sons' sons—thirteen men all + told!” + </p> + <p> + “That is good of you, Mahommed Khan. Where are your sons?” + </p> + <p> + “Leagues from here, sahib. I must bring them. I need a horse.” + </p> + <p> + “And while you are gone?” + </p> + <p> + “My half-brother, sahib—he is here for no other purpose—he + will answer to me for her safety!” + </p> + <p> + “All right, Mahommed Khan, and thank you! Take my second charger, if you + care to; he is a little saddle-sore, but your light weight—” + </p> + <p> + “Sahib—listen! Between here and Siroeh, where my eldest-born and his + three sons live, lie seven leagues. And on from there to Lungra, where the + others live, are three more leagues. I need a horse this night!” + </p> + <p> + “What need of thirteen men, Mahommed? You are sufficient by yourself, + unless a rebellion breaks out. If it did, why, you and thirteen others + would be swamped as surely as you alone!” + </p> + <p> + “Thy father and I, sahib, rode through the guns at Dera thirteen strong! + Alone, I am an old man—not without honor, but of little use; with + twelve young blades behind me, though, these Hindu rabble—” + </p> + <p> + “Do you really mean, Mahommed Khan, that you think Hanadra here will + rise?” + </p> + <p> + “The moment you are gone, sahib!” + </p> + <p> + “Then, that settles it! The memsahib rides with me!” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, listen, sahib! Of a truth, thou art a hot-head as thy father was + before thee! Thus will it be better. If the heavenborn, thy wife, stays + behind, these rabble here will think that the section rides out to + exercise, because of the great heat of the sun by day; they will watch for + its return, and wait for the parking of the guns before they put torch to + the mine that they have laid!” + </p> + <p> + “The mine? D'you mean they've—” + </p> + <p> + “Who knows, sahib? But I speak in metaphor. When the guns are parked again + and the horses stabled and the men asleep, the rabble, being many, might + dare anything!” + </p> + <p> + “You mean, you think that they—” + </p> + <p> + “I mean, sahib, that they will take no chances while they think the guns + are likely to return!” + </p> + <p> + “But, if I take the memsahib with me?” + </p> + <p> + “They will know then, sahib, that the trap is open and the bird flown! + Know you how fast news travels? Faster than the guns, Sahib! There will be + an ambuscade, from which neither man, nor gun, nor horse, nor memsahib + will escape!” + </p> + <p> + “But if you follow later, it will mean the same thing! When they see you + ride off on a spent horse, with twelve swords and the memsahib—d'you + mean that they won't ambuscade you?” + </p> + <p> + “They might, sahib—and again, they might not! Thirteen men and a + woman ride faster than a section of artillery, and ride where the guns + would jam hub-high against a tree-trunk! And thy orders, sahib—are + thy orders nothing?” + </p> + <p> + “Orders! Yes, confound it! But they know I'm married. They know—” + </p> + <p> + “Sahib, listen! When the news came to me I was at Siroeh, dangling a + great-grandson on my knee. There were no orders, but it seemed the Raj had + need of me. I rode! Thou, sahib, hast orders. I am here to guard thy wife—my + honor is thy honor—take thou the guns. Yonder lies the road!” + </p> + <p> + The grim old warrior's voice thrilled with the throb of loyalty, as he + stood erect and pointed to the shadowy archway through which the road + wound to the plain beyond. + </p> + <p> + “Sahib, I taught thy father how to use his sword! I nursed thee when thou + wert little. Would I give three false counsel now? Ride, sahib—ride!” + </p> + <p> + Bellairs turned away and looked at his charger, a big, brown Khaubuli + stallion, named for the devil and true in temper and courage to his name; + two men were holding him, ten paces off. + </p> + <p> + “Such a horse I need this night, Sahib! Thy second charger can keep pace + with the guns!” + </p> + <p> + Bellairs gave a sudden order, and the men led the brute back into his + stable. + </p> + <p> + “Change the saddle to my second charger!” he ordered. + </p> + <p> + Then he turned to the Risaldar again, with hand outstretched. + </p> + <p> + “I'm ashamed of myself, Mahommed Khan!” he said, with a vain attempt to + smile. “I should have gone an hour ago! Please take my horse Shaitan, and + make such disposition for my wife's safety as you see fit. Follow as and + when you can; I trust you, and I shall be grateful to you whatever + happens!” + </p> + <p> + “Well spoken, Sahib! I knew thou wert a man! We who serve the Raj have + neither sons, nor wives, nor sweethearts! Allah guard you, Sahib! The + section waits—and the Service can not wait!” + </p> + <p> + “One moment while I tell my wife!” + </p> + <p> + “Halt, Sahib! Thou hast said good-by a thousand times! A woman's tears—are + they heart-meat for a soldier when the bits are champing? Nay! See, sahib; + they bring thy second charger! Mount! I will bring thy wife to Jundhra for + thee! The Service waits!” + </p> + <p> + The lieutenant turned and mounted. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, Mahommed Khan!” he said. “I know you're right! Section! + Prepare to mount!” he roared, and the stirrups rang in answer to him. + “Mount! Good-by, Mahommed Khan! Good luck to you! Section, right! Trot, + march!” + </p> + <p> + With a crash and the clattering of iron shoes on stone the guns jingled + off into the darkness, were swallowed by the gaping archway and rattled + out on the plain. + </p> + <p> + The Risaldar stood grimly where he was until the last hoof-beat and bump + of gun-wheel had died away into the distance; then he turned and climbed + the winding stairway to the room where the lamp still shone through gauzy + curtains. + </p> + <p> + On a dozen roof-tops, where men lay still and muttered, brown eyes + followed the movements of the section and teeth that were betel-stained + grinned hideously. + </p> + <p> + From a nearby temple, tight-packed between a hundred crowded houses, came + a wailing, high-pitched solo sung to Siva—the Destroyer. And as it + died down to a quavering finish it was followed by a ghoulish laugh that + echoed and reechoed off the age-old city-wall. + </p> + <p> + Proud as a Royal Rajput—and there is nothing else on God's green + earth that is even half as proud—true to his salt, and stout of + heart even if he was trembling at the knees, Mahommed Khan, two-medal man + and Risaldar, knocked twice on the door of Mrs. Lellairs' room, and + entered. + </p> + <p> + And away in the distance rose the red reflection of a fire ten leagues + away. The Mutiny of '57 had blazed out of sullen mystery already, the + sepoys were burning their barracks half-way on the road to Jundhra! + </p> + <p> + And down below, to the shadow where the Risaldar had stood, crept a giant + of a man who had no military bearing. He listened once, and sneaked into + the deepest black within the doorway and crouched and waited. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. + </h2> + <p> + Hanadra reeks of history, blood-soaked and mysterious. Temples piled on + the site of olden temples; palaces where half-forgotten kings usurped the + thrones of conquerors who came from God knows where to conquer older + kings; roads built on the bones of conquered armies; houses and palaces + and subterranean passages that no man living knows the end of and few even + the beginning. Dark corridors and colonnades and hollow walls; roofs that + have ears and peep-holes; floors that are undermined by secret stairs; + trees that have swayed with the weight of rotting human skulls and have + shimmered with the silken bannerets of emperors. Such is Hanadra, + half-ruined, and surrounded by a wall that was age-old in the dawn of + written history. + </p> + <p> + Even its environs are mysterious; outside the walls, there are carven, + gloomy palaces that once re-echoed to the tinkle of stringed instruments + and the love-songs of some sultan's favorite—now fallen into ruins, + or rebuilt to stable horses or shelter guns and stores and men; but + eloquent in all their new-smeared whitewash, or in crumbling decay, of + long-since dead intrigue. No places, those, for strong men to live alone + in, where night-breezes whisper through forgotten passages and dry teak + planking recreaks to the memory of dead men's footsteps. + </p> + <p> + But strong men are not the only makings of an Empire, nor yet the only + sufferers. Wherever the flag of England flies above a distant outpost or + droops in the stagnant moisture of an Eastern swamp, there are the graves + of England's women. The bones that quarreling jackals crunch among the + tombstones—the peace along the clean-kept borderline—the pride + of race and conquest and the cleaner pride of work well done, these are + not man's only. Man does the work, but he is held to it and cheered on by + the girl who loves him. + </p> + <p> + And so, above a stone-flagged courtyard, in a room that once had echoed to + the laughter of a sultan's favorite, it happened that an English girl of + twenty-one was pacing back and forth. Through the open curtained window + she had seen her husband lead his command out through the echoing archway + to the plain beyond; she had heard his boyish voice bark out the command + and had listened to the rumble of the gun-wheels dying in the distance—for + the last time possibly. She knew, as many an English girl has known, that + she was alone, one white woman amid a swarm of sullen Aryans, and that she + must follow along the road the guns had taken, served and protected by + nothing more than low-caste natives. + </p> + <p> + And yet she was dry-eyed, and her chin was high; for they are a strange + breed, these Anglo-Saxon women who follow the men they love to the lonely + danger-zone. Ruth Bellairs could have felt no joy in her position; she had + heard her husband growling his complaint at being forced to leave her, and + she guessed what her danger was. Fear must have shrunk her heartbeats and + loneliness have tried her courage. But there was an ayah in the room with + her, a low-caste woman of the conquered race; and pride of country came to + her assistance. She was firm-lipped and, to outward seeming, brave as she + was beautiful. + </p> + <p> + Even when the door resounded twice to the sharp blow of a saber-hilt, and + the ayah's pock-marked ebony took on a shade of gray, she stood like a + queen with an army at her back and neither blanched nor trembled. + </p> + <p> + “Who is that, ayah?” she demanded. + </p> + <p> + The ayah shrank into herself and showed the whites of her eyes and + grinned, as a pariah dog might show its teeth—afraid, but scenting + carrion. + </p> + <p> + “Go and see!” + </p> + <p> + The ayah shuddered and collapsed, babbling incoherencies and calling on a + horde of long-neglected gods to witness she was innocent. She clutched + strangely at her breast and used only one hand to drag her shawl around + her face. While she babbled she glanced wild-eyed around the long, + low-ceilinged room. Ruth Bellairs looked down at her pityingly and went to + the door herself and opened it. + </p> + <p> + “Salaam, memsahib!” boomed a deep voice from the darkness. + </p> + <p> + Ruth Bellairs started and the ayah screamed. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you? Enter—let me see you!” + </p> + <p> + A black beard and a turban and the figure of a man—and then white + teeth and a saber-hilt and eyes that gleamed moved forward from the + darkness. + </p> + <p> + “It is I, Mahommed Khan!” boomed the voice again, and the Risaldar stepped + out into the lamplight and closed the door behind him. Then, with a + courtly, long-discarded sweep of his right arm, he saluted. + </p> + <p> + “At the heavenborn's service!” + </p> + <p> + “Mahommed Khan! Thank God!” + </p> + <p> + The old man's shabbiness was very obvious as he faced her, with his back + against the iron-studded door; but he stood erect as a man of thirty, and + his medals and his sword-hilt and his silver scabbard-tip were bright. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, Mahommed Khan, you have seen my husband?” + </p> + <p> + He bowed. + </p> + <p> + “You have spoken to him?” + </p> + <p> + The old man bowed again. + </p> + <p> + “He left you in my keeping, heavenborn. I am to bring you safe to + Jundhra!” + </p> + <p> + She held her hand out and he took it like a cavalier, bending until he + could touch her fingers with his lips. + </p> + <p> + “What is the meaning of this hurrying of the guns to Jundhra, Risaldar?” + </p> + <p> + “Who knows, memsahib! The orders of the Sirkar come, and we of the service + must obey. I am thy servant and the Sirkar's!” + </p> + <p> + “You, old friend—that were servant, as you choose to call it, to my + husband's father! I am a proud woman to have such friends at call!” She + pointed to the ayah, recovering sulkily and rearranging the shawl about + her shoulders. “That I call service, Risaldar. She cowers when a knock + comes at the door! I need you, and you answer a hardly spoken prayer; what + is friendship, if yours is not?” + </p> + <p> + The Risaldar bowed low again. + </p> + <p> + “I would speak with that ayah, heavenborn!” he muttered, almost into his + beard. She could hardly catch the words. + </p> + <p> + “I can't get her to speak to me at all tonight, Mahommed Khan. She's + terrified almost out of her life at something. But perhaps you can do + better. Try. Do you want to question her alone?” + </p> + <p> + “By the heavenborn's favor, yes.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth walked down the room toward the window, drew the curtain back and + leaned her head out where whatever breeze there was might fan her cheek. + The Risaldar strode over to where the ayah cowered by an inner doorway. + </p> + <p> + “She-Hindu-dog!” he growled at her. “Mother of whelps! Louse-ridden + scavenger of sweepings! What part hast thou in all this treachery? Speak!” + </p> + <p> + The ayah shrank away from him and tried to scream, but he gripped her by + the throat and shook her. + </p> + <p> + “Speak!” he growled again. + </p> + <p> + But his ten iron fingers held her in a vise-like grip and she could not + have answered him if she had tried to. + </p> + <p> + “O Risaldar!” called Ruth suddenly, with her head still out of the window. + He released the ayah and let her tumble as she pleased into a heap. + </p> + <p> + “Heavenborn?” + </p> + <p> + “What is that red glow on the skyline over yonder?” + </p> + <p> + “A burning, heavenborn!” + </p> + <p> + “A burning? What burning? Funeral pyres? It's very big for funeral pyres!” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, heavenborn!” + </p> + <p> + “What, then?” + </p> + <p> + She was still unfrightened, unsuspicious of the untoward. The Risaldar's + arrival on the scene had quite restored her confidence and she felt + content to ride with him to Jundhra on the morrow. + </p> + <p> + “Barracks, heavenborn!” + </p> + <p> + “Barracks? What barracks?” + </p> + <p> + “There is but one barracks between here and Jundhra.” + </p> + <p> + “Then—then—then—what has happened, Mahommed Khan?” + </p> + <p> + “The worst has happened, heavenborn!” + </p> + <p> + He stood between her and the ayah, so that she could not see the woman + huddled on the floor. + </p> + <p> + “The worst? You mean then—my—my—husband—you don't + mean that my husband—” + </p> + <p> + “I mean, heavenborn that there is insurrection! All India is ablaze from + end to end. These dogs here in Hanadra wait to rise because they think the + section will return here in an hour or two; then they propose to burn it, + men, guns and horses, like snakes in the summer grass. It is well that the + section will not return! We will ride out safely before morning!” + </p> + <p> + “And, my husband—he knew—all this—before he left me + here?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay! That he did not! Had I told him, he had disobeyed his orders and + shamed his service; he is young yet, and a hothead! He will be far along + the road to Jundhra before he knows what burns. And then he will remember + that he trusts me and obey orders and press on!” + </p> + <p> + “And you knew and did not tell him!” + </p> + <p> + “Of a truth I knew!” + </p> + <p> + She stood in silence for a moment, gazing at the red glow on the skyline, + and then turned to read, if she could, what was on the grim, grizzled face + of Mahommed Khan. + </p> + <p> + “The ayah!” he growled. “I have yet to ask questions of the ayah. Have I + permission to take her to the other room?” + </p> + <p> + She was leaning through the window again and did not answer him. + </p> + <p> + “Who's that moving in the shadow down below?” she asked him suddenly. + </p> + <p> + He leaned out beside her and gazed into the shadow. Then he called softly + in a tongue she did not know and some one rose up from the shadow and + answered him. + </p> + <p> + “Are we spied on, Risaldar?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay. Guarded, heavenborn! That man is my half-brother. May I take the + ayah through that doorway?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not question her in here?” + </p> + <p> + The mystery and sense of danger were getting the better of her; she was + thoroughly afraid now—afraid to be left alone in the room for a + minute even. + </p> + <p> + “There are things she would not answer in thy presence!” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. Only, please be quick!” + </p> + <p> + He bowed. Swinging the door open, he pushed the ayah through it to the + room beyond. Ruth was left alone, to watch the red glow on the skyline and + try to see the outline of the watcher in the gloom below. No sound came + through the heavy teak door that the Risaldar had slammed behind him, and + no sound came from him who watched; but from the silence of the night + outside and from dark corners of the room that she was in and from the + roof and walls and floor here came little eerie noises that made her flesh + creep, as though she were being stared at by eyes she could not see. She + felt that she must scream, or die, unless she moved; and she was too + afraid to move, and by far too proud to scream! At last she tore herself + away from the window and ran to a low divan and lay on it, smothering her + face among the cushions. It seemed an hour before the Risaldar came out + again, and then he took her by surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Heavenborn!” he said. She looked up with a start, to find him standing + close beside her. + </p> + <p> + “Mahommed Khan! You're panting! What ails you?” + </p> + <p> + “The heat, heavenborn—and I am old.” + </p> + <p> + His left hand was on his saber-hilt, thrusting it toward her respectfully; + she noticed that it trembled. + </p> + <p> + “Have I the heavenborn's leave to lock the ayah in that inner room?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Risaldar?” + </p> + <p> + “The fiend had this in her possession!” He showed her a thin-bladed dagger + with an ivory handle; his own hand shook as he held it out to her, and she + saw that there were beads of perspiration on his wrist. “She would have + killed thee!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nonsense! Why, she wouldn't dare!” + </p> + <p> + “She confessed before she—she confessed! Have I the heavenborn's + leave?” + </p> + <p> + “If you wish it.” + </p> + <p> + “And to keep the key?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose so, if you think it wise.” + </p> + <p> + He strode to the inner door and locked it and hid the key in an inside + pocket of his tunic. + </p> + <p> + “And now, heavenborn,” he said, “I crave your leave to bring my + half-brother to the presence!” + </p> + <p> + He scarcely waited for an answer, but walked to the window, leaned out of + it and whistled. A minute later he was answered by the sound of + fingernails scrabbling on the outer door. He turned the key and opened it. + </p> + <p> + “Enter!” he ordered. + </p> + <p> + Barefooted and ragged, but as clean as a soldier on parade and with huge + knots of muscles bulging underneath his copper skin, a Rajput entered, + bowing his six feet of splendid manhood almost to the floor. + </p> + <p> + “This, heavenborn, is my half-brother, son of a low-born border-woman, + whom my father chose to honor thus far! The dog is loyal!” + </p> + <p> + “Salaam!” said Ruth, with little interest. + </p> + <p> + “Salaam, memsahib!” muttered the shabby Rajput. “Does any watch?” demanded + the Risaldar in Hindustanee. “Aye, one.” + </p> + <p> + “And he?” + </p> + <p> + “Is he of whom I spoke.” + </p> + <p> + “Where watches he?” + </p> + <p> + “There is a hidden passage leading from the archway; he peeps out through + a crack, having rolled back so far the stone that seals it.” He held his + horny fingers about an inch apart to show the distance. + </p> + <p> + “Couldst thou approach unseen?” + </p> + <p> + The Rajput nodded. + </p> + <p> + “And there are no others there?” + </p> + <p> + “No others.” + </p> + <p> + “Has thy strength left thee, or thy cunning?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay!” + </p> + <p> + “Then bring him!” + </p> + <p> + Without a word in answer the giant turned and went, and the Risaldar made + fast the door behind him. Ruth sat with her face between her hands, trying + not to cry or shudder, but obsessed and overpowered by a sense of terror. + The mystery that surrounded her was bad enough; but this mysterious + ordering and coming to and fro among her friends was worse than horrible. + She knew, though, that it would be useless to question Mahommed Khan + before he chose to speak. They waited there in the dimly lighted room for + what seemed tike an age again; she, pale and tortured by weird imaginings; + he, grim and bolt-upright like a statue of a warrior. Then sounds came + from the stairs again and the Risaldar hurried to the door and opened it. + </p> + <p> + In burst the Risaldar's half-brother, breathing heavily and bearing a load + nearly as big as he was. + </p> + <p> + “The pig caught my wrist within the opening!” he growled, tossing his + gagged and pinioned burden on the floor. “See where he all but broke it!” + </p> + <p> + “What is thy wrist to the service of the Raj? Is he the right one?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye!” He stooped and tore a twisted loin-cloth from his victim's face, + and the Risaldar walked to the lamp and brought it, to hold it above the + prostrate form. Ruth left the divan and stood between the men, terrified + by she knew not what fear, but drawn into the lamplight by insuperable + curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “This, heavenborn,” said the Risaldar, prodding at the man with his + scabbard-point, “is none other than the High Priest of Kharvani's temple + here, the arch-ringleader in all the treachery afoot—now hostage for + thy safety!” + </p> + <p> + He turned to his half-brother. “Unbind the thing he lies with!” he + commanded, and the giant unwrapped a twisted piece of linen from the High + Priest's mouth. + </p> + <p> + “So the big fox peeped through the trapdoor, because he feared to trust + the other foxes; and the big fox fell into the trap!” grinned the + Risaldar. “Bring me that table over yonder, thou!” + </p> + <p> + The half-brother did as he was told. + </p> + <p> + “Lay it here, legs upward, on the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Now, bind him to it—an arm to a leg and a leg to a leg. + </p> + <p> + “Remove his shoes. + </p> + <p> + “Put charcoal in yon brazier. Light it. Bring it hither!” + </p> + <p> + He seized a brass tongs, chose a glowing coal and held it six inches from + the High Priest's naked foot. + </p> + <p> + Ruth screamed. + </p> + <p> + “Courage, heavenborn! Have courage! This is naught to what he would have + done to thee!... Now, speak, thou priest of infidels! What plans are laid + and who will rise and when?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. + </h2> + <h3> + “Sergeant!” + </h3> + <p> + “Sir!” + </p> + <p> + The close-cropped, pipe-clayed non-commissioned officer spurred his horse + into a canter until his scabbard clattered at young Bellairs' boot. + Nothing but the rattling and the jolting of the guns and ammunition-wagon + was audible, except just on ahead of them the click-clack, + click-click-clack of the advance-guard. To the right and left of them the + shadowy forms of giant banian-trees loomed and slid past them as they had + done for the past four hours, and for ten paces ahead they could see the + faintly outlined shape of the trunk road that they followed. The rest was + silence and a pall of blackness obscuring everything. They had ridden + along a valley, but they had emerged on rising ground and there was one + spot of color in the pall now, or else a hole in it. + </p> + <p> + “What d'you suppose that is burning over there?” + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't say, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “How far away is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Very hard to tell on a night like this, sir. It might be ten miles away + and might be twenty. By my reckoning it's on our road, though, and + somewhere between here and Jundhra.” + </p> + <p> + “So it seems to me; our road swings round to the right presently, doesn't + it? That'll lead us right to it. That would make it Doonha more or less. + D'you suppose it's at Doonha?” + </p> + <p> + “I was thinking it might be, sir. If it's Doonha, it means that the sepoy + barracks and all the stores are burning—there's nothing else there + that would make all that flame!” + </p> + <p> + “There are two companies of the Thirty-third there, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, but they're under canvas; tents would blaze up, but they'd die + down again in a minute. That fire's steady and growing bigger!” + </p> + <p> + “It's the sepoy barracks, then!” + </p> + <p> + “Seems so to me, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Halt!” roared Bellairs. The advance-guard kicked up a little shower of + sparks, trace-chains slacked with a jingle and the jolting ceased. + Bellairs rode up to the advance-guard. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Sergeant,” he ordered, “it looks as though that were the Doonha + barracks burning over yonder. There's no knowing, though, what it is. Send + four men on, two hundred yards ahead of you, and you and the rest keep a + good two hundred yards ahead of the guns. See that the men keep on the + alert, and mind that they spare their horses as much as possible. If + there's going to be trouble, we may just as well be ready for it!” + </p> + <p> + “Very good, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Go ahead, then!” + </p> + <p> + At a word from the sergeant, four men clattered off and were swallowed in + the darkness. A minute later the advance-guard followed them and then, + after another minute's pause, young Bellairs' voice was raised into a + ringing shout again. + </p> + <p> + “Section, advance! Trot, march!” + </p> + <p> + The trace-chains tightened, and the clattering, bumping, jingling + procession began again, its rear brought up by the six-horse + ammunition-wagon. They rode speechless for the best part of an hour, each + man's eyes on the distant conflagration that had begun now to light up the + whole of the sky ahead of them. They still rode in darkness, but they + seemed to be approaching the red rim of the Pit. Huge, billowing clouds of + smoke, red-lit on the under side, belched upward to the blackness + overhead, and a something that was scarcely sound—for it was yet too + distant—warned them that it was no illusion they were riding into. + The conflagration grew. It seemed to be nearly white-hot down below. + </p> + <p> + Bellairs wet his finger and held it extended upward. + </p> + <p> + “There's no wind that I can feel!” he muttered. “And yet, if that were a + grass-fire, there'd be game and rats and birds and things—some of + 'em would bolt this way. That's the Doonha barracks burning or I'm a black + man, which the Lord forbid!” + </p> + <p> + A minute later, every man in the section pricked up his ears. There was no + order given; but a sensation ran the whole length of it and a movement + from easy riding to tense rigidity that could be felt by some sixth sense. + Every man was listening, feeling, groping with his senses for something he + could neither hear as yet nor see, but that he knew was there. And then, + far-distant yet—not above, but under the jolting of the gun-wheels + and the rattle of the scabbards—they could hear the + clickety-clickety-clickety-click of a horse hard-ridden. + </p> + <p> + They had scarcely caught that sound, they had barely tightened up their + bridle-reins, when another sound, one just as unmistakable, burst out in + front of them. A ragged, ill-timed volley ripped out from somewhere near + the conflagration and was answered instantly by one that was close-ripped + like the fire of heavy ordnance. And then one of the advance-guard wheeled + his horse and drove his spurs home rowel-deep. He came thundering back + along the road with his scabbard out in the wind behind him and reined up + suddenly when his horse's forefeet were abreast of the lieutenant. + </p> + <p> + “There's some one coming, sir, hard as he can gallop! He's one of our men + by the sound of him. His horse is shod—and I thought I saw steel + when the fire-light fell on him a minute ago!” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure there's only one?” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, sir! You can hear him now!” + </p> + <p> + “All right! Fall in behind me!” + </p> + <p> + Bellairs felt his sword-hilt and cocked a pistol stealthily, but he gave + no orders to the section. This might be a native soldier run amuck, and it + might be a messenger; but in either case, friend or foe, if there was only + one man he could deal with him alone. + </p> + <p> + “Halt!” roared the advance-guard suddenly. But the horse's hoof-beats + never checked for a single instant. + </p> + <p> + “Halt, you! Who comes there?” + </p> + <p> + “Friend!” came the answer, in an accent that was unmistakable. + </p> + <p> + “What friend? Where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + One of the advance-guard reined his horse across the road. The others + followed suit and blocked the way effectually. “Halt!” they roared in + unison. + </p> + <p> + The main body of the advance came up with them. + </p> + <p> + “Who is he?” shouted the sergeant. + </p> + <p> + “We'll soon see! Here he comes!” + </p> + <p> + “Out of my way!” yelled a voice, as a foamed-flecked horse burst out of + the darkness like an apparition and bore straight down on them—his + head bored a little to one side, the red rims of his nostrils wide + distended and his whole sense and energy, and strength concentrated on + pleasing the speed-hungry Irishman who rode him. He flashed into them + head-on, like a devil from the outer darkness. His head touched a man's + knee—and he rose and tried to jump him! His breast crashed full into + the obstruction and horse and gunner crashed down to the road. + </p> + <p> + A dozen arms reached out—twelve horses surged in a clattering melee—two + hands gripped the reins and four arms seized the rider, and in a second + the panting charger was brought up all-standing. The sergeant thrust his + grim face closer and peered at their capture. + </p> + <p> + “Good—, if it ain't an officer!” he exclaimed. “I beg your pardon, + sir!” + </p> + <p> + And at that instant the section rattled, up behind them, with Bellairs in + the lead. + </p> + <p> + “Halt!” roared Bellairs. “What's this?” + </p> + <p> + “Bloody murder, arson, high treason, mutiny and death! Blood and onions, + man! Don't your men know an officer when they see one? Who are you? Are + you Bellairs? Then why in God's name didn't you say so sooner? What have + you waited for? + </p> + <p> + “How many hours is it since you got the message through from Jundhra? + Couldn't you see the barracks burning? Who am I—I'm Captain + O'Rourke, of the Thirty-third, sent to see what you're doing on the road, + that's who I am! A full-fledged; able-bodied captain wasted in a crisis, + just because you didn't choose to hurry! Poison take your confounded + gunners, sir! Have they nothing better to engage them than holding up + officers on the Queen's trunk road?” + </p> + <p> + “Supposing you tell me what's the matter?” suggested young Bellairs, + prompt as are most of his breed to appear casual the moment there was + cause to feel excited. + </p> + <p> + “Your gunners have taken all my breath, sir. I can't speak!” + </p> + <p> + “You shouldn't take chances with a section of artillery! They're not like + infantry—they don't sleep all the time—you can't ride through + them as a rule!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't sleep, don't they! Then what have you been doing on the road? And + what are you standing here for? Ride, man, ride! You're wanted!” + </p> + <p> + “Get out of the way, then!” suggested Bellairs, and Captain O'Rourke + legged his panting charger over to the roadside. + </p> + <p> + “Advance-guard, forward, trot!” commanded the lieutenant. + </p> + <p> + “Have you brought your wife with you?” demanded O'Rourke, peering into the + jingling blackness. + </p> + <p> + “No. Of course not. Why?” + </p> + <p> + “'Of course not! Why?' says the man! Hell and hot porridge! Why, the whole + of India's ablaze from end to end—the sepoys have mutinied to a man, + and the rest have joined them! There's bloody murder doing—they've + shot their officers—Hammond's dead and Carstairs and Welfleet and + heaven knows who else. They've burned their barracks and the stores and + they're trying to seize the magazine. If they get that, God help every + one. They're short of ammunition as it is, but two companies of the + Thirty-third can't hold out for long against that horde. You'll be in the + nick of time! Hurry, man! For the love of anything you like to name, get a + move on!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV. + </h2> + <h3> + “Trot, march! + </h3> + <p> + “Canter!” + </p> + <p> + Bellairs was thinking of his wife, alone in Hanadra, unprotected except by + a sixty-year-old Risaldar and a half-brother who was a civilian and an + unknown quantity. There were cold chills running down his spine and a + sickening sensation in his stomach. He rode ahead of the guns, with + O'Rourke keeping pace beside him. He felt that he hated O'Rourke, hated + everything, hated the Service, and the country—and the guns, that + could put him into such a fiendish predicament. + </p> + <p> + O'Rourke broke silence first. + </p> + <p> + “Who is with your wife?” he demanded suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Heaven knows! I left her under the protection of Risaldar Mahommed Khan, + but he was to ride off for an escort for her.” + </p> + <p> + “Not your father's old Risaldar?” asked O'Rourke. + </p> + <p> + “The same.” + </p> + <p> + “Then thank God! I'd sooner trust him than I would a regiment. He'll bring + her in alive or slit the throats of half Asia—maybe 'he'll do both! + Come, that's off our minds! She's safer with him than she would be here. + Have you lots of ammunition?” + </p> + <p> + “I brought all I had with me at Hanadra.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! What you'll need tonight is grape!” + </p> + <p> + “I've lots of it. It's nearly all grape.” + </p> + <p> + “Hurrah! Then we'll treat those dirty mutineers to a dose or two of pills + they won't fancy! Come on, man—set the pace a little faster!” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't my orders say anything about a mutiny or bringing in my wife?” + </p> + <p> + “Dunno! I didn't write 'em. I can guess, though. There'd be something like + nine reasons. For one thing, they'd credit you with sense enough to bring + her in without being told. For another, the messenger who took the note + might have got captured on the way—they wouldn't want to tell the + sepoys more than they could help. Then there'd be something like a hurry. + They're attacked there too—can't even send us assistance. Told us to + waylay you and make use of you. Maybe they forgot your wife—maybe + they didn't. It's a devil of a business anyhow!” + </p> + <p> + It was difficult to talk at the speed that they were making, with their + own horses breathing heavily, O'Rourke's especially; the guns thundering + along behind them and the advance-guard clattering in front, and their + attention distracted every other minute by the noise of volleys on ahead + and the occasional staccato rattle of independent firing. The whole sky + was now alight with the reflection of the burning barracks and they could + see the ragged outlines of the cracking walls silhouetted against the + blazing red within. One mile or less from the burning buildings they could + see, too, the occasional flash of rifles where the two companies of the + Thirty-third, Honorable East India Company's Light Infantry, held out + against the mutineers. + </p> + <p> + “Why did they mutiny?” asked Bellairs. + </p> + <p> + “God knows! Nobody knows! Nobody knows anything! I'm thinking—” + </p> + <p> + “Thinking what?” + </p> + <p> + “Forrester-Carter is commanding. We'll settle this business pretty + quickly, now you've come. Then—Steady, boy! Steady! Hold up! This + poor horse of mine is just about foundered, by the feel of him. He'll + reach Doonha, though. Then we'll ask Carter to make a dash on Hanadra and + bring Mrs. Bellairs—maybe we'll meet her and the Risaldar half-way—who + knows? The sepoys wouldn't expect that, either. The move'd puzzle 'em—it'd + be a good move, to my way of thinking.” + </p> + <p> + “Let's hope Carter will consent!” prayed Bellairs fervently. “Now, what's + the lay of things?” + </p> + <p> + “Couldn't tell you! When I left, our men were surrounded. I had to burst + through the enemy to get away. Ours are all around the magazine and the + sepoys are on every side of them. You'll have to use diagonal fire unless + you want to hurt some of our chaps—sweep 'em cornerwise. There's + high ground over to the right there, within four hundred yards of the + position. Maybe they're holding it, though—there's no knowing!” + </p> + <p> + They could hear the roar of the flames now, and could see the figures of + sepoys running here and there. The rattle of musketry was incessant. They + could hear howls and yells and bugle-calls blown at random by the sepoys, + and once, in answer as it seemed to a more than usually savage chorus from + the enemy—a chorus that was punctuated by a raging din of + intermittent rifle-fire—a ringing cheer. + </p> + <p> + “They must be in a tight hole!” muttered Bellairs. “Answer that, men! All + together, now! Let 'em know we're coming.” + </p> + <p> + The men rose in their stirrups all together, and sent roaring through the + blackness the deep-throated “Hip-hip-hur-r-a-a-a-a-a!” that has gladdened + more than one beleaguered British force in the course of history. It is + quite different from the “Hur-o-a-o-a-u-r-rh” of a forlorn hope, or the + high-pitched note of pleasure that signals the end of a review. It means + “Hold on, till we get there, boys!” and it carries its meaning, clear and + crisp and unmistakable, in its note. + </p> + <p> + The two beleaguered companies heard it and answered promptly with another + cheer. + </p> + <p> + “By gad, they must be in a hole!” remarked Bellairs. + </p> + <p> + British soldiers do not cheer like that, all together, unless there is + very good reason to feel cheerless. They fight, each man according to his + temperament, swearing or laughing, sobbing or singing comic songs, until + the case looks grim. Then, though, the same thrill runs through the whole + of them, the same fire blazes in their eyes, and the last ditch that they + line has been known to be a grave for the enemy. + </p> + <p> + “Trumpeter! Sound close-order!” + </p> + <p> + The trumpet rang. The advance-guard drew rein for the section to catch up. + The guns drew abreast of one another and the mounted gunners formed in a + line, two deep, in front of them. The ammunition-wagon trailed like a tail + behind. + </p> + <p> + “That high ground over there, I think!” suggested O'Rourke. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir. Section, right! Trot, march! Canter!” + </p> + <p> + Crash went the guns and the following wagon across the roadside ditch. The + tired horses came up to the collar as service-horses always will, generous + to the last ounce of strength they have in them. + </p> + <p> + “Gallop!” + </p> + <p> + The limbers bumped and jolted and the short-handled whips cracked like the + sound of pistol-practise. Blind, unreconnoitered, grim—like a black + thunderbolt loosed into the blackness—the two guns shot along a + hollow, thundered up a ridge and burst into the fire-light up above the + mutineers, in the last place where any one expected them. A howl came from + the road that they had left, a hundred sepoys had rushed down to block + their passage the moment that their cheer had rung above the noise of + battle. + </p> + <p> + “Action—front!” roared young Bellairs, and the muzzles swung round + at the gallop, jerked into position by the wheeling teams. + </p> + <p> + “With case, at four hundred!” + </p> + <p> + The orders were given and obeyed almost before the guns had lost their + motion. The charges had been rammed into the greedy muzzles before the + horses were away, almost—and that takes but a second—the + horses vanish like blown smoke when the game begins. A howl from the mutineers + told that they were seen; a volley from the British infantry announced + that they were yet in time; and “boom-boom!” went both guns together. + </p> + <p> + The grapeshot whined and shrieked, and the ranks of the sepoys wilted, + mown down as though a scythe had swept them. Once, and once only, they + gathered for a charge on the two guns; but they were met half-way up the + rise by a shrieking blast of grape that ripped through them and took the + heart out of them; and the grape was followed by well-aimed volleys from + behind. Then they drew off to sulk and make fresh plans at a distance, and + Bellairs took his section unmolested into the Thirty-third-lined rampart + round the magazine. + </p> + <p> + “What kept you, sir?” demanded Colonel Forrester-Carter, nodding to him in + answer to his salute and holding out his right arm while a sergeant + bandaged it. + </p> + <p> + “My wife, sir—I—” + </p> + <p> + “Where is she? Didn't you bring her?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir—I—” + </p> + <p> + “Where is she?” + </p> + <p> + “Still at Hanadra, sir—I—” + </p> + <p> + “Let the men fall in! Call the roll at once!” + </p> + <p> + “There was nothing in my orders, sir, about—” But Colonel Carter cut + him short with a motion and turned his back on him. + </p> + <p> + “Much obliged, Sergeant,” he said, slipping his wounded arm into an + improvised sling. “How many wagons have we here?” + </p> + <p> + “Four, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And horses?” + </p> + <p> + “All shot dead except your charger, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Ask Captain Trevor to come here.” + </p> + <p> + The sergeant disappeared into the shadows, and a moment later Captain + Trevor came running up and saluted. + </p> + <p> + “There are seven wounded, sir, and nineteen dead,” he reported. + </p> + <p> + “Better than I had hoped, Trevor! Will you set a train to that magazine, + please, and blow it up the moment we are at a safe distance?” + </p> + <p> + Trevor seemed surprised, but he saluted and said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “O'Rourke! Please see about burying the dead at once. Mr. Bellairs, let me + have two horses, please, and their drivers, from each gun. Sergeant! See + about putting the wounded into the lightest of the wagons and harness in + four gun-horses the best way you can manage.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Which is your best horseman, Mr. Bellairs? Is his horse comparatively + fresh? I'll need him to gallop with a message. I'll dictate it to Captain + O'Rourke as soon as he is ready. Let the gunner stay here close to me.” + </p> + <p> + Bellairs sought out his best man and the freshest-seeming horse in + wondering silence. He felt sick with anxiety, for what could one lone + veteran Risaldar do to protect Mrs. Bellairs against such a horde as was + in Hanadra? He looked at the barracks, which were still blazing heavenward + and illuminating the whole country-side, and shuddered as he wondered + whether his quarters at Hanadra were in flames yet. + </p> + <p> + “It's a good job old Carter happened to be here!” he heard one of his men + mumble to another. “He's a man, that is—I'd sooner fight under him + than any I know of!” + </p> + <p> + “What d'you suppose the next move is?” asked the other man. + </p> + <p> + “I'd bet on it! I'll bet you what you like that—” + </p> + <p> + But Bellairs did not hear the rest. + </p> + <p> + A bugle rang out into the night. The gunners stood by their horses. Even + the sentries, posted outside the rampart to guard against alarm, stood to + attention, and Colonel Carter, wincing from the pain in his right arm, + walked out in front of where the men were lined up. + </p> + <p> + Captain O'Rourke walked up and saluted him. + </p> + <p> + “I've arranged to bury them in that trench we dug this evening, sir, when + the trouble started. It's not very deep, but it holds them all. I've laid + them in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure they're all dead?” + </p> + <p> + “I've burnt their fingers with matches, sir. I don't know of any better + way to make sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. Can you remember any of the burial service?” + </p> + <p> + “'Fraid not, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Um! That's a pity. And I'm afraid I can't spare the time. Take a + firing-party, Captain O'Rourke, and give them the last honors, at all + events.” + </p> + <p> + A party marched away toward the trench, and several minutes later + O'Rourke's voice was heard calling through the darkness, “All ready, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Present arms!” ordered the colonel, and the gunners sat their horses with + their hilts raised to their hips and the two long lines of infantry stood + rigid at the general salute, while five volleys—bulleted—barked + upward above the grave. They were, answered by sniping from the mutineers, + who imagined that reprisals had commenced. + </p> + <p> + “Now, men!” said Colonel Carter, raising his voice until every officer and + man along the line could hear him, “as you must have realized, things are + very serious indeed. We are cut off from support, but now that the guns + are here to help us, we could either hold out here until relieved or else + fight our way into Jundhra, where I have no doubt we are very badly + needed. But”—he spoke more slowly and distinctly now, with a + distinct pause between each word—“there is an officer's lady alone, + and practically unprotected at Hanadra. Our duty is clear. You are tired—I + know it. You have had no supper, and will get none. It means forced + marching for the rest of this night and a good part of tomorrow and more + fighting, possibly on an empty stomach; it means the dust and the heat and + the discomfort of the trunk road for all of us and danger of the worst + kind instead of safety—for we shall have farther to go to reach + Jundhra. But I would do the same, and you men all know it, for any + soldier's wife in my command, or any English woman in India. We will march + now on Hanadra. No! No demonstrations, please!” + </p> + <p> + His uplifted left hand was just in time to check a roar of answering + approval. + </p> + <p> + “Didn't I tell you so?” exclaimed a gunner to the man beside him in an + undertone. “Him leave a white woman to face this sort o' music? He'd fight + all India first!” + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later two companies of men marched out behind the guns, + followed by a cart that bore their wounded. As they reached the trunk road + they were saluted by a reverberating blast when the magazine that they had + fought to hold blew skyward. They turned to cheer the explosion and then + settled down to march in deadly earnest and, if need be, to fight a + rear-guard action all the way. + </p> + <p> + And in the opposite direction one solitary gunner rode, + hell-bent-for-leather, with a note addressed to “O. C.—Jundhra.” It + was short and to the point. It ran: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Have blown up magazine; Mrs. Bellairs at Hanadra; + have gone to rescue her. + (Signed) A. FORRESTER-CARTER (Col.) + per J. O'Rourke +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V. + </h2> + <p> + The red glow of barracks burning—an ayah from whom a dagger has been + taken locked in another room—the knowledge that there are fifty + thousand Aryan brothers, itching to rebel, within a stone's throw—and + two lone protectors of an alien race intent on torturing a High Priest, + each and every one of these is a disturbing feature. No woman, and least + of all a young woman such as Ruth Bellairs, can be blamed for being + nervous under the stress of such conditions or for displaying a certain + amount of feminine unreasonableness. + </p> + <p> + She stood shivering for a minute and watched spellbound while Mahommed + Khan held the hot coal closer and even closer to the High Priest's naked + foot. The priest writhed in anticipation of the agony and turned his eyes + away, and as he turned them they met Ruth's. High priests of a religion + that includes sooth-saying and prophecy and bribery of gods among its + rites are students of human nature, and especially of female human nature. + Knowledge of it and of how it may be gulled, and when, is the first + essential of their calling. Her pale face, her blue eyes strained in + terror, the parted lips and the attitude of tension, these gave him an + idea. Before the charcoal touched him, he screamed—screamed like a + wounded horse. + </p> + <p> + “Mahommed Khan, stop! Stop this instant! I won't have it! I won't have my + life, even, on those terms! D'you hear me, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Have courage, heavenborn! There is but one way to force a Hindu priest, + unless it be by cutting off his revenues—he must be hurt! This dog + is unhurt as yet—see! The fire has not yet touched his foot!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't let it, Mahommed Khan! Set that iron down! This is my room. I will + not have crime committed here!” + </p> + <p> + “And how long does the heavenborn think it would be her room were this + evil-living pig of a priest at large, or how long before a worse crime + were committed? Heavenborn, the hour is late and the charcoal dies out + rapidly when it has left the fire! See. I must choose another piece!” + </p> + <p> + He rummaged in the brazier, and she screamed again. + </p> + <p> + “I will not have it, Risaldar! You must find another way.” + </p> + <p> + “Memsahib! Thy husband left thee in my care. Surely it is my right to + choose the way?” + </p> + <p> + “Leave me, then! I relieve you of your trust. I will not have him tortured + in my room, or anywhere!” + </p> + <p> + Mahommed Khan bowed low. + </p> + <p> + “Under favor, heavenborn,” he answered, “my trust is to your husband. I + can be released by him, or by death, not otherwise.” + </p> + <p> + “Once, and for all, Mahommed Khan, I will not have you torture him in + here!” + </p> + <p> + “Memsahib, I have yet to ride for succor! At daybreak, when these Hindus + learn that the guns will not come back, they will rise to a man. Even now + we must find a hiding-place or—it is not good even to think what I + might find on my return!” + </p> + <p> + He leaned over the priest again, but without the charcoal this time. + </p> + <p> + “Speak, thou!” he ordered, growling in Hindustanee through his savage + black mustache. “I have yet to hear what price a Hindu sets on immunity + from torture!” + </p> + <p> + But the priest, it seemed, had formed a new idea. He had been looking + through puckered eyes at Ruth, keen, cool calculation in his glance, and + in spite of the discomfort of his strained position he contrived to nod. + </p> + <p> + “Kharvani!” he muttered, half aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Aye! Call on Kharvani!” sneered the Risaldar. “Perhaps the Bride of Sivi + will appear! Call louder!” + </p> + <p> + He stirred again among the charcoal with his tongs, and Ruth and the High + Priest both shuddered. + </p> + <p> + “Look!” said the High Priest in Hindustanee, nodding in Ruth's direction. + It was the first word that he had addressed to them. It took them by + surprise, and the Risaldar and his half-brother turned and looked. Their + breath left them. + </p> + <p> + Framed in the yellow lamplight, her thin, hot-weather garments draped + about her like a morning mist, Ruth stood and stared straight back at them + through frightened eyes. Her blue-black hair, which had become loosened in + her excitement, hung in a long plait over one shoulder and gleamed in the + lamp's reflection. Her skin took on a faintly golden color from the feeble + light, and her face seemed stamped with fear, anxiety, pity and suffering, + all at once, that strangely enhanced her beauty, silhouetted as she was + against the blackness of the wall behind, she seemed to be standing in an + aura, shimmering with radiated light. + </p> + <p> + “Kharvani!” said the High Priest to himself again, and the two Rajputs + stood still like men dumfounded, and stared and stared and stared. They + knew Kharvani's temple. Who was there in Hanadra, Christian or Mohammedan + or Hindu, who did not? The show-building of the city, the ancient, gloomy, + wonderful erection where bats lived in the dome and flitted round + Kharvani's image, the place where every one must go who needed favors of + the priests, the central hub of treason and intrigue, where every plot was + hatched and every rumor had its origin—the ultimate, mazy, greedy, + undisgorging goal of every bribe and every blackmail-wrung rupee! + </p> + <p> + They knew, too, as every one must know who has ever been inside the place, + the amazing, awe-inspiring picture of Kharvani painted on the inner wall; + of Kharvani as she was idealized in the days when priests believed in her + and artists thought the labor of a lifetime well employed in painting but + one picture of her—Kharvani the sorrowful, grieving for the + wickedness of earth; Kharvani, Bride of Siva, ready to intercede with + Siva, the Destroyer, for the helpless, foolish, purblind sons of man. + </p> + <p> + And here, before them, stood Kharvani—to the life! + </p> + <p> + “What of Kharvani?” growled Mahommed Khan. + </p> + <p> + “'A purblind fool, a sot and a Mohammedan,”' quoted the priest + maliciously, “'how many be they, three or one?'” + </p> + <p> + The Risaldar's hand went to his scabbard. His sword licked out free and + trembled like a tuning-fork. He flicked with his thumbnail at the blade + and muttered: “Sharp! Sharp as death itself!” + </p> + <p> + The Hindu grinned, but the blade came down slowly until the point of it + rested on the bridge of his nose. His eyes squinted inward, watching it. + </p> + <p> + “Now, make thy gentle joke again!” growled the Risaldar. Ruth Bellairs + checked a scream. + </p> + <p> + “No blood!” she exclaimed. “Don't hurt him, Risaldar! I'll not have you + kill a man in here—or anywhere, in cold blood, for that matter! + Return your sword, sir!” + </p> + <p> + The Risaldar swore into his beard. The High Priest grinned again. “I am + not afraid to die!” he sneered. “Thrust with that toy of thine! Thrust + home and make an end!” + </p> + <p> + “Memsahib!” said the Risaldar, “all this is foolishness and waste of time! + The hour is past midnight and I must be going. Leave the room—leave + me and my half-brother with this priest for five short minutes and we will + coax from him the secret of some hiding-place where you may lie hid until + I come!” + </p> + <p> + “But you'll hurt him!” + </p> + <p> + “Not if he speaks, and speaks the truth!” + </p> + <p> + “Promise me!” + </p> + <p> + “On those conditions—yes!” + </p> + <p> + “Where shall I go?” + </p> + <p> + The Risaldar's eyes glanced toward the door of the inner room, but he + hesitated. “Nay! There is the ayah!” he muttered. “Is there no other + room?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Risaldar, no other room except through that door. Besides, I would + rather stay here! I am afraid of what you may do to that priest if I leave + you alone with him!” + </p> + <p> + “Now a murrain on all women, black and white!” swore Mahommed Khan beneath + his breath. Then he turned on the priest again, and placed one foot on his + stomach. + </p> + <p> + “Speak!” he ordered. “What of Kharvani?” + </p> + <p> + “Listen, Mahommed Khan!” Ruth Bellairs laid one hand on his sleeve, and + tried to draw him back. “Your ways are not my ways! You are a soldier and + a gentleman, but please remember that you are of a different race! I can + not let my life be saved by the torture of a human being—no, not + even of a Hindu priest! Maybe it's all right and honorable according to + your ideas; but, if you did it, I would never be able to look my husband + in the face again! No, Risaldar! Let this priest go, or leave him here—I + don't care which, but don't harm him! I am quite ready to ride with you, + now, if you like. I suppose you have horses? But I would rather die than + think that a man was put to the torture to save me! Life isn't worth that + price!” + </p> + <p> + She spoke rapidly, urging him with every argument she knew; but the grim + old Mohammedan shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Better die here,” he answered her, “than on the road! No, memsahib. With + thirteen blades behind me, I could reach Jundhra, or at least make a bold + attempt; but single-handed, and with you to guard, the feat is impossible. + This dog of a Hindu here knows of some hiding-place. Let him speak!” + </p> + <p> + His hand went to his sword again, and his eyes flashed. + </p> + <p> + “Listen, heavenborn! I am no torturer of priests by trade! It is not my + life that I would save!” + </p> + <p> + “I know that, Mahommed Khan! I respect your motive. It's the method that I + can't tolerate.” + </p> + <p> + The Risaldar drew his arm away from her and began to pace the room. The + High Priest instantly began to speak to Ruth, whispering to her hurriedly + in Hindustanee, but she was too little acquainted with the language to + understand him. + </p> + <p> + “And I,” said the Risaldar's half-brother suddenly, “am I of no further + use?” + </p> + <p> + “I had forgotten thee!” exclaimed the Risaldar. + </p> + <p> + They spoke together quickly in their own language, drawing aside and + muttering to each other. It was plain that the half-brother was making + some suggestion and that the Risaldar was questioning him and + cross-examining him about his plan, but neither Ruth nor the High Priest + could understand a word that either of them said. At the end of two + minutes or more, the Risaldar gave an order of some kind and the + half-brother grunted and left the room without another word, closing the + door noiselessly behind him. The Risaldar locked it again from the inside + and drew the bolt. + </p> + <p> + “We have made another plan, heavenborn!” he announced mysteriously. + </p> + <p> + “Then—then—you won't hurt this priest?” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet,” said the Risaldar. “He may be useful!” + </p> + <p> + “Won't you unbind him, then? Look! His wrists and ankles are all swollen.” + </p> + <p> + “Let the dog swell!” he grunted. + </p> + <p> + But Ruth stuck to her point and made him loosen the bonds a little. + </p> + <p> + “A man lives and learns!” swore the Risaldar. “Such as he were cast into + dungeons in my day, to feed on their own bellies until they had had enough + of life!” + </p> + <p> + “The times have changed!” said Ruth. + </p> + <p> + The Risaldar looked out through the window toward the red glow on the + sky-line. + </p> + <p> + “Ha! Changed, have they!” he muttered. “I saw one such burning, once + before!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI. + </h2> + <p> + The most wonderful thing in history, pointing with the surest finger to + the trail of destiny, has been the fact that in every tremendous crisis + there have been leaders on the spot to meet it. It is not so wonderful + that there should be such men, for the world keeps growing better, and it + is more than likely that the men who have left their footprints in the + sands of time would compare to their own disadvantage with their compeers + of today. The wonderful thing is that the right men have been in the right + place at the right time. Scipio met Hannibal; Philip of Spain was forced + to meet Howard of Effingham and Drake; Napoleon Bonaparte, the “Man of + Destiny,” found Wellington and Nelson of the Nile to deal with him; and, + in America, men like George Washington and Grant and Lincoln seem, in the + light of history, like timed, calculated, controlling devices in an + intricate machine. It was so when the Indian Mutiny broke out. The + struggle was unexpected. A handful of Europeans, commissioned and enlisted + in the ordinary way, with a view to trade, not statesmanship, found + themselves face to face at a minute's notice with armed and vengeful + millions. Succor was a question of months, not days or weeks. India was + ablaze from end to end with rebel fires that had been planned in secret + through silent watchful years. The British force was scattered here and + there in unconnected details, and each detail was suddenly cut off from + every other one by men who had been trained to fight by the British + themselves and who were not afraid to die. + </p> + <p> + The suddenness with which the outbreak came was one of the chief assets of + the rebels, for they were able to seize guns and military stores and + ammunition at the very start of things, before the British force could + concentrate. Their hour could scarcely have been better chosen. The + Crimean War was barely over. Practically the whole of England's standing + army was abroad and decimated by battle and disease. At home, politics had + England by the throat; the income-tax was on a Napoleonic scale and men + were more bent on worsting one another than on equipping armies. They had + had enough of war. + </p> + <p> + India was isolated, at the rebels' mercy, so it seemed. There were no + railway trains to make swift movements of troops possible. Distances were + reckoned by the hundred miles—of sun-baked, thirsty dust in the hot + weather, and of mud in the rainy season. There were no telegraph-wires, + and the British had to cope with the mysterious, and even yet unsolved, + native means of sending news—the so-called “underground route,” by + which news and instructions travel faster than a pigeon flies. There was + never a greater certainty or a more one-sided struggle, at the start. The + only question seemed to be how many days, or possibly weeks, would pass + before jackals crunched the bones of every Englishman in India. + </p> + <p> + But at the British helm was Nicholson, and under him were a hundred other + men whose courage and resource had been an unknown quantity until the + outbreak came. Nicholson's was the guiding spirit, but it needed only his + generalship to fire all the others with that grim enthusiasm that has + pulled Great Britain out of so many other scrapes. Instead of wasting time + in marching and countermarching to relieve the scattered posts, a swift, + sudden swoop was made on Delhi, where the eggs of the rebellion had + hatched. + </p> + <p> + As many of the outposts as could be reached were told to fight their own + way in, and those that could not be reached were left to defend themselves + until the big blow had been struck at the heart of things. If Delhi could + be taken, the rebels would be paralyzed and the rescue of beleaguered + details would be easier; so, although odds of one hundred or more to one + are usually considered overlarge in wartime—when the hundred hold + the fort and the one must storm the gate—there was no time lost in + hesitation. Delhi was the goal; and from north and south and east and west + the men who could march marched, and those who could not entrenched + themselves, and made ready to die in the last ditch. + </p> + <p> + Some of the natives were loyal still. There were men like Risaldar + Mahommed Khan, who would have died ten deaths ten times over rather than + be false in one particular to the British Government. It was these men who + helped to make intercommunication possible, for they could carry messages + and sometimes get through unsuspected where a British soldier would have + been shot before he had ridden half a mile. Their loyalty was put to the + utmost test in that hour, for they can not have believed that the British + force could win. They knew the extent of what was out against them and + knew, too, what their fate would be in the event of capture or defeat. + There would be direr, slower vengeance wreaked on them than on the alien + British. But they had eaten British salt and pledged their word, and + nothing short of death could free them from it. There was not a shred of + self interest to actuate them; there could not have been. Their given word + was law and there it ended. + </p> + <p> + There were isolated commands, like that at Jundhra, that were too far away + to strike at Delhi and too large and too efficient to be shut in by the + mutineers. They were centers on their own account of isolated small + detachments, and each commander was given leave to act as he saw best, + provided that he acted and did it quickly. He could either march to the + relief of his detachments or call them in, but under no condition was he + to sit still and do nothing. + </p> + <p> + So, Colonel Carter's note addressed to O. C.—Jundhra only got + two-thirds of the way from Doonha. The gunner who rode with it was brought + to a sudden standstill by an advance-guard of British cavalry, and two + minutes later he found himself saluting and giving up his note to the + General Commanding. The rebels at Jundhra had been worsted and scattered + after an eight-hour fight, and General Turner had made up his mind + instantly to sweep down on Hanadra with all his force and relieve the + British garrison at Doonha on his way. + </p> + <p> + Jundhra was a small town and unhealthy. Hanadra was a large city, the + center of a province; and, from all accounts, Hanadra had not risen yet. + By seizing Hanadra before the mutineers had time to barricade themselves + inside it, he could paralyze the countryside, for in Hanadra were the + money and provisions and, above all, the Hindu priests who, in that part + of India at least, were the brains of the rebellion. So he burned Jundhra, + to make it useless to the rebels, and started for Hanadra with every man + and horse and gun and wagon and round of ammunition that he had. + </p> + <p> + Now news in India travels like the wind, first one way and then another. + But, unlike the wind, it never whistles. Things happen and men know it and + the information spreads—invisible, intangible, inaudible, but + positive and, in nine cases out of ten, correct in detail. A government + can no more censor it, or divert it, or stop it on the way, than it can + stay the birthrate or tamper with the Great Monsoon. + </p> + <p> + First the priests knew it, then it filtered through the main bazaars and + from them on through the smaller streets. By the time that General Turner + had been two hours on the road with his command every man and woman and + child in Hanadra knew that the rebels had been beaten back and that + Hanadra was his objective. They knew, too, that the section had reached + Doonha, had relieved it and started back again. And yet not a single rebel + who had fought in either engagement was within twenty miles of Hanadra + yet! + </p> + <p> + In the old, low-ceilinged room above the archway Mahommed Khan paced up + and down and chewed at his black mustache, kicking his scabbard away from + him each time he turned and glowering at the priest. + </p> + <p> + “That dog can solve this riddle!” he kept muttering. Then he would glare + at Ruth impatiently and execrate the squeamishness of women. Ruth sat on + the divan with her face between her hands, trying to force herself to + realize the full extent of her predicament and beat back the feeling of + hysteria that almost had her in its grip. The priest lay quiet. He was in + a torture of discomfort on the upturned table, but he preferred not to + give the Risaldar the satisfaction of knowing it. He eased his position + quietly from time to time as much as his bandages would let him, but he + made no complaint. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, Ruth looked up. It had occurred to her that she was wasting time + and that if she were to fight off the depression that had seized her she + would be better occupied. + </p> + <p> + “Mahommed Khan,” she said, “if I am to leave here on horseback, with you + or with an escort, I had better collect some things that I would like to + take with me. Let me in that room, please!” + </p> + <p> + “The horse will have all that it can carry, heavenborn, without a load of + woman's trappings.” + </p> + <p> + “My jewels? I can take them, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + He bowed. “They are in there? I will bring them, heavenborn!” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! You don't know where to find them.” + </p> + <p> + “The ayah—will—will show me!” + </p> + <p> + He fitted the key into the lock and turned it, but Ruth was at his side + before he could pass in through the door. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, Risaldar! The ayah can't hurt me. You have taken her knife + away, and that is my room. I will go in there alone!” + </p> + <p> + She pushed past him before he could prevent her, thrust the door back and + peered in. + </p> + <p> + “Stay, heavenborn—I will explain!” + </p> + <p> + “Explain what?” + </p> + <p> + The dim light from the lamp was filtering in past them, and her eyes were + slowly growing accustomed to the gloom. There was something lying on the + floor, in the middle of the room, that was bulky and shapeless and + unfamiliar. + </p> + <p> + “Ayah!” said Ruth. “Ayah!” + </p> + <p> + But there was no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Where is she, Risaldar?” + </p> + <p> + “She is there, heavenborn!” + </p> + <p> + “Is she asleep?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye! She sleeps deeply!” + </p> + <p> + There was, something in the Rajput's voice that was strange, that hinted + at a darker meaning. + </p> + <p> + “Ayah!” she called again, afraid, though she knew not why, to enter. + </p> + <p> + “She guards the jewels, heavenborn! Wait, while I bring the lamp!” + </p> + <p> + He crossed the room, brought it and stepped with it past Ruth, straight + into the room. + </p> + <p> + “See!” he said, holding the lamp up above his head. “There in her bosom + are the jewels! It was there, too, that she had the knife to slay thee + with! My sword is clean, yet, heavenborn! I slew her with my fingers, + thus!” + </p> + <p> + He kicked the prostrate ayah, and, as the black face with the wide-open + bloodshot eyes and the protruding tongue rolled sidewise and the body + moved, a little heap of jewels fell upon the floor. Mahommed Khan stooped + down to gather them, bending, a little painfully, on one old knee—but + stopped half-way and turned. There was a thud behind him in the doorway. + Ruth Bellairs had fainted, and lay as the ayah had lain when Risaldar had + not yet locked her in the room. + </p> + <p> + He raised the lamp and studied her in silence for a minute, looking from + her to the bound priest and back to her again. + </p> + <p> + “Now praised be Allah!” he remarked aloud, with a world of genuine relief + in his voice. “Should she stay fainted for a little while, that priest—” + </p> + <p> + He stalked into the middle of the outer room. He set the lamp down on a + table and looked the priest over as a butcher might survey a sheep he is + about to kill. + </p> + <p> + “Now—robber of orphans—bleeder of widows' blood—dog of + an idol-briber! This stands between thee and Kharvani!” He drew his sword + and flicked the edges of it. “And this!” He took up the tongs again. + “There is none now to plead or to forbid! Think! Show me the way out of + this devil's nest, or—” He raised the tongs again. + </p> + <p> + At that minute came a quiet knock. He set the tongs down again and crossed + the room and opened the door. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII. + </h2> + <p> + Mahommed Khan closed the door again behind his half-brother and turned the + key, but the half-brother shot the bolt home as well before he spoke, then + listened intently for a minute with his ear to the keyhole. + </p> + <p> + “Where is the priest's son?” growled the Risaldar, in the Rajput tongue. + </p> + <p> + “I have him. I have the priestling in a sack. I have him trussed and bound + and gagged, so that he can neither speak nor wriggle!” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “Hidden safely.” + </p> + <p> + “I said to bring him here!” + </p> + <p> + “I could not. Listen! That ayah—where is she?” + </p> + <p> + “Dead! What has the ayah to do with it?” + </p> + <p> + “This—she was to give a sign. She was not to slay. She had leave + only to take the jewels. Her orders were either to wait until she knew by + questioning that the section would not return or else, when it had + returned, to wait until the memsahib and Bellairs sahib slept, and then to + make a sign. They grow tired of waiting now, for there is news! At Jundhra + the rebels are defeated, and at Doonha likewise.” + </p> + <p> + “How know you this?” + </p> + <p> + “By listening to the priests' talk while I lay in wait to snare the + priestling. Nothing is known as yet as to what the guns or garrison at + Doonha do, but it is known that they of Jundhra will march on Hanadra + here. They search now for their High Priest, being minded to march out of + here and set an ambush on the road.” + </p> + <p> + “They have time. From Jundhra to here is a long march! Until tomorrow + evening or the day following they have time!” + </p> + <p> + “Aye! And they have fear also! They seek their priest—listen.” + </p> + <p> + There were voices plainly audible in the courtyard down below, and two + more men stood at the foot of the winding stairway whispering. By + listening intently they could hear almost what they said, for the stone + stairway acted like a whispering-gallery, the voices echoing up it from + wall to wall. + </p> + <p> + “Why do they seek him here?” + </p> + <p> + “They have sought elsewhere and not found him; and there is talk—He + claimed the memsahib as his share of the plunder. They think—” + </p> + <p> + Mahommed Khan glared at the trussed-up priest and swore a savage oath + beneath his breath. + </p> + <p> + “Have they touched the stables yet?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “No, not yet. The loot is to be divided evenly among certain of the + priests, and no man may yet lay a hand on it.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there a guard there?” + </p> + <p> + “No. No one would steal what the priests claim, and the priests will not + trust one another. So the horses stand in their stalls unwatched.” + </p> + <p> + The voices down the stairs grew louder, and the sound of footsteps began + ascending, slowly and with hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “Quick!” said the Risaldar. “Light me that brazier again!” + </p> + <p> + Charcoal lights quickly, and before the steps had reached the landing + Mahommed Khan had a hot coal glowing in his tongs: + </p> + <p> + “Now speak to them!” he growled at the shuddering priest. “Order them to + go back to their temple and tell them that you follow!” + </p> + <p> + The priest shut his lips tight and shook his head. With rescue so near as + that, he could see no reason to obey. But the hot coal touched him, and a + Hindu who may be not at all afraid to die can not stand torture. + </p> + <p> + “I speak!” he answered, writhing. + </p> + <p> + “Speak, then!” said the Risaldar, choosing a larger coal. Then, in the + priest's language, which none—and least of all a Risaldar—can + understand except the priests themselves, he began to shout directions, + pitching his voice into a high, wailing, minor key. He was answered by + another sing-song voice outside the door and he listened with a glowing + coal held six inches from his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “An eye for a false move!” hissed Mahommed Khan. “Two eyes are the forfeit + unless they go down the stairs again! Then my half-brother here will + follow to the temple and if any watch, or stay behind, thy ears will + sizzle!” + </p> + <p> + The High Priest raised his voice into a wail again, and the feet shuffled + along the landing and descended. + </p> + <p> + “Put down that coal!” he pleaded. “I have done thy bidding!” + </p> + <p> + “Watch through the window!” said the Risaldar. “Then follow!” + </p> + <p> + His giant half-brother peered from behind the curtain and listened. He + could hear laughter, ribald, mocking laughter, but low, and plainly not + intended for the High Priest's ears. + </p> + <p> + “They go!” he growled. + </p> + <p> + “Then follow.” + </p> + <p> + Once again the Risaldar was left alone with the priest and the unconscious + Ruth. She was suffering from the effects of long days and nights of + nerve-destroying heat, with the shock of unexpected horror super-added, + and she showed no disposition to recover consciousness. The priest, + though, was very far from having lost his power to think. + </p> + <p> + “You are a fool!” he sneered at the Risaldar, but the sword leaped from + its scabbard at the word and he changed that line of argument. “You hold + cards and know not how to play them!” + </p> + <p> + “I know along which road my honor lies! I lay no plans to murder people in + their sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “Honor! And what is honor? What is the interest on honor—how much + percent?” + </p> + <p> + The Risaldar turned his back on him, but the High Priest laughed. + </p> + <p> + “'The days of the Raj are numbered!” said the priest. “The English will be + slain to the last man and then where will you be? Where will be the profit + on your honor?” + </p> + <p> + The Risaldar listened, for he could not help it, but he made no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Me you hold here, a prisoner. You can slay or torture. But what good will + that do? The woman that you guard will fall sooner or later into Hindu + hands. You can not fight against a legion. Listen! I hold the strings of + wealth. With a jerk I can unloose a fortune in your lap. I need that woman + there!” + </p> + <p> + “For what?” snarled the Risaldar, whirling round on him, his eyes ablaze. + </p> + <p> + “'For power! Kharvani's temple here has images and paintings and a voice + that speaks—but no Kharvani!” + </p> + <p> + The Rajput turned away again and affected unconcern. + </p> + <p> + “Could Kharvani but appear, could her worshipers but see Kharvani + manifest, what would a lakh, two lakhs, a crore of rupees mean to me, the + High Priest of her temple? I could give thee anything! The power over all + India would be in my hands! Kharvani would but appear and say thus and + thus, and thus would it be done!” + </p> + <p> + The Risaldar's hand had risen to his mustache. His back was still turned + on the priest, but he showed interest. His eyes wandered to where Ruth lay + in a heap by the inner door and then away again. + </p> + <p> + “Who would believe it?” he growled in an undertone. + </p> + <p> + “They would all believe it! One and all! Even Mohammedans would become + Hindus to worship at her shrine and beg her favors. Thou and I alone would + share the secret. Listen! Loose me these bonds—my limbs ache.” + </p> + <p> + Mahommed Khan turned. He stooped and cut them with his sword. + </p> + <p> + “Now I can talk,” said the priest, sitting up and rubbing his ankles. + “Listen. Take thou two horses and gallop off, so that the rest may think + that the white woman has escaped. Then return here secretly and name thy + price—and hold thy tongue!” + </p> + <p> + “And leave her in thy hands?” asked the Risaldar. + </p> + <p> + “In my keeping.” + </p> + <p> + “Bah! Who would trust a Hindu priest!” + </p> + <p> + The Rajput was plainly wavering and the priest stood up, to argue with him + the better. + </p> + <p> + “What need to trust me? You, sahib, will know the secret, and none other + but myself will know it. Would I, think you, be fool enough to tell the + rest, or, by withholding just payment from you, incite you to spread it + broadcast? You and I will know it and we alone. To me the power that it + will bring—to you all the wealth you ever dreamed of, and more + besides!” + </p> + <p> + “No other priest would know?” + </p> + <p> + “Not one! They will think the woman escaped!” + </p> + <p> + “And she—where would you keep her?” + </p> + <p> + “In a secret place I know of, below the temple.” + </p> + <p> + “Does any other know it?” + </p> + <p> + “No. Not one!” + </p> + <p> + “Listen!” said the Risaldar, stroking at his beard. “This woman never did + me any wrong—but she is a woman, not a man. I owe her no fealty, and + yet—I would not like to see her injured. Were I to agree to thy + plan, there would needs be a third man in the secret.” + </p> + <p> + “Who? Name him,” said the priest, grinning his satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “My half-brother Suliman.” + </p> + <p> + “Agreed!” + </p> + <p> + “He must go with us to the hiding-place and stay there as her servant.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he a silent man?” + </p> + <p> + “Silent as the dead, unless I bid him speak!” + </p> + <p> + “Then, that is agreed; he and thou and I know of this secret, and none + other is to know it! Why wait? Let us remove her to the hiding-place!” + </p> + <p> + “Wait yet for Suliman. How long will I be gone, think you, on my pretended + flight?” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, what think you, sahib?” + </p> + <p> + “I think many hours. There may be those that watch, or some that ride + after me. I think I shall not return until long after daylight, and then + there will be no suspicions. Give me a token that will admit me safely + back into Hanadra—some sign that the priests will know, and a pass + to show to any one that bids me halt.” + </p> + <p> + The priest held out his hand. “Take off that ring of mine!” he answered. + “That is the sacred ring of Kharvani—and all men know it. None will + touch thee or refuse thee anything, do they have but the merest sight of + it!” + </p> + <p> + The Risaldar drew off a clumsy silver ring, set with three stones—a + sapphire and a ruby and an emerald, each one of which was worth a fortune + by itself. He slipped it on his own finger and turned it round slowly, + examining it. + </p> + <p> + “See how I trust thee,” said the priest. + </p> + <p> + “More than I do thee!” muttered the Risaldar. + </p> + <p> + “I hear my brother!” growled the Risaldar after another minute. “Be ready + to show the way!” + </p> + <p> + He walked across the room to Ruth, tore a covering from a divan and + wrapped her in it; then he opened the outer door for his half-brother. + </p> + <p> + “Is it well?” he asked in the Rajput tongue. + </p> + <p> + “All well!” boomed the half-brother, eying the unbound priest with + unconcealed surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Do any watch?” + </p> + <p> + “Not one! The priests are in the temple; all who are not priests man the + walls or rush here and there making ready.” + </p> + <p> + “And the priestling?” + </p> + <p> + “Is where I left him.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?—I said.” + </p> + <p> + “In the niche underneath the arch, where I trapped the High Priest!” + </p> + <p> + “Are the horses fed and watered?” + </p> + <p> + “Ha, sahib!” + </p> + <p> + “Good! How is the niche opened where the priestling lies?” + </p> + <p> + “There is the trunk of an elephant, carved where the largest stone of all + begins to curve outward, on the side of the stone as you go outward from + the courtyard.” + </p> + <p> + “On which side of the archway, then?” + </p> + <p> + “On the left side, sahib. Press on the trunk downward and then pull; the + stone swings outward. There are steps then—ten steps downward to the + stone floor where the priestling lies.” + </p> + <p> + “Good! I can find him. Now pick up the heavenborn yonder in those great + arms of thine, and bear her gently! Gently, I said! So! Have a care, now, + that she is not injured against the corners. My honor, aye, my honor and + yours and all our duty to the Raj you bear and—and have a care of + the corners?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye,” answered the half-brother, stolidly, holding Ruth as though she had + been a little bag of rice. + </p> + <p> + Again the Risaldar turned to the High Priest, and eyed him through eyes + that glittered. + </p> + <p> + “We are ready!” he growled. “Lead on to thy hiding-place!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII. + </h2> + <p> + The guns rode first from Doonha, for the guns take precedence. The section + ground-scouts were acting scouts for the division, two hundred yards ahead + of every one. Behind the guns rode Colonel Forrester-Carter, followed by + the wagon with the wounded; and last of all the two companies of the + Thirty-third trudged through the stifling heat. + </p> + <p> + But, though the guns were ahead of every one, they had to suit their pace + to that of the men who marched. For one thing, there might be an attack at + any minute, and guns that are caught at close quarters at a distance from + their escort are apt to be astonishingly helpless. They can act in unison + with infantry; but alone, on bad ground, in the darkness, and with their + horses nearly too tired to drag them, a leash of ten puppies in a crowd + would be an easier thing to hurry with. + </p> + <p> + Young Bellairs had his men dismounted and walking by their mounts. Even + the drivers led their horses, for two had been taken from each gun to drag + the wounded, and the guns are calculated as a load for six, not four. + </p> + <p> + As he trudged through the blood-hot dust in clumsy riding-boots and led + his charger on the left flank of the guns, Harry Bellairs fumed and + fretted in a way to make no man envy him. The gloomy, ghost-like trees, + that had flitted past him on the road to Doonha, crawled past him now—slowly + and more slowly as his tired feet blistered in his boots. He could not + mount and ride, though, for very shame, while his men were marching, and + he dared not let them ride, for fear the horses might give in. He could + just trudge and trudge, and hate himself and every one, and wonder. + </p> + <p> + What had the Risaldar contrived to do? Why hadn't he packed up his wife's + effects the moment that his orders came and ridden off with her and the + section at once, instead of waiting three hours or more for an escort for + her? Why hadn't he realized at once that orders that came in a hurry that + way, in the night-time, were not only urgent but ominous as well? What + chance had the Risaldar—an old man, however willing he might be—to + ride through a swarming countryside for thirty miles or more and bring + back an escort? Why, even supposing Mohammed Khan had ridden off at once, + he could scarcely be back again before the section! And what would have + happened in the meantime? + </p> + <p> + Supposing the Risaldar's sons and grandsons refused to obey him? Stranger + things than that had been known to happen! Suppose they were disloyal? And + then—blacker though than any yet!—suppose—suppose— + Why had Mahommed Khan, the hard-bitten, wise old war-dog, advised him to + leave his wife behind? Did that seem like honest advice, on second + thought? Mohammedans had joined in this outbreak as well as Hindus. The + sepoys at Doonha were Mohammedans! Why had Mahommed Khan seemed so anxious + to send him on his way? As though an extra five minutes would have + mattered! Why had he objected to a last good-by to Mrs. Bellairs?... And + then—he had shown a certain knowledge of the uprising; where had he + obtained it? If he were loyal, who then had told him of it? Natives who + are disloyal don't brag of their plans beforehand to men who are on the + other side! And if he had known of it, and was still loyal, how was it + that he had not divulged his information before the outbreak came? Would a + loyal man hold his tongue until the last minute? Scarcely! + </p> + <p> + He halted, pulled his horse to the middle of the road and waited for + Colonel Carter to overtake him. + </p> + <p> + “Well? What is it?” asked the colonel sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Can I ride on ahead, sir? My horse is good for it and I'm in agonies of + apprehension about my wife!” + </p> + <p> + “No! Certainly not! You are needed to command your section!” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, sir, but I've a sergeant who can take command. He's a + first-class man and perfectly dependable.” + </p> + <p> + “You could do no good, even if you did ride on,” said the colonel, not + unkindly. + </p> + <p> + “I'm thinking, sir, that Mahommed Khan—” + </p> + <p> + “Risaldar Mahommed Khan?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Of the Rajput Horse?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. My father's Risaldar.” + </p> + <p> + “You left your wife in his charge, didn't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, but I'm thinking that—that perhaps the Risaldar—I + mean—there seem to be Mohammedans at the bottom of this business, as + well as Hindus. Perhaps—” + </p> + <p> + “Bellairs! Now hear me once and for all. You thank your God that the + Risaldar turned up to guard her! Thank God that your father was man enough + for Mahommed Khan to love and that you are your father's son! And listen! + Don't let me hear you, ever, under any circumstances, breathe a word of + doubt as to that man's loyalty! D'you understand me, sir? You, a mere + subaltern, a puppy just out of his 'teens, an insignificant jackanapes + with two twelve-pounders in your charge, daring to impute disloyalty to + Mahommed Khan!—your impudence! Remember this! That old Risaldar is + the man who rode with your father through the guns at Dera! He's a pauper + without a pension, for all his loyalty, but he went down the length of + India to meet you, at his own expense, when you landed raw-green from + England! And what d'you know of war, I'd like to know, that you didn't + learn from him? Thank your God, sir, that there's some one there who'll + kill your wife before she falls into the Hindus' hands!” + </p> + <p> + “But he was going to ride away, sir, to bring an escort!” + </p> + <p> + “Not before he'd made absolutely certain of her safety!” swore the colonel + with conviction. “Join your section, sir!” + </p> + <p> + So Harry Bellairs joined his section and trudged along sore-footed at its + side—sore-hearted, too. He wondered whether any one would ever say + as much for him as Colonel Carter had chosen to say for Mahommed Khan, or + whether any one would have the right to say it! He was ashamed of having + left his wife behind and tortured with anxiety—and smarting from the + snub—a medley of sensations that were more likely to make a man of + him, if he had known it, than the whole experience of a year's campaign! + But in the dust and darkness, with the blisters on his heels, and fifty + men, who had overheard the colonel, looking sidewise at him, his plight + was pitiable. + </p> + <p> + They trudged until the dawn began to rise, bright yellow below the + drooping banian trees; only Colonel Carter and the advance-guard riding. + Then, when they stopped at a stream to water horses and let them graze a + bit and give the men a sorely needed rest, one of the ring of outposts + loosed off his rifle and shouted an alarm. They had formed square in an + instant, with the guns on one side and the men on three, and the colonel + and the wounded in the middle. A thousand or more of the mutineers leaned + on their rifles on the shoulder of a hill and looked them over, a thousand + yards away. + </p> + <p> + “Send them an invitation!” commanded Colonel Carter, and the left-hand gun + barked out an overture, killing one sepoy. The rest made off in the + direction of Hanadra. + </p> + <p> + “We're likely to have a hot reception when we reach there!” said Colonel + Carter cheerily. “Well, we'll rest here for thirty minutes and give them a + chance to get ready for us. I'm sorry there's no breakfast, men, but the + sepoys will have dinner ready by the time we get there—we'll eat + theirs!” + </p> + <p> + The chorus of ready laughter had scarcely died away when a horse's + hoof-beats clattered in the distance from the direction of Doonha and a + native cavalryman galloped into view, low-bent above his horse's neck. The + foam from his horse was spattered over him and his lance swung pointing + upward from the sling. On his left side the polished scabbard rose and + fell in time to his horse's movement. He was urging his weary horse to put + out every ounce he had in him. He drew rein, though, when he reached a + turning in the road and saw the resting division in front of him, and + walked his horse forward, patting his sweat-wet neck and easing him. But + as he leaned to finger with the girths an ambushed sepoy fired at him, and + he rammed in his spurs again and rode like a man possessed. + </p> + <p> + “This'll be another untrustworthy Mohammedan!” said Colonel Carter in a + pointed undertone, and Bellairs blushed crimson underneath the tan. “He's + ridden through from Jundhra, with torture waiting for him if he happened + to get caught, and no possible reward beyond his pay. Look out he doesn't + spike your guns!” + </p> + <p> + The trooper rode straight up to Colonel Carter and saluted. He removed a + tiny package from his cheek, where he had carried it so that he might + swallow it at once in case of accident, tore the oil-silk cover from it + and handed it to him without a word, saluting again and leading his horse + away. Colonel Carter unfolded the half-sheet of foreign notepaper and + read: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Dear Colonel Carter: + Your letter just received in which you say that you have blown + up the magazine at Doonha and are marching to Hanadra with a + view to the rescue of Mrs. Bellairs. This is in no sense + intended as a criticism of your action or of your plan, but + circumstances have made it seem advisable for me to transfer + my own headquarters to Hanadra and I am just starting. I must + ask you, please, to wait for me—at a spot as near to where + this overtakes you as can be managed. If Mrs. Bellairs, or + anybody else of ours, is in Hanadra, she—or they—are either + dead by now or else prisoners. And if they are to be rescued + by force, the larger the force employed the better. If you + were to attack with your two companies before I reached you, + you probably would be repulsed, and would, I think, endanger + the lives of any prisoners that the enemy may hold. I am + coming with my whole command as fast as possible. + Your Obedient Servant, + A. E. Turner + Genl. Officer Commanding +</pre> + <p> + “Men!” said Colonel Carter, in a ringing voice that gave not the slightest + indication of his feelings, “we're to wait here for a while until the + whole division overtakes us. The general has vacated Jundhra. Lie down and + get all the rest you can!” + </p> + <p> + The murmur from the ranks was as difficult to read as Colonel Carter's + voice had been. It might have meant pleasure at the thought of rest, or + anger, or contempt, or almost anything. It was undefined and indefinable. + </p> + <p> + But there was no doubt at all as to how young Bellairs felt. He was + sitting on a trunnion, sobbing, with his head bent low between his hands. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX. + </h2> + <h3> + “Come, then!” said the High Priest. + </h3> + <p> + Mahommed Khan threw open the outer door and bowed sardonically. + “Precedence for priests!” he sneered, tapping at his sword-hilt. “Thou + goest first! Next come I, and last Suliman with the memsahib! Thus can I + reach thee with my sword, O priest, and also protect her if need be!” + </p> + <p> + “Thou art trusting as a little child!” exclaimed the priest, passing out + ahead of him. + </p> + <p> + “A priest and a liar and a thief—all three are one!” hummed the + Risaldar. “Bear her gently, Suliman! Have a care, now, as you turn on the + winding stairs!” + </p> + <p> + “Ha, sahib!” said the half-brother, carrying Ruth as easily as though she + had been a little child. + </p> + <p> + At the foot of the stairway, in the blackness that seemed alive with + phantom shadows, the High Priest paused and listened, stretching out his + left hand against the wall to keep the other two behind him. From + somewhere beyond the courtyard came the din of hurrying sandaled feet, + scudding over cobblestones in one direction. The noise was incessant and + not unlike the murmur of a rapid stream. Occasionally a voice was raised + in some command or other, but the stream of sound continued, hurrying, + hurrying, shuffling along to the southward. + </p> + <p> + “This way and watch a while,” whispered the priest. + </p> + <p> + “I have heard rats run that way!” growled the Risaldar. + </p> + <p> + They climbed up a narrow stairway leading to a sort of battlement and + peered over the top, Suliman laying Ruth Bellairs down in the darkest + shadow he could find. She was beginning to recover consciousness, and + apparently Mahommed Khan judged it best to take no notice of her. + </p> + <p> + Down below them they could see the city gate, wide open, with a blazing + torch on either side of it, and through the gate, swarming like ants + before the rains, there poured an endless stream of humans that marched—and + marched—and marched; four, ten, fifteen abreast; all heights and + sizes, jumbled in and out among one another, anyhow, without formation, + but armed, every one of them, and all intent on marching to the southward, + where Jundhra and Doonha lay. Some muttered to one another and some + laughed, but the greater number marched in silence. + </p> + <p> + “That for thy English!” grinned the priest. “Can the English troops + overcome that horde?” + </p> + <p> + “Hey-ee! For a troop or two of Rajputs!” sighed the Risaldar. “Or English + Lancers! They would ride through that as an ax does through the + brush-wood!” + </p> + <p> + “Bah!” said the priest. “All soldiers boast! There will be a houghing + shortly after dawn. The days of thy English are now numbered.” + </p> + <p> + “By those—there?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, by those, there! Come!” + </p> + <p> + They climbed down the steps again, the Rajput humming to himself and + smiling grimly into his mustache. + </p> + <p> + “Ay! There will be a houghing shortly after dawn!” he muttered. “Would + only that I were there to see!... Where are the sepoys?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “I know not. How should I know, who have been thy guest these hours past? + This march is none of my ordering.” + </p> + <p> + The priest pressed hard on a stone knob that seemed to be part of the + carving on a wall, then he leaned his weight against the wall and a huge + stone swung inward, while a fetid breath of air wafted outward in their + faces. + </p> + <p> + “None know this road but I!” exclaimed the priest. + </p> + <p> + “None need to!” said the Risaldar. “Pass on, snake, into thy hole. We + follow.” + </p> + <p> + “Steps!” said the priest, and began descending. + </p> + <p> + “Curses!” said the Risaldar, stumbling and falling down on top of him. + “Have a care, Suliman! The stone is wet and slippery.” + </p> + <p> + Down, down they climbed, one behind the other, Suliman grunting beneath + his burden and the Risaldar keeping up a running fire of oaths. Each time + that he slipped, and that was often, he cursed the priest and cautioned + Suliman. But the priest only laughed, and apparently Suliman was + sure-footed, for he never stumbled once. They seemed to be diving down + into the bowels of the earth. They were in pitch-black darkness, for the + stone had swung to behind them of its own accord. The wall on either side + of them was wet with slime and the stink of decaying ages rose and almost + stifled them. But the priest kept on descending, so fast that the other + two had trouble to keep up with him, and he hummed to himself as though he + knew the road and liked it. + </p> + <p> + “The bottom!” he called back suddenly. “From now the going is easy, until + we rise again. We pass now under the city-wall.” + </p> + <p> + But they could see nothing and hear nothing except their own footfalls + swishing in the ooze beneath them. Even the priest's words seemed to be + lost at once, as though he spoke into a blanket, for the air they breathed + was thicker than a mist and just as damp. They walked on, along a level, + wet, stone passage for at least five minutes, feeling their way with one + band on the wall. + </p> + <p> + “Steps, now!” said the priest. “Have a care, now, for the lower ones are + slippery.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth was regaining consciousness. She began to move and tried once or + twice to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Here, thou!” growled the Risaldar. “Thou art a younger man than I—come + back here. Help with the memsahib.” + </p> + <p> + The priest came back a step or two, but Suliman declined his aid, snarling + vile insults at him. + </p> + <p> + “I can manage!” he growled. “Get thou behind me, Mahommed Khan, in case I + slip!” + </p> + <p> + So Mahommed Khan came last, and they slipped and grunted upward, round and + round a spiral staircase that was hewn out of solid rock. No light came + through from anywhere to help them, but the priest climbed on, as though + he were accustomed to the stair and knew the way from constant use. After + five minutes of steady climbing the stone grew gradually dry. The steps + became smaller, too, and deeper, and not so hard to climb. Suddenly the + priest reached out his arm and pulled at something or other that hung down + in the darkness. A stone in the wall rolled open. A flood of light burst + in and nearly blinded them. + </p> + <p> + “We are below Kharvani's temple!” announced the priest. He led them + through the opening into a four-square room hewn from the rock below the + foundations of the temple some time in the dawn of history. The light that + had blinded them when they first emerged proved to be nothing but the + flicker of two small oil lamps that hung suspended by brass chains from + the painted ceiling. The only furniture was mats spread on the cut-stone + floor. + </p> + <p> + “By which way did we come?” asked the Risaldar, staring in amazement round + the walls. There was not a door nor crack, nor any sign of one, except + that a wooden ladder in one corner led to a trapdoor overhead, and they + had certainly not entered by the ladder. + </p> + <p> + “Nay! That is a secret!” grinned the priest. “He who can may find the + opening! Here can the woman and her servant stay until we need them.” + </p> + <p> + “Here in this place?” + </p> + <p> + “Where else? No man but I knows of this crypt! The ladder there leads to + another room, where there is yet another ladder, and that one leads out + through a secret door I know of, straight into the temple. Art ready? + There is need for haste!” + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” said the Risaldar. + </p> + <p> + “These soldiers!” sneered the priest. “It is wait—wait—wait + with them, always!” + </p> + <p> + “Hast thou a son.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay! But what of it?” + </p> + <p> + “I said 'hast,' not 'hadst'!” + </p> + <p> + “Ay. I have a son. + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “In one of the temple-chambers overhead.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, priest! Thy son lies gagged and bound and trussed in a place I know + of, and which thou dost not know!” + </p> + <p> + “Since when?” + </p> + <p> + “Since by my orders he was laid there.” + </p> + <p> + “Thou art the devil! Thou liest, Rajput!” + </p> + <p> + “So? Go seek thy son!” + </p> + <p> + The priest's face had blanched beneath the olive of his skin, and he + stared at Mahommed Khan through distended eyes. + </p> + <p> + “My son!” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + “Aye! Thy priestling! He stays where he is, as hostage, until my return! + Also the heavenborn stays here! If, on my return, I find the heavenborn + safe and sound, I will exchange her for thy son—and if not, I will + tear thy son into little pieces before thy eyes, priest! Dost thou + understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Thou liest! My son is overhead in the temple here!” + </p> + <p> + “Go seek him, then!” + </p> + <p> + The priest turned and scampered up the ladder with an agility that was + astonishing in a man of his build and paunch. + </p> + <p> + “Hanuman should have been thy master!” jeered the Risaldar. “So run the + bandar-log, the monkey-folk!” + </p> + <p> + But the priest had no time to answer him. He was half frantic with the + sickening fear of a father for his only son. He returned ten minutes + later, panting, and more scared than ever. + </p> + <p> + “Go, take thy white woman,” he exclaimed, “and give me my son back!” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, priest! Shall I ride with her alone through that horde that are + marching through the gate? I go now for an escort; in eight—ten—twelve—I + know not how many hours, I will return for her, and then—thy son + will be exchanged for her, or he dies thus in many pieces!” + </p> + <p> + He turned to Suliman. “Is she awake yet?” he demanded. + </p> + <p> + “Barely, but she recovers.” + </p> + <p> + “Then tell her, when consciousness returns, that I have gone and will + return for her. And stay here, thou, and guard her until I come.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha, sahib!” + </p> + <p> + “Now, show the way!” + </p> + <p> + “But—” said the priest, “our bargain? The price that we agreed on—one + lakh, was it not?” + </p> + <p> + “One lakh of devils take thee and tear thee into little pieces! Wouldst + bribe a Rajput, a Risaldar? For that insult I will repay thee one day with + interest, O priest! Now, show the way!” + </p> + <p> + “But how shall I be sure about my son?” + </p> + <p> + “Be sure that the priestling will starve to death or die of thirst or + choke, unless I hurry! He is none too easy where he lies!” + </p> + <p> + “Go! Hurry, then!” swore the priest. “May all the gods there are, and thy + Allah with them, afflict thee with all their curses—thee and thine! + Up with you! Up that ladder! Run! But, if the gods will, I will meet thee + again when the storm is over!” + </p> + <p> + “Inshallah!” growled Mahommed Khan. + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later a crash and a clatter and a shower of sparks broke out + in the sweltering courtyard where the guns had stood and waited. It was + Shaitan, young Bellairs' Khaubuli charger, with his haunches under him, + plunging across the flagstones, through the black-dark archway, out on the + plain beyond—in answer to the long, sharp-roweled spurs of the + Risaldar Mahommed Khan. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X. + </h2> + <p> + Dawn broke and the roofs of old Hanadra became resplendent with the varied + colors of turbans and pugrees and shawls. As though the rising sun had + loosed the spell, a myriad tongues, of women chiefly, rose in a babel of + clamor, and the few men who had been left in. Hanadra by the night's armed + exodus came all together and growled prophetically in undertones. Now was + the day of days, when that part of India, at least, should cast off the + English yoke. + </p> + <p> + To the temple! The cry went up before the sun was fifteen minutes high. + There are a hundred temples in Hanadra, age-old all of them and carved on + the outside with strange images of heathen gods in high relief, like molds + turned inside out. But there is but one temple that that cry could mean—Kharvani's; + and there could be but one meaning for the cry. Man, woman and child would + pray Kharvani, Bride of Siva the Destroyer, to intercede with Siva and + cause him to rise and smite the English. On the skyline, glinting like + flashed signals in the early sun, bright English bayonets had appeared; + and between them and Hanadra was a dense black mass, the whole of old + Hanadra's able-bodied manhood, lined up to defend the city. Now was the + time to pray. Fifty to one are by no means despicable odds, but the aid of + the gods as well is better! + </p> + <p> + So the huge dome of Kharvani's temple began to echo to the sound of + slippered feet and awe-struck whisperings, and the big, dim auditorium + soon filled to overflowing. No light came in from the outer world. There + was nothing to illuminate the mysteries except the chain-hung grease-lamps + swinging here and there from beams, and they served only to make the + darkness visible. Bats flicked in and out between them and disappeared in + the echoing gloom above. Censers belched out sweet-smelling, pungent + clouds of sandalwood to drown the stench of hot humanity; and the huge + graven image of Kharvani—serene and smiling and indifferent—stared + round-eyed from the darkness. + </p> + <p> + Then a priest's voice boomed out in a solemn incantation and the + whispering hushed. He chanted age-old verses, whose very meaning was + forgotten in the womb of time—forgotten as the artist who had + painted the picture of idealized Kharvani on the wall. Ten priests, five + on either side of the tremendous idol, emerged chanting from the gloom + behind, and then a gong rang, sweetly, clearly, suddenly, and the chanting + ceased. Out stepped the High Priest from a niche below the image, and his + voice rose in a wailing, sing-song cadence that reechoed from the dome and + sent a thrill through every one who heard. + </p> + <p> + His chant had scarcely ceased when the temple door burst open and a man + rushed in. + </p> + <p> + “They have begun!” he shouted. “The battle has begun!” + </p> + <p> + As though in ready confirmation of his words, the distant reverberating + boom of cannon filtered through the doorway from the world of grim + realities outside. + </p> + <p> + “They have twenty cannon with them! They have more guns than we have!” + wailed he who brought the news. Again began the chanting that sought the + aid of Siva the Destroyer. Only, there were fewer who listened to this + second chant. Those who were near the doorway slipped outside and joined + the watching hundreds on the roofs. + </p> + <p> + For an hour the prayers continued in the stifling gloom, priest relieving + priest and chant following on chant, until the temple was half emptied of + its audience. One by one, and then by twos and threes, the worshipers + succumbed to human curiosity and crept stealthily outside to watch. + </p> + <p> + Another messenger ran in and shouted: “They have charged! Their cavalry + have charged! They are beaten back! Their dead lie twisted on the plain!” + </p> + <p> + At the words there was a stampede from the doorway, and half of those who + had remained rushed out. There were hundreds still there, though, for that + great gloomy pile of Kharvani's could hold an almost countless crowd. + </p> + <p> + Within another hour the same man rushed to the door again and shouted: + </p> + <p> + “Help comes! Horsemen are coming from the north! Rajputs, riding like + leaves before the wind! Even the Mussulmans are for us!” + </p> + <p> + But the chanting never ceased. No one stopped to doubt the friendship of + arrivals from the north, for to that side there were no English, and + England's friends would surely follow byroads to her aid. The city gates + were wide open to admit wounded or messengers or friends—with a + view, even, to a possible retreat—and whoever cared could ride + through them unchallenged and unchecked. + </p> + <p> + Even when the crash of horses' hoofs rattled on the stone paving outside + the temple there was no suspicion. No move was made to find out who it was + who rode. But when the temple door reechoed to the thunder of a sword-hilt + and a voice roared “Open!” there was something like a panic. The chanting + stopped and the priests and the High Priest listened to the stamping on + the stone pavement at the temple front. + </p> + <p> + “Open!” roared a voice again, and the thundering on the panels + recommenced. Then some one drew the bolt and a horse's head—a huge + Khaubuli stallion's—appeared, snorting and panting and wild-eyed. + </p> + <p> + “Farward!” roared the Risaldar Mahommed Khan, kneeling on young Bellairs' + winded charger. + </p> + <p> + “Farm twos! Farward!” + </p> + <p> + Straight into the temple, two by two, behind the Risaldar, rode two fierce + lines of Rajputs, overturning men and women—their drawn swords + pointing this way and that—their dark eyes gleaming. Without a word + to any one they rode up to the image, where the priests stood in an + astonished herd. + </p> + <p> + “Fron-tt farm! Rear rank—'bout-face!” barked the Risaldar, and there + was another clattering and stamping on the stone floor as the panting + chargers pranced into the fresh formation, back to back. + </p> + <p> + “The memsahib!” growled Mahommed Khan. “Where is she?” + </p> + <p> + “My son!” said the High Priest. “Bring me my son!” + </p> + <p> + “A life for a life! Thy heavenborn first!” + </p> + <p> + “Nay! Show me my son first!” + </p> + <p> + The Risaldar leaped from his horse and tossed his reins to the man behind + him. In a second his sword was at the High Priest's throat. + </p> + <p> + “Where is that secret stair?” he growled. “Lead on!” + </p> + <p> + The swordpoint pricked him. Two priests tried to interfere, but wilted and + collapsed with fright as four fierce, black-bearded Rajputs spurred their + horses forward. The swordpoint pricked still deeper. + </p> + <p> + “My son!” said the High Priest. + </p> + <p> + “A life for a life! Lead on!” + </p> + <p> + The High Priest surrendered, with a dark and cunning look, though, that + hinted at something or other in reserve. He pulled at a piece of carving + on the wail behind and pointed to a stair that showed behind the outswung + door. Then he plucked another priest by the sleeve and whispered. + </p> + <p> + The priest passed on the whisper. A third priest turned and ran. + </p> + <p> + “That way!” said the High Priest, pointing. + </p> + <p> + “I? Nay! I go not down!” He raised his voice into an ululating howl. “O + Suliman!” he bellowed. “Suliman! O!—Suliman! Bring up the + heaven-born!” + </p> + <p> + A growl like the distant rumble from a bear-pit answered him. Then Ruth + Bellairs' voice was heard calling up the stairway. + </p> + <p> + “Is that you, Mahommed Khan?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, memsahib!” + </p> + <p> + “Good! I'm coming!” + </p> + <p> + She had recovered far enough to climb the ladder and the steep stone stair + above it, and Suliman climbed up behind her, grumbling dreadful prophecies + of what would happen to the priests now that Mohammed Khan had come. + </p> + <p> + “Is all well, Risaldar?” she asked him. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, heavenborn! All is not well yet! The general sahib from Jundhra and + your husband's guns and others, making one division, are engaged with + rebels eight or nine miles from here. We saw part of the battle as we + rode!” + </p> + <p> + “Who wins?” + </p> + <p> + “It is doubtful, heavenborn! How could we tell from this distance?” + </p> + <p> + “Have you a horse for me?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, heavenborn! Here! Bring up that horse, thou, and Suliman's! Ride him + cross-saddle, heavenborn—there were no side-saddles in Siroeh! Nay, + he is just a little frightened. He will stand—he will not throw + thee! I did better than I thought, heavenborn. I come with + four-and-twenty, making twenty-six with me and Suliman. An escort for a + queen! So—sit him quietly. Leave the reins free. Suliman will lead + him! Ho! Fronnnt! Rank—'bout-face!” + </p> + <p> + “My son!” wailed the High Priest. “Where is my son?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell him, Suliman!” + </p> + <p> + “Where I caught thee, thou idol-briber!” snarled the Risaldar's + half-brother. + </p> + <p> + “Where? In that den of stinks. Gagged and bound all this while?” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! Gagged and bound and out of mischief where all priests and priests' + sons ought to be!” laughed Mahommed Khan. “Farward! Farm twos + Ter-r-r-ott!” + </p> + <p> + In went the spur, and the snorting, rattling, clanking cavalcade sidled + and pranced out of the temple into the sunshine, with Ruth and Suliman in + the midst of them. + </p> + <p> + “Gallop!” roared the Risaldar, the moment that the last horse was clear of + the temple-doors. And in that instant he saw what the High Priest's + whispering had meant. + </p> + <p> + Coming up the street toward them was a horde of silent, hurrying Hindus, + armed with swords and spears, wearing all of them the caste-marks of the + Brahman—well-fed, indignant relations of the priests, intent on + avenging the defilement of Kharvani's temple. + </p> + <p> + “Canter! Fronnnt—farm—Gallop! Charge!” + </p> + <p> + Ruth found herself in the midst of a whirlwind of flashing sabers, astride + of a lean-flanked Katiawari gelding that could streak like an antelope, + knee to knee with a pair of bearded Rajputs, one of whom gripped her + bridle-rein—thundering down a city street straight for a hundred + swords that blocked her path. She set her eyes on the middle of Mahommed + Khan's straight back, gripped the saddle with both hands, set her teeth + and waited for the shock. Mahommed Khan's right arm rose and his sword + flashed in the sunlight as he stood up in his stirrups. She shut her eyes. + But there was no shock! There was the swish of whirling steel, the thunder + of hoofs, the sound of bodies falling. There was a scream or two as well + and a coarse-mouthed Rajput oath. But when she dared to open her eyes once + more they were thundering still, headlong down the city street and + Mahommed Khan was whirling his sword in mid-air to shake the blood from + it. + </p> + <p> + Ahead lay the city gate and she could see another swarm of Hindus rushing + from either side to close it. But “Charge!” yelled Mahommed Khan again, + and they swept through the crowd, through the half-shut gate, out on the + plain beyond, as a wind sweeps through the forest, leaving fallen + tree-trunks in its wake. + </p> + <p> + “Halt!” roared the Risaldar, when they were safely out of range. “Are any + hurt? No? Good for us that their rifles are all in the firing-line + yonder!” + </p> + <p> + He sat for a minute peering underneath his hand at the distant, dark, + serried mass of men and the steel-tipped lines beyond it, watching the + belching cannon and the spurting flames of the close-range rifle-fire. + </p> + <p> + “See, heavenborn!” he said, pointing. “Those will be your husband's guns! + See, over on the left, there. See! They fire! Those two! We can reach them + if we make a circuit on the flank here!” + </p> + <p> + “But can we get through, Risaldar? Won't they see us and cut us off?” + </p> + <p> + “Heavenborn!” he answered, “men who dare ride into a city temple and + snatch thee from the arms of priests dare and can do anything! Take this, + heavenborn—take it as a keepsake, in case aught happens!” + </p> + <p> + He drew off the priest's ring, gave it to her and then, before she could + reply: + </p> + <p> + “Canter!” he roared. The horses sprang forward in answer to the spurs and + there was nothing for Ruth to do but watch the distant battle and listen + to the deep breathing of the Rajputs on either hand. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI. + </h2> + <p> + There could be no retreat that day and no thought of it. Jundhra and + Doonha were in ruins. The bridges were down behind them and Hanadra lay + ahead. The British had to win their way into it or perish. Tired out, + breakfastless, suffering from the baking heat, the long, thin British line + had got—not to hold at bay but to smash and pierce—an + over-whelming force of Hindus that was stiffened up and down its length by + small detachments of native soldiers who had mutinied. + </p> + <p> + Numbers were against them, and even superiority of weapons was not so + overwhelmingly in their favor, for those were the days of short-range + rifle-fire and smoothbore artillery, and one gun was considerably like + another. The mutinous sepoys had their rifles with them; there were guns + from the ramparts of Hanadra that were capable of quite efficient service + at close range; and practically every man in the dense-packed rebel line + had a firearm of some kind. It was only in cavalry and discipline and + pluck that the British force had the advantage, and the cavalry had + already charged once and had been repulsed. + </p> + <p> + General Turner rode up and down the sweltering firing-line, encouraging + the men when it seemed to him they needed it and giving directions to his + officers. He was hidden from view oftener than not by the rolling clouds + of smoke and he popped up here and there suddenly and unexpectedly. + Wherever he appeared there was an immediate stiffening among the ranks, as + though he carried a supply of spare enthusiasm with him and could hand it + out. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Carter, commanding the right wing, turned his head for a second at + the sound of a horse's feet and found the general beside him. + </p> + <p> + “Had I better have my wounded laid in a wagon, sir?” he suggested, “in + case you find it necessary to fall back?” + </p> + <p> + “There will be no retreat!” said General Turner. “Leave your wounded where + they are. I never saw a cannon bleed before. How's that?” + </p> + <p> + He spurred his horse over to where one of Bellairs' guns was being run + forward into place again and Colonel Carter followed him. There was blood + dripping from the muzzle of it. + </p> + <p> + “We're short of water, sir!” said Colonel Carter. + </p> + <p> + And as he spoke a gunner dipped his sponge into a pool of blood and rammed + it home. + </p> + <p> + Bellairs was standing between his two guns, looking like the shadow of + himself, worn out with lack of sleep, disheveled, wounded. There was blood + dripping from his forehead and he wore his left arm in a sling made from + his shirt. + </p> + <p> + “Fire!” he ordered, and the two guns barked in unison and jumped back two + yards or more. + </p> + <p> + “If you'll look,” said General Turner, plucking at the colonel's sleeve, + “you'll see a handful of native cavalry over yonder behind the enemy—rather + to the enemy's left—there between those two clouds of smoke. D'you + see them?” + </p> + <p> + “They look like Sikhs or Rajputs,” said the colonel. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Don't they? I'd like you to keep an eye on them. They've come up + from the rear. I caught sight of them quite a while ago and I can't quite + make them out. It's strange, but I can't believe that they belong to the + enemy. D'you see?—there—they've changed direction. They're + riding as though they intended to come round the enemy's left flank!” + </p> + <p> + “By gad, they are! Look! The enemy are moving to cut them off!” + </p> + <p> + “I must get back to the other wing!” said General Turner. “But that looks + like the making of an opportunity! Keep both eyes lifting, Carter, and + advance the moment you see any confusion in the enemy's ranks.” + </p> + <p> + He rode off, and Colonel Carter stared long and steadily at the + approaching horsemen. He saw a dense mass of the enemy, about a thousand + strong, detach itself from the left wing and move to intercept them, and + he noticed that the movement made a tremendous difference to the ranks + opposed to him. He stepped up to young Bellairs and touched his sleeve. + Bellairs started like a man roused from a dream. + </p> + <p> + “That's your wife over there!” said Colonel Carter. “There can't be any + other white woman here-abouts riding with a Rajput escort!” + </p> + <p> + Bellairs gripped the colonel's outstretched arm. + </p> + <p> + “Where?” he almost screamed. “Where? I don't see her!” + </p> + <p> + “There, man! There, where that mass of men is moving! Look! By the Lord + Harry! He's charging right through the mob! That's Mahommed Khan, I'll bet + a fortune! Now's our chance Bugler!” + </p> + <p> + The bugler ran to him, and he began to puff into his instrument. + </p> + <p> + “Blow the 'attention' first!” + </p> + <p> + Out rang the clear, strident notes, and the non-commissioned officers and + men took notice that a movement of some kind would shortly be required of + them, but the din of firing never ceased for a single instant. Then, + suddenly, an answering bugle sang out from the other flank. + </p> + <p> + “Advance in echelon!” commanded Colonel Carter, and the bugler did his + best to split his cheeks in a battle-rending blast. + </p> + <p> + “You remain where you are, sir!” he ordered young Bellairs. “Keep your + guns served to the utmost!” + </p> + <p> + Six-and-twenty horsemen, riding full-tilt at a thousand men, may look like + a trifle, but they are disconcerting. What they hit, they kill; and if + they succeed in striking home, they play old Harry with formations. And + Risaldar Mahommed Khan did strike home. He changed direction suddenly and, + instead of using up his horses' strength in outflanking the enemy, who had + marched to intercept him, and making a running target of his small + command, he did the unexpected—which is the one best thing to do in + war. He led his six-and-twenty at a headlong gallop straight for the + middle of the crowd—it could not be called by any military name. + They fired one ragged volley at him and then had no time to load before he + was in the middle of them, clashing right and left and pressing forward. + They gave way, right and left, before him, and a good number of them ran. + Half a hundred of them were cut down as they fled toward their + firing-line. At that second, just as the Risaldar and his handful burst + through the mob and the mob began rushing wildly out of his way, the + British bugles blared out the command to advance in echelon. + </p> + <p> + The Indians were caught between a fire and a charge that they had good + reason to fear in front of them, and a disturbance on their left flank + that might mean anything. As one-half of them turned wildly to face what + might be coming from this unexpected quarter, the British troops came on + with a roar, and at the same moment Mahommed Khan reached the rear of + their firing-line and crashed headlong into it. + </p> + <p> + In a second the whole Indian line was in confusion and in another minute + it was in full retreat not knowing nor even guessing what had routed it. + Retreat grew into panic and panic to stampede and, five minutes after the + Risaldar's appearance on the scene, half of the Indian line was rushing + wildly for Hanadra and the other half was retiring sullenly in + comparatively dense and decent order. + </p> + <p> + Bellairs could not see all that happened. The smoke from his own guns + obscured the view, and the necessity for giving orders to his men + prevented him from watching as he would have wished. But he saw the + Rajputs burst out through the Indian ranks and he saw his own charger—Shaitan + the unmistakable—careering across the plain toward him riderless. + </p> + <p> + “For the love of God!” he groaned, raising both fists to heaven, “has she + got this far, and then been killed! Oh, what in Hades did I entrust her to + an Indian for? The pig-headed, brave old fool! Why couldn't he ride round + them, instead of charging through?” + </p> + <p> + As he groaned aloud, too wretched even to think of what his duty was, a + galloper rode up to him. + </p> + <p> + “Bring up your guns, sir, please!” he ordered. “You're asked to hurry! + Take up position on that rising ground and warm up the enemy's retreat!” + </p> + <p> + “Limber up!” shouted Bellairs, coming to himself again. Fifteen seconds + later his two guns were thundering up the rise. + </p> + <p> + As he brought them to “action front” and tried to collect his thoughts to + figure out the range, a finger touched his shoulder and he turned to see + another artillery officer standing by him. + </p> + <p> + “I've been lent from another section,” he explained: “You're wanted.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “Over there, where you see Colonel Carter standing. It's your wife wants + you, I think!” + </p> + <p> + Bellairs did not wait for explanations. He sent for his horse and mounted + and rode across the intervening space at a breakneck gallop that he could + barely stop in time to save himself from knocking the colonel over. A + second later he was in Ruth's arms. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you were dead when I saw Shaitan!” he said. He was nearly + sobbing. + </p> + <p> + “No, Mahommed Khan rode him,” she answered, and she made no pretense about + not sobbing. She was crying like a child. + </p> + <p> + “Salaam, Bellairs sahib!” said a weak voice close to him. He noticed + Colonel Carter bending over a prostrate figure, lifting the head up on his + knee. There were three Rajputs standing between, though, and he could not + see whose the figure was. + </p> + <p> + “Come over here!” said Colonel Carter, and young Bellairs obeyed him, + leaving Ruth sitting on the ground where she was. + </p> + <p> + “Wouldn't you care to thank Mohammed Khan?” It was a little cruel of the + colonel to put quite so much venom in his voice, for, when all is said and + done: a man has almost a right to be forgetful when he has just had his + young wife brought him out of the jaws of death. At least he has a good + excuse for it. The sting of the reproof left him bereft of words and he + stood looking down at the old Risaldar, saying nothing and feeling very + much ashamed. + </p> + <p> + “Salaam, Bellairs sahib!” The voice was growing feebler. “I would have + done more for thy father's son! Thou art welcome. Aie! But thy charger is + a good one! Good-by! Time is short, and I would talk with the colonel + sahib!” + </p> + <p> + He waved Bellairs away with a motion of his hand and the lieutenant went + back to his wife again. + </p> + <p> + “He sent me away just like that, too!” she told him. “He said he had no + time left to talk to women!” + </p> + <p> + Colonel Carter bent down again above the Risaldar, and listened to as much + as he had time to tell of what had happened. + </p> + <p> + “But couldn't you have ridden round them, Risaldar?” he asked them. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, sahib! It was touch and go! I gave the touch! I saw as I rode how + close the issue was and I saw my chance and took it! Had the memsahib been + slain, she had at least died in full view of the English—and there + was a battle to be won. What would you? I am a soldier—I.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed you are!” swore Colonel Carter. + </p> + <p> + “Sahib! Call my sons!” + </p> + <p> + His sons were standing near him, but the colonel called up his grandsons, + who had been told to stand at a little distance off. They clustered round + the Risaldar in silence, and he looked them over and counted them. + </p> + <p> + “All here?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “All here!” + </p> + <p> + “Whose sons and grandsons are ye?” + </p> + <p> + “Thine!” came the chorus. + </p> + <p> + “This sahib says that having done my bidding and delivered her ye rode to + rescue, ye are no more bound to the Raj. Ye may return to your homes if ye + wish.” + </p> + <p> + There was no answer. + </p> + <p> + “Ye may fight for the rebels, if ye wish! There will be a safe-permit + written.” + </p> + <p> + Again there was no answer. + </p> + <p> + “For whom, then, fight ye?” + </p> + <p> + “For the Raj!” The deep-throated answer rang out promptly from every one + of them, and they stood with their sword-hilts thrust out toward the + colonel. He rose and touched each hilt in turn. + </p> + <p> + “They are now thy servants!” said the Risaldar, laying his head back. “It + is good! I go now. Give my salaams to General Turner sahib!” + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, old war-dog!” growled the colonel, in an Anglo-Saxon effort to + disguise emotion. He gripped at the right hand that was stretched out on + the ground beside him, but it was lifeless. + </p> + <p> + Risaldar Mahommed Khan, two-medal man and pensionless gentleman-at-large, + had gone to turn in his account of how he had remembered the salt which he + had eaten. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MACHASSAN AH + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I. + </h2> + <p> + Waist-held in the chains and soused in the fifty-foot-high spray, Joe Byng + eyed his sounding lead that swung like a pendulum below him, and named it + sacrilege. + </p> + <p> + “This 'ere navy ain't a navy no more,” he muttered. “This 'ere's a + school-gal promenade, 'and-in-'and, an' mind not to get your little + trotters wet, that's what this is, so 'elp me two able seamen an' a red + marine!” + </p> + <p> + From the moment that the lookout, lashed to the windlass drum up forward, + had spied the little craft away to leeward and had bellowed his report of + it through hollowed hands between the thunder of the waves, Joe Byng had + had premonitory symptoms of uneasiness. He had felt in his bones that the + navy was about to be nose-led into shame. + </p> + <p> + At the wheel, both eyes on the compass, as the sea law bids, but both ears + on the more-even-than-usual-alert, Curley Crothers felt the same + sensations but expressed them otherwise. + </p> + <p> + “Admiral's orders!” he muttered. “Maybe the admiral was drunk?” + </p> + <p> + The brass gongs clanged down in the bowels of H.M.S. Puncher and she + gradually lost what little weigh she had, rolling her bridge ends under in + the heave and hollow of a beam-on monsoon sea. + </p> + <p> + “How much does he say he wants?” asked her commander. + </p> + <p> + Joe Byng in the chains and Curley Crothers at the wheel both recognized + the quarter tone instantly, and diagnosed it with deadly accuracy; every + vibration of his voice and every fiber of his being expressed + exasperation, though a landsman might have noticed no more than contempt + for what he had seen fit to log as “half a gale.” + </p> + <p> + “He says he'll take us in for fifty pounds, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Tell him to make it shillings, or else to get out of my course!” + </p> + <p> + It is not much in the way of Persian Gulf Arabic that a man picks up from + textbooks but at garnering the business end of beach-born dialects—the + end that gets results at least expense of time or energy—the Navy + goes even the Army half a dozen better. The sublieutenant's argument, + bawled from the bridge rail to the reeling little boat below, was a marvel + in its own sweet way; it combined abuse and scorn with a cataclysmic blast + of threat in six explosive sentences. + </p> + <p> + “He says he'll take us in for ten pounds, sir,” he reported, without the + vestige of a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Ask Mr. Hartley to step up on the bridge, will you?” + </p> + <p> + Two minutes later, during which the nasal howls from the boat were utterly + ignored, the acting chief engineer hauled himself along the rail hand over + hand to windward, ducking below the canvas guard as a more than usually + big comber split against the Puncher's side and hove itself to heaven. + </p> + <p> + “It beats me how any man can keep a coat on him this weather,” he + remarked, and the sublieutenant noticed that the streams that ran down + both his temples were not sea water. “Send for me?” + </p> + <p> + His temper, judging by his voice, would seem to be a lot worse than could + be due to the pitching of the ship. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. There's a pilot overside, and our orders are to take a pilot aboard + when running in, if available. There are three men bailing that boat below + there, and the sea's gaining on them. They'll need rescuing within two + hours. Then we'd have a pilot aboard and would have saved the government + ten pounds. Point is, can you manage in the engine-room for two or three + hours longer? Three more waves like that last one and the man's ours + anyway!” + </p> + <p> + “He might not wait two hours,” suggested Mr. Hartley. “He might get tired + of looking at us, and beat back into port. Then where would be your + strategy?” + </p> + <p> + “Then there wouldn't be a pilot available. I'd be justified in going in + without one. Point is, can you hold out below?” + </p> + <p> + “Man,” said Mr. Hartley, “you're a genius.” He peered through the spray + down to leeward, where the pilot's boat danced a death dance alongside, + heel and toe to the Puncher's statelier swing. “Yes; there are three men + bailing, and you're a genius. But no! The answer's no! The engines'll keep + on turning, maybe and perhaps, until we make the shelter o' yon reef. + There's no knowing what a cherry-red bearing will do. I can give ye maybe + fifteen knots; maybe a leetle more for just five minutes, for steerage way + and luck, and after that—” + </p> + <p> + Even crouched as he was against the canvas guard he contrived to shrug his + shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “But if we go in there are you sure you can contrive to patch her up? It + looks like a rotten passage, and not much of a berth beyond it.” + </p> + <p> + “I could cool her down.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if that's all you want, I can anchor outside in thirty fathoms.” + </p> + <p> + Curley Crothers heard that and his whole frame stiffened; there seemed a + chance yet that the Navy might not be disgraced. But it faded on the + instant. + </p> + <p> + “Man, we've got to go inside and we've got to hurry! Better in there than + at the bottom of the Gulf! Put her where she'll hold still for a day, or + maybe two days—” + </p> + <p> + “Say a month!” suggested the commander caustically. + </p> + <p> + “Say three days for the sake of argument. Then I can put her to rights. I + daren't take down a thing while she's rolling twenty-five and more, and + I've got to take things down! Why, man, the engine-room is all pollution + from gratings to bilge; if I loosened one more bolt than is loose a'ready + her whole insides 'ud take charge and dance quadrilles until we drowned!” + </p> + <p> + “You won't try to make Bombay?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll try to give ye steam as far as the far side o' yon reef. After that + I wash my hands of a' responsibility!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very well. Mr. White!” + </p> + <p> + The sublieutenant hauled himself in turn to windward. Curley Crothers gave + the wheel a half-spoke and looked as if he had no interest in anything. + Joe Byng in the chains bowed his head and groaned inwardly; his sticky, + spray-washed lead seemed all-absorbing. + </p> + <p> + “Tell that black robber to hurry aboard, unless he wants me to come in + without him.” + </p> + <p> + The little boat had drifted fast before the wind, and the sublieutenant + had to bellow through a megaphone to where the three men bailed and the + ragged oarsmen swung their weight against the storm. The man of ebony, who + would be pilot and disgrace the Navy, balanced on a thwart with + wide-spread naked toes and yelled an ululating answer. With his rags + out-blown in the monsoon he looked like a sea wraith come to life. The big + gongs clanged again, and the Puncher drifted rather than drove down on the + smaller craft. A hand line caught the pilot precisely in the face. He + grabbed it frantically, fell headlong in the sea, and was hauled aboard. + </p> + <p> + “He says he wants a tow for that boat of his,” reported the sublieutenant. + “Said it in English, too—seems he knows more than he pretends.” + </p> + <p> + “Missed it, by gad, by just about five minutes!” said the commander aloud + but to himself. “Well—the bargain's made, so it can't be helped. + That boat's sinking! Throw 'em a line, quick!” + </p> + <p> + The pilot's crew displayed no overdone affection for their craft, and + there was no struggle to the last to leave it. One by one—whichever + could grab the line first was the first to come—they were hauled + through the thundering waves and their boat was left to sink. Then, before + they could adjust their unaccustomed feet to the different balance of the + Puncher's heaving deck, the gongs clanged and the destroyer leaped ahead + like a dripping sea-soused water beetle, into her utmost speed that + instant. + </p> + <p> + All conscious of his new-won dignity, and utterly regardless of his boat, + the pilot had found the bridge at once. He clung to the rail there and + braced one naked foot against a stanchion. To him the ship's speed seemed + the all-absorbing thing, for either Mr. Hartley had forgotten just how + many revolutions would make fifteen knots or else he had underestimated + his engine-room's capacity. The Puncher split the waves and spewed them + twenty feet above her, racing head-on for the reef, and Curley Crothers + was too busy at his wheel to pass the pilot the surreptitious insult he + intended. + </p> + <p> + The gongs clanged presently, and the Puncher swallowed half her speed at + once, giving the pilot courage. + </p> + <p> + “This exceedingly damn dangerous place, sah!” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + “No bottom at eight!” sang Joe Byng in the chains. + </p> + <p> + Three words passed between the commander and Crothers, and the Puncher + hove a weed-draped underside high over the crest of a beam-on roller as + she veered a dozen points, ducked her starboard rail into the trough of + it, and sliced her long thin nose, sizzling and swirling, into the welter + ahead. It was growing weedier and dirtier each minute. + </p> + <p> + “No bottom at eight!” chanted Joe Byng. + </p> + <p> + And at the sound of his voice the pilot hauled himself up by his leverage + on the rail and found his voice again. + </p> + <p> + “This most exceedingly damn dangerous place, sah!” + </p> + <p> + But the commander was too busy acting all three L's—Log, Lead and + Lookout—his shrouded figure swaying to the heave and fall and his + eyes fixed straight ahead of him on the double line of boiling foam. He + had conned his course and had it charted in his head. There was no time to + argue with a pilot. + </p> + <p> + “Port you-ah hel-um, sah! Port you-ah hel-um!” + </p> + <p> + “By the mark—seven!” sang Joe Byng from the chains. + </p> + <p> + “Port you-ah hel-um, sah!” yelled the pilot in an ecstasy of fright. + </p> + <p> + “Starboard a little,” came the quiet command. + </p> + <p> + Curley Crothers moved his wheel and the Puncher's bow yawed twenty feet, + as if Providence had pushed her. + </p> + <p> + “Gawd A'mighty!” murmured Joe Byng, gazing open-mouthed at fifty feet of + jagged rock that grinned up suddenly three waves away. + </p> + <p> + The pilot braced both feet against a stanchion and tried to take the weigh + off her by pulling. + </p> + <p> + “Half speed, sah! Go slow, sah! Go dead slow, sah! You'll pile up you-ah + damn ship, sah! Ah tell you, sah, you'll pile her up as suah as hell, sah! + 'Bout a million sharks round he-ah, sah! For the love o' God, sah—Captain, + sah—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, muzzle him, some one!” ordered the commander, and the jiggling, + complaining engines danced ahead, the horrid gray beneath the pilot's + ebony notwithstanding. + </p> + <p> + “By the deep—four!” warned Joe Byng in a level sing-song. The two + gongs clanged like an echo to him, and the Puncher's speed was reduced at + once to her point, of minimum stability. She rolled and quivered like a + living thing in fear, falling on and off, nosing out a passage on her own + account apparently, and seeming to be gathering all her strength for one + tremendous effort. + </p> + <p> + “That's bettah, sah! That's bettah, Captain, sah! Go astern! This he-ah's + the bar, sah—damn bad place, the bar, sah! Go astern, sah. Captain, + sah, d'you he-ah me—go astern! Try again, 'nother place further up, + sah. Captain, sah! Over that way; that way thar—that way, sah!” + </p> + <p> + He pointed through the sky-flung spray with a trembling finger and his + voice was rich with doleful emphasis, but the commander held his course + and carried on. There seemed neither sympathy nor understanding on that + unsteadiest of ships. Curley Crothers, solemn-faced as Nemesis and looking + half as compassionate, moved his wheel a trifle. Joe Byng in the chains + kept up his even sing-song, expressionless, as if he were an automatic + clock that did not care, but must record the truth each time his dripping + pendulum touched bottom. + </p> + <p> + “And a half—three!” + </p> + <p> + White foam was boiling in among the dirty welter, and the Puncher's bow + pitched suddenly as the first big bar wave lifted her; a second later her + propellers chug-chug-chugged in surface spume as she kicked upward like a + porpoise diving. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, lordy, lordy, lordy!” groaned the pilot. “This he-ah watah's full of + sharks, an' that's the bar! You're on the bar now, Captain, sah!” + </p> + <p> + “By the mark—three!” Byng chanted steadily. + </p> + <p> + “Starboard a little more,” said the commander leaning forward and shoving + the pilot away to leeward at the same time. Then he shouted to the + fo'castle head, where a bosun's mate and his crew had climbed and were + awaiting orders in evident and most unreasonable unconcern. + </p> + <p> + “Get both anchors ready!” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, aye, sir!” came the answer, and efficiency controlled by experts + proceeded at kaleidoscopic angles to defy the elements. The big steel + hooks were ready in an instant. + </p> + <p> + “Stop her!” ordered the commander. + </p> + <p> + The gongs clanged out an alarm and the throbbing ceased. + </p> + <p> + “Hard astern, both engines!” + </p> + <p> + Again there was a clangor under hatches, and the suffering bearings + shrieked. The Puncher dropped her stern two feet or so, and the foam + boiled brown round her propellers. The shock of the reversal pitched the + pilot up against the forward rail, where he clung like a drowning man. + </p> + <p> + “For the love o' God, sah! Captain; sah, we've struck! Ah told you so; Ah + said—” + </p> + <p> + “And a half-three!” chanted Joe Byng. + </p> + <p> + “Stop her! Starboard engine ahead! Port engine ahead! Ease your helm! Meet + her! Half speed ahead!” + </p> + <p> + The Puncher pitched and rolled, kicking at the following monsoon that + thundered at her counter and tossing up the foam that seethed about her + bow. She trembled from end to end, as if the pounding of the water hurt + her. + </p> + <p> + “Helm amidships!” ordered the commander suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “'Midships, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Full speed ahead, both engines!” + </p> + <p> + The Puncher leaped, as all destroyers do the second day they are loosed. + She sliced through the storm straight for the coral beach beyond the bar, + shaking her graceful shoulders free of the sticky spray—reeling, + rolling, thugging, kicking, bucking through the welter to where quiet + water waited and the ever-lasting, utterly unrighteous stink of sun-baked + Arab beaches. As each tremendous breaker thundered on her stern each time + she lifted to the underswell, the pilot vowed that she had struck, rolling + his eyes and calling two different deities to witness that none of it was + any fault of his. + </p> + <p> + “Thar's no water, sah—no water, Captain, sah—not one drop! + You've piled up you-ah ship! Ah told you so; Ah said—” + </p> + <p> + “By the deep—four!” + </p> + <p> + “And a half-four!” + </p> + <p> + “By the mark—five!” + </p> + <p> + The Puncher was across the bar, gliding through muddy water on an even + keel and giving the lie direct to him whose fee was ten pounds English. + The pilot drew a talisman of some kind from underneath the least torn + portion of his shirt, and to the commander's amazement kissed it. It is + not often that a woolly headed, or any other, native of the East kisses + either folk or things. But the commander was too busy at the moment to ask + questions. + </p> + <p> + “Have your starboard anchor ready!” he commanded, making mental notes. + </p> + <p> + “Ready, sir!” + </p> + <p> + The glittering, wet, wind-blown beach and the little estuary slid by like + a painted panorama smelling of all the evil in the world as the Puncher + eased her helm a time or two seeking a comfortable berth with Joe Byng's + chanted aid. + </p> + <p> + “Let go twenty fathoms!” + </p> + <p> + The pilot sighed relief as the starboard anchor splashed into the water + and the cable roared after it through the hawse pipe. + </p> + <p> + “What nationality are you?” asked the commander, watching the Puncher + swing and gaging distances, but sparing one eye now for his unwelcome but + official guest. + </p> + <p> + “Me, sah?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you.” + </p> + <p> + The pilot looked anywhere but at his questioner, and a picture passed + before the commander's eyes—a memory, perhaps, of something he had + read about at school—of Christians in Nero's day being asked what + their religion was. + </p> + <p> + “Are you afraid to tell me?” he asked, softening his voice to a kinder + tone as he remembered that God did not make all men Englishmen, and + turning just in time to cause Crothers to withdraw his right leg. + </p> + <p> + The pilot's toes were, after all, not destined to be trodden on just then. + </p> + <p> + “No, sah, Ah'm not afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah'm—” + </p> + <p> + “Well? What?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah'm English!” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “Captain, sah, Ah'm English!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Are you? Um-m-m! Mr. White, give this man his ten pounds, will you? + And get his receipt for it.” + </p> + <p> + That appeared to end matters, so far as the commander was concerned; + official dignity forbade any further interest. But it was not so very long + since Mr. White was senior midshipman, and it takes a man until he is + admiral of the fleet to unlearn all he knew then and forget the curiosity + of those days. + </p> + <p> + “Now, I should have thought you were a Scotchman,” he suggested without + smiling, studying the salt-encrusted wrinkles on the ebony face. “You like + whisky?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sah—positively, sah! Yes, Captain, sah—Ah do!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. White sent for whisky and poured out a stiff four fingers, to the + awful disgust of Curley Crothers, who saw the whole transaction. The pilot + consumed it so instantly that there seemed never to have been any in the + glass. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose your name's Macnab—or Macphairson—which? Sign here, + please.” + </p> + <p> + The pilot took the proffered pen in unaccustomed fingers and made a + crisscross scrawl, adorned with thirteen blots. The pen nib broke under + the strain, and he handed it back with an air of confidential + remonstrance. + </p> + <p> + “That thing's no mo-ah good,” he volunteered. + </p> + <p> + “So I see. Now tell me your name in full, so that I can write it next to + the mark. It's a wonder of a mark! Mac—what's the rest of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Hassan Ah.” + </p> + <p> + “Machassan?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sah. Hassan Ah.” + </p> + <p> + “And you're English?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sah.” + </p> + <p> + “With that name?” + </p> + <p> + “Mah name makes no diffunts, sah. Ah'm English.” + </p> + <p> + “Well—here's your money. Cutter away, there! Put the pilot and his + crew ashore! Sorry about your boat, pilot, but it couldn't be helped.” + </p> + <p> + “Makes me believe that I'm a nigger!” muttered Curley Crothers, not yet + released from duty on the bridge. + </p> + <p> + “First time I ever wished I was a Dutchman!” swore Joe Byng, coiling up + his sounding line. + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later the cutter's captain swung the boat's stern in shore + when he judged that he was reasonably near enough and too far in for + sharks. He had his orders to put the pilot and his crew ashore, but the + means had not been too exactly specified. + </p> + <p> + “Get out and swim for it, you bally Englishman!” he ordered, using a + boat-hook on the nearest one to make his meaning clear. + </p> + <p> + One by one they jumped for it, the pilot going last. He plainly did not + understand the point of view. + </p> + <p> + “Ah'm English!” he expostulated. “Lissen he-ah, Ah'm English! Damwell + English!” + </p> + <p> + “All right; let's see you swim, English!” jeered the cutter's captain, and + the pilot took the water with a splash. + </p> + <p> + “Ah su-ah am English!” he vowed, as he swam for the shore, and he stood by + the sea's edge repeating his assertion with a leathery pair of lungs until + the cutter had rowed out of ear-shot. + </p> + <p> + “English, is he?” said Joe Byng to Curley Crothers in the fo'castle, not + twenty minutes later. “I'd show him, if I had him in here for twenty + minutes!” + </p> + <p> + “That fellow's interested me,” said Crothers. “He's got me thinking. I + vote we investigate him.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “Ashore, fathead.” + </p> + <p> + “There'll be no shore leave.” + </p> + <p> + “No? You left off being wet nurse to the dawg?” “I brush him, mornin's; if + that's what you mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Is he fit?” + </p> + <p> + “Fit to fight a bumboat full o' pilots!” + </p> + <p> + “Could he be sick for an hour?” + </p> + <p> + “Might be did.” + </p> + <p> + “Tomorrow?” + </p> + <p> + “Morning?” + </p> + <p> + “At about two bells?” + </p> + <p> + “It could be done.” + </p> + <p> + “Then do it!” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because, Joe Byng my boy, you and I want shore leave; and the pup—and + he's a decent pup—must suffer for to make a 'tween-deck holiday. Get + my meaning? I've a propagandrum that'll work this tide. You go and set the + fuse in the pup's inside; and mind you, time it right, my son—for + two bells when the old man's in the chair!” + </p> + <p> + So Joe Byng, who was something of an expert in the way and ways of dogs, + departed in search of an oiler with whom he was on terms of condescension; + and he returned to the fo'castle a little later with the nastiest, most + awful-smelling mess that ever emanated even from the engine-room of a + destroyer in the Persian Gulf (where grease and things run rancid.) + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. + </h2> + <p> + Lying lazily at anchor off the reeking beach of Adra Bight, the Puncher + looked peaceful and complacent—which is altogether opposite to what + she and her commander were, or had been, for a month. The ship hummed her + shut-in discontent, as a hive does when the bees propose to swarm, and her + commander—who never, be it noted, went to windward of the one word + “damn”—used that one word very frequently. + </p> + <p> + He sat “abaft the mainmast” at a table that was splotched already with + abundant perspiration, and the acting engineer who stood in front of him + shifted from foot to foot in attitudes expressive of increasing agony of + mind. It grew obvious at last that there was a limit to Mr. Hartley's + store of courteous deference. + </p> + <p> + There had been news, red hot but wrong, of dhows loaded to the water-line + with guns and ammunition somewhere up the Gulf. India, ever fretful for + her tribes beyond the border, had borrowed Applewaite and his destroyer by + instant cablegram, and jealously held records had been broken while the + Puncher quartered those indecent seas and heated up her bearings. It was + almost too much to have to come back empty-handed. It was quite too much + to have to run for shelter under the lee of Adra's uninviting coral reef. + And to be told by an acting engineer that he would have to stay a week was + utterly beyond the scope of polite conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Why a week?” asked Commander Applewaite, with eyebrows raised to the nth + power of incredulity. + </p> + <p> + “Why a week?” asked Mr. Hartley, breaking down the barrier of + self-restraint at last. “I'll tell you why. Because, although the guts of + her are so much scrap-iron, you've a crew of engineers who could build + machinery of hell-slag—build it, mind—and could get steam out + o' the Sahara, where there isn't any water at all. + </p> + <p> + “Because—conditional upon the act o' God and your permission—I'm + willing to perform a miracle. Because the whole engine-room complement is + dancing mad for shore leave, and there'll be none this side o' Bombay; and + because, in consequence o' that, creation would be a mild name for what's + about to happen under gratings until the shafts revolve again. Man, I wish + ye'd take one peep at her bearings, though ye wouldn't understand. + </p> + <p> + “Because you're lucky; any other engineer in all the navies o' the world + would take a month to tinker with her, even if he didn't have to send to + Bombay for a tow. Because—” + </p> + <p> + “That'll do!” said Applewaite, his mind wandering already in search of + suitable employment for the crew. “Get the repairs done as soon as + possible; we stay here until you have finished what is necessary.” + </p> + <p> + It looked like an evil moment for asking favors, but it was the time laid + down in Regulations when such things as favors may be had; and it was the + moment Curley Crothers had picked out for asking for shore leave. + </p> + <p> + “Come 'ere, Scamp. Come along, Scamp. Come along 'ere—good boy!” he + coaxed, dragging by a short chain in his wake the sorriest-looking bull + terrier that ever acted mascot in the British or any other navy. Courteous + and huge and cap in hand, his weather-beaten face smiling respectfully + above a snow-white uniform, he took his stand before the little table. His + outward bearing was one of certainty, but his shrewd, slightly puckered + eyes alternately conned the expression of his commander's face and watched + the dog. + </p> + <p> + The lee, scuppers were the goal of the dog's immediate ambition, for he + was a well-brought-up dog and such of the decencies as were not his by + instinct he had learned by painful and repeated acquisition. But at the + moment Curley Crothers showed a wondrous disregard for etiquette. + </p> + <p> + “He's very sick, sir,” he asserted, tugging a little at the chain in the + hope of producing instant proof of his contention. But the dog was gamiest + of the game, and swallowed hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + “Well? I'm not a vet. What about it?” + </p> + <p> + “The whole ship's crew 'ud be sorry, sir, if 'e was to lose 'is number. + He's the best mascot this ship ever had, by all accounts.” + </p> + <p> + “He hasn't brought us much luck this run!” smiled Applewaite, remembering + a long list of “previous convictions” and wondering what Crothers might be + up to next. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir? We're still a-top o' the water, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! He gets the credit for that, eh? But for him, I suppose we'd have + piled up on the reef yesterday?” + </p> + <p> + “Saving your presence, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Curley Crothers made a gesture expressive of a world of compliment and + praise, but he kept one eye steadily on the dog; he seemed to imply that + but for the presence of the dog on board the commander might have + forgotten his seamanship. + </p> + <p> + “Well? What do you suggest?” + </p> + <p> + “Seeing the poor dog's sick, sir, and you and all of us so fond of him, + and all he needs is exercise, I thought perhaps as 'ow you'd order me an' + Byng, sir, to take 'im for a run ashore. There'd be jackals and pi-dogs + for 'im to chase. A bit o' sport 'ud set 'im up in a jiffy. He's + languishing—that's what's the matter with him.” + </p> + <p> + There were almost tears in his voice as he tugged at the chain + surreptitiously, in a vain effort to produce the cataclysm that was + overdue. But for all his efforts to appear affected, his eyes were + smiling. So were his commander's. + </p> + <p> + “Why Byng?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Byng cleans him, sir. He knows Byng.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, why you?” + </p> + <p> + “Why; he knows me too, sir, and between the two of us, we'd manage him + proper. S'posin' he was to get huntin' on his own and one of us was tired + out chasin' him, t'other could run and catch him. If there was only one of + us, he couldn't.” + </p> + <p> + “I see. Well? One of the other men might take him on the chain. A + good-conduct man, for instance.” + </p> + <p> + Crothers tugged at the chain, and the unhappy dog drew away toward the + scuppers with all his remaining strength. + </p> + <p> + “He's cussed about the chain, sir—apt to drag on it and try to chaw + it through. Besides, sir, when a dawg's sick, he's like a man—same + as me an' you; he likes to 'ave 'is partic'lar pals with 'im. Now, that + dawg's fond o' me an' Byng.' + </p> + <p> + “I see. But supposing exercise isn't what he wants after all? Suppose he + needs a long rest and lots of sleep? How about that?” + </p> + <p> + The argument had reached a crisis, and Curley realized it. Joking or not, + when the commander of a ship takes too long in reaching a decision he + generally does not reach a favorable one. The leash was tugged again, this + time with some severity. The martyred Scamp was drawn on his protesting + haunches close to the official table, that the commander might have a + better view of his distress. And then the expected happened—voluminously. + </p> + <p> + Curley stood with an expression of wooden-headed, abject innocence on his + big, broad face, and looked straight in front of him. + </p> + <p> + “He certainly is sick, sir,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Sick. Good heavens! The dog's turning himself inside out! That's the last + time a thing like this happens; he's the last dog I ever take on a cruise. + Take him away at once! Bosun—call some one to wipe up that + disgusting mess!” + </p> + <p> + “Take him ashore, did you say, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Take him out of this! Take him anywhere you like! Yes, take him ashore + and lose him—feed him to the sharks—give him to the Arabs—take + him away, that's all!” + </p> + <p> + “Me and Byng, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you and Byng! Did you hear me tell you to take him away?” + </p> + <p> + “Very good, sir; thank you!” + </p> + <p> + Curley Crothers saluted without the vestige of a smile, and hurried off + before the dog could show too early signs of recovering health and + strength or the commander could change his mind. + </p> + <p> + “Come on, Scamp,” he whispered. “That was nothing but a temporary + disaccommodation to your tummy, doglums; we'll soon have you to rights + again.” + </p> + <p> + He dived into the fo'castle with the dog behind him, and there were those + who noticed that the terrier's whip-like tail no longer hugged his + stomach, but was waving to the world at large. + </p> + <p> + And thirty minutes later, as the Puncher's launch put off with Curley and + Joe Byng comfortably seated in the stern, it was obvious to any one who + cared to look that Scamp was the happiest and healthiest terrier in Asia. + </p> + <p> + “Now, I wonder what they did to him,” mused the Puncher's commander, + watching from beneath his awning. “Those two men live up to the name they + brought aboard! I believe they'd find means and a good excuse for walking + to windward of a First Sea Lord!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. + </h2> + <p> + Now an Arab would as soon allow a dog to lick his face as he would think + of eating pork in public with his women folk; so the bearded, hook-nosed + believers in the Prophet who looked down from the rock wall that lines one + side of Adra knew what to think of Curley and his friend Joe Byng long + before either of them realized that they were being watched. + </p> + <p> + Arrayed from head to ankles in spotless white, their black boots looking + blacker by comparison, they proceeded in the general direction of the + distant village, with the order and decorum of sea lords descending on a + dockyard for inspection purposes. The trackless sand proved hot and sharp; + the dog proved in poor condition from the voyage and the morning's + incidental martyrdom, and Byng was generous-hearted. He picked up the dog + and carried him; and Scamp displayed his gratitude in customary canine + way. + </p> + <p> + The comments of the watching Arabs would not fit into any story in the + world, and it is quite as well that Crothers and Joe Byng did not hear + them and could not have translated them, for in the other case trouble + would have started even sooner than it did. As it was, they tumbled and + maneuvered over unresisting sand through almost tangible stench to where a + gap in the ragged wall did duty as a gate. As they came nearer, a banner + with the star and crescent was displayed from the wall-top, but no other + sign was given that their coming was observed. + </p> + <p> + It was not until they had debouched (as Crothers termed it) to their + half-right front and had taken to a narrow one-man track that ran below + the wall that any over attention was paid them. Suddenly a hook-nosed + Asiatic gentleman emerged through the once-was gateway—a picture of + a Bible shepherd but for the long-barreled gun he carried instead of crook—a + brown shadow against brown masonry. He challenged them in Arabic, and + Curley Crothers answered him in Queen Victoria's English that all was + well. + </p> + <p> + “Everything in the garden's lovely!” he asserted, in a deep-sea sing-song. + “How's yourself?” + </p> + <p> + The man repeated whatever he had said before, this time with a gesture of + impatience. + </p> + <p> + “Friend!” roared Byng and Curley both together. And the bull terrier took + the joint yell for a war cry, or a bunting call, or possibly the herald's + overture that summons bull pups to Valhalla. He was bred right and British + Navy trained and his was not to reason why. He waited for no second + invitation, but lit out from Byng's arms like a streak—a whip-tail, + snow-white streak—for where the Arab's hard lean legs shone + shiny-brown below his fluttering brown raiment. + </p> + <p> + “Come back, there!” yelled both keepers in excited unison, but they called + too late. + </p> + <p> + Each grabbed for the chain too late. Their heads and shoulders cannoned + and they fell together on the hot, dirty sand while Scamp and the Arab + made each other's intimate acquaintance in a whirl of ripping cloth and + legs and teeth and blasphemy. + </p> + <p> + That in itself was bad enough, and good enough excuse if such were wanted + for war between the Shadow of God Upon Earth and England's distant Queen; + but there was worse to follow. + </p> + <p> + One does not laugh, between certain parallels, unless the ultimate degree + of insult is intended. And Curley Crothers and Joe Byng did laugh. They + held their ribs and laughed until their muscles ached and their strong + men's strength oozed out of them. + </p> + <p> + They were laughing when they grabbed the dog at last and pulled him off. + They laughed as they set the Arab on his feet and gave him back his gun; + and they laughed at him with Christian and mannerly good grace when he + spat at them in awful frenzy until the spittle matted in his beard. And, + being gentlemen after a fashion quite their own, they smilingly + apologized. + </p> + <p> + Arabia lies in the middle of the zone where laughter is not wisdom. And a + smile lies midway in the measure of a laugh. A laugh might be + unintentional. A smile must be deliberate. And the Arab's spittle was run + dry. Creed, custom, law of tooth for tooth and the thought of half a + hundred co-religionists all watching him from crannies in the wall + combined to make him shoot, since further means of showing malice were + denied him; and he raised the long butt to his shoulder with meaning that + was unmistakable. + </p> + <p> + And so, with sorrow that the East should be so lacking in good fellowship, + but with the ready instinct of men who have been trained for war, they + closed with him from two directions, swiftly, bull-dog-wise, and took his + gun away. And how could even an able seaman help the dog's taking a share + in the game again? + </p> + <p> + So far, nobody had done anything intended to be wrong—least of all + the dog. The Arab was defending institutions; Crothers and Joe Byng were + bent on holiday, and full of kind regards for anything that lived; and the + dog was living dogfully up to well-bred-terrier tradition. It was as if + two harmless chemicals had met and blended into nitroglycerin. + </p> + <p> + Deprived of his gun, the Arab drew a knife; and no British sailor lives + who does not understand the quick-loosed answer to the glint of steel. + Fist and boot both landed on the Arab quicker than his own thought served + the knife, and the weight of quick concussions jarred him into all but + coma. This time Byng caught the dog in time and held him back, leaving + Curley Crothers to finish matters by making the long knife prize of war. + Once more he helped the Arab on his feet, smiling hugely and gentling the + iron sinews with huge paws that could have wrenched them all apart if need + be. + </p> + <p> + “Take my advice, cully, and weigh quick!” he counseled, looking the Arab + over and making sure the unfortunate had not been too much hurt. “Run for + shelter where you can cool your bearings! Run off to the mosque and pray, + to make up for all that cussing. Go and be good! And next time you meets + us, be friendly—see?” + </p> + <p> + The Arab was too apoplectically angry to comply, but Crothers took him by + both shoulders and shoved him; and finding himself shot forward out of + reach, seeing safety ahead and its possible corollary of awful vengeance, + he suddenly achieved discretion and scampered through the gap in the wall. + </p> + <p> + “'E's gone to fetch his pals. Look out, mate!” warned Joe Byng. + </p> + <p> + “Not 'im!” vowed Crothers. “'E's 'ad enough, that's all! We've seen the + last of 'im!” + </p> + <p> + And the most amazing thing of all was that Crothers believed just what he + said—Curley Crothers, to whom Red Sea and Persian Gulf ports were as + an open book, and to whom the Arab customs and religion and reprehensible + tendencies were currently supposed to be first-reader knowledge. It was he + who had proved there were no harems—he who coined the Navy adage, + “Search an Arab first, and sit on him, before you come to terms!” + </p> + <p> + Yet here he was, advising Byng to disregard a looted Arab's spittle! There + is no accounting, ever, for the ways of shore-leave sailor-men. + </p> + <p> + “Come on, Joe,” he said. “Lead 'the dawg—he can walk now—and + let's see what Adra looks like.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV. + </h2> + <p> + All might have been well, and both seamen might have reached the Puncher + again with dignity and grace, had they not entered Adra, past the only + jail in that part of Arabia. And an Arab jail being rarer and one percent + more evil than any other evil thing there is, the two of them quite + naturally paused to make its closest possible acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + “Look out for vermin!” cautioned Curley, standing on tiptoe to peer in + through the close-spaced iron bars. + </p> + <p> + They forgot the dog. The jail, for the moment, challenged all their waking + senses, the olfactory by no means least. + </p> + <p> + “Can you see anything?” asked Byng. + </p> + <p> + Before Crothers could answer him, a snarl, then a yap, then a quick, + determined growl gave warning of the terrier's interest in something else + than fleas. + </p> + <p> + He had been scratching himself peacefully a moment earlier; now, like a + bower anchor taking charge, he ripped the chain through Byng's hand and + was off—chin, back and tail in one straight, striving line—in + full chase of a pariah. + </p> + <p> + The yellow cur yapped its agony of fear; the nearest hundred and odd mangy + monsters of the gutter took up the chorus; within five seconds of the + start there was the Puncher's mascot racing after one abominable + scavenger, and after him in just as hot pursuit there raced the whole + street-cleaning force of Adra—tongues out, eyes blazing, and their + mean thin barks all working overtime. + </p> + <p> + “Good-by, Scamp!” groaned Byng, estimating rapidly. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet it ain't!” said Crothers, grabbing Byng's arm and nearly tearing + out the muscles. + </p> + <p> + It was a crude way of rousing Byng's latent speed, both of thought and + movement, but it worked. Before Joe could swear, even, Crothers was off + like the wind, with Joe after him, using the string of oaths he had meant + for Crothers on the sand that gave under him and made him stumble at every + other stride. + </p> + <p> + Adra turned out, as a colony of prairie dogs might from planless burrows; + only these had more venom in their bite than prairie dogs and came from + structural instead of natural, from flea-bepeppered instead of grass-grown + dirt. Man, woman and child—the grown men armed, the women veiled in + dirt-brown, some of them, and some (mostly the better-looking) unveiled + and unashamed, the little children mostly naked and colored with all the + human hues there are—raced, yelling, through a swarm of flies in hot + pursuit. Never since Shem's great-grandson gat the Arab race was there a + procession like it. + </p> + <p> + Behind its mud-and-Masonry decrepit wall that guards only the seaward + side, Adra straggles quite a distance desertward; and there are winding + streets enough to hide an army in, provided that the army did not mind the + fleas. Scamp, view-halloaing his utmost, led that most amazing hunt a + quite considerable circuit before other men and dogs, arriving from a + dozen different directions, set a limit to his unobstructed movement. + </p> + <p> + He knew what he was after, but they did not; they had come to see. For a + moment they seemed to think that Scamp was the object of the chase, and a + dozen guns of a dozen different kinds and dates were aimed at him. + </p> + <p> + And then, as consciousness dawns on a man recovering from chloroform, + there swept over their lethargic Eastern brains the simultaneous idea that + Curley Crothers and Joe Byng were the real quarry; and—again like + men recovering from chloroform—they did not quite know what to do. + Should they slay, there was the Puncher to be reckoned with; and the + Puncher's port quick-firers could be seen commanding Adra by any man who + cared to climb the wall. + </p> + <p> + Besides, an Arab's hospitality is proverbial. He very seldom kills a + visitor on sight. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand a man, and particularly a British sailor, who runs has + reason, as a rule. Therefore these two men were evidently guilty. + Therefore they must not escape. In five seconds the affair had changed + from a spectacular amusement, with Adra's population in the role of + super-heated audience, to a hunt of Crothers and Joe Byng. + </p> + <p> + Within ten seconds each of the sailors lay with his face pressed hard into + the sand and at least a dozen Arabs sitting on him. Scamp—utterly + forgotten now by all except the sailors—still behind the one stray + pariah and ahead of all the rest but beginning to appreciate the fact that + he was hunted, and beginning to feel spent—raced on, took three + sharp turns in close succession, and was gathered all unwilling in the + arms of an enormous black man who snatched him from the very teeth of the + following pack and dispersed them, howling, by means of well-directed + kicks. + </p> + <p> + “Ah seed you yesterday, Ah did,” said his deliverer in English; and, + recalling principle, the terrier bit at him—only to find himself + muzzled by a horny, huge fist that caressed even while it rendered + impotent. + </p> + <p> + “Ah'm fond of little dogs! Ah'm English!” + </p> + <p> + Scamp understood nothing of the conversation, but with canine instinct + realized that he was safe; and after that he was satisfied to lie and + pant. With five red inches of tongue hanging out, and no sign whatever of + his white-uniformed guardians to trouble him, a black man's arms were as + good as any other place; he did not waste half a thought on Byng and + Crothers. + </p> + <p> + But Byng, three turnings back, spat filthy sand out of his mouth the + moment an Arab deemed it safe to leave off sitting on his head, looked + wildly around for Crothers, and bellowed— + </p> + <p> + “Where's the pup?” + </p> + <p> + Crothers, spitting out sand, too, twenty yards behind where the swifter + Byng had fallen, called back: + </p> + <p> + “Dunno. Whistle him!” + </p> + <p> + Byng tried to whistle, and the Arabs mistook the effort for a signal. In + an instant both men were face-downward again, struggling for breath and + clawing at the dirt. Then worse befell. The gentleman whose brown anatomy + had suffered from the seamen's feet and fists just previous to their + invasion of the town limped up with his eye teeth showing and his flapping + cotton raiment still unmended where the dog had torn it. Any other wrath, + however awful, could be nothing but the shadow of his state of mind; and + since he knew the more vindictive portions of the Koran all by heart, and + was quoting as he came, there was little need of words to illustrate + further his attitude. + </p> + <p> + He seemed to be a person of authority. An Arab town or village is a + democracy in which each free man has his say; not even a sheik can + overrule the vote of a majority, and this man was no sheik. But rage and + self-assertion will generally exercise a certain weight in tribal + councils, and the crowd in this case was too doubtful of the facts to have + any settled notions of its own. + </p> + <p> + “To the jail with them!” the new arrival almost shrieked, and about a + dozen in the crowd took up the cry— + </p> + <p> + “To jail with them!” + </p> + <p> + “Infidels! Worshipers of dogs! Wine-drinkers! Eaters of pig flesh! Dogs + and the sons of dogs—what mothers gave them birth? Are your hands, + True-believers, fit bonds for them? To the jail! To the jail that Abdul + Hamid caused his men to build for such as these!” + </p> + <p> + He stooped and looked deliberately to make sure that Crothers could not + break away, then came closer and spat on him, saving half his spittle with + impartial forethought for the struggling Byng, who looked up in time to + see what was in store for him. Being spat on is even less exhilarating + than it sounds or looks, and Byng waxed speechless after passing through a + many-worded stage of blasphemy. + </p> + <p> + Crothers, the larger of the two and by six brawny inches more phlegmatic, + bode his time in silence, so that neither of them spoke a word while they + were hustled and cuffed along the street between the unbaked brick hovels. + It was not until the reinforced iron door of Adra's one stone building + slammed on them that either of them said a word. + </p> + <p> + Then— + </p> + <p> + “I'm not a mean man,” protested Crothers. + </p> + <p> + “No?” said Byng, monosyllabic for a start. + </p> + <p> + “No,” repeated Crothers, “I am not, Joe Byng. But—and I says it + solemn; I says it with one 'and above my 'ed, and I'd take my affidavy on + it in a court o' law, if it's the last word I ever does say an' it's my + dying oath—so 'elp me Solomon and all 'is glory; I'm a Dutchman if I + wouldn't like to 'ave a come-back at that Arab.” + </p> + <p> + Byng lay full length on his stomach, and buried his face in his arms. He + was still too full of wrath for words. + </p> + <p> + “I'd kick his mother, if I couldn't land on him,” mused Crothers. And then + he busied himself about conning his new bearings. It was a four-walled + jail—one-doored, one-windowed, iron-barred—ill-smelling, + verminous, too hot for words and too suggestive of the opposite of home, + sweet home to call forth humor, even from a seaman. + </p> + <p> + “They'll come an' rescue us,” moaned Byng. “They'll quarantine the pair of + us for being lousy, and they'll turn the perishing salt-water hose on us. + We're due for the brig for Gawd knows 'ow long; our reppitation's gone; + we've been spat on by a—by a Arab, and we 'aven't hit 'im back; an' + we've lost the pup. We've gone an' lost the pup! Gawd! There ain't no more + good in nothin'!” + </p> + <p> + Which shows no more than that Joe Byng in his sorrow overlooked a + circumstance or two. For instance, there were rings in the floor that + Crothers eyed with keen curiosity. They were anchored in the solid blocks + of stone. + </p> + <p> + “It's better than it might be, mate!” he argued optimistically. “They + might 'ave gone and chained us up to those!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V. + </h2> + <p> + Arabia has some peculiarities, not all of them discreditable, which she + does not share with any other country. There is, for instance, the kind + custom that dictates the setting free of slaves when they have rendered + seven years' good service. + </p> + <p> + That rule (and it is rather rule than law) tends to eliminate all class + and color prejudice. Provided that a man will bow to Mecca three times + daily and refrain from pork and wine, he may wear whatever skin God gave + him and yet mingle with the best. He may even marry whom he will and can + afford; and he may be whatever his ability, ambition, and audacity + dictate. + </p> + <p> + And Hassan Ah had never been a slave, so he had even less to overcome than + might have been the case. He stalked Adra socially uncondemned where once + he had caught fish, groomed camels, and done other irritating jobs. His + old fish-catching days had given him an intimate acquaintance with the + reef, and his small-boat seamanship, born of hard pulling in the trough of + beam-on-seas, was well suited to the local type of craft. + </p> + <p> + So nobody questioned his right to the title of harbor pilot. And if + certain perquisites went with an otherwise barren office, that was to be + expected. Who worked for nothing, or for the empty honor of it, in Arabia? + </p> + <p> + Nobody can pass the reef at night in shallow-draft lateen-sail boats + without having him on board; and though he was never ostensibly paid for + his services, it was understood that he performed pilot service in return + for certain other opportunities that sometimes came his way. When things + happened on the high sea that were not discussed in public, it was + understood that Hassan Ah could have discussed them as thoroughly as + anybody if he chose. + </p> + <p> + On the whole, then, and within limits that were only more or less + definable, he was something of a personality. Men listened to him when he + raised his voice in argument, and as one who could grant favors on + occasion his words had weight. + </p> + <p> + The sun was very nearly in its zenith, beating down on dry Arabia between + racing black clouds, when he had finished talking to the local council in + the ramshackle old council-house, skin and mat curtained, that faced the + sheik's where the main street broadened for a hundred filthy yards into a + market-place. All through his argument he had held a pure-white bull + terrier between his knees as proof that he knew whereof he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Can any of you hold him without being bitten?” he demanded. And they did + not seem to care to try. + </p> + <p> + “I know the ways of these men!” he asserted, drawing extravagant + expressions of contentment from the dog in proof of it. + </p> + <p> + So the others in the stuffy council place gave the dog a wide berth and no + privilege, but conceded him the right to hold the beast, if he wanted to, + without personal defilement. And since the way of the world is that a man + who has won the first of his contentions can win all the rest with half + the ease, he persuaded them with a hurricane of black man's rhetoric to do + what Arabs consider almost wicked. + </p> + <p> + Unbelievers who are prisoners should die, beyond all question. + </p> + <p> + “As the dregs of oil shall the fruit of the tree of Al Zakkum boil in the + bellies of the damned!” the sheik quoted. “They should be hurried, + therefore, to the punishment that waits!” + </p> + <p> + But Hassen Ah outargued him. + </p> + <p> + “Then they will land men from the ship, who will search our houses,” he + asserted. “Is there a majority in the council who would like to be + searched by unbelievers?” + </p> + <p> + “Then bind them, and take them to their ship, and tell a tale of much + drunkenness and wrong-doing. Ask an indemnity, and show the proofs, which + will be easy to arrange.” + </p> + <p> + “They, too, will tell their tale!” said Hassan Ah in perfect Arabic. + </p> + <p> + Unlike the more enlightened peoples of the West, Arabs do not encourage + the mutilation of their mother-tongue; they teach it as carefully as they + talk it, and this negro spoke like an Arab of the blood. + </p> + <p> + “There are certain damages they have received—some bruises on the + face and tears in the clothing that does not belong to them but their + government,” he continued. “They would lay all the blame on us, and would + breathe in the face of an appointed man, in proof that they were not + drunk. And who could get other drink than coffee or water here? And who + would believe the rest of our story, having found that part to be a lie? + There would be a landing, and a search for proof, and much unpleasantness. + Besides—” + </p> + <p> + If he had intended to add further arguments, the sheik saw fit to nip them + in the bud; for there were some men in the council-room who did not know + as much as Hassan Ah. Any free man may speak in council in Arabia. + </p> + <p> + “What is thy way, then?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The woolly headed pilot laughed aloud, taking care to make it evident that + he was laughing at the prisoners; to laugh at a sheik or a sheik's + bewilderment would be too dangerous. + </p> + <p> + “I would send them to the ship well satisfied,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “With money?” asked the sheik. + </p> + <p> + “With whose money?” asked Hassan Ah. + </p> + <p> + “With thine?” shot back the sheik. + </p> + <p> + “In the name of Allah, no!” + </p> + <p> + The black man laughed again, and rose to lean against the wall behind him, + gathering the dog up in his arms. + </p> + <p> + “If it is the order of the council,” he asserted, “I will send them back + satisfied, with a tale to tell that will bring about no landing. Also, I + will give the council much amusement.” + </p> + <p> + “But will other sailors land afterward, seeking similar amusement?” asked + the sheik. + </p> + <p> + “No! There will be an order that none land!” + </p> + <p> + The sheik took a vote on it. Heads nodded solemnly all around the room as + his eyes sought each half-veiled face in turn. His own face was almost + altogether shielded by the brown linen head-dress, for men of his race + like to reach a judgment unobserved. They were all nods that answered him, + and he saw fit to keep his own opinion to himself. + </p> + <p> + “Thou seest? These others are all with thee. Have it thine own way, Hassan + Ah. Unlock thou the riddle and on thy head be the answer! Thou hast our + leave to go.” + </p> + <p> + So Hassan Ah set out undaunted for the jail, with a terrier in tow behind + him and a huge smile on his broad-beamed face. And behind him a murmur + rose that: + </p> + <p> + “It was well. He brought the warship in, instead of leaving it outside or—as + any wise man would have done—wrecking it on the outer reef, where it + could have been plundered at discretion. Let him send the sailors back + again and bear the consequences!” + </p> + <p> + And within a minute of the pilot's arrival at the window of the jail + (through which he peered for two minutes before speaking) the whole of + Adra's council, followed by the city's children in a noisy horde, + proceeded in a cluster after him and took up position, each as he saw fit, + at different vantage points. + </p> + <p> + Then Hassan Ah shook a loose bar of the window until it rattled, and so + called attention to himself. Crothers and Joe Byng raced for the window + neck and neck, and reached it simultaneously. + </p> + <p> + “You two men want you-ah dog?” asked Hassan Ah, and the chained dog leaped + up at the window as both men swore at once. + </p> + <p> + “You pass him in here! Come on, you black-faced cornerman! There'll be a + cutter's crew ashore pretty soon to rescue us, and if you don't hand that + dog over before they get here you'll get the worst whipping you ever had + in all your black life!” + </p> + <p> + “They'll feed you to the dog when they're through with you!” vowed Byng. + </p> + <p> + “Come on, MacHassan!” ordered Crothers. “Get the key and pass the dog in. + That'll settle your account. T hen you's free. You needn't be 'fraid.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah'm English,” said the pilot of the day before, with an enormous grin + that showed a pound or two of yellow ivory. “Ah'm not afraid; Ah can lick + you; Ah can fight same as you men. Ah'm English!” + </p> + <p> + “Fight? You Irish Chink! Which of us two do you want to fight?” asked the + outraged Byng. “Come on in here! I'll fight you!” + </p> + <p> + But to Byng's amazement Hassan Ah pointed to Crothers, who was heavier by + forty pounds or more and taller by at least half a head. + </p> + <p> + “Ah choose him!” he grinned; and Curley Crothers clenched both fists in + absolute but quite unterrified amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Come on, then,” he answered. “Open the door.” Then, as an afterthought—“I'll + fight you for the dog.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah don't want to kill that little man,” said Hassan Ah. “But Ah'll give + you the dog, win or lose, if you'll fight me. You fight fair? You fight + English?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm damned!” said Crothers. “I fight Queensberry rules. That suit + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh-ah, yes! Keensby rules, that's it. All right-o!” + </p> + <p> + Hassan Ah produced his key and turned it in the creaking lock. He was + stripping himself even before the two sailors were out in the sun, and by + the time that Crothers and Joe Byng had realized that there was an + audience of something like a thousand, including children, he was standing + posed like a gladiator, with the straight-down tropic sun streaming off + his ebony hide. As Crothers, not quite sure even yet that the whole affair + was not a joke, began to doff his blouse it dawned on him that if the + thing were true it would not be a picnic. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean this?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Ah shohly do. Are you afraid o' me?” + </p> + <p> + That, of course, settled matters. The thing was not a joke, and Englishman + or nigger—black, green, white, or gray—the plot must be licked + forthwith and in accordance with the rules. + </p> + <p> + Crothers spat into his hands, while Joe Byng folded up his blouse and + knelt on it. He eyed his antagonist for at least a minute, summing him up + and ignoring none of the woolly-headed one's physical advantages in weight + and strength, in height and reach, in being used to the climate and the + glare, the odds were all with Hassan Ah. Then he sized up the moral odds; + and though a biased audience might be at first supposed to weigh against + him too, the sight of all those Arabs waiting to see him beaten roused his + fighting dander. + </p> + <p> + “Do you represent the bloke that spat on us two men?” asked Crothers. + </p> + <p> + “Ah represent maself! Ah'm English! Ah fight English, and Ah'll prove it!” + </p> + <p> + “Aw, wade into him!” advised Joe Byng. “London Prize Rules—no time + called until a man's down. Go on, Curley—lead!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you agree?” asked Crothers. + </p> + <p> + “Suttainly!” The black man seemed disposed to agree to anything so long as + he could get what he was after. + </p> + <p> + “Then here goes!” said Crothers; and he stepped in and led for the honor + of the British Navy. + </p> + <p> + Oh! It was a fight! Crothers knew what he was up against the instant that + his left fist slid along an ebony forearm and his nose collided with what + seemed like an iron club. Steamship pilot this man might not be, but + fighting man he very surely was. He hit straight and guarded high. He was + no untutored savage. He had the hardest to acquire of all the Christian + arts at his fingers' (or rather his fists') ends, and the heavyweight + champion of Gosport took a double reef in his fighting tactics while he + sparred for time in which to recover from the shock of that first blow. + The claret was streaming down his face and he was dizzy. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, wade into him, mate!” urged Joe. + </p> + <p> + It is always easier to see what should be done than to do it. The sand was + not slipping and giving under Joe Byng's feet, nor were his fists and + wrists aching from contact with hard ebony. To him the thing seemed easy, + and he was as anxious to get into the fight himself as was the terrier + that strained at his chain. But Crothers, who had won a hundred fights at + least in cleaner climes, fought canny and tried to make the black man tire + himself with wasted effort. + </p> + <p> + And the Arabs sat in silence, like a row of vultures waiting for the end. + Even the little children held their clamor and subsided into motionless + calm. There was not a movement along the roofs or the wall, or in the + rings of those who squatted. Arabia was spellbound, watching something she + had never seen before and trying to puzzle out the wherefore of it. There + were knives and guns available, yet these men fought without weapons. The + white contender had a friend, but the friend did not join in. Why? Had + Allah struck all three men mad? They sat still to see the end, having no + doubt but that it would prove to be a judgment. + </p> + <p> + Curley Crothers was the first to close a round. He put an end to round one + at the end of three minutes by missing with a heavy right swing, ducking + to avoid terrific punishment, slipping in the yielding sand and falling. + </p> + <p> + “Back with you!” yelled Joe Byng, afraid that the pilot would take + liberties and ready to jump in and stop him if need be. But he wasted his + excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Ah told you Ah'm English!” said the pilot, stepping back and letting + Crothers find his corner. + </p> + <p> + Curley was glad enough of a rest on Joe Byng's knee, and too intent on + getting back his wind to listen over carefully to Joe's advice. When Joe + called “Time” he stepped in readily again; and this time it was Hassan Ah + who suffered from surprise. + </p> + <p> + Curley had been getting out of practise on board ship; he had needed + waking up, and round one had done it for him. Round two and the six that + followed it were exhibitions of the “noble art” that men in any of the + larger cities of the world would have paid out a fortune to have seen. + </p> + <p> + There was racial prejudice, and service pride, as well as the usual decent + man's desire to win to make a real mill of what might have been nothing + out of ordinary; and there were the quite considerable odds against him + that—after the first repulse—usually make men like Crothers do + their utmost. + </p> + <p> + Even the Arabs lost their stoicism while round two was under way. Byng + yelled, and the terrier yelped, but the Arabs only shifted their position. + That, though, was proof enough of their excitement; they actually sighed + in unison when Hassan Ah thrust his ungainly chin in the way of a crushing + right-hand smash, and laid his broad back on the sand. + </p> + <p> + After that it was slug-and-come-again with both of them, each getting + wilder as round succeeded round, but neither man obtaining much advantage. + Twice it was Crothers who went down; then he discovered a soft spot in + Hassan's ribs, and after that he kept the black man busy on the desperate + defensive. + </p> + <p> + There was no doubt of the end, then, barring accidents. Even Hassan Ah + could not have doubted it; but he did his black man's uttermost to put it + off, and he fought as gamely as anybody ever fought since prize-ring rules + were drafted. He did not foul, or take undue advantage once. + </p> + <p> + It was a plain, right-handed, battering-ram punch to the neck that ended + things, and Hassan Ah lay coughing on the sand with bulging eyes while Joe + Byng tended Curley's hurts. + </p> + <p> + “Hasn't the nigger got any pals?” asked Crothers; and then it occurred to + Byng that the most hurt man was surely most in need of mending. Both he + and Crothers bent over him, then, and they soon had him on his feet again. + </p> + <p> + “Ah told you Ah'm English!” were the first words he succeeded in + spluttering through swollen lips. + </p> + <p> + “Now, what d'you mean by that exactly?” asked Joe Byng, his attitude + toward him almost entirely changed. A man who loses gamely is entitled to + respect if not to friendship. + </p> + <p> + Hassan Ah searched in the tattered shirt that he had laid aside, and + pulled out a folded piece of paper after a lot of fumbling. He opened it + gingerly, and holding one corner of it displayed the rest with evident + intention not to allow it out of his grasp. + </p> + <p> + “That says Ah'm English!” he explained. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Crothers, rubbing an injured eye in order to see it better. + “Can you read, you black heathen?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the pilot. “That says Ah'm English, but Ah can't read!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, MacHassan,” said Curley Crothers, reading the document a second + time. “Black or white, you fight like a gentleman. I'm proud to have + licked you. Good-by, and good luck! Here's my hand!” + </p> + <p> + They shook hands, and the seamen started shoreward with the terrier in + tow. + </p> + <p> + “Did you read the paper?” asked Crothers. “It was dated Aden—non-coms' + mess of some regiment or other. 'This is to certify that this regiment + taught Hassan Ah to use his fists, and that he has since licked every + single mother's son of us!' Pity I didn't see that first, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I dunno,” said Joe Byng, who had not had to do the fighting. “You + licked the savage, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + Hassan Ah was right. There was no more shore leave granted. Crothers and + Joe Byng were punished with extra duty and “confined to ship” for coming + back with the marks of fighting on them; and the Puncher gave no further + signs of life until, some three I days later, her long-suffering engines + turned again and she departed through the channel that had brought her in. + </p> + <p> + Then the sheik and three others and a certain Hassan Ah went down at + midnight to the jail and lifted with the aid of long poles passed through + the rings in them the largest floor stones of that vermin-infested + building. But the vermin did not trouble them. What they were after and + what they lifted out was the cases of guns and cartridges the Puncher had + contrived to miss. + </p> + <p> + THE END <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Told in the East, by Talbot Mundy + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOLD IN THE EAST *** + +***** This file should be named 5315-h.htm or 5315-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/1/5315/ + +Produced by Jake Jaqua, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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