BY SWORD AND FIRE
The garrison tumbled
One morning in the month of April, 1857,
Baird Avery an assistant surgeon in the employ of the Honorable
East India Company, was on his way to Delhi the ancient capital
of the emperors of Hindostan, and at that time the residence of
the royal brig and known as the "Great Mogul" of the
empire.
The distance which the young gentleman had
to travel was nearly one thousand miles. and the frightful hot
season, during which the thermometer creeps up day after day to
over one hundred in the shade and a hundred and forty in the flaming
sun, was fairly advanced.
Avery had left the metropolis of India nearly
two months before had traveled leisurely to the northwest since
that time. Most of his journey was made by the Gauges in a budgerow,
a craft of some fifty tons burden, one-half of which consists
of a decked cabin, several small rooms and
an awning. The front of the vessel was' occupied by the crew including
a manjee, or steersman, and eight dandies or boatmen, whose duties
were to work the sails, or row or drag the vessel as necessity
required.
Reaching the neighborhood of Cawnpore, Avery
shifted to a dawk or palanquin, a slow but pleasant means of conveyance
and one that has long been peculiar to that country. The box-like
structure was borne on the shoulders of four men, with the same
number walking beside them, ready to serve their turn. The palanquin
was large enough to contain the doctor's meager luggage and to
allow him to stretch out at full length on the well stuffed mattress
covered with morocco leather, while a shelf and drawer held two
or three books, writing material and a bottle of diluted brandy.
In the morning the heat became so intolerable
that a halt was generally made at the roadside, in the shade of
a friendly grove of mangoes, or at some bungalow, where the traveler
awaited the lesser heat of evening before moving forward again.
The greater part of the trip, therefore, was performed at night,
when a Mussalchee ran by the side of the palanquin with a lighted
torch to guide the bearers through the jungles. Wild animals and
serpents were kept away by the flare and the shouting of the natives.
An attraction like that of the lodestone
for the steel led Doctor Avery to make this long and toilsome
journey. In Delhi lived the Reverend Francis Warringford with
his family consisting of wife and daughter Marian. Twice during
the previous three years had the young surgeon secured a leave
of absence long enough to allow him to spend several weeks in
the home of the delightful old gentlemen and wife, and to him,
the still more delightful daughter.
Without dwelling upon the particulars of
the subject, let it suffice to say that with the consent of the
parents, the daughter had become the betrothed of Dr. Avery and
his hope and expectation was that now she would consent to become
his wife and accompany him to the home awaiting
her in Calcutta. In truth, she had given her promise to this effect
in the last letter received by Avery before setting out on the
most memorable journey of his life.
The date given at the opening of this chapter
will be reorganized by the reader as marking the opening of the
Sepoy Mutiny, one of the most fearful uprisings in the history
of mankind. The young man had not failed to hear the muttering
of the storm soon to break over India, but like the majority of
his countrymen, as well as the military stationed in that quarter,
he failed to realize its terrible gravity. For many years there
had been unrest in Hindostan with occasional sporadic outbreaks,
but the strong arm of England had crashed them, and every one
believed this would again be done. An ardent lover minifies every
subject except the single one that fills his thoughts; and Dr.
Avery failed to suspect the peril which was gathering until he
and those whom he loved were caught in the maelstrom.
The first definite suspicion of the appalling
truth came to him when within a short distance of Delhi. The palanquin
bearers had been changed several times and one evening a native
whose appearance and manner aroused unusual interest on the part
of the. Englishman joined the little company. The newcomer's name
was Luchman and he had been a high caste Hindoo, who, having been
converted to. Christianity through the labors of Warringford1
the missionary asked to be taken into his service as bearer or
sort of valet. He was tall, thin to emaciation, very dark with
a long curved mustache, which, like his gleaming eyes, was of
intense blackness. He was muscular and agile, reserved and at
times moody to sullenness.
Luchman's dress was of no distinctive character.
He wore the dhotee, consisting of a single breadth of muslin,
folded in heavy pleats around the loins, and descending gracefully
to the ankles, while the upper part of the body was almost wholly
covered by a coat of muslin. Despite the blistering sun of India,
many of the Bengalis go bareheaded, but Luchman was never without
his turban, gathered and folded with admirable skill.
In the comparative cool of the evening when
the party was resting at the roadside and about to resume their
journey, the first meeting of Luchinan and Dr. Avery took place
and was attended by several astonishing discoveries on the part
of the physician, who was recliaing on the ground and smoking
a cheroot, when Luchman approached unnoticed. Halting in front
of the white man, he made a half-military salute and in his low
musical voice said:
"Dr. Avery, I am glad to find you so
well."
This greeting was spoken with faultless
accent. In truth had not the physician been looking into the swarthy
countenance, he would have believed one of his own race had addressed
him.
"Who are you?" asked Avery in
amazement, after several minutes of silence. "I do not recall
having met you before."
"I am Luchnian; Mr. Wairingford sent
me to meet you and bring you to his home in Delhi."
Such being the fact, his recognition of
the European was natural, but a greater surprise came the next
minute, when the young man in his delight in the discovery, sprang
to his feet and reached out his hand.
"I'm mighty glad to see you, Luchman;
let's shake."
Without speaking and without any appearance
of pleasure, the native clasped the hand of the impulsive visitor,
who warmly greeted him.
Thunder!" exclaimed Avery the next
instant. Luchman had answered with an unmistakable Masonic grip.
Suspecting it was accidental on his part, Avery went a little
farther only to find the response prompt.
"Do these men with you understand English?"
asked Avery Lowering his voice.
"Not a word, brother."
Thereupon the doctor put the Hindoo through
what may be called the "third degree," though, as we
a" know, the phrase does not fit the situation. He found
Luchman one of the brightest members of the Order he had ever
met; he had been initiated, passed, and raised by no less a person
than the Missionary Warringford, who was Master of a Lodge in
Delhi, of which nearly every one of the few members was a European.
The discovery that both belonged to the
Mystic Order which reaches to every part of the globe, drew the
two nearer each other and opened the lips of Luchman, though not
to the extent the doctor wished. The first remark of the Hindoo
after the relations of the couple had been established, was startling:
I am sorry you have come so far from Calcutta,
brother."
"Why are you sorry?"
"The greatest peril in the history
of India is upon her: a storm is about to break, which will leave
few Inglise alive, I fear you will never see Calcutta again."
"That means that the missionary and
his family are in great danger."
"They are; I shall do all I can to
save them, but hardly hope to do so."
"I shall help you in the undertaking."
Luchman gravely shook his head.
"You only add to the task which is
already beyond my power: you can give no help at alL My best advice
to you is to start down the Ganges again and lose not an hour.
I wish you would follow it, but I know you will not heed what
I say."
For the first time a shadowy smile lit up
the dark face, and white teeth flashed between the lips. Luchinan
knew why nothing less than death itself would turn back the young
man from hurrying to the help of the imperilled family in Delhi.
"These palanquin bearers," added
Luchman, "would have killed you long ago had they not known
they would have to reckon with me afterward. Let us press on,
for we are not far from Delhi."
"A few words, Luchman. Of course we
have heard in Calcutta of the mutterings in the Bengal Presidency
caused by the spread of the report among the Sepoys that the cartridges
for their new Enfield rifles, furnished them by our Government,
have been prepared with grease of the hog, which all Mussulmans
abominate, and with that of the cow, the sacred animal of the
Hindoos. It matters not that all this is untrue, for the Sepoys
believe it, but why do you speak of the peril as imminent?"
Because it ja imminent," replied the
native, lowering his voice, though he knew that none of his countrymen
understood a word he said. "This is the month of May, brother,
and on the last day there will be a rising of the Mussulmans and
Hindoos of India. All the regiments will turn on their English
officers and kill them, their wives and children The Mogul Empire
will be proclaimed and the Raj of the English will be rooted out
of Hindostan."
How is it, Luchman, that you have learned
all this?" asked Doctor Avery, with a painful throb of suspicion.
That is no concern of yours, sahib; what
I tell you is true. The best favor you could do your friends in
Delhi would be to turn about and make all haste to your home,
while I guide the missionary and his family into the mofussil
(interior of the country) and hide them there for a time. But
as I just said, you will not heed my advice, so let us not delay
any longer."
Imperial Delhi contains nearly a quarter
of a million of people, and the modern city is all of seven miles
in circumference. There was a time when its population was tenfold
greater than now. It was captured and plundered in 1011 by Mahmoud;
in 1398 by Tamerlane; in 1525 by Baber, who overthrew the Patan
dynasty and inaugurated that of the Moguls; in 1739 it was pillaged
by Nadir Shah, who sat in the mosque of Roshun Dowlah (near the
Jumma Musjeed, \the most agnificent place of Mussulman worship
in India) and saw a hundred thousand of the inhabitants massacred.
Delhi was surrounded by an embattled wall
with numerous bastions and intervening martello towers, faced
along the whole extent with massive masonry, which many years
before had been strengthened by the addition of a moat and glacis.
Within the city at the date of the Sepoy Mutiny dwelt Mohammed
Suraj-oo-deen Shah Gezee, the Great Mogul of India. His claim
to the succession of his father was sustained by the East India
Company against a conspiracy to place a younger brother on the
throne, and he was in receipt of nearly a million dollars annually
from that colossai corporation. He had no political power, however,
and made no pretense to the least authority outside his palaces,
whose bounds embraced twelve thousand subjects, while the Royal
Family itself numbered about one-eighth as many.
Beyond the limits of the narrow streets
where the bazaars and native houses crowd together, yet close
enough for easy access to the mission church, stood the home of
the Warningfords. It was set back from a road in the middle of
a garden or open space, which is so necessary to European life
in that climate. A hedge partly hid the house and there were several
trees in the garden, kept alive by the persistent attentions of
the malee (gardener), who drew water morning and evening from
a well and filled the trenches around the parched roots.
The home of the missionary showed the plainness
that is a feature of the Anglo-Indian architecture. It was made
of sun-dried bricks, plastered and whitewashed and surrounded
by wide verandas shaded with glass tatties. During the fiery heat
of the day the structure was kept tightly closed against the wind
which was like a furnace blast. Late in the afternoon the family
emerged from the interior of the veranda, where the tatties, sprinkled
with water, wooed a degree of coolness from the scorching air
that stole through them.
This veranda on the afternoon of May 10,
1857, therefore, held the missionary idly reclining on his long
cane settee, while the wife rested in her lounging chair at the
other end of the porch. Marian, his daughter, seated near, held
a book in her hand which she was dreamily reading by the dim light
that penetrated the tattie, the enervating heat driving away all
disposition to talk. The sun of India had added depth to the loveliness
of the young woman, whose dark eyes and clear brunette complexion
weresoftened by the climate so often fatal to foreigners. Bending
over her volume, her figure showed a grace of outline and form,
not surpassed even in Persia, the home pf physical beauty.
The silence continued until Marian, in the
deepening twilight, laid aside her book, and made an unimportant
remark to her parents, when all were startled by the sound of
footsteps: the tattie was lifted and Dr. Avery, his face glowing
red with delightful expectation, stood before them. Marian bounded
to her feet and was caught in his arms for a moment m a rapturous
embrace, then the thrice welcome visitor turned and warmly greeted
her father and mother, trying in the meanwhile to answer the questions
that showered upon him.
A few minutes gave them all the information
at his command, dusty, sunburned and tired, he was glad to pass
into the house and plunge into a bath. That refreshing luxury
over, it was fully dark. He donned the single spare suit he had
brought with him and emerging once more upon the
veranda, sank into one of the lounging chairs that were always
at the command of the visitors.
"Ah," he sighed, puffing at his
cheroot and stretching out at his ease, "this is what I call
luxury, and no mistake. On my way here I called on General Graves
at the cantonment and told him that I had it from unquestioned
authority (I didn't mention Luchinan's name) that before the first
of next month a revolt of the Sepoys is as certain as the rising
of the Sun."
"How did he receive the news?"
asked the missionary.
"He thanked me with great courtesy,
but plainly was not impressed by my warning. He said the same
thing had been told him over and over for weeks past, and he added
with a smile, that 'the dog that barks most, bites least.' "I
tell you," added the surgeon, quickly sitting upright and
speaking with emphasis, "one of two things is certain - this
impending mutiny is either the most prodigious hoax of the nineteenth
century, or it will be the most awful tragedy of moderri times:
I am inclined to believe it will be the tragedy."
"So am I," said the missionary,
impressively. "We are standing on the brink and naught but
the arm of God can save us. Where the revolt is so widespread
there is no safety this side of Calcutta, which is almost a thousand
miles away."
"Delhi will be the headquarters of
the Sepoys," responded Dr. Avery, "and the very hour
they occupy the city, the massacre of the Europeans will begin.
I learned all this from Luchman, whom you sent to meet me. He
is the brightest East Indian I ever knew. I suppose there can
be no doubt of his loyalty."
"None, and it grieves me inexpressibly
to add that he is the only native in whom I feel absolute confidence.
He is bound to us by the deepest affection and is one of the purest
Christians I ever knew."
"Not forgetting the other tie that
draws us together," said Dr. Avery meaningly.
"Ah, here he comes now; no one could
be more welcome at this particular time."
The city of Meerut stands on a grassy plain
to the north-east of Delhi, and distant some thirty-two miles.
At the of the date of the mutiny its population was about forty
thousand souls.
The cantonments lay two miles to the north
of the town and contained accommodations for twenty thousand troops.
On the afternoon of Sunday, May 10, the
native troops at Meerut mutinied and the first of the lurid massacres
took place. The death of all the Europeans was determined upon
and would have been accomplished but for the lack of unanimity
among the mutineers, though there is good reason for believing
the outbreak was unpremeditated and was the result of a that a
rumor that a movement was under way to seize the arms of The Third
Cavalry and the Twentieth Regiment
clamored to begin the massacre at once, but the Eleventh Native
Infantry held back so persistently that the enraged Twentieth
fired a volley into its ranks. This had the effect intended and
the Eleventh joined the other two bodies in a rush for the parade
ground with furious execrations of the "sahib log."
Colonel Finnis, commanding the Eleventh, spurred his horse on
a run to the parade ground, where he made an impassioned plea
to the soldiers to stand by their
colors and refuse to enter into a useless revolt. In the very
midst of his fervid appeal, a Sepoy of the Twentieth raised his
musket and 'hot him in the back. A volley followed and he pitched
from his saddle riddled with bullets.
Seeing him fall, the other officers knew
it was death to stay, and galloped to the Rifles and Sixth Dragoons,
the less murderous Eleventh helping to get them away from their
enemies. Just before this, a party of soldiers had ridden to the
lockup where a company of mutineers had been confined by their
English officers for refusing to use the new cartridges. They
numbered eighty-five and were in irons. These were quickly knocked
off and the men set free. In addition a thousand other prisoners
undergoing sentence for various offences were released and then
pandemonium broke loose.
Murder, fire and outrage ruled supreme,
and no pen dare write the atrocities that marked the opening of
the stupendous tragedy known as the Sepoy Mutiny. The officers'
bungalows, public edifices, the mess house of the troops, and
in short all the structures between the native lines and Meerut
were burned. Night closed in while the conflagration was raging
and the yells of the frenzied wretches mingled with the roaring
of the flames, which carried millions of sparks upward and filled
the sky with a glare that was visible a score of miles away. Wherever
there was a chance for plunder, thither rushed the mob like so
many ravenous wolves.
Age and sex were not spared, and the barbarities
which took place then were but forerunners of those which followed.
The telegraph lines to Delhi were cut, so that no news of the
outbreak reached that city until the following day when it was
carried thither by natives on horseback. General Hewitt had neglected
to place a guard over the disaffected Sepoys in irons, and although
quite a force remained at his disposal, he failed also to attack
or follow the mutineers who started for Delhi.
The very thing Luchrnan feared had occurred.
Instead of waiting until May 31, the preconcerted time for the
general uprising, the Sepoys at Meerut precipitated it three weeks
in advance of that date. The Rubicon was crossed and the rebels
could only ~push on to the end, whatever that end might be. When
sated with plunder and murder, the rabble drew off and took the
road to Delhi, which was now their rallying city, and to show
their contempt for General Hewitt and his soldiers, they went
into camp only six miles away and were not disturbed.
Although in Delhi when the massacre at Meerut
occurred, the faint glare in the sky over the distant town told
Luchman the fearful truth long before the horsemen arrived with
the news. So certain was he that the blow had been struck that
he hastened to the home of the missionary and
spoke of it as his personal knowledge. This was the tidings he
brought it when, in the preceding chapter. he made his unexpected
appearance at the house of the missionary, a short time after
Dr. Avery's arrival.
"We must leave at once," said
Luchinan, "the mutineers will be here tomorrow; some of them
may arrive before daybreak. In some way which I do not understand,
for the telegraph wires have been cut, the news is here, and we
have not an hour to spare.
"Whither shall we go?" asked Mr.
Warringford.
Rather curiously, with all his subtlety,
Luchman was unable to answer this question satisfactorily to himself.
His first thought was to throw himself and friends on the protection
of the soldiers at Delhi, but the indecision of the Commandant
caused him to distrust such refuge. The troops
would fight bravely, but with an incompetent head and scant numbers,
the worst was to be feared.
The firs all-important step was to bet outside
the city with least possible delay. When that was done, Luchman
would probably try to reach Kurnal or some other remote point
where for a time they would be comparatively safe.
"Under heaven," said the missionary,
"we are in your hands, Luchman; take command and do as you
think best."
The native silently did so. It was idle
to try to carry off their property, for it would draw attention
and cause an attack. Such trifles as could be easily hidden about
their persons were hastily gathered together. One of these was
a beautiful and magnificent diamond so large that Marion wore
it only on rare occasions. It was given to her by Luchman some
months before, and its immense size and brilliancy were such as
to cause wonder and admiration anywhere, and at they suggestion
of the Hindoo she placed the jewel in the bosom of her dress.
Firearms above everything else were needed,
and in this respect the little party made a fair showing. Dr.
Avery had his two revolvers, while Marian carried a small one,
which he had presented to her on a former visit. He had not thought
that she would ever be called upon to use it, and all the ammunition
she carried was the five cartridges in the chambers of the weapon.
Before venturing upon the streets, the fugitives,
as they may now be called, had recourse to such disguises as were
at command. It so happened that at that time they only servant
with the family of the missionary was Luchman.
A servant, Ali Khan, had been called away
two days before by the illness of his wife, and a third was off
for the evening. Living in a remote part of the city, the second
servant had been given permission to stay away until ready to
return, and he had not yet appeared. Since he was a Mohammedan,
who1 though impressed by the teaching of Christianity, had not
accepted the new faith the family were relieved by his absence.
In truth, they felt grave doubts of his loyalty and would not
have been surprised had he joined the fanatics that were certain
soon to move daringly against the missionary and his household.
Mrs. Warringford and Marian, as a partial
disguise, procured chuddars, or white shawls of muslin, which
are commonly used by the native women. These are worn over the
head and drawn around the face, so that only the eyes are visible
when the wearer appears on the street. Enveloped by these cool
coverings, there was good reason to hope our friends could pass
over the roads without attracting notice.
Then Luchinan arranged turbans about the
heads of Mr. Warringford and Dr. Avery with a skill peculiarly
his own. The servants' quarters are never without several clean
white muslin coats in order that the menials may make a seemly
appearance at all times; and each man donned one of these, thus
the party at night were quite sure to pass muster, unless suspicion
should lead to close scrutiny while they were making their way
to the Cashmere Gate.
Luchman made the unwelcome announcement
that the friends must separate, otherwise they were certain to
be noticed. No woman ever appears alone at night in any of the
bazaars, unless directly behind her husband. It was arranged,
therefore, that Marian should walk a few paces to the rear of
Luchman, and Mrs. Warringford immediately behind the missionary.
They would part as soon as the street was reached and since, with
one exception, all were familiar with the city, they were confident
of reaching the Cashmere Gate without molestation.
Dr. Avery being only slightly acquainted
with the capital, was given the most direct route, which was described
so clearly to him that he offered to wager his friends he would
be first to arrive at the rendezvous.
The streets were unpaved and unlighted by
lamps, the paunchyats or groups of natives' being gathered around
the small fires kindled in many places on the ground. It was believed
that these could be avoided without difficulty, though the bright
moon in the unclouded sky compelled great caution on the part
of the fugitives.
In a few minutes all were ready and stole
out upon the nearest avenue like so many shadows. Dr. Avery pressed
the hand of Marian, as he whispered a farewell and begged her
to maintain a brave heart and to keep close to Luchman her protector.
She made reply, but in the flurry of the moment he did not catch
the words and almost immediately found himself treading his way
alone through the narrow streets of the tumultuous city.
He was amazed by the throngs of people at
every turn. It was yet early in the evening and they seemed to
be everywhere. Everybody was talking and the chatter of tongues
was like Babel. Now and then he heard an English word, and the
little knowledge he had picked up of Hindostani told that only
one momentous subject absorbed the thoughts of all. He felt little
or no personal fear for it was easy to saunter forward, keep away
from the illuminating fires and act the same as hundreds of others
around him.
The doctor had traversed about half the
distance to the Cashmere Gate when a great uproar broke out directly
in front, and the horde instantly surged in that direction, led
by the headlong curiosity which sways a mob even in a civilized
city. Avery pushed forward with the others, and quickly found
that the cause of the tumult was a brawl among several men. Feeling
no interest in such an affray, he was about to pass on, when one
of the combatants leaped into the middle of the street, closely
pressed by the others. It then that the bright moonlight showed
that the person who was trying to disentangle himself was an Englishman
who was hard beset by fully a dozen natives. He was bareheaded,
tall, muscular, and of great strength and activity. Had anything
like fair play been shown, he would have fought off the whole
party, but he had been attacked by a pack as merciless as so many
tiger.
Dr. Avery was enraged at the sight and furiously
strove to wedge his way through the throng to the help of his
countryman, but he stopped the next moment, knowing he could give
no aid whatever to the man and was sure to onto his fate. As the
doctor halted, he thrust his hand into his pocket and gripped
his revolver, hoping he might see a chance to use it without diverting
the ferocious assault to himself.
Englishman was acting on the defensive.
He held no weapon, but struck, dodged and parried with a skill
that showed him to be a master of the art of self defense. He
would have bowled over every assailant, but for the obstruction
of the others. His terrific blows shot out straight from the shoulder
and must have cracked every bronzed skull upon which they landed.
All the time the pale faced athlete was
retreating, or rather trying to retreat, and could he have shaken
himself clear of the swarm but for a second, he would have gotten
away, but he was so hemmed in by the panting demons that escape
was impossible.
"God help you!" exclaimed Avery,
"I can't stand here and see you murdered like a dog! Out
of my path, you infernal devils!"
It is hardly possible that this order shouted
in his own language was understood by the miscreants, most of
whom were screeching and yelling, but there were several close
at hand who recognized the tongue and saw that another victim
had come into their reach. The natives, generally so afraid of
foreigners, had become aggressive under the belief that all the
infidel Christians were about to be exterminated, root and branch,
by the Sepoys.
Dr. Avery cared nothing about hiding his
identity, as he struggled to reach the side of his countryman.
Could he succeed, the two would put up a valiant fight, standing
back to back, with their arms going like the piston rods of an
engine. The surgeon was forging ahead like a ship
struggling through a sea, when rasping howls from a score of throats
told him he had not only been identified but that the dusky fiends
were making for him.
At this juncture the stranger in the street
acted effectively. He whipped out his revolver and fired five
shots in close succession, wheeling quickly on his heel as he
did so, by which maneuver he sent the bullets toward as many different
points of the compass. The mob was so dense that each shot winged
a man and they toppled over like so many tenpins. There was a
wild scramble to get out of the zone of danger, and doubtless
the Englishman had fired for the very purpose of creating this
diversion. It was the psychological moment for him, and he bounded
forward and away as if shot from a catapult, striking fiercely
at every one within reach and clearing a path through which he
sped like a whirlwind down the street, his yellow hair streaming
in the breeze
created by his own swiftness.
The sight of the fleeing fugitive brought
back the senses of the mob which swarmed after him. Dr. Avery
was quick to seize advantage of the diversion thus offered and
strolled off without drawing attention from the fugitive speeding
for life.
"I should like to know whether they
caught him," muttered the surgeon after walking some distance.
" He can outrun all those yaping devils, and if he doesn't
get tangled up in this infernal town, he stands a good chance
of giving them the slip - Helloa! what's up now?"
Three persons on the opposite side of the
street, one of whom was a woman, arrested the eye of Dr. Avery.
They were less than fifty feet distant and the moon was shining
full upon them, all walking slowly while the head of the woman
was bowed and she moaned as if in pain.
That looks bad," thought the surgeon,
"she seems to be faint and they are probably supporting her
to her home."
Prompted by a natural impulse, he moved
toward the trio, timing his steps so as not to attract notice,
He quickly saw that the woman was holding back while the escort
was forcing her forward.
"I don't like that," he said,
hurrying until he was close upon them; then forgetful of the fact
that he was speaking in an unknown tongue, he called out:
"What are you doing with that lady?"
The surprised natives stopped and the prisoner
raised her head and wailed:
"O, Baird save me from them."
"My God! Marian! Can it be possible,"
he gasped leaping forward and catching her arm.
Dr. Avery was speechless for a moment after
recognizing the voice of Marian Warringford and finding her in
the custody of two natives on that memorable night in Delhi; he
quickly recovered his self-possession, however, and drew his revolver.
The two captors in accordance with their cowardly nature were
about to drop on their knees and beg for mercy, but fortunately
had wit
enough to see their chance, and in an instant dashed off into
the darkness, while the Englishman stood in mute amazement at
the plight of the young woman. Had they delayed their departure
a single minute, he would have shot them dead in their tracks.
"How came you here?" he asked,
half believing it was all a hideous dream, until he felt the tremulous
arm of his beloved in the grasp of his own strong hand.
"I can hardly tell you, but it must
have been my fault. Luchman walked fast, never once looking back
to see whether I was keeping near him. He thought I knew enough
to act my part without instructions from him, but at one of the
bazars the crowd was so dense that I was forced aside. Then, when
I tried to get back to him9 something caused an excitement in
front and I was pushed still farther away. By that time I had
lost Luchman completely. You know that no woman ventures in such
a place at night without her husband and I was in a sad predicament.
Hoping to avoid attracting unpleasant attention to myself, I tried
to keep behind a stranger. This protected me for some time, but
I soon discovered that two natives were following me. I hurried,
but they quickly overtook and made me a prisoner. I pleaded with
them and offered all my jewelry, except the big diamond, but they
said they would have it anyway. I dared not cry out, for that
would have brought others and have increased my danger tenfold."
"But where was that pistol of yours?"
asked her lover.
"Would you believe it, I forgot I had
it until after they grasped my arms so tightly that I could not
get hold of the weapon."
Never mind, it shall never happen again.
We must lose no time. How far are we from the Cashmere Gate?"
"Nearly half a mile."
"Do you know the way?"
Perfectly if the moon were not so bright
we could go straight to it, but the whole city is out of doors
and we must pick our path. I will guide you."
She walked briskly, following directly behind
the surgeon, giving directions when necessary, in low tones, while
he strode forward on the alert for the danger that was likely
to break upon them at any moment. Turn whither they might, they
could not get away from the crowds that were everywhere. They
had gone but a few hundred yards when Marian said in a guarded
voice:
"They are pursuing us. Don't run for
that will hasten them, but turn down the first street on the right."
Dr. Avery obeyed and it was well he did.
They had entered one of the loneliest portions of Delhi, where
for some minutes they saw no one. Marian had slipped forward and
taken her place beside him. They were in a neighborhood with which
she was unfamiliar and therefore could give no further directions
to her companion. The pursuing party gained rapidly, and that
peculiar monotonous chant of frenzy "Allah-ullah," which,
once heard can never be forgotten, sounded closer every minute.
Some sort of refuge must be found at once or it would he too late.
The surgeon had caught sight in the moonlight
of a piece of broken wall of sun-dried bricks. One leap carried
him to a projection near the top, and catching the hand of Marian,
he drew her up beside him. The jagged piece of wall served as
well as a stair and a moment later they were on the top of a flat-roofed,
unoccupied building, partly in ruins. They ran across the surface
to the other side, where they faced an open space which was the
compound. or garden of some wealthy native, whose house was in
plain sight a hundred yards away. It was not the place that Avery
would have selected, but there was no time for choice. He hurried
to the edge of the roof and dropped to the ground. The descent
was about a dozen feet and he was considerably shaken, but he
took small notice of that, and steadying himself, looked up at
Marian, who was peering hesitatingly down.
"Jump," he whispered; "I'll
catch you."
She gathered her skirts about her feet daintily
and dropped as lightly as a bird. He caught her easily, adding:
The only thing for us to do is to hide under
these trees."
There was some comfort in the knowledge
that a wall ten feet high was between them and their enemies,
though there was no saying how long it would remain a protection.
They hastened a little way and stopped under the shadow of a group
of trees in the corner of the compound.
The street along which they were hurrying
when recognized by the mob, ran north and south. Turning to the
right, the couple sped a short distance in an easterly direction
along the wall up which they clambered. Sheltering trees stood
in the southeastern corner and gave them a view of
the garden and home of the man upon whose property they were trespassers.
The house stood in the middle of the compound,
which was surrounded on all sides by the usual ten-foot high wall
of sun-dried bricks. The sloping roof was thatched and there was
a long veranda in front. The inclosing boundary had but one entrance,
from the main avenue, which ran north and south, from which the
fugitives turned off before seeking refuge in the garden. They
were therefore close to the street where the mob was hurrying
in pursuit, though the high wall intervened protectingly between
them and the fugitives.
Dr. Avery's hope was that the horde would
continue along the street without suspecting where the two had
concealment, but he feared the sight of the broken wall would
cause suspicion. Their clamorous voices were startlingly clear,
and some of their expressions were translated by the trembling
young woman.
"Where did the sahib loge go?"
asked one.
"They passed along this street,"
replied another.
"They could not," said a third,
" for we were swifter than they and we should have seen them."
"Where can they be?"
"They have fled into one of the bungalows;
they may be near us."
"Let us search this garden, but we
may not do so without permission of the nawab."
The last remark convinced the fugitives
that they were standing in the grounds of some native of note,
else the mob would have felt no hesitation in invading them. Directly
after this, two of the leaders came to the entrance of the garden
and were met by the porter, who had noticed the turmoil outside.
When the callers demanded entrance, the porter, remembering his
duty to his master, positively refused to allow any of them to
enter the grounds. He insisted that no one had sought shelter
there and did not hesitate to declare the request of the two a
pretext for plunder. The leaders angrily replied that it was impossible
to keep out the crowd, therefore, it would be wise to give the
permission desired before the throng became uncontrollable.
During this time the nawab was quietly smoking
his hookah on the veranda. All such matters were left to his porter,
but hearing everything that was said, he saw it was necessary
to give personal attention to this request. Rising from his lounging
chair, he strolled forward and asked an explanation of the dispute.
The leaders replied bluntly and to the point. The nawab was shrewd
enough to see that the easiest way out of the tangle was to compromise.
"I cannot have the crowd trampling
through my grounds," said he, after taking the hookah from
his mouth, "but I hate the Inglese and will gladly help kill
all the Christians. Select more of your men to join you and make
full search of the grounds, taking good care to injure nothing.
I shall allow no one else to come in. You five will be sufficient
to find the Inglese if they are here."
"We cannot fail," replied one,
who, like his companion, was flattered by the graciousness of
the nawab. The mob outside were also pleased, many of them believing
the fugitives had gone elsewhere, passed on down the street; those
who remained, separated and surrounded, as far as
possible, the inclosing wall The moment the Inglese should be
driven from the premises, these wretches meant to be on hand,
with all that is implied in the expression.
Dr. Avery and Marian overheard all that
was said and she translated the conversation. They believed the
decision sealed their fate, for it was utterly impossible for
five blood thirsty fanatics to make such minute search of the
grounds as they were sure to do, without finding their victims.
In truth, it was hard to see how they could fail to discover them
in the first few minutes of their hunt.
Our friends were standing under a large
mango, whose dense shadow screened them from sight for a distance
of a rod or two, but would be useless when their enemies should
come within a few paces.
"I will wait right here," he said
in a low voice, "and fight until I can fight no longer. The
last bullet from my revolver shall be driven through your brain."
"Save the last for yourself,"
whispered Marian, "and give me the last but one."
"No, I shall die fighting; I wish to
carry as many of them with me as I can and I hope to make every
bullet count."
This may seem a startling pledge, but many
a time during the Sepoy Mutiny such an agreement was carried out
in spirit and letter. More than one brave officer, when he saw
the panting demons swarming over the vainly defended entrenchments,
shot wife and daughter, and then turned the pistol upon himself.
It was in mercy to his loved ones that he did so.
The spokesman of the mob, following the
decision of the nawab, singled out his assistants by name, and
straightway the search began.
A few moments later, the couple standing
in the shadow of the mango tree, saw the dark form separate and
gradually draw near them. One tall, sinewy native, carrying a
scimiter in his hand, came straight toward them, as if impelled
by fate itself, walking slowly, with his serpent-like eye
darting keen glances in every direction. Nearer and nearer he
approached until within three paces he stopped.
He had discovered the fugitives.
As he stood clearly revealed in the moongleam,
Marian recognized him as Ah Khan, their servant, who had left
the house two days before to look after his sick wife.
"Ali," whispered Marian, "it
is Miss Sahib, daughter of the Missionary. Won't you save me?"
Dr. Avery was sure the appeal was useless,
for the presence of the Mohammedan among the murderers showed
he was in sympathy with them, but as it often proves, a woman's
intuition is wiser than a man's reason. The native recognized
the speaker and raised his hand.
"Choop," (be silent) he softly
said, as he turned and moved in another direction.
This action brought him face to face with
two other searchers who were groping under the neighboring trees,
and Marian overheard the words that passed.
"Have you found them?" asked Ali
Khan.
'They are not near the house; they must
be in another part of the garden."
"I have looked under every tree, but
they are not there, lied Ali Khan.
"It is strange; let us hunt again."
"I will help you," said Ali Khan,
in an indifferent voice, "but it is useless. You, Buddao,
pass close to the house once more while Ramachundra and I look
to the rear."
The suggestion was followed. One of the
men was sent to join his comrades in another part of the grounds,
quite remote from the fugitives, while the friendly servant became
one of the two directed to prowl through the very spot in the
garden where our friends were hiding. Ali Khan having shown a
wish to befriend the two, faced a delicate and most difficult
duty, in preventing his companion from detecting the deception.
He had a double motive for such a course, for if Ramachundra should
find the Europeans, it would be such convincing proof of his disloyalty,
that his death would be certain to follow as a penalty...
Stopping a dozen paces away, he turned his
back toward the tree which sheltered the fugitives and watched
Ramachundra, who was beating among the shrubbery and gradually
drawing near the two. Unless he were diverted he would come upon
them the next few minutes.
"We are losing time," said Ali,
"I now believe what many of our people said."
"What was that?" asked Ramachundra,
looking up in surprise.
"That they ran down the street to the
left. They will be found while we are idling our time here."
"Likely they spoke the truth,"
said Ramachundra, who however, showed no inclination to give up
the hunt. "But this is so inviting a refuge that the Inglese
would be sure to use it if they gained the chance."
"But how could they gain the chance?
They could come in only by the entrance where the porter would
have seen them."
Ramachundra looked at the ruins of the low,
flat-roofed building in the corner of the compound. We had not
noticed the broken wall over which the fugitives passed, but he
seemed to suspect they had some way of entering the premises at
that point. Poking his stick among the bushes, he resumed his
search, gradually approaching Dr. Avery, who stood grimly watching
him9 revolver in hand. Ali Khan had edged over toward the mango,
so as to stand between his comrade and the Europeans.
Suddenly Ramachundra stopped thrusting with
his stick, straightened up and started toward Ali. The latter
had his eye on him and at once advanced in order to check him
before he could make the fatal discovery.
"Have you searched behind you?"
asked Ramachundra, peering around and over the shoulder of Ali.
"I have done so twice," was the
reply, -- an admission that would seal his doom if the Europeans
were discovered.
"Then 'tis useless to look further.'
At that moment the two stood so close to
our friends that Dr. Avery feared he would betray himself by the
tumultuous throbbing of his heart. He still stood erect, with
his back against the trunk of the mango, his pistol in his right
hand, the muzzle pointed downward. Marian was partly behind him
with her tiny weapon ready for use and the resolve to save one
bullet for herself in case the nerve of Baird failed. Neither
dared whisper nor move in these moments of awful suspense.
The clamorous mob outside were fast losing
their patience. Most of them moved off, while others waited for
the verdict of their committee of five. It was at this juncture,
when it looked as if the cunning of Ah Khan must prevail, that
an infernal perversity seized his companion. Though Ramachundra
had just said it was useless to search further, he continued to
do so. He used his stick with much vigor, until he suddenly met
with a success for which he was not looking.
From under one of the bushes was heard a
vicious hiss, followed by the lightning-like dart of the head
of a cobra, whose fangs missed their mark by a hair's breadth.
The girded native leaped back and then by a quick stroke of his
stick decapitated the serpent as deftly as Ali could have done
it with his scimiter. The native seemed to think it idle to hunt
longer where his companion had failed, and the two sauntered toward
the house, side by side.
All at once Avery saw two strange figures
walking directly toward him.
"It's all up now" thought Avery,
knowing they were the ringleaders of the mob. "Ali does not
see them; he thinks he has turned aside all danger, but he has
failed --"
"The Inglese Loge! The Inglese loge!
We have seen them!
This was the fearful exclamation that suddenly
rang out on the air and crushed the last spark of hope in the
hearts of Avery and Marian Warringford.
The appalling cry smote their ears, while
the two fugitives stood under the spreading mango, and neither
was able to move or speak; life seemed to stand still; but Dr.
Avery had underestimated the subtlety of Ah Khan. Ali had seen
the approaching forms and shouted the words to save them. He understood
the new peril as instantly as the young man and woman, and like
a flash seized the single desperate chance of averting it. His
cry was near the house and immediately brought the others, including
the porter, around him, the two who had approached the fugitives
instantly turning and running thither at full speed.
"I saw them! I saw them!" cried
the excited Ali, hurrying toward the entrance and glancing back
over his shoulder, as if to invite the others to do the same;
"the porter left his place to help the search; while he was
gone I saw the Inglese loge dash out of the entrance;; they cannot
be far away; let us hasten and we shall catch them."
The impetuosity of a single person sometimes
carries everything before it. A number of the mob were still lounging
in the street outside, and though none of them had seen the fugitives,
they joined in the pursuit of the imaginary individuals. In fact,
the rush from the nawab's premises was so headlong that that worthy
was exasperated. Several of the natives as they converged toward
the entrance crashed through his choicest pineapples, brinjalls,
nollcolls, jasmines and roses with an enthusiasm that played fearful
havoc with them.
"Toom burra budmash ho! Juldi Jao!"
roared the owner, running after them, purple with rage and wildly
swinging his arms.
That two of the scamps were impelled by
pure "cussedness" was proven by their act in colliding
so violently with the nawab that he was knocked breathless to
the ground. By the time the porter had helped him to his feet,
the marauders were out of sight.
"Thank heaven," exclaimed Dr.
Avery, "they are gone and we have escaped by the narrowest
chance that ever saved a mortal from death."
At that moment the head of Marian drooped
and he caught her as she was sinking to the ground. The reaction
from the intolerable tension made her faint. He laid her gently
down and rested her head against the 'trunk of the while he picked
up the pistol that had fallen from hand and thrust it into his
pocket.
The nawab, who had been so ill used, having
recovered from the shock and overthrow had started through the
garden to learn the extent of damages done by the ruthless visitors.
He had not gone far when he checked himself with a "wah wah,"
expressive of his amazement at the sight of the two fugitives
under one of his own mango trees.
Here was, indeed, a new and unexpected difficulty.
Dr. Avery had been so engaged in looking
after Marian that he did not observe the native's approach until
he heard the exclamation. He sprang toward the nawab and thrust
the muzzle of his revolver in his face.
"One word, and you're a dead man.
The Mohammedan may not have caught every
shade of meaning of these words, but the accompanying gestures
made them clear enough for practical purposes. Like all his people
he was a craven when cornered, and began abjectly begging for
mercy. His actions were so
pitiful that Dr. Avery understood the prayer
was that no violence should be done him.
The faintness of Marian was not serious. She quickly revived and
as her escort helped her to her feet, she asked:
"Who is he?"
"He is the owner of these grounds,
I suppose, and has done what the others failed to,-he has found
us."
"But he has no thought of harming us;
he is begging for his life."
"So I thought, but I see no reason
why it should he granted!"
"O, Baird do not be so cruel! Wait
till I speak to him."
Thereupon she addressed the native in Hindustani,
a language in which she had become thoroughly proficient.
"We are fleeing from an angry crowd.
We wish you no wrong, we seek only our safety."
"What fools!" exclaimed the nawab,
"they should be hanged." "They have ruined my property
and now they demand the lives of the English. I am their enemy
and your friend.
"Gladly, my house and all I have is
at your command.
Stay until their madness spends itself,
they will be quickly punished."
Several reasons impelled the young woman
to this course, from which in other circumstances she would have
shrunk. She was so broken by the terrifying experiences of the
last hour and so impressed by the unexpected loyalty of Ali Khan,
that she believed the words of the nawab.
Hastily translating his declarations, she
said to Dr. Baird:
"We have friends as well as enemies.
We found one a few minutes ago and here is another."
"I cannot believe it. I would trust
him just as far as I would trust the devil, but you are weak and
perhaps it would be well to take advantage for a few minutes of
his offer."
Marian turned to the nawab and told him
they accepted his hospitality with deep gratitude. He seemed delighted
and led the way to the veranda, where he insisted they should
seat themselves on the settees and chairs of native manufacture.
The porter approached and made a respectful salaam, though he
must have been astonished to see the two Inglese before him. Like
his master he would have been eager to betray them to their enemies,
had he suspected their presence in the garden.
Addressing Marian, the nawab said:
"Ap ko kuchh Khana Chahaire (Do you
desire any food)?
She declined, saying they wished only rest
and shelter.
"Stay under my roof, Miss Sahib, so
long as my poor hospitality can be endured," urged the nawab
with the effusiveness characteristic of the race.
Having recovered from his excessive fear,
he lighted his hookah offering none, however, to his infidel guest;
he smoked a few minutes in silence and then speaking to Marian
asked her to tell him how it came that she and her escort were
in so great danger from the wicked mob. When she finished, their
host in his soft pleasant voice said he was deeply pained to learn
the sad truth. He saw that much suffering and sorrow must come,
but he knew that in the end the Inglese would subdue the rebels
who would be made to suffer for their evil deeds.
"Nor will the English fail to reward
their friends," was the diplomatic remark of the young woman,
"our government is as quick to recognize an ally as to punish
a foe."
"That I have always known, therefore,
come what may, I shall be true to, the English."
The nawab having delivered himself of this
fine sentiment, summoned one' of the two servants who were standing
at the corner of the veranda, where, until then, they had shown
no more life than a couple of stone images. As the man stepped
forward, his master said a few words in
so low a voice that the listening Marian could not catch a syllable.
She attached no importance to the fact, however, and the servant
entered the house as stealthily as a serpent.
Marian translated for Dr. Avery what had,
passed between her and the nawab, to whom she again turned inviting
him to continue the conversation.
"Where is the home of Miss Sahib, who
honors me with her presence?" he asked after indulging in
several puffs of his hookah1 which had been neglected for a short
time.
She gave him the address and he nodded.
"I know a good man- I know Mr. Jennings
also. Your father is a missionary. I am not of your faith, but
I am none the less your friend. A true follower of the prophet
is the enemy of no man."
These sentiments were so unusual and seemed
so inappropriate, that the young woman was puzzled. She could
not help doubting the sincerity of a Mussulman who spoke thus.
Since Dr. Avery found his ears of no account
while this conversation was going on, he made the best possible
use of his eyes. From where he sat, he heard the ceaseless tramping
of a multitude of feet in the street beyond the wall and speculated
as to what would follow if some of the people should again enter
the grounds. With all his senses alert, he peeped through the
tattie that had been pulled aside, and saw vaguely the form of
a man stooping and moving noiselessly as if trying to reach the
street without being observed.
Instantly the truth flashed upon the surgeon.
Without any evidence of emotion, he spoke to his companion:
"Marian, if we do not leave at once,
we are lost. That infernal scoundrel with whom you are talking
has just sent one of his servants to tell the mob we are here.
Make the best excuse you can, but let us go." He rose to
his feet and his companion instantly comprehending the situation
did the same. Thanking their host for his kindness she gave him
as a reason for the abrupt departure, the anxiety of her parents
over her long absence.
"Will not the sahib honor our home
with his presence?" asked the nawab trying hard to hide his
chagrin.
She promised to repeat the invitation to
her father, and the two, bowing a respectful farewell to their
host, hurried into the street and away from the dangerous spot.
The all prevailing excitement was in their favor and under the
guidance of Marian they soon reached the street, overrun as usual
with crowds swarming through the Calcutta Gate and other openings,
while only a few passed out. To the delight of the couple they
had hardly come to their destination, when Luchman softly touched
the arm of the surgeon and said:
"Follow me."
He conducted them in the direction of the
cantonments, where General Grave's soldiers were posted, from
which Avery believed he had decided to trust to their protection.
They had not gone far when they came upon the missionary; and
his wife, who were in agony of fear over the prolonged absence
of their daughter. Their joy was that of those whose beloved was
dead and is alive again.
"We shall take refuge in the Flagstaff
Tower," said Luchman, "the Ghoojurs are swarming into
the city."
These people are numerous in the villages
around Delhi and belong to the nomadic tribes which originally
occupied India. They profess agriculture, but are brigands and
murderers.
On the forenoon of Monday, May 11th, 1867,
the horde of mutineers fresh from the massacres of the evening
before at Meerut, were discerned by the crowds that were gathered
on the walls and out-works of Delhi.
The great city at that time was garrisoned
wholly by native troops, consisting of the Thirty-eighth, Fifty-fourth
and Seventy-fourth Regiments of infantry and a battery of artillery.
The arsenal within the city contained nearly a million cartridges,
ten million muskets, two complete siege trains, and a large number
of field guns. The powder magazine removed a short time before,
was filled with ten thousand barrels of powder.
The mutineers crossed the suspension bridge
over the Hindoo torrent a dozen miles out and rushed turbulently
toward Delhi, confident of a warm welcome from the Sepoys stationed
there. When the rebels were observed in the distance, the three
native regiments were paraded in service order, the guns loaded
and Brigadier-General Graves, having shown no more conception
of the situation than a child, proceeded to make the Sepoys a
speech, appealing to them to remain true to their colors and to
do all they could to repel the mutineers, whose exultant yells
were heard while he was speaking.
This speech was received with cheers, and
the Fifty-fourth especially were furious in their denunciation
of the rebels and demanded the privilege of being led against
them. General Graves and poor Colonel Ripley, commandant of the
Regiment, were touched almost to tears by the devotion of the
Fifty-fourth. The Colonel immediately placed himself at the head
of the regiment and leaving Major Patterson, the second in command,
to follow with two guns, started in the direction of the Cashmere
Gate, where it was reported the mutineers were gathering.
The Fifty-fourth moved with the swinging,
even step of veterans, and Colonel Ripley's eyes kindled when
he looked upon the fine figures, who he was confident would stand
like rocks against all machinations and in the face of every danger.
As the Mutineers from Meerut swept into view, they were seen to
be a tumultuous horde at whose head rode two hundred and fifty
troopers of the Third Cavalry, the most fiendish of the Meerut
wretches. On the breasts of many of them were medals won in fighting
the battles of England. Their horses were on a gallop and they
waved their swords on high and shouted greeting to the native
regiments, drawn up with loaded muskets, awaiting the order to
fire upon them.
A little way to the rear were to be seen
twelve hundred infantry all in uniform, though covered with dust,
the whole savage swarm breaking into the double quick in their
eagerness to reach the gilded minarets of Delhi. Their muskets
flashed in the bright sunlight and the crowds who were
watching their approach knew only too well what it all signified.
Upon this frightful host the Fifty-fourth Regiment, under the
leadership of Colonel Ripley, steadily moved until only a brief
distance separated the two forces. Suddenly, without orders, the
regiment halted. A score or
more of the mutineers had run in among the ranks of the Fifty-fourth
and were calling upon the soldiers in the name of the faith to
join them. Within less than five minutes the Fifty-fourth mutinied
in a body and withdrew from their officers, who were then left
standing in the middle of the road. Immediately a squad of cavalry
galloped forward and attacked them. Colonel Ripley shot two dead
and then was cut down. None of the other leaders were provided
with weapons other than side arms, and all were killed without
power of resistance. The treacherous Fifty-fourth made a pretense
of protecting their officers, but fired over the heads of the
cavalry, who, having finished their work, sprang from their horses
and joined the rebels.
The mutineers by this time were joined by
many stragglers from the two outer regiments in cantonment, and
the shrieking horde made a rush for Cashmere Gate, through which
they poured into the city, cutting down all the Europeans in sight.
Meanwhile another portion of the Meerut
rebels had crossed the Jumna River and taken possession of the
causeway on the Delhi side of the river, near the Calcutta Gate,
which was closed against them. Simon Frazer, Commissioner at the
Court at Delhi, learning of their arrival, hurried to the palace,
but was shot down while the Sepoys on guard threw open the gate
and admitted the mutineers. They were reinforced by the Ghoojurs,
who were now rushing into the city from every direction, and pandemonium
was on every hand.
On that horrible May day, while the Sepoys
were pouring like mountain torrents into Delhi, another party
ran into the river gate at the emperor's palace, where they opened
communication with the adherents of the potentate. After a brief
parley, he gave orders to admit the troopers. Hurrying into the
audience chamber, they declared that the whole of Hindostan had
risen in rebellion and cast off the English yoke; that Calcutta
and other leading cities were already in the possession of the
native troops, and that it only remained for his Imperial Majesty
to unfurl the sacred banner of the Prophet, when the millions
of India would rally beneath it, and the Mogul Empire, in all
its ancient glory should be re-established, to last as long as
the sun and stars.
The Emperor of Delhi at that time was four-score
years old, wan and thin to emaciation, with a snow-white beard,
scant hair, lack-luster eyes and a frame enfeebled by a lifetime
of indolence and indulgence. One would have thought that within
such a withered bosom the fires of ambition
would long since have died out, and that all he could have craved
was peace, rest and a quiet, gentle passing away. But the blood
tingled in his languid frame, his sluggish heart quickened its
faint flutterings, and the flame kindled anew in the dim eye,
as he saw the dazzling picture held aloft before him.
The Mogul Empire restored:
Back through the shadowy centuries to the
Moslem Invasion nearly a thousand years before, to that year 1205,
Coctub, the Afghan conqueror, made Delhi the capital; to 1525,
when Baber slew the last Afghan monarch and founded the line of
Mogul princes; to the consolidation of the Empire and its culmination
under the Aurungzebe; then down the slow, steady, dry rot, until
the English came a century before and established themselves as
masters of the once mighty monarchy.
Thoughts of those stupendous epochs and
the dream of bringing back the splendor, the barbaric pomp, the
magnificence and glory of the Mogul Empire must have stirred the
thin blood of the wan old puppet until, rapt by the bewildering
vision, he consented.
A throne of silver that had been laid away
since the year 1843 was brought into the "Hall of special
audience, and Mohammed Suraj-co-deen Shah Cezee took his seat
upon it as the Great Mogul of India. Two troops of artillery from
Meerut entered the city by the Calcutta Gate and fired a royal
salute of twenty-one guns in front of the palace. Instantly the
multitude became frantic with exultation, for they felt that now
they had a head, a rallying point for the faithful, and the days
of English rule were over.
The ceremony within the palace being ended,
the royal procession was formed. Amid the booming of the artillery,
the blare and clangor of martial music and excited shouts of the
fanatics, the gates of the palace were thrown open and Prince
Mirza Mogul, one of the sons appointed to the command of the royal
army, rode forth, followed by his brother, Prince Aboo Baker,
at the head of the royal body guard. Thus guarded came the king
in an open chariot, his great age and feebleness preventing his
riding on horseback or upon an elephant.
He was slowly driven through the principal
street, the throngs becoming more frenzied, until the Juma Musjoed
was reached. This is the largest mosque in India and surpassed
only by Mecca and St. Sophia. There took place the strange, impressive
ceremony which consisted of the unfurling of the banner of the
Prophet and the proclamation of the Mogul Empire. The commands
of his Majesty were promulgated to the effect that the shop-keepers
and inhabitants should resume their vocations, after which the
Emperor returned to his palace.
Thus amid fire, pillage and blood the Mogul
Empire was proclaimed.
* * * * * * * * * * *
But far away on the other side of the world
was a tight little island which proposed to take a hand in this
proclamation business, and she straightway proceeded to do so
with a vengeance.
The proclamation of the Mogul Empire was
marked by other scenes, for scarcely was the barbaric ceremony
completed, when the fanatics rushed through the streets and the
plundering and massacre began.
While the missionary, Mr. Warringford and
his friends had kept close watch within their house throughout
the entire day, they were aware of the wild excitement in other
parts of the city, but had no suspicion of the ascendancy of the
Empire. Luchman knew of it, but kept the tidings to him-self through
the wish to avoid causing his friends greater alarm.
In hourly expectation of an assault by the
mob Luchman's anxiety was none the less poignant because he repressed
all outward signs of it. Why the home of the missionary was not
attacked can hardly be explained. The native as well as the good
man himself attributed it to fervent prayer, but there were many
others who prayed just as fervently and they were cut down like
lambs at the slaughter.
It was not until the fugitives reached the
Cashmere Gate on Monday evening that they learned of the proclamation
of the Mogul Empire and the horrifying massacre that had been
going on since mid-day.
The first European killed in Delhi was a
Mr. Todd. He was shot, while standing on a bridge of boats over
the Jumna, by the early mutineers that arrived from Meerut. The
second victim was Captain Douglas. Commandant of the guard of
the titular king. The next persons slain were the Reverend Mr.
Jennings, the English Chaplain of the residency and his daughter,
a young woman of nineteen. They and several others applied to
the Emperor for protection and he answered by giving them to the
soldiers.
Meanwhile the Ghoojurs, the hyenas of East
Indian society, were pouring into the city. Nearly every house
in which a European was known to live was gutted: the purpose
of the soldiers was massacre--that of the rabble, plunder. The
budmashes and rioters broke into the dwellings of the wealthy
natives and the public stables. Scores of shopkeepers in the bazaars
were killed for the crime of asking payment for their goods.
Suddenly one of the furious mobs set out
for the Delhi Bank in quest of the treasure deposited there. The
throats of Mr. Beresford, the manager, his wife and five children
were cut. The Government treasuries were then plundered, the church
burned and the rioters attacked the office of the Delhi Gazelle.
When the compositors saw them coming, they hastily disguised themselves
as natives and mingled with the crowd. They were recognized, however,
and hewn to pieces. The presses of the paper were thrown into
the river and the type melted into slugs.
A fearful fate overtook every European who
stayed at Delhi: men, women and children to the number of several
hundred fell victims to the unspeakable ferocity, which was comparable
only to that displayed by the Apaches of the Southwest, or a Paris
commune. Delhi was a fitting fore-runner of the Cawnpore and Lucknow
atrocities.
Sir Theophilus Metcalf, the Political Agent,
and Lieutenant Willoughby gave their attention to the magazine,
which contained an enormous amount of ammunition and military
stores. The gates were closed and barricaded: two six-pounders,
double charged with grape, were pointed so as to command the gates
in case they should be carried; while other guns, all double charged,
covered the different portions of the magazine. A train was then
laid connecting with the interior: arms were distributed to the
native servants of the establishment, and the garrison, consisting
of nine Europeans, calmly awaited the attack that was speedily
to come.
Ere long the palace guard rushed up and
demanded the surrender of the magazine in the name of the Emperor.
No answer was given and ladders were brought from the palace for
the purpose of capturing the arsenal by escalade. The mutineers
swarmed upon the walls like bees and the garrison tumbled them
off as fast as they could load and fire.
During the confusion, the native servants
of the magazine and ordnance departments scrambled to the sheds
and buildings against the outer wall and scurried down the ladders
to join their screeching countrymen.
Charge after charge of grape was poured
into the miscreants, and the rifles of the intrepid garrison cracked
with out intermission but the Sepoys numbered thousands and no
decrease of the horde was noticeable. They too kept up unremitting
fusillade, dancing and darting hither and thither, so inflamed
with fury that they could not remain still. Many, in impotent
fiendishness, knowing they could accomplish nothing thereby, fired
their guns at the solid walls. By and by two of the garrison were
wounded and only seven were left to fight the raging host.
From one of the bastions the eye could trace
a long stretch of road leading in the direction of Meerut. At
this point Lieutenant Willoughby stationed himself, while Conductor
Scully stood with lighted portfire, continually glancing at his
commander, who had agreed, when all hope was gone, to give the
signal, by lifting his hat, for firing the magazine.
Shading his eyes with one hand, the Lieutenant
gazed long and yearningly toward Meerut. Across the flaming plain
his keen vision was searching for that which it failed to see.
Suddenly he detected a cloud of dust in
the distance. Could it be made by the hoofs of the cavalry galloping
in mad haste to the rescue of the garrison, able to hold out only
a few minutes longer? Ah, no, the dust caused by a miniature whirlwind
was wafted quickly aside and there was nothing beneath.
Conductor Scully grew impatient. He knew
that when the magazine was fired, it would hurl hundreds of the
Sepoys and himself and comrades into eternity. The foes were swarming
so fast that the opportunity was too glorious to let slip.
"Isn't it time?" he called to
the Lieutenant, who looked around with a grim smile and shook
his head. He knew from the hideous tumult that the Sepoys would
be inside the defenses within ten minutes. Even if the cavalry
should appear, the garrison could not be reached in time to save
them.
Like one saluting his sweetheart on the
street, Willoughby lifted his hat from his head, as if to allow
a passing breeze to cool his hot brow. It was the fatal signal!
"Good!" muttered Conductor Scully,
who stooped over and touched flame to the powder. The serpent
of fire hissed straight into the core of the magazine and immediately
it seemed as if a volcano had burst through the crust of the earth.
The ground rocked and an immense volume of fire and vapor, like
that belched from Vesuvius, rolled upward and settled in a pall
over the city.
A din of shrieks, execrations and cries of agony followed the
awful explosion. When the great magazine went up in flame and
smoke, it killed more than five hundred Sepoys. Lieutenant Willoughby
and others, scorched, wounded and buried in the ruins, smiled
when they understood the magnificent success of their fireworks.
He and two others actually succeeded in crawling from the debris
at night and stole through the sally port on the river face. Willoughby
was afterward killed in a village near Delhi. The others, Forest
and Buckley, lived for years to tell of their marvelous escape,
but Scully, who fired the train, was blown to fragments with the
multitudes of Sepoys in the appalling outburst.
When the cyclone struck Delhi, General Graves
did what he could for the safety of the European within the city
and vicinity. It was decided that the women and persons in civil
employment, should go to the Flagstaff Tower. This was a strong
building, circular in shape, standing on an elevation near the
cantonment and only a short distance from the Cashmere and Moree
Gates. General Graves was at the station, the eminence giving
him a good view of the movements of the mutineers in the city.
With him were detachments of the Thirty-eighth and Seventy-fourth
Regiments. It will be remembered that of the three regiments stationed
at Delhi, every member of one--the Fifty-fourth-which went out
to fight the mutineers, had joined the latter and was now helping
to plunder the city. Hundreds of the other two regiments were
also there, and the rest were eager to make common cause with
them.
When the thunder and earthquake shock of
the exploding magazine shocked the ground, and the horrible cloud
rose above the houses, the Sepoys at the Flagstaff Tower became
unrestrainable. Catching up their weapons with shouts of "Deen!
Deen!" (The Faith, the Faith), they seized two guns and pointed
them at the tower. Fortunately they yielded to persuasion and
gave up the pieces, but by that time it was clear that there was
not a spot in Delhi safe for a European.
The sagacious Luchman was quick to see that
he had made a grave mistake. He had believed the Sepoys at the
Flagstaff, where they were under the immediate eyes of the General,
would for a time at least stand loyal, but the whirlwind of revolt
was sweeping everything before it.
There was an anxious consultation among
the fugitives. Luchman had little to say and no one could read
his thoughts. The evening was well along, when General Graves
approached the group.
"It's all up," he said with a
deep sigh, shaking his head. Luchman continued to gaze intently
toward Delhi: he glanced at the Officer, but did not speak. Evidently
he felt little respect for one who had shown so little efficiency,
and did not deign to notice his remarks.
"What do you mean, General, by it's
being all up?" asked Dr. Avery, restraining his impulse to
reproach the Officer for his blindness to the peril until it was
too late.
"I doubt whether there is a living
European in Delhi at this moment. The Sepoys around us are on
the verge of revolt and even if they remain loyal, they cannot
with-stand the force that will soon attack them. The jails have
been opened and the prisoners turned loose. The Mussulmen are
hunting down their victims everywhere, that is," he added
sadly, "if any remain to be hunted down. It becomes my painful
duty to say that I have no longer any power to help you. Each
one must look out for himself."
These were fearful words coming from the
head of the soldiery, but the listeners were already convinced
of their truth.
"Sahib, let us go," said Luchman
abruptly.
Mr. Warringford felt the wisdom of the council
and acted upon it at once. Calling his wife to him he said:
"Follow closely behind me; we must
make a start. Marion will accompany the doctor. Luchman, we are
ready. Again, under Heaven, everything depends upon you; lead
the way."
Where there was so wild a panic, means of
conveyance such as horses and carriages were unobtainable. Many
of the native servants had stolen those belonging to their masters
and there were none to be had.
"Whither shall we go?" asked Dr.
Avery, when they were out of the Tower and on the highway.
"To Kurnal," was the curt reply.
"Where is that?" asked the young
man.
"It is a small town to the north, some
sixty or seventy miles away."
"Calcutta is the nearest large city
where there will be no danger and is nearly a thousand miles distant.
The country between is in revolt, and it is death to go to the
east or south. I chose the right course to the north which leads
us from the center of the mutiny."
"Do we pass near Meerut?"
"No, Sahib, we keep to the left and
have a chance of escaping if we reach Kurnal."
Dropping shots of musketry were heard all
around the party and it was unsafe to approach the bridge over
the Jumna river. Luchman, therefore, made a circuit which brought
him to the stream a quarter of a mile to the south and well out
of the path of the crowds of natives and fugitives. The river
was quite low, so that little difficulty would have been met in
fording the stream-the men carrying the women--but the guide was
fortunate enough to come upon a small boat, by means of which
all crossed dry shod.
Being now fairly outside the city and with
the Jumna flowing between it and our friends, they became more
hopeful. The road leading to Meerut and to Kurnal was crowded
with miserable refugees, and the distant report of guns and the
shouts of the Sepoys proved that plunder and massacre were going
on everywhere. Many of the Sepoys and marauding Ghoojurs were
active on the highway as well as in the city itself.
Luchman explained his plan: he meant to
bear to the left, taking less frequented roads and paths, traveling
mostly by night and hiding by day. He knew the country well-an
advantage, the importance of which was beyond estimate-and he
said if his instructions were followed, there was a chance of
success. Feeling the value of every hour, they pushed on while
the darkness lasted. In the flurry and gloom, there was little
to be feared, for it will be remembered they were disguised and
were not likely to be taken for foreigners. Without interruption,
they reached a point some three miles from the Jumna, where Luchman
made another turn to the left, effecting quite a detour, which
led them into a path used by pedestrians and horsemen, but without
traces of carts or carriages.
They met no one, and the guide's plan was
unquestionably prudent. Cultivated land appeared at intervals
and they passed through thick groves that were tempting as hiding
places, for they were ever in dread of meeting enemies. Impelled
by their misgivings, they pressed on until after day-light, when
the fast increasing heat forced them to stop. Quite tired, they
halted near a small stream, where the dense wood screened them
from the view of any passers-by. No one craved food, though their
strength had been taxed to the utmost. The men took turns in standing
guard and sleeping, so that when the sun was low in the sky, they
were in good form to resume their flight.
Luchman, as was his custom, kept a brief
distance inadvance, everyone silent and alert. His action resembled;
that of an American Indian on the trail and his companions watched
him closely for the orders, in gesture, he was liable to give
at any moment. Suddenly, they saw him step softly forward, crane
his neck and lift his hand as a signal for those behind him to
stand still. They obeyed on the instant, wondering what the trouble
could be. The next moment, he whirled about and dashed toward
them.
"The Ghoojurs! the Ghoojurs!"
he exclaimed in a guarded voice; "make ready for fight!"
Almost in the same breath he added:
"Back into the grove."
No order could have been obeyed more promptly.
All dashed to the rear, while Luchman coolly waited in the path
to confront their enemies.
They came in sight immediately, horrible
looking wretches, whom any man would shrink from meeting on a
lonely road. There were six, all well mounted on small, tough
ponies and armed with knives, pistols and guns. Their costume
was as varied as their arms. Two wore muslin coats, while the
others had only the waist cloth, their bodies being bare above
this covering. Their turbans were of different colors and patterns,
from the gorgeous pile of muslin, which decorated the head of
the leader, to a few yards of dirty cloth that wound around the
brow and crown of the poorest. Several had wooden shoes, with
the soles curved and pointed upward in the front, like those seen
in Holland. All had jet black hair and eyes, fierce mustaches
and scanty beards; some of the steeds they rode were with-out
saddles.
Luchman would have been relieved if they
had gone by without halt, for he well knew their villainous nature.
The surest way to rouse their suspicion would have been to show
alarm; he therefore raised his hand as a signal that he wished
to speak with them. They checked the brisk trot of their ponies
and drew up quite close to him.
Though strangers to each other a glance
at Luchman showed he was a native and the presumption followed
that he was a supporter of the revolt. The fugitives crouching
in the grove understood the conversation (with the exception of
Dr. Avery), which may be liberally translated.
"Ram, ram, bhai," (Good-day, Brother,
whence come you?), asked the leading Ghoojur.
"From Delhi."
'Why do you flee when there is so much loot
awaiting you?"
"I have all I want; I leave the rest
for my brothers."
"What have you done with your share?"
"Hidden it where no thief can find
it," was the daring answer of Luchman, who looked straight
into the face of the leading brigand.
"Is there plenty of loot left in the
city?" asked the latter, his eyes flickering like those of
a cobra.
"Enough to make thousands rich, but the people from the country
are flocking thither so fast that it will soon be gone.
It hardly need be said that this remark
of the guide's was intended to increase the eagerness of the Ghoojurs
to reach the city.
"Where are the Feringhees?"
"All are killed; the Mogul Empire is
restored; the Emperor has issued the proclamation giving everyone
good wages and not one Feringhee will be left in Hindustan"
Luchman knew how to draw a long bow.
"Much of the loot must be gone,"
continued the Ghoojur leader, who, it was evident, held some suspicion
of the sinewy native who stood so defiantly in the path before
him; "many of the Feringhees and wealthy sahibs are fleeing
from the city; they are crouching in the groves; they have money
and jewels with them; 'tis better that we should find them."
This was an alarming declaration and the
listeners who understood believed the brigands knew they were
hiding near. Luchman himself grew suspicious, but of this he gave
no sign.
"There are many," he said in his
ordinary tones, "but they are harder to find than those in
Delhi, and they fight better."
"There must be more treasure to take
from those on the road and in the groves."
"That may be so, but plenty is left
in the city awaiting those that do not loiter on the way. If you
wish to search the grove, do so.
The ruffians looked in one another's faces
and muttered something, then seemed to conclude that the best
thing to do was to hasten to Delhi. The leader gave Luchman a
parting salutation and the half-dozen horsemen resumed their journey
at a low walk.
The little party hiding in the luxuriant
foliage stealthily watched every movement of the miscreants and
breathed freely when they started forward again. They had gone
only a few paces, however, when the leader uttered an exclamation
and abruptly stopped his horse. Luchman turned his head and the
Ghoojur beckoned him to draw near.
"What is that," he asked, pointing
to the side of the path.
Luchman, to his dismay, saw a shred from
the dress of Marion Warringford, that had been torn off in her
hurried flight and was fluttering from a bush, as if the bright
signal was meant to tell everyone who passed whither she had gone.
The texture of the bit of cloth and the
peculiar circumstances revealed the nationality of the young woman
too plainly for Luchman to try to dissemble. He started at the
tell-tale strip as if he were a much astonished as the Ghoojurs
themselves. Then he scanned the ground.
"Yes," he said as if he had solved
the problem; "a party of Feringhees has passed this way;
there were a good many," and looking up into the face of
the leader, "do you wish to attack them?"
"That I will decide for myself," was the answer of the
ruffian, as he sprang from his pony and bent over to study the
ground. He was as shrewd as Luchman, and it took him only a few
minutes to learn that the fugitives were four in number and that
two of them were women.
"We will follow them."
The words of the Ghoojur leader were cut
short by the crack of Luchman's pistol and the wretch who had
faced about and was speaking to his men, threw up his arms and
sprawled to the ground, his skull bored through by the bullet
fired hardly ten feet away. The guide let fly the two remaining
chambers at the brigands who were beyond the fallen leader. Fortunately
Avery and Mr. Warringford were quick to realize the peril and
each discharged his rifle into the group.
The attack on the Ghoojurs was so sudden
that they wheeled their horses and throwing themselves forward
on their necks, made off on a dead run. None fell to the ground,
but several must have been hit hard. They were desperate men and
likely to return soon. Luchinan there-fore ran to his friends
with word that not a moment was to be lost.
He led the way and at the outer edge of
the grove came upon cultivated fields. No one being in sight,
they moved rapidly across the open space to the welcome shade
of another cluster of trees to the north. Fairly within this shelter,
Luchman told his friends to seat themselves on the ground and
rest, while he went back to learn what had become of the Choojurs.
He soon returned with word that he had seen no signs of them.
It might be that their repulse had been so severe that they would
not attempt to revenge themselves, unless they were joined by
others of their class.
The weather was suffocatingly hot. The air
in the grove was even more smothering than the throbbing shimmer
of the plains and the members of the little party suffered severely.
Furthermore, they had not eaten anything for a long time and despite
the mental worry and intense heat, they were in need of food.
Marion remarked their plight to Luchman, who said he believed
he could easily get something. He cautioned them to stay where
they were, to refrain from loud talking and to keep eyes and ears
open. Less than an hour elapsed when he came back from his foraging
expedition. He brought a lota or brass jar of water, some native
fruits and a half-dozen chupatties or flat cakes, used universally
through India and the greater part of the orient, as well as in
Central and South America. There was no meat, but this would have
been unpalatable during the fiery weather. The water, as was to
be expected, was lukewarm and not very clear, but it met their
wants and all were grateful for the success of their friend.
It was an impressive sight when this humble
meal was spread on the ground and the missionary asked the blessing
of Heaven upon the food, while a prayer for continued protection
was not forgotten. During the simple service, none was more devout
than the guide. His head was bowed and his lips moved with a prayer
of his own, which lasted a minute or two after the others had
finished.
While they were eating, Luchman told how
he came to be so fortunate in his quest for food. India being
a rich country, he was not forced to any extreme measure to get
what he sought, and found a native's hut at no great distance,
where he obtained what was needed. The lota was a part of the
man's property and his wife had just baked the cakes for the evening
meal. Since the seller was well paid for what he furnished, no
doubt he would be pleased to supply more. There was an abundance
for all, and after the feast, each prepared to pass the time as
comfortably as possible. The mother laid her head in her daughter's
lap, while Marion rested her own against the trunk of a tree and
both closed their eyes in slumber. They were weary and the rest
was welcome and refreshing. Mr. Warringford imitated them and,
like most persons of his age, it took but a few minutes for him
to glide into the realm of dreams.
Dr. Avery and Luchman remained awake. The
native seemed to have formed a strong liking for the Englishman,
mainly because both were Members of the Mystic Order, though that
fact alone did not constitute the only attraction between them.
The surgeon was out of cigars and as a matter of course never
so yearned for a smoke. In the circumstances he was glad to share
with Luchman the enjoyment of his hookah or water pipe, generally
made of cocoanut and so cheap that even the beggars were supplied
with them. A few minutes were enough to satisfy Avery, and with
thanks he passed the hookah to its owner, who puffed in a slow,
solemn fashion peculiar to his people when at leisure. For a long
time not a word was spoken and then Luchman said, in his abrupt,
low voice:
"Brother, I have an enemy who seeks
my life."
"We all have no end of those who are
panting for our lives," replied Avery, surprised by the words
of his companion.
"But none so thirst for the death of
you and your friends as does this man thirst for mine.
"Who is he?"
"Wana Affghar, of Panipat, Panipat,
brother, is a small town between us and Kurnal and I shall try
to pass to the left of it. There are many Ghoojurs there and Wana
Affghar is a chieftain among them. He knows that I have given
the lady whom you will make your wife one of the finest diamonds
in India and is determined to have it."
"But why does he hate you so deeply?"
"There are many of us who strove to
get the jewel and when Wana Affghar was near success, I was before
him."
Luchman did not enter into further detail
of what was doubtless a strange story and Doctor Avery did not
feel free to question him. The native continued:
"Wana Affghar asked to become a member
of the lodge in which I was made a Mason. You know, brother, that
one vote will keep out an applicant, and I saved the Order from
being shamed by his membership. While he could have no knowledge
of who blackballed him, he was sure it was I. He accused me of
it and though I had no right to admit the truth, I did so to his
face. Thus, he has two motives, that of revenge for the slight
put upon him, and his eagerness to get the diamond that I gave
to Miss Sahib. He will seek my life until one of us slays the
other."
"Does he know where you are now?"
"His men in Delhi have looked for me
and I kept out of their way. He suspects where I am, but,"
grimly added the guide, "he has not yet slain me."
Dr. Avery hoped that Luchman would tell
him more, but he did not. He continued silently smoking, with
no desire for sleep though the surgeon secured an hour's nap.
The excessive heat awakened all near midnight, when the moon was
shining brightly, and as several miles of open country had to
be passed before they could reach a stretch of jungle, where they
could find a secure hiding place, the guide suggested that they
move on while they had the opportunity, and it was done.
The jungles in India are not among the least
of its wonders. Being a tropical country, its vegetation is exuberant
beyond description. There are found the most gigantic trees, enormous
flowers, expansive leaves, delicious fruits, overpowering perfume,
spreading creepers, nutritious vegetables and herbs of inestimable
medicinal value. You have heard of the banyan trees, some of which,
with their down-growing limbs each forming a new trunk, measure
a fourth of a mile in circumference, one tree thus forming an
entire grove. There too is the peepul, delicately beautiful, forcing
itself through the mortar and cement of buildings, disintegrating
them and regarded as a sacred growth by the natives; the sisso,
fine-grained and handsomely veined; the sygwam or teak, the best
timber for building; the cocoa-nut, the bamboo, talipot and mango.
It would be useless to try to classify the fruits, the most common
of which are mangoes, pineapples, plantains, pomegranates, pumplenoses,
jacks, custard apples, guavas, lemons, melons, oranges, sour sops,
almonds, tamarinds, plums, figs, dates, citrons, yams, nolcolls
and many varieties of fruits unknown to the inhabitants of colder
climes.
With Luchman leading, as usual, our friends
made good progress and entered a jungle so matted that it could
be penetrated only where there were well-marked paths. The shadows
were dense and at times it seemed necessary literally to feel
one's way, but the native was never at fault, and the moon's rays,
piercing the branches in a few places, gave a little help. Thus,
the progress was kept up for more than an hour, when the guide
suddenly stopped with a soft "Sh!" Dr. Avery, next to
him, listened but heard nothing.
"What is it?" he asked in a whisper.
"Something is following us, sahib."
"Man or beast?"
"I cannot yet tell."
For a few moments, all stood motionless
and then moved forward again. Luchman was scrutinizing the path
ahead, his senses at the highest tension, when something flashed
in the moonlight as if a bright object had glided across the trail.
The native stopped and waited for it to reappear, too prudent
to venture into the ambush that threatened. He uttered his low
whistle as a warning for his friends to come no closer and all
five stood like so many statues.
The guide had waited barely a minute when
he discerned a body sliding directly toward him. Its belly was
close to the ground, its long tail swaying from side to side.
while its round, greenish eyes emitted the phosphorescent gleam
peculiar to the cat family. The rancous guttural growl was not
needed to tell Luchman that it was the most dreadful denizen of
the Asiatic jungles.
No doubt the tiger was an immense "man-eater," who,
having tasted human flesh, had come to prefer it to all other
food. Such beasts possess unrestrainable ferocity and daring and
may well be feared by the most experienced hunters. He had detected
the proximity of the fugitives and was stealing upon them. Had
he remained quietly in anibush, the party must have walked into
the trap. His over-eager-ness and possibly his confidence led
him to "uncover."
Luchman had no wish to encounter such a
cyclone of fury. He would have preferred a scrimmage with half
a dozen Ghoojurs or budmashes, for he might have called strategy
and personal bravery into play, but the tiger, whose strength
has been found by scientific test to be one-fifth greater than
the lion's and whose courage often sweeps everything before it,
is avoided by the wise sportsman, unless the advantage is strongly
on his side.
Luchman, the guide, when confronted by the
terrible man-eating tiger in the East Indian jungle, had only
his knife and pistol, which were altogether insufficient for the
encounter. He began slowly retreating, hoping the beast would
stop and wait for him to advance. At the moment he reached the
right point, the tiger would make a leap that would land him upon
the shoulders of the native and in a twinkling of an eye, tear
him to shreds.
With out turning his head, for a second's
inattention was likely to prove fatal, Luchman called to Mr. Warringford
to retreat because a tiger was approaching. Warringford warned
his friends who were some rods behind him to do the same and hurried
toward them, but he quickly checked himself, when he recalled
that he was the only one of the party who had a gun, which could
never be more sorely needed. But before he caught a glimpse of
the brute, the guide was upon him. Without turning his head, he
almost pushed the missionary off his feet.
"Back, back, sahib!" he commanded
in a tremor of excitement.
"But, Luchman, I cannot desert you.
The native snatched the rifle from the hand
of the good man and pushed him away more violently than before.
"Back, back, sahib, or we are both
lost!"
Mr. Warringford instantly hurried to his
friends, leaving his guide with the loaded gun in his hands. Only
a few seconds had passed. The animal stealing along the ground
saw that his victim was retreating. With a growl he rose on his
legs, trotted a few short steps and halted on the "dead line."
Then he crouched and gathering his mighty muscles in one prodigious
effort, rose from the ground and curved over toward the native.
The gloom of the jungle made the sight more
terrifying. For one moment the fearful creature seemed suspended
in midair and then he descended. The parabola was mathematically
exact and had Luchman stood sti11, he would have been caught inextricably,
but with catlike agility, he leaped backwards fully ten feet,
firing the instant the tiger was at the highest point of the arch.
Such a terrible beast, however, is rarely killed by a single shot
and though struck he was not even disabled.
"Back! back! farther back!" shouted
the guide to those behind him, as he drew his long knife and braced
himself for the desperate struggle. No man has ever met a raging
tiger and fought him with a singe knife and lived to tell it.
Lucliman knew this, but for the sake of those whom he loved was
ready to sacrifice himself. The ferocity of the brute was intensified
by his failure to seize his prey at the first leap. His growl
was more vicious, aggravated by his wound, and drawing his feet
under him with incredible quickness, he repeated the bound, when
the native was no more than three yards from him.
Luchman was not reckless enough to stand
still, but he too made a bound to one side as well as backwards.
He knew his foe could not be baffled again. But as the beast struck
the ground, another gun cracked directly over the shoulder of
Luchman, the smoke from the muzzle dimming his vision. He thought
it was a pistol discharged by Dr. Avery, but it could not have
been that, for the bullet killed the tiger, which essayed another
leap that proved only a convulsion of his entire body. He threw
himself to one side and then rolled among the undergrowth of the
jungle, where he clawed the vegetation during his brief, furious
death struggle.
Luchman was quick to see that the danger
was past and looked around to learn who had befriended him in
his sore extremity. A stranger stood at his elbow, a large, brawny
man dressed like an English sportsman. He had a full beard, yellow
of color like his hair, and wore a short cutaway coat, helmet
hat and high cavalry boots and evidently possessed great coolness,
presence of mind, and marked strength and activity. As he stood
with lowered rifle, his whole appearance was prepossessing. Had
he looked only one-tenth as pleasing, he would have been beautiful
in the eyes of those whom he had befriended.
"By Jove!" he exclaimed; "I
seem to have dropped down at the right time. I hope," he
added, turning to Luchman, "that the brute didn't harm you.
"No, sahib," was the reply of
the guide, who surveyed him with keen curiosity; "I give
you my thanks for killing him before he killed me. May I take
your hand?"
"I don't know that I have any objection,"
said. the stranger, as with a laugh he complied. "You don't
say so, Good Brother!"
The exclamation was caused by the Englishman
unexpectedly receiving the grip of a Freemason, to which he instantly
responded. "I hardly expected that, but our Brothers are
in all parts of the world. I bumped against one among the Chippewa
Indians in America two years ago, and tumbled over another yellow-hued
Brother smoking in the shadow of the Great Wall, but I beg pardon,
I observe ladies are present."
Standing where the moonlight fell upon his
athletic figure, the jovial sportsman doffed his hat and bowed,
adding:
"My name is George Harkins, lately
from London; I left Calcutta last March for a little shooting
up country, and by Jove! have found a little more than I expected;
I trust you are all well."
There was no resisting the magnetic nature
of the Englishman who had commended himself to their favor. He
shook hands all around, the other two men recognizing him as a
Brother of the Mystic Tie. He made light of the service he had
just rendered, saying he was fond of tiger hunting and especially
pleased when able to bag a burrabagh (man-eater), of which, no
doubt, judging from his size and ugly temper, this was a good
specimen.
While the little group stood chatting where
the moonlight fell on the uncovered head and face of Harkins,
Dr. Avery suddenly said:
"There, I knew I had seen you before."
"I don't recall the occasion when I
had the pleasure of meeting you, replied their new friend as he
tried to get a better view of the surgeon. 4'When and where was
it, Doctor?"
"A few nights ago in Delhi, when a
mob on the streets drove you into a corner and you toppled them
over like tenpins and added a few revolver shots by way of good
measure.
"And then ran like a deer," added
Harkins with another laugh; "but where were you?"
"I was trying to give you a little help, but you did not
need it. I am mighty glad you got away from them."
"I feel a little that way myself, and
no one could be more pleased tomeet you all than I am."
Harkins explained that he was a professional
sportsman on a hunt through that section of India. He had no rela
tives in the country but possessed many friends among the officers
of the army, and happened to be in Delhi when the revolt broke
out. In the circumstances, Harkins was urged to join the party
on their journey to Kurnal, and though at first disinclined to
do so, he cordially yielded when the ladies united in the request.
The night was young, and all saw the necessity
of using the hours while they were at command. Since they were
compelled to lie concealed at sunrise, Luchman led the way back
to the regular road, where, though they were liable to meet strangers,
the dangers from wild animals and poisonous serpents were less.
Lights could be seen at various points, showing where some village
stood or camp fires still burned. The party pushed on until a
considerable distance had been covered, when Harkins suggested
that it would add an interesting variety to the proceedings if
Luchman would forage for something to eat. The sentiment was so
unammous in this direction that the guide consented. He directed
them to keep straight on and promised to rejoin them before they
could go far. Then he struck across a cultivated field and passed
from sight.
The party had not progressed far on their
journey when Luchman appeared with another supply of food which
he seemed always to procure without difficulty. Although he said
nothing by way of explanation, it was clear to his friends that
he was oppressed by an unusual anxiety, of which he chose to say
nothing at the time. The only hint he gave was the remark that
they must hasten to a ruined temple not far off, where they would
be safe for a while against a party of enemies who were persistently
hunting them.
India abounds with interesting ruins, temples
and caves, which display an exquisite order of ancient architecture.
The structure that was soon reached was a ruin that had been a
fine building centuries before, but was now fallen to pieces so
that only the lower portion remained. Several walls, their tops
jagged and uneven, rose to the height of twenty or thirty feet,
and piles of masonry lay strewn around where fanatic hands or
the elements had tumbled them. Intertwined shrubbery and twisted
trees projected from the debris and their roots, while helping
to disinterate, also bound what was left in position.
The general effect was of a mass of dull
grey color, visible a long way off through the emerald vegetation,
though a casual glance might have caused a doubt as to whether
the place would be practical as the means of a defense. In early
years the use of a species of sugar in the mortar gave it a degree
of hardness, which in time became like that of stone itself.
Our friends passed through the archway that
had once spanned the entrance. They found this corridor reached
backward twenty feet, where it opened into a spacious apartment.
The door itself was several yards in width and eight or ten feet
high, and the room measured about thirty feet square, had a high
ceiling, and was dimly lighted by several small circular windows,
similar to those that illuminate the cells of prisoners. There
were three at the rear, but none at the sides, and they, with
the tunnel-like passage which admitted the fugitives, gave enough
twilight for the occupants to see one another across the apartment.
The roof of this room had been the floor of a tower-like structure
which is common to ancient Hindoo ruins. It appeared to be a foot
thick and was composed of great blocks of hard grey stone, united
by a cement spread over and around a network of massive beams,
which made them as durable as the rock itself. The walls at the
side were equally heavy and, being joined by the same kind of
sugary cement, were powerful enough to resist for a long time
the assaults of artillery. A small force could hold a large one
at bay, protected as it would be by the powerful defenses. The
only question was as to how long a party could stand a siege.
In the case of our friends this was but a few days at the most,
for they had only a moderate amount of food and water and no means
of getting more.
When the members became familiar with their
fort, as it may be called, Luchman said:
"I learned when I was away that a large
party of Ghoojurs are after us and know we are heading for this
place."
"Let them come," chuckled George
Harkins; "we can stand off a hundred."
"But only for a time; they will get
us in the end, when thirst and hunger have made little children
of us all."
"But," said the surgeon, who was
less optimistic than his sturdy friend, "do you mean to say
we have reached the end of our rope?"
"No, hardly that. One last desperate
chance remains."
"What is it?"
"I cannot tell you now. I shall only
say that the leader of the choojurs who are determined to get
us at all costs, is Wm Mghar of Panipat, My Brother knows what
that means. Will sahib loan me his glasses?"
The question was addressed to Harkins, who
slipped the trap of his binoculars over his head and handed them
to the native. He strode outside, Harkins following him, while
the others kept their places. Reaching the entrance to the ruins,
the Englishman saw the erect figure of the guide with the glasses
leveled as he fixedly studied the country within his field of
vision. Without this artificial aid, Harkins saw a group of men,
one of them mounted, that had halted about a quarter of a mile
away and were evidently securitizing the ruins in which the Ingalese
had fled for safety.
A moment after Harkins came up, Luchman
passed the instrument to him.
"Let my Brother tell me what he sees."
"I can do that now, but the glass will
help. It has served me many a good turn, my boy."
He held the binoculars leveled only a short
time when he lowered them and said:
"The party are so mixed with one another
that I cannot be certain, but I should say there are a dozen of
them."
"There are fourteen."
"All choojurs?"
"Yes, and the one on the pony is Wana
Affghar. the worst of the lot and the bitterest enemy I have in
the world."
"He ought to be ashamed of himself,"
and conscious of the irrelevancy of the words, Harkins added:
"I should give anything in the world
for the chance of drawing a bead on him."
"I hope you may have that chance,"
quietly replied Luchman, "though it would please me more
if he and I could have it out between us."
"Ah. here he comes, confound him!"
exclaimed Harkins.
The Ghoojur Chieftain rode forward, his
pony on a walk.
He halted a hundred yards off and beckoned
Luchman to come out and talk with him. The guide called back that
it was unnecessary, since they could converse in their present
positions.
"What I have to say," replied
the leader, "is so important that none else must hear it,
and some of your people understand our language. I pledge you
no harm shall come to you.
"Your pledge is worthless. I know you
too well to put any faith in it."
At this moment, Dr. Avery quietly came forward.
Luchman translated the brief conversation to his two friend: and
asked their opinion of the proposal.
"Go by all means," urged the surgeon;
"Harkins and I will stand here and keep you covered."
"Just the idea!" added Harkins.
"I observe that the Doctor has brought Mr. Warringford's
gun and I have mine in hand. At the first sign of treachery on
the part of Mr. Wana, we will make a colander of him such as mother
keeps hanging behind the stove at home."
Luchman, who rarely asked advice on such
matters, acted upon that of his friends. Were not they three "Brothers"?
And would they not stand by one another to the death?
Having made his decision, Luchman showed
no hesitation, but walked coolly out on the plain as if to meet
a comrade.
"I wish the devil would give us an
excuse for winging him," said Harkins in an undertone, while
he and the surgeon kept their eyes on the two.
"So do I; but he will take mighty good
care not to do so."
Looking straight at the chieftain, who sat
motionless as an image on his black pony, Luchman paused a few
paces away from him and asked:
"What is it you wish to say that my
friends should not know?"
"It is to urge you to surrender, for
it is the only thing that will save the lives of yourself and
the Ferringhees with you."
"How is that?"
"You see the number I have; we can
slay every one whenever I give the word."
"Why don't you give the word?"
"I will not do so unless you refuse
the offer I bring you."
"If I surrender what then?"
"The condition is that you shall let
me have the diamond you stole years ago.
"If I give it up, what then?"
"I will spare your lives and give you
safe escort to Kurnal, whither you are traveling from Delhi."
Could Luchman have known for a certainty that this pledge would
be carried out, he would have accepted it offhand. The jewel was
worth several thousand dollars and he had presented it to the
daughter of the missionary. It might well serve as a ransom for
a king or emperor, but never could be so valuable as one's own
life. Luchman held to the doctrine of Kismet or fatalism, which
he had been taught in his early youth, and believing that the
hour of his death had been unalterably fixed by destiny, he was
never concerned for himself, but the Christians had been instructed
differently and he felt that some other law governed them.
But he could not hold a shred of faith in
the honor of Wana Affghar. Like the perfidious Nana Sahib (as
was afterward proven) he would deliberately violate the most solemn
oath a Mohammedan or Hindoo can take upon himself. Let him once
lay hold of the diamond and he would turn loose his friends upon
the fugitives.
"How can I know you will keep your
word?"
"The word of Wana Affghar has never
been broken," was the stupendous fabrication of the Choojur
Chieftain.
"Ram! ram! Jupna; Paraya mal apana!"
(It is a very fine way to call the Lord's name and then rob others
of their goods) said Luchman with a curl of his lip, repeating
a common saying among his people. "I shall not accept the
offer without proof that it cannot be broken."
"What is that proof?"
"You must accept my pledge. I am a
Christian thinking more of my promise than of my life; you are
a follower of Ram and will lie. I will agree that if you will
withdraw your men and give us a long start and do not molest us
nor allow anyone else to do so, I shall hand you the diamond you
covet, but you must do your part before you receive the jewel."
This proposition gave a new phase to the
negotiations and Wana Affghar said he would consult with his friends
before accepting it. He wheeled his horse and galloped back to
where they were watching the two.
Throughout this interview, Dr. Avery and
George Harkins stood with loaded guns on the alert for treachery.
Their scrutiny detected a ditch-like depression of the plain to
which not even Luchman had given attention. It was twenty yards
distant from the entrance to the temple and ran at right angles
to the course the fugitives had taken. Water had flowed through
it not long before, for it contained green grass while that beyond
was withered.
"Their talk is over, said Harkins, at the moment Wana Affghar
turned his pony to ride away and Luchman faced the temple.
"Yes, and do you see that?"
The dark line of grass was agitated just
beyond the guide as he approached the temple. The stirring of
the spears showed that it was caused by some person. The young
men brought their weapons to their shoulders.
At the same moment, two hideous heads arose
to sight, followed by the shoulders and swarthy bodies of the
Ghoojurs who stole as noiselessly as phantoms out upon the level
plain and sneaked after the guide.
"I'll take the one nearest Luchman,"
whispered Harkins, "and you will wing the other."
Although the assassins made no noise, Luchman, who was looking
at his friends, caught the meaning of their actions. He whirled
like a flash, and whipping out his formidable knife, confronted
the miscreants. One of them clutched a dagger while the other,
closer than his companion to the guide, carried a long pistol.
One raised his firearm, while the other began a cautious circling
to one side with the purpose of getting behind Luchman. At this
instant, Dr. Avery and Harkins shot quickly. The distance was
short and the rifles well aimed.
Enough said.
Wana Affghar, at the reports of the guns,
checked his pony and looked around to learn the success of the
treachery he had carefully planned, for his instructions were
that the two Choojurs, in case the negotiations came to naught,
should slay Luchinan, and they made the mistake of thinking such
was the fact, misled by the action of the guide and their leader.
It looked as if the infuriated chieftain
was about to charge upon the fugitives with his men, who had approached
much nearer, but if so, he changed his mind. Several of the Ghoojurs,
however, discharged their guns and the bullets were heard pattering
among the leaves and flattening themselves against the walls of
the temple.
As the two young men fired with such decisive
effect, the missionary and his wife and daughter came forth. Luchman,
relieved of immediate danger, sauntered back through the archway
with the dignity he showed when leaving it. All congratulated
him on his escape. He in turn thanked Avery and Harkins for their
timely shots, which saved him from a fight in which the chances
were -decidedly against him, to say the least. He believed they
were safe from molestation until nightfall, and since the young
men were in need of rest, they went back into the larger apartment
and laid down on the flinty floor. Marion and her mother, though
not requiring such repose, passed into the smaller room, leaving
the missionary with Luchinan. They talked in low tones a long
while, the elder finally withdrawing so that the native was left
alone.
In the course of the afternoon, he discovered
that three of the Choojurs were stealing along the depression
in the plain. He knew their business and offered no opposition.
When close to where the stark bodies of their former companions
lay, they sprang up and rushed out to them. Luchman could have
picked them off with the loaded rifles of his friends, but he
did not consider that a Christian way of making war and allowed
them to bear off their ghastly burden without hindrance.
The brigands seemed to grow weary of lolling
in the sun and withdrew to the shade of some trees, where they
disposed themselves in a lazy fashion. Possibly they hoped by
this withdrawal to tempt the Feringhees far enough from the temple
to offer a chance for cutting them off, but if so, the subterfuge
failed.
Since no rain falls during the month of
May in northern India, it may be wondered what grounds Luchman
could have for hope of the final escape of his friends. The night
was well lighted by the bright moon, so that except for the slight
fall in temperature it was no more favorable for night than the
day. But within the skull of the Hindoo a busy brain was at work
and he was sure to conjure up some scheme, desperate though it
might be.
The closing of the night brought little
change. The Choojurs were still among the trees, but several came
out and ventured nearer the temple, though they took care to keep
beyond range of the weapons whose effectiveness they knew too
well.
The guide was confident Wana Affghar would
not accept the terms proposed for the ransom of the Europeans
by means of the great diamond, and his speculations were based
upon this conviction.
A slight noise caused him to turn his head.
Avery and Harkins were at his elbow.
"Now, Brother," said the latter,
we have had a nap and it is your turn to go inside and do the
same while the chance is at your command.
The native shook his head.
"I want no Sleep, sahibs; I shall take
none to-night."
"But you may have to keep awake for
several weeks or months," persisted Harkins.
Luchman had no more sense of humor than an American Indian. He
replied gravely:
"I shall try to sleep before waiting
so long, sahib. If you will keep watch, I will not be gone long."
In the moonlight night, the gnarled trees
at the entrance to the gateway threw their shadows across the
ground in front, and the abundant foliage cast deep patches of
darkness among the picturesque ruins which stood in an open plain
with a stream of water well to the rear, the jungle being still
farther in front. Thus it was beyond the power of anyone to leave
the temple without being quickly detected by the watchful Ghoojurs.
Luchman had noticed one fact: the brigands
had not been joined by any reinforcements. This showed they did
not wish any: they were confident of having men enough to do the
work they had planned themselves. Wana Affghar must have satisfied
them that an abundance of loot awaited division among the party.
Luchman told his friends that he feared
there was a rear entrance to the temple by which their enemies
would steal a march on them. The only way to make sure was to
examine the ruins more thoroughly than had yet been done. With
this remark, he clambered up the shaded archway, where his movements
could not be seen from the outside. His friends saw him make a
light leap, grasp a stone above his head, his sinewy legs beating
the air for a moment, and then he vanished.
When he was beyond hearing, Harkins said:
"There are a few things which cannot
be done, and I suspect Luchman is trying to do one of them. If
he attempts to pass down the stream or to reach the jungle or
venture away from this old ruin, he will lose his life as sure
as shooting. He is cunning, brave and skilful--I never knew a
man more so--but like all mortals, he has his limitations. Wana
Affghar would like nothing better than to have him make the attempt."
"Luchman will take no advice from us
and perhaps it is as well he will not, but he is wise and I have
great faith in him."
"I should like to know what scheme
he now has in mind."
"It is some plan and he means to learn
whether it will do for him to try it."
The two began pacing to and fro through
the arched passage, alternating in such a way that one was always
facing outward. This was kept up for half an hour, during which
the stillness of the tomb reigned. At the end of that time the
murmur of voices from within showed that the women had come into
the larger room where the missionary was talking with them.
"Now, Doctor," said Harkins, "there
is no need of both of us staying here. I should rather station
myself at the open end of this passage where I can hear anything
going on while you spend an hour or two with your friends. Miss
Warringford is dying for the chance which this flurry has prevented
her gaining until now. I had a chat with her some time ago and
found her delightful, but all the time I saw that it was you she
wanted and not me."
"No such thing; she is charmed with
you and sounded your praises so extravagantly that I am growing
jealous."
"No need of that! Besides, my dear
boy, I have a blue-eyed lassie in far-away England who has preempted
all the heart and affection of the undersigned. Darling Jennie,"
murmured the big, handsome fellow; "I wonder if you will
ever see your good-for-nothing George again. He is not of much
account but all the same, if the ship never brings him back to
you, there will be another breaking heart in Albion."
Both were silent for a few moments, these
being the first sentimental words that Harkins had ever uttered
in the presence of his companion, who was drawn closer to him
by those sweet musings which only added fuller glory to his manhood.
Rousing, Harkins took hold of Avery and
faced him toward the interior.
"Off with you and stay till I call
you. I shall keep true ward and watch even though my fancies wander
thousands of miles to a certain vine-clad cottage in old England."
And the fellow, happy even in his sadness,
looked out upon the moonlit plain and hummed "Annie Laurie,"
while Dr. Avery, full of affection for his splendid friend, passed
back to that other dear one, who, as Harkins said, looked longingly
for his coming.
Within the larger room it was quite dark.
A small overturned idol afforded a bench upon which Mr. Warringford,
his wife and daughter were seated. Room remained for the doctor,
who, guided by the voices, placed himself near Marion, and clasped
her hand while the low murmured conversation went on. Avery told
what had taken place at the entrance of the temple, and that Luchman
had stolen out on an expedition of his own and that Harkins was
left to act the role of sentinel.
"I think as he does," said the
missionary; "Luchman is trying to do the impossible. A mouse
could not get out of here without being seen by the Ghoojurs.
I do not think that Luchman means to leave, but seeks to gain
a better knowledge of our surroundings."
"Were only he concerned, he could baffle
the ruffians, but he cannot do so to the extent of delivering
us. Everything looks dark, but Heaven's mercy cannot be gauged
by man. We can only trust the Hand that has sustained us so long."
"God's mercies shall endure forever,"
added the wife with a voice that fell like a benison upon the
listeners. Unto all there seemed to come a sweet assurance that
the wrath of the heathen should be brought to naught. Suddenly
a slight noise seemed to come from the entrance to the temple.
Faint as it was, all noticed it, though
none could tell its nature. They listened but the sound was not
repeated.
"I intend to find out what it means,"
said the surgeon, springing from his place beside his beloved
and groping his way to the moonlit passage. The first object upon
which his eyes rested was Harkins seated on the ground well out
toward the opening. He appeared to be leaning against the side
wall and looking off where the Ghoojurs had been seen during the
day.
"Helba, Harkins," called Avery
in a guarded voice. "What was the cause of that noise a few
minutes ago?"
The man made no reply, nor did he stir.
"I say, old fellow," said the
surgeon, stepping still closer and speaking in a louder voice,
"what's going on?"
Still the sentinel was motionless and silent.
Dr. Avery laughed softly to himself.
"Asleep, as sure as I live! That's
a good one on Harkins and it will be a long time before he hears
the last of it."
Grasping his shoulder the doctor shook him
vigorously.
"Wake up, old boy, arouse, the house
is on fire! Don't you hear?--My God!"
George Harkins was stone dead and death
itself acted the role of sentinel.
Blue-eyed Jennie in far-away England, standing
in the doorway of the vine-clad cottage and shading her vision
with her hand, might look longingly toward the storming Atlantic,
in the hope of seeing that form and face which, in leaving Albion,
carried her own true heart with them; but never should she gaze
upon them again. George Harkins was dead. Like countless multitudes
in this sad and sorrowing world, he had gone merrily forth to
return never more.
As Dr. Avery, with a laugh on his lips,
shook the massive shoulder, the limp form tumbled forward. Then
the surgeon's heart stood still and he shuddered to his very soul.
Tenderly raising the head again, he found that the pulse had stopped
beating though the body was still warm.
So brief was the time elapsed between the
faint sound which was heard by the party within, and the hurrying
out of Dr. Avery, that Harkins could have been dead only a few
minutes. The friend, shocked beyond expression, was bending over
the form when the crack of a pistol broke the stillness, followed
by the tearing of the shrubbery overhead and then another body
slumped through the vegetation and struck the floor of the passage-way.
sprawling in front of the horrified surgeon, who recoiled with
a gasp.
"Heaven save us! It is Luchman!"
"No, sahib, I am here."
The words were spoken by the guide, who
dropped lightly as a cat from the same support whence had fallen
the native.
"Oh, Luchman! Poor Harkins has been
killed."
"I thought so, sahib," was the
quiet response of the guide, who, deeply as he felt the loss,
repressed all sign of emotion.
"Who killed him?"
"He," was the reply of Luchinan,
as he kicked the form of his countryman with spiteful vengeance;
"but he will do no more murders. Wana Affghar sent him after
me and the fool knew no better than to kill the Feringhee."
"How was it done?"
"He slipped behind him when he was
walking and thrust his long thin knife, whose point is like a
needle, into our brother's heart. He sank down before he knew
what hurt him. Then the assassin set him up with his head leading
against the wall as if he were asleep. The Ghoojur hurried out
to tell Wana Affghar what he had done and that the way was open
to the temple where the other Feringhees were sleeping. But he
either forgot, sahib, or never knew I was on the outside watching
for him and the others. I must have been at the rear just then,
but I met him when he was climbing up the stones. I gave him only
enough time to know who it was that sent a bullet through his
brain."
It was sad consolation to know that the
miscreant had met his fate before he could get out of the sight
of the body of his victim, who was worth a legion like him, but
was now gone beyond recall.
When Dr. Avery had rallied from the shock,
he made a personal examination of his friend to learn precisely
what had caused his death. It proved to be as Luchman said; the
native must have slipped up behind Harkins without noise while
he was patrolling his beat and struck him down so quickly that
he had to leap aside to avoid the falling body.
"Can we give him burial, Luchman?"
asked the surgeon.
"Only what the temple will allow. Wana
Affghar must know nothing of this, lest it encourage him to rush
upon us.
The guide deliberately picked up the body
of his fallen foe, slung it over his Shoulder and strode several
yards out on the plain until the report of a gun warned him he
was venturing too far, when he stopped and flung the detested
burden to the ground. Disdaining to hurry, he walked back as if
no danger threatened him.
Circumstances would not allow the surgeon
to mourn his noble friend, as he would otherwise have done. As
a mournful duty to his memory, he searched the clothing and took
charge of the effects. There were data and memoranda that would
give him the knowledge he needed, provided the doctor and his
friends ever succeeded in escaping from the perils that walled
them in on every hand. Within the Shooting jacket, close to the
heart that had been so pierced, was a small picture. Avery struck
a match to scan it more closely. The features were those of a
young, sweet woman, with an abundance of nut-brown tresses and
eyes as blue as the heaven itself.
"Poor Jennie," murmured the surgeon,
with dimmed vision, "there is One who has promised to wipe
away the tears from all eyes and He is the only friend that can
comfort you now.
The weapons of the dead man were added for
the time to those of Avery. It was decided to leave the body where
lit lay until morning, when it would be no longer possible to
keep the sad truth from the others. Then it could be carried into
the smaller room and left to await the summons of the resurrection
morn. Perhaps no more fitting sepulcher could be given a brave
man.
"Now," said the surgeon, when
nothing more remained to be done, "we must face the future.
You have been outside, Luchman; what did you learn?"
"Nothing, sahib," was the reply;
"and yet I should not say that; I learned there is only one
way by which the Ghoojurs can enter the temple and that is the
one we know. So long as we are able to guard that, we are safe."
"But that cannot be for long, for our
food and water will not last."
"I hoped, sahib, that I should find
a chance for leaving to-night, but there is none. There may be
tomorrow night."
"I do not understand you."
"The moon rises later, an hour before
midnight."
"That, then, is your only hope?"
"Yes, sahib."
"God pity us, for it is no hope at
all. This horrible weather will last for weeks."
"I shall sleep now, sahib, if you will
watch."
"I am glad to hear you say that. Go
back in the room and rest as long as you can.
"No, sahib, I shall lie here,"
replied Luchman, as he stretched himself upon the hard couch close
to the mawmate form that was fast growing cold and stiff. Five
minutes later the guide was unconscious.
"I take the place of poor Harkins,"
thought Avery beginning to pace to and fro on his beat. "Quite
likely another assassin will try the same thing on me. I shan't
carry the gun, but will hold my pistol ready."
A more trying situation cannot be imagined.
The surgeon would not have walked the floor in this manner, but
for the morbid dread that if he sat down, he would fall asleep
and imperil the safety of his friends. Again the action of Luchman
placed his life, as may be said, in the keeping of the sentinel
and deepened his anxiety to guard against the possibility of surprise.
To and fro he paced with the slow, measured
step which can be kept up for hours without fatigue, but with
Avery it lasted only a short time. The strain upon his nerves
became intolerable. When he turned at the mouth at the entrance,
or moved toward the interior he was sure he heard catlike steps
behind him. He whirled around and leveled his revolver.
"You devil! I got you!"
But no one was there. Luchman was breathing
softly where he lay on the floor and the form that was once George
Harkins was straight and cold and still. Avery stood a minute
and listened. The foliage was as rigid as the dark rooms, for
not a breath of air stirred in the profound stillness. The night
was more sultry than any the fugitives had experienced since leaving
Delhi, but the ruined temple offered the nearest approach to coolness
that could be found anywhere.
Surely nothing was moving near him, but
peering through the arched way, the surgeon saw something stir.
He stepped softly forward to see more clearly. Two shadowy Ghoojurs
were bearing off the body of their comrade that had been brought
low by the weapon of Luchman. The reasonable conclusion was that
Wana Affghar having failed in his attempt would not soon try anything
of that nature again, but the surgeon was too wise to abate a
jot of vigilance through the gloomy hours that followed. It was
past the turn of the night when Luchman bounded to his feet as
if from the sting of a serpent.
"What's the matter?" asked the
startled Avery.
"Nothing, sahib; why do you ask?"
"Is that the way you always wake up?"
"I am not sure; have you noticed anything?"
"I saw a couple of Ghoojurs carry off
that body and I fancied there were others."
Luchman made no comment and urged Avery
to go inside and sleep, but the latter was too distressed by the
tragedy to accept the suggestion and preferred to stay on guard.
He was determined that the guide should speak more frankly of
the probable fate of the party. The few expressions he had let
fall were not satisfactory. Finally Luchman said he had had a
hope that there might be some way of leaving at the rear of the
temple. It was that which led him to make his reconnaissance only
to return disappointed.
"I gather that you have decided that
nothing can be done, except when you have darkness to help you."
"That is true, sahib."
"The moon rises later each night, but
we cannot afford to wait many days for that."
"I am willing to tarry two nights longer,
sahib, and then if no way opens, we have the last resort."
"What is that?"
"I shall open negotiations with Wana
Affghar and get the best terms I can, knowing he will violate
every one of them, if the chance offers."
"Your hope is that his treachery will
in some way give you a chance that is impossible otherwise."
"That is it," replied Luchman,
pleased with the quickness of the physician.
The guide understood the skill with which
Wana Affghar had outwitted him. When Luchman reappeared in Delhi
after his journey from Calcutta, Wana's spies knew it and held
him under surveillance without the guide suspecting it. With all
his subtlety Luchman could not understand the whole conduct of
his enemy. It seemed to him the Choojur Chieftain would have made
a pretense of accepting the conditions under which Luchman agreed
to give up the diamond, afterward violating them, but he must
have feared that his baseness would be defeated and believed that
by keeping up the seige a few days and nights longer, he could
compel the guide to come to his terms.
In truth, Wana Affghar was determined to
secure the enormously valuable diamond at whatever cost or sacrifice.
This fixity of purpose amounted almost to a mania, and makes clear
many occurrences which would be otherwise beyond explanation.
That night brought a singular experience
to another member of the little party of refugees.
After the departure of Dr. Avery to learn
the cause of the slight disturbance in the entrance way, the missionary
and his family continued their conversation in low tones until
the dull report of Luchman's pistol was heard. The group was naturally
startled and Mr. Warringford started out to learn the cause.
"Wait until Dr. Avery comes back,"
said the wife, "for it is lonely here in the gloom."
"I imagine it is nothing serious,"
said her husband when some minutes had passed, "otherwise
there would be further disturbance."
"The pistol was probably fired to let
the Ghoojurs know our friends are alert," suggested Marian.
This theory was accepted, the three believing
that if there were anything of importance they would learn of
it. The talk continued until the hour grew so late that all retired
for the night. Mother and daughter withdrew to the smaller apartment,
where, with the aid of their shawls and outer garments, they made
a fairly comfortable couch on the flinty floor. The missionary,
while awaiting the coming of one or more of his friends, fell
asleep and did not awake until morning. His wife too slept soundly,
but not his daughter.
She rested quietly until near the turn of
the night, when she found herself wide awake, without understanding
the cause. The extreme sultriness of the evening oppressed he
and she thought her insomnia was probably due to that. It will
be remembered, too, that she slept more than usual during the
past twenty-four hours and was in no special need of rest.
So she had nothing to do but to lie still
and meditate. The gentle breathing of her parent beside her showed
she was unconscious and Marian took care not to disturb her. The
brain in the young woman seemed unusually alert and the longer
she lay, the more wakeful she became. She was half inclined to
rise and pass to the entrance way, where she believed Luchman,
Avery and Harkins were keeping guard, but a feeling of gentle
delicacy restrained her and she decided to stay where she was.
She had lain awake, as she thought, for
an hour, still oppressed by the heat, when she became aware that
the apartment was slightly cooler, as if a gentle current of air
was stirring within. She did not understand it, since the only
ventilation came from the smaller circular openings around the
upper part of the room and the door was closed. None the less,
the atmosphere was unmistakably cooler. She distinctly felt a
touch of the draught against her hot cheek.
Thinking the door was open, she rose and
groped her way to it. It was shut just as she had closed it herself
before she and her mother laid down. Still wondering, Marian listened
in the belief that a short breeze had arisen, but the foliage
was motionless. Then she tried to sleep, but in vain.
"The door must be open," she said
after a time, "but if it is, those outside are watchful and
there is no cause for fear."
She could not be mistaken when the faint
sound of a footstep fell on her ear. Someone was moving stealthily
around the room.
"What is the matter, father,"
asked the daughter, speaking low in order not to disturb her mother.
There was no answer and she repeated the question. Again no reply
followed and the catlike step ceased. Whoever the intruder might
be, he was standing still and listening. Marian was curious but
felt no misgiving, for it was beyond belief that an enemy could
have effected an entrance into the inner temple.
A moment later she heard the heavy door
close, after which the same tomb-like stillness settled over all.
She lay a long time listening and wondering, but detected nothing
more and finally floated into the land of dreams.
When she opened her eyes in the morning,
the night's experience was vividly with her and still a puzzle
which she could not explain. She questioned her father and learned
that he had not risen from his couch after bidding them good-night.
He was not a somnambulist, so it was impossible that the stealthy
footsteps were his.
It was equally out of the question that
Dr. Avery or Harkins was the intruder. Marian was forced to the
reluctant conclusion that it was Luchman, whose business it was
impossible to imagine, though she could not doubt that it was
perfectly proper.
Marian Warringford made a serious mistake
in not relating the strange occurrence of the night before.
Had she spoken of it, the history of the
succeeding few days would have been wholly changed. But the others
remained in ignorance and the young woman herself never dreamed
of the true explanation.
The morning brought the awful shock of the
death of George Harkins. Father, mother and daughter mourned him
deeply, for he had endeared himself to all by the nobility of
his nature.
"We shall bury him," said Avery when all were present
except Luchman, who remained at his post.
"How can that be done?" asked
the missionary.
"We shall carry him in there,"
replied Avery, pointing to the smaller apartment occupied by Marion
and her mother the night before. "What more fitting tomb
can he have? It was here he fell while defending us and here should
be his sepulchre. In a temple consecrated to idolatry we place
the body of a Christian, which shall give a sanctity to this infernal
pile of stones that they never could have gained otherwise."
This was accordingly done. The stiffened
form was borne within the smaller chamber by the missionary and
surgeon, while the women in the solemn twilight of the temple
looked on with streaming eyes and swelling hearts. The remains
were laid tenderly upon the stone floor and, kneeling at the head,
the clergyman offered a touching prayer, while the faces of the
others were bent and their hearts throbbed in unison with the
petition of the good man. Then they came forth and closed the
door, which they hoped might remain sealed until opened at the
angel's trumpet on the resurrection morn.
The duty to the dead, so far as it was possible
to do it, had been done and the living had to meet the solemn
problems before them. Luchman, when questioned, told his friends
to eat all they wished and they took the final morsel of food,
since the coming night was the last they would spend in the ruins.
He gave no explanation of his words, but was so emphatic that
he was obeyed. None was especially hungry, though all partook
and the portion sent out to the guide was all that was left. Food
was needed far less than water. Each drank only a little, but
it drained the Iota, and their thirst seemed aggravated rather
than quenched thereby.
Another hot, seemingly endless day dawned
upon them. The flaming sun once more climbed the brassy sky, its
rays glowing with a fervor that made nature gasp and pant. Peering
out from their refuge, the Ghoojurs were seen beyond rifle shot,
but as vigilant as ever. Luchman emerged from the temple and climbed
the most elevated portion, where, with the binoculars that had
belonged to Harkins, he studied every part of the landscape in
his field of vision.
On the one hand was the grove and beyond
that the jungle. In the shade of the trees, Wana Affghar and most
of the ruffians were waiting, while in the opposite direction
and distant only two hundred yards was the gleam of a broad but
muddy stream. Trees were growing on its banks and the current
was visible only at intervals through the openings in the foliage.
The gaze of the brown native remained fixed
for a long time on this water. Unknown to Avery he had striven
during the previous night to push his reconnaissance to the shore,
but found, as he feared, the Ghoojurs were there. They could not
fail to note how tempting it must be to the refugees and took
extra care to guard it well. No doubt they were still doing so,
crouching among the tall grass along the bank and at the base
of the overhanging trees, their black eyes turned expectantly
toward the ruined temple, eager for the Feringhees to venture
within their reach.
Upon the dark face of the guide settled
an expression that told of desperation, as he slowly made his
way down from the porch and joined his friends below. Under Heaven,
their hopes centered upon him. He alone had brought them through
many perils to this point, and he alone, if such an achievement
could be attained by human effort, was to lead them to safety.
All the company gathered in the archway,
for after a night spent in the close apartments they longed for
fresh air, a relief secured only by running some risk from the
stealthy shots of their enemies, who were ready to expose their
own lives in the attempt to destroy the Feringhees.
The fugitives hoped, since the rainy season
was not far off, that a disturbance of the elements might bring
a cloudy night, or that the moon would be hidden sufficiently
to give a faint chance of success in their last venture. A slight
vapor in the west roused expectations, but it was like that which
now and then hovers over the burning sands of Sahara. As the heat
of the day intensifies, it becomes thinner and finally dissolves
and vanishes.
At midday the women decided to withdraw
to the interior of the temple, leaving the three men to act as
sentinels, Mother and daughter paused near the door leading out
of the arched passage, watching and listening with anxious hearts.
A rustling caused the younger to turn her head in time to see
the muzzle of a gun pushed through one of the circular openings
which partially admitted light into the place. She and her parent
were in direct range. Catching the arm of her mother, Marian drew
her hastily toward the weapon. The two were thus placed so that
the musket could not be depressed enough to reach them.
The barrel was cautiously shoved forward
until nearly its whole length slid into view. Had the women stayed
by the door, they would have seen the hideous face of a Ghoojur
as he wrinkled his brow in an effort to pierce the twilight below.
He was still glaring like a beast of prey when the sharp crack
of a pistol broke the stillness, and with a rasping shriek the
savage went over backward, his skull bored by a bullet from the
weapon of Luchman the guide.
The latter had heard the faint sound as
the women were retreating from the front and, suspecting something
wrong, darted back in time to perforate the Asiatic who had pushed
his gun so far into the room that it dropped from his nerve-less
grasp and rang upon the pavement below.
"God has sent us another weapon,"
coolly remarked Luchinan, who stepped forward, picked up the piece
and passed outside without another word.
When a half hour had brought no news from
the front the women timidly ventured forth again.
"All danger is over for the present,"
said Dr. Warringford reassuringly.
The guide straightened up and, compressing
his thin lips, added:
"The end is at hand, sahibs; it is
death for us to stay here longer; your lives are worth more than
the diamond we carry with us."
"What do you propose to do?" asked
Avery.
"I shall go out and meet Wana Affghar
again and offer him the jewel, if he will let us go."
"But you did that before."
"Our situation was not then as hopeless
as now. I know no reliance can be placed on any promise Wana may
make, but I have a plan in mind which I cannot now tell you."
"When will you make the move?"
asked the missionary. "Now, sahib; gather around me where
we are not too near the entrance and I shall tell as much as it
is prudent to make known."
Without repeating the words of Luchman and
the many questions and answers that passed, let us sum up his
scheme.
In the gloom of the place, Marian quietly
took from the bosom of her dress the precious diamond wrapped
in brown tissue paper and handed it to the Hindoo, who without
remark carefully deposited it within the folds of his turban,
which he rewound around his head. He meant to walk directly out
on the plain and seek a meeting with Wana Affghar, who despite
the previous failure was sure to grant it Luchman would repeat
his offer to give up the wonderful gem, on condition that the
whole force of Ghoojurs should withdraw and allow the fugitives
to have a long start on the way to Kurnal. Luchman was confident
that the Chieftain would accept the offer, relying upon the opportunity
to violate it after the jewel had passed into his hands.
"You carry a watch, sahib," he
said, addressing the surgeon; "when it shows the hour of
eight this evening, all of you must walk out of this passageway,
turn toward the north and go to the river. You will keep walking
through the night and give no thought to me. I shall join you
before daylight, if I can, but do not tarry for a single minute.
If I fail to appear, press your strength to the utmost. You will
not be very far from Kurnal and by sunrise ought to be safe."
Both the surgeon and the missionary believed
the faithful guide expected to sacrifice his life to save them
with one chance in a million that he might not have to do so.
They were impelled to protest but knew it was useless. He was
their master and would insist upon being obeyed to the letter.
After going over the instructions again, he strode out on the
parched plain, without so much as saying good-bye, and deliberately
walked in the direction of the grove where the Ghoojurs must observe
his approach from the first.
As he had anticipated, he was no more than
fairly in sight when a horseman advanced to meet him. Each raised
his right hand over his head as a signal of comity, so that the
proceedings were virtually under a flag of truce. The Ghoojur
was the chieftain himself, who reined up his black pony beyond
range of the guns of the Ferringhees and awaited the advance of
the footman. Each carried a knife and pistol, but no larger weapon.
Their conversation may be liberally translated:
"What do you want with me?" asked
Wana.
"Do you wish the great diamond that
is mine?"
"I wish and I shall soon have it."
"You will get it when I choose to give
it to you, and not until then. As I told you before, it is hidden
where you and your robbers may bunt to the end of your lives and
never find it."
"You and the Feringhees are in my power;
you cannot save yourselves."
"If that is so, why do you delay to
come and take us? We have slain some of your men who have ventured
within range. Only a little while ago I shot a Ghoojur who was
fool enough to think I would not."
"If I give you the chance of surrendering
the diamond or undergoing torture, which will you choose?"
Luchman laughed scornfully.
"Have I been a Hindoo for two-score
years to feel pain or suffering? Has my Christianity so weakened
that I am become a child? Talk not such words to me. But,"
added Luchman, as if impressed with the idleness of his chafing,
"if you will keep faith with me, the great diamond will be
yours.
"What is your offer?" asked the
chieftain, with a flash of his serpent-like eyes.
"If you will permit the Feringhees
in the temple to proceed on their journey and not try to harm
them afterward, I will give you the diamond, which I brought over
the Himalayas and which is a younger sister of the Koh-i-noor
of the Queen of England."
Here was a clear proposition. Having made
it, Luchman looked straight into the face of the Ghoojur Chieftain
and curtly asked:
"Will you do it?"
The answer was prompt:
"I will: hand me the diamond and you
and the Feringhees may go from one end of India to the other without
hindrance from me or mine.
But not thus was Luchman entrapped.
"Lsten: if I should take you to the
hiding place of the great diamond and, digging it up, hand it
to you, then your Ghoojurs would turn upon the Feringhees and
slay them."
"What do you wish to do?"
"I will deliver it to you after you
have kept your pledge." This was the former staggering proposal,
which the chieftain had rejected, and his objection was now natural.
"If I permit you to go free, what certainty
have I that you will keep your pledge?"
"My promise: that is all I give."
"I may not be willing to accept it."
"Do as you choose," was the defiant
response. "You may slay us all, but that will not give you
the diamond; you may kill every one of the Feringhees, but that
will not help you to find the jewel for which you have yearned
so long, nor will you and the Ghoojurs get much plunder from our
bodies. Even if you keep your promise, there remain many miles
to travel to take the Feringhees beyond danger. If the diamond
is given you, it will probably save them only a few hours, for
there are others who will hunt them like tigers in the jungle.
But I am willing to do as I promise. If you will withdraw so far
away, that the Feringhees may have a good start, I shall place
in your palm that which will make you and yours nabobs for the
rest of your lives."
"Tell me, Luchman, more plainly what
you demand."
"You must take all your men two miles
to the southward. I shall go with them. They must stay where they
go until midnight. When that is done, you shall have the diamond."
The conditions were clear. If Wana Affghar
and his Ghoojurs should withdraw to a distance of two miles and
remain till midnight, the fugitives in the temple would be given
all the start they could ask or need. By following the directions
of Luchman, they could place themselves beyond danger from this
particular band. The guide would remain with the brigands as he
had proposed, in order to make sure every condition was met.
True, the plan would leave him in a terrible
position, but he cared naught for that. The bluff which he was
trying to carry through approached the sublime. He added, as if
the matter had no special interest to him:
"Do as you choose, Wana Affghar, for
it makes little difference to me. We have water and food in the
temple and are likely to receive help before long from the Feringhees
cavalry who are riding up and down the country. It is hard to
give up the diamond for which I fought so long and risked my life,
but the women are impatient and I come to show you the only way
your eyes will ever rest upon the jewel that is worth a king's
crown."
Luchman certainly knew how to put things.
He made as if to leave them when the Ghoojur Chieftain checked
him:
"It shall be as you say. You may go
with me and I will tell my plan to my people. Have no misgiving,
for they dare do nothing that does not please me.
The sun was low in the west when this contract
was made. The friends of Luchman saw him walk slowly toward the
Ghoojurs under the trees, keeping pace with the pony of Wana Affghar
until the guide could no longer be identified among the group.
The natives scrutinized the new arrival with no little interest
and the situation would have been trying to anyone else, but Luchman
was as cool as if chatting with his friends in the temple. He
counted the miscreants in sight and noted there were fourteen.
It was fair to conclude, therefore, that if the same number including
the Chieftain were two miles south of that point by midnight,
Wana Affghar had fulfilled his part of the agreement and fairly
won the great diamond.
Luchman never used his eyes to better purpose
than while he listened attentively to the chieftain as he explained
the agreement, but he never heard nor saw anything to raise misgiving.
He believed that Wana meant to carry out his part of the agreement,
not because of his pledge, but because it gave him the only chance
of obtaining the coveted treasure.
Since there was plenty of time at command,
the Ghoojurs stayed where they were until the brief twilight settled
down. Then, when the chieftain announced that the start would
be made, two of the natives walked a short distance to the margin
of the jungle on the left. The ever vigilant Luchman asked the
meaning of the action. Wana answered that they were going but
a short way to gather some cooking utensils that had been brought
with them. They would return in a few minutes and Wana suggested
that his guest should bear them company that he might make sure
no deception was intended. The guide took a step to do so, but
stopped, ashamed of betraying so much timidity. The two Choojurs
speedily reappeared bearing their cooking kit with them.
Ah. Luchman was wonderfully cunning, but
he was outwitted by Wana Affghar. The guide saw the two men come
back, but he noted not in the gathering gloom that one of the
couple was not he who had departed.
One of the Ghoojurs who left the main party
in quest of the cooking kit came back, but a new man took the
place of the other. He who did not return was the chieftain's
most trusted lieutenant. He knew the whole treacherous scheme
of Wana Affghar, and went away to carry out a certain agreement
that he had made with his leader in the face of the unceasing
watchfulness of Luchman, the guide.
Wana was obsequious to his brother, as he
called his guest, to the extent of offering him his pony to ride,
but Luchman's sense of propriety would not allow him to accept
the favor. They talked freely, the brigand expressing his belief
that British rule in India was ended forever and that the Mogul
Empire, which had been proclaimed a few days before in Delhi,
would endure as long as the sun and stars. He tried to persuade
the guide to his view of the question, though in the mutiny of
1857 the Ghoojurs were bushwhackers, caring little which cause
triumphed, so that it gave them opportunity to gather loot.
And here may be stated an impressive fact:
the whole record of that stupendous Asiatic uprising contains
not a single instance of a Christian convert abjuring the new
faith and returning to the fanaticism in which he had been born
and trained.
Wana Affghar seemed to go beyond his pledge.
He had promised to take his men two miles from the temple, but
he continued to march for nearly double that distance. He was
too cunning to call Luchman's attention to the fact, and you may
be sure our dusky friend said nothing. The party finally halted
near a grove of mango trees of large size where the shadows were
broad and dense enough to hide the company from others who might
pass by. They were near the stream whose sinuous course led it
past the temple, where it was probable that the fugitives were
waiting and wondering whether their deliverance was to be made.
The halting place was a good one for resting.
The brigands were removed from all huts, houses and highways and
were not likely to attract notice from any wanderers in the neighborhood.
The Ghoojurs lolled upon the ground, smoking their hookahs, and
as the night advanced several of them started the fire. Wana Affghar
sat somewhat apart with Luchman near him; though the chieftain
could not wholly repress his restlessness, the guide remained
as unmoved as if stretched on his charpoy a thousand miles from
all danger.
There was no chronometer in that company
of robbers, but all were able to measure with reasonable accuracy
the passage of time. Just before midnight, Luchman carefully counted
them. There were precisely fourteen including the chieftain, the
exact force that had withdrawn from the vicinity of the temple.
Despite this fact, a misgiving gradually took shape in the mind
of Luchman that Wana Affghar after all meant to play him false.
This dread was founded rather upon his recollection of the clever
manner in which the chieftain had dogged him during the past year,
than upon any possible scheme which presented itself to the suspicious
native.
"The turn of the night has come!"
Wana Affghar was the embodiment of suppressed
emotion as he uttered these words in a sepulchral voice. The two
were seated by themselves some distance from the blaze whose heat
was unwelcome, the others being several rods beyond the fire on
the other side.
"Yes," quietly replied Luchman,
as he removed his turban and began calmly to pass his thin fingers
through its folds.
Could it be possible that the daring native
had walked into the Ghoojur camp with that priceless gem about
his person? Wana Affghar stared dumbfounded and almost speechless,
and yet while he was staring, Luchman drew a bit of brown paper
from his headgear, unrolled it and pulled out the diamond from
within.
"There!" he said, as he handed
the jewel to the chieftain. "The bargain is finished."
As the gem fell into the trembling outstretched
palm, the Ghoojur Chieftain fixed his eyes upon it like a bird
charmed by a serpent. He sat motionless and rigid as iron, life
itself held in suspense.
At last the great diamond was his!
There it lay in his hand, luminous, flaming,
variegated in its prismatic reflection of the firelight-peerless,
wonderful, marvelous. This was a prize for which princes, queens,
kings and emperors had fought and which had caused the death of
multitudes in the centuries that were gone.
Here it was--at last!
Could it be real, or was it another of those
tantalizing visions that had haunted his slumbers for years, until
the longing to possess the diamond became the ruling passion of
his life?
Tremulously he closed his fingers, fearful
that they would shut upon vacancy, as they had done so many times
in the past. But no, there nestled the round, cold gem, bigger
than a robin's egg, substantial--not shadowy, but real.
Presently the spell began to lift, and Wana
Affghar became himself again, crafty, cool, perfidious as Satan
himself, with his gaze still riveted on the diamond. As he slowly
opened and closed his hand, he muttered: "It is the will
of Allah that the prize shall be mine and I accept it, bismillah
(by the will of Cod); but the infidel deserves only death. The
Feringhees that profaned the temple are prisoners, for despite
the cunning of Luchman, Ramsurun Duss remained with a number of
the faithful and prevented their flight. Their eyes shall not
see the rising of tomorrow's sun, nor shall you, infidel dog,
go hence. He who allows Luchman to escape shall lose his head!"
As Wana Affghar uttered the last exclamations
in a fierce voice, he flung off the spell which held him enthralled,
raised his eyes from the sinewy hand that closed about the diamond,
and circled it viciously over his head as a signal for his assassins
to fall upon Luchman and hew him to pieces.
But dekhna! Luchman was not there!
Suspecting treachery, the guide took no
chance that could be avoided. Observing the fixedness of the chieftain's
gaze and the spell which held his senses captive, he felt that
it was the right moment for him to leave. The majority of the
Ghoojurs were some distance away and not likely to interfere,
because of the consideration the visitor had received from the
chieftain.
As noiselessly as the Shawanoe warrior,
Luchman rose to his feet and without drawing attention to himself,
glided backward among the trees until beyond sight of all his
enemies. So it came about that when Wana Affghar spoke the words,
his countryman was too far off to hear them. The latter had started
toward the river, hoping soon to find his friends, but had not
gone far when he paused.
"Wana Affghar offered me his horse
to ride; I shall borrow him for the elder lady."
It was a clever idea, but its success was
not worth the risk. None the less, Luchman determined to have
the tough little pony. It will be recalled that there was only
one horse with the Ghoojurs, and he belonged to the chieftain.
The guide noticed while in camp that it was tethered a short distance
off, where there was a meager growth of grass. If the horse was
still there, he could be captured without difficulty. Guided by
the flickering light of the camp fire, the Hindoo approached the
spot by a circuitous route. The ground was favorable and he stealthily
crawled through the high jungle grass which shut him from sight
as long as he remained close to the ground. He feared, however,
that when the pony saw him, he would whinny and warn the Ghoojurs
that a stranger was in camp.
Luchman was within twenty feet of the horse,
when the very thing he dreaded took place and the creature neighed,
and the intruder, who was in the act of rising to his feet, sank
down again until he could learn whether the noise had been noticed
by the brigands. It seemed not to have disturbed them, and while
he was peering into the gloom, he learned that one of the Ghoojurs
was with the pony. Luchman did not understand the reason for this,
but the other patted the haunches of the animal and spoke soothingly.
A closer view showed the guide that the native was a syce, whose
business it was to look after his master's horse.
Finding everything right, the syce started
for the camp. His course led him so close to Luchman that a discovery
seemed inevitable. He crouched low and drew his pistol. but the
Ghoojur was not searching for interlopers and he joined his comrades
lighted his hookah, little dreaming by what a narrow chance he
took his life with him.
The coast was now clear and the crouching
native in the jungle, grass rose and, without pause or hesitation,
glided to the steed, which probably took him for the syce who
had just left, for he merely raised his head and then resumed
grazing. The rope around his neck was fastened to a stake far
enough away to give him the pasturage he needed. Without stopping
to untie the thong, Luchman cut it with his knife and the pony
was at his disposal. The next minute he had mounted and turned
away the head of his captive.
Luchman had reached a point where it may
be said he would have been justified in dismissing all thought
of the Ghoojur, but he abruptly checked the animal.
"I have stolen him," he muttered
in dismay, "and though Wana Affghar is my enemy, I have no
right to do this thing."
The honest fellow was holding audience with
his conscience.
It did not last long. He wheeled about,
rode back, refastened the horse to the stake and started off again
in a much happier frame of mind, since he carried the approval
of the inward monitor with him. During the little by-play the
Ghoojurs had made hot search for him whose death Wana Affghar
had ordered, but he was beyond their reach, even though still
in the vicinity of the camp.
Looking up to the moonlit sky, Luchman gave
thanks to his Heavenly Father for his protection and favor.
"They are far on the road to Kurnal,"
was his thought of his loved friends; "they have had more
than four hours start. Probably they have walked fast enough,
though the night is warm, and must be a dozen miles on the way;
I must hasten, for the distance is long, but I shall overtake
them by sunrise."
Considerable less than an hour was used
in traversing the four miles which brought him back to the ruined
temple where he had parted with his friends hours before.
"Can any ill have befallen them?"
he whispered with a vague but awful pang as he drew near the ancient
pile. He had left the Ghoojur camp with no thought of stopping
at the ruins, but now as they loomed up in the moonlight, he decided
to search them. The shadowy misgiving still tortured him though
he said to himself again and again that there was no cause for
it. He strode across the plain until in front of the shaded entrance,
through which those he loved had passed, and paused for a brief
space. The silence of the grave rested upon everything and in
the oppressive air not even a leaf trembled.
"They have gone, he murmured, walking
through the archway. "That which fighting could not have
done has been done by the great diamond. They have been led out
of the valley of death and Heaven will deliver them from all further
danger."
His soft footstep, which he did not try
to muffle, gave out a faint echo as he passed into the interior.
A few seconds brought him to the larger apartment where the besieged
had passed most of their time. All was darkness and he guided
himself by the sense of feeling. By and by he called the name
of the missionary and Dr. Avery, but there was no answer. He did
not expect there would be. However, as he carried a small box
of lucifer matches, brought all the way from Calcutta, he ignited
one and held it above his head.
The apartment was empty, the prostrate idol
lying where it had been tumbled by the visitors. There was hardly
a sign that the place had been trodden by human feet for a hundred
years. By the aid of the flickering light, Luchman looked at the
door of the tomb of George Harkins.
Should he enter there?
Not often did the iron hearted guide waver,
but he now hesitated. Finally, however, he pushed the door open
and lighted another match which he also held aloft, peering into
the breathless gloom while waiting for the tiny flame to reveal
the interior.
Then with a horrified gasp, he recoiled.
"Wana Affghar has betrayed them all!"
From the moment when Wana Affghar of Panipat
pledged himself to allow the fugitives to go free in consideration
of their ransom by the great diamond, his brain was active in
devising the means of violating his vow.
Two powerful causes spurred him to his hideous
perfidy. The first was his inherent wickedness, coupled with hatred
of the Feringhees, and the second, the necessity of doing something
to placate the miscreants who had helped in pressing the siege.
Despite his declaration that none of the Ghoojurs dare question
his authority, his discipline was so lax that there would have
been open rebellion, had he tried to draw them from the promised
feast with their hunger unsatisfied.
It would seem perhaps that the circumstances
forbade any effective treachery on the part of the Ghoojur chieftain.
Luchman had entered his camp, thus placing himself wholly in the
power of his enemy. Wana succeeded, as he quickly saw, in lulling
the suspicion of the visitor who stayed with him until midnight,
--the hour appointed for the performance of the Christian's part
of the compact. When that critical moment arrived, the Chieftain
felt certain that his guest, not doubting the fugitives were miles
on the road to Kurnal, would take the steps necessary to place
the jewel in his hands. While he never dreamed that Luchman carried
the priceless gem on his person, he knew it was within easy reach,
and would be speedily turned over to the Ghoojur leader, and events
turned out better even than the wretch anticipated.
In the face of Lucliman's vigilance, the
chief imparted his whole scheme to Ramsurun Duss, his intimate
aide, who eagerly gave his help, for treachery was the breath
of his nostrils and no more congenial task could have been entrusted
to him.
The guide was mistaken in thinking Wana
Affghar had received no reinforcements. He had at least a score
of ragged ruffians under his control and a half dozen of them
were lurking in the edge of the jungle, where their presence was
unsuspected by Luchman. By means of the stratagem already noted,
Ramsurun Duss changed places with one of them and stayed behind,
while Wana Affghar and the others, accompanied by Luchman, went
several miles down the river.
Wana told his lieutenant that as soon as
it was fully dark, the Europeans would leave the temple, though
the precise direction they contemplated taking could not be guessed,
nor was it necessary that it should be known. The second party
of Ghoojurs did not dare attack those in the temple and were not
required to do so. It was their work to steal up to the ruins
and, taking positions which commanded the entrance, send in a
volley that would not leave a Feringhee alive. Then they would
dash forward and rob the bodies, dividing the loot with the main
band waiting with the chieftain down the river, who would come
to the temple after Luchman had fallen a victim to the merciless
perfidy of the Ghoojurs. The latter could not know the precise
time fixed for the departure of the fugitives, but they themselves
were prompt. It was hardly dark when they stole to their places
like so many bees, crawling over the ruins, taking the precaution
to make a long detour and approach from the rear. This part of
the program was earned out without a hitch, but so extreme was
their caution that it was close upon eight o'clock when the crouching
forms stationed themselves under the shade of the overhanging
trees and rank vegetation which grew out of the mass of stones.
Everyone was placed so that he could empty his gun into each of
the Feringhees as they came into sight. Knowing nothing of Harkins'
death, they expected to see three men whom they meant to shoot
first.
The Choojurs waited patiently, confident
that the refugees would soon show themselves, Time passes slowly
to those that count the minutes and the Hindoo lacks the patience
of the Esquimau who sits unmoved for twenty-four hours at a stretch
beside the air hole in the ice, waiting sight of the nose of a
seal. So it came about that when the half-dozen miscreants had
held their cramped positions for more than two hours, they grew
peevish and wondered what could possibly have kept their intended
victims invisible so long. It could not be because they suspected
danger from the outside: and they must surely be aware of the
importance of starting at the earliest possible moment. That the
Europeans were within the temple on the arrival of the assassins
was certain, for the murmur of their voices was plainly heard.
What then was the meaning of their delay?
Two of the Ghoojurs approached Ramsurun Duss and questioned him.
He was as irritated as they and answered that if the Feringhees
did not soon appear, he would lead his followers into the temple
and attack them. His men were hardly prepared for this and proposed
that they should secure reinforcements before undertaking so dangerous
a task. Ramsurun Duss replied that he had more than was needed,
while a larger number would make the shares of plunder too scant.
In short, he was not willing to admit any more to the "ground
floor."
This statement quieted matters for another
half hour, when the same couple stole to the side of their leader
to learn his decision. He was in such an ill humor that he declared
he would wait no longer and being the bravest of the party, he
took upon himself the task of learning why the Europeans persisted
in staying within the temple. He decided to enter unobserved through
the arched way. If challenged, he would make reply that he was
a messenger from Luchman, who sent word that they must not delay
their departure another minute, for it could only add to their
peril. Since the missionary spoke Hindustani there would be no
trouble in communicating with him and Ramsurun Duss did not doubt
he could readily deceive the good man. In the event of being suspected,
or if violent hands were laid upon him, he would make an outcry
that would be answered by a rush of the Ghoojurs waiting close
by. It can hardly be said that the subordinate relished this undertaking,
but he thought detection very unlikely and being in a sour mood,
decided to set his men the example they needed.
The first thing he did was to creep to one
of the circular openings that served for windows. There he listened
for several minutes. The stillness was profound.
"They are asleep," he said in
an undertone to those near him. "We shall all enter together
and leap upon them before they can wake."
But his men objected. They did not see the
wisdom of exposing themselves to so much danger. They thought
it more probable that the Feringhees were making a pretense of
unconsciousness with a view of drawing them into a trap. The leader
grew furious over the cowardice of his men. He vowed he would
manage the business himself and keep all the loot of the Feringhees
and with this parting threat he entered upon his lone expedition.
Cautiously descending from his perch above
the roof of the temple1 he reached the arched entrance, certain
he had not betrayed himself. When he looked into the black, gaping
mouth, which resembled the throat of some colossal piece of ordnance,
he stood motionless for a full minute.
He knew some of his comrades had ventured
too near that death line during the preceding two days. Did a
similar fate await him? But he could not go back to his men, thereby
confessing that he was afraid. He glided swiftly through the passageway
and into the larger apartment. Those on the outside were not held
waiting long when he came back quivering with raging chagrin.
"Too' late!" he exclaimed in the
bitterness of spirit; "the Feringhees are gone!"
This announcement brought back the courage
of his comrades, who plunged frantically into the interior of
the temple. A brief search proved the truth of their leader's
words. The only object found was the inanimate body of Harkins,
which was plundered so shamelessly that it told a part of the
fearful truth to Luchman the moment his eyes fell upon it. The
Feringhees had fled indeed and when the Ghoojurs found that nothing
else remained to do, they took up the tramp to the camp of Wana
Aifghar, where they arrived a half hour after Luchman had slipped
away.
Going back a few hours in the thread of
our narrative, you will remember that Dr. Avery and the family
of the missionary were grouped together in the passageway during
the meeting between Luchman and Wana Affghar. Tense with interest
they watched the couple until the departure of their friend in
the company of the Ghoojur chieftain. None could mistake the meaning
of the scene,--the bargain had been struck. The fugitives must
stay in the temple until the hour named by the guide for leaving.
"If nothing more is seen or heard of
them," said Dr. Avery, "we shall gain the start that
ought to secure our safety. But I shouldn't give much for the
life of Luchman after he parts with the diamond, for he is dealing
with a traitor and a fiend."
The conversation continued without special
interest, until Marian decided to relate her singular experience
of the night before. Instantly her affianced was greatly interested.
"Have you any idea of the hour?"
he asked.
"It must have been near midnight, possibly
a little later."
"That being so, you are mistaken in
thinking the intruder was Luchman. He can prove an alibi. There
was not a minute from the time you withdrew to sleep, or rather
from the time he fired the pistol which you all heard, that he
was not at my elbow. Not once did he pass inside."
"Who was it?"
"A stranger."
"But he could not have come through
the archway without being seen by one of you."
"No, he did not come through the archway.
My friends," said the surgeon earnestly, "that occurrence
confirms a suspicion that I have held all along. There is some
means of communication with the temple of which we know nothing."
"What can it be?"
"It is subterranean, such as you find
in hundreds of buildings in every country. I have no doubt it
leads to the river bank and was made to allow the priests and
fakirs of the temple to go in and out unknown to others."
"Then why has it not been used against
us?" asked Mr. Warringford.
"Because Wana Affghar is ignorant of
it, too. One or more of his men, no doubt, belonging to the guard
along the river bank, stumbled upon the tunnel and explored it
to learn whether it could be turned to account. He or they did
not tell their leader, or if they did, he must have understood
it was unknown to us. As a consequence he has simply guarded the
outlet."
"Still I wonder that it has not been
used before by him."
"1 believe it would have been but for
this ransom business. Wana Affghar could not have secured the
diamond, by discounting its surrender by Luchman. But why speculate?
Let us hunt for the underground passage.
"It surely is the right thing to do,"
said the missionary, "for if we pass out in front, I fear
we shall be attacked."
"Keep guard then for a few minutes
while I search for the tunnel," said Avery, hurrying away,
tremulous with excitement.
The experience of Marian Warringford proved
that the visitor of the night before came from the larger apartment
and consequently the surgeon began his explorations there. He
first stamped on the floor, treading over every part of the stone
and cement and listening for the hollow sound which tells of an
excavation beneath. After making a circuit, he detected a peculiarity
near one of the corners, though the response was not pronounced.
He struck a light and scrutinized the pavement, but saw nothing
to enlighten him further.
"Whichever way he entered, he did not
come up through the floor. Since the opening isn't in the roof,
it must be in the wall."
The same manipulation was repeated around
the sides of the apartment. The only spot that gave the hollow
response was in the corner where it had been heard before.
"It is here," decided the explorer,
striking another match.
Eureka! he had found it. There were the
dividing lines so plainly marked that every one of the fugitives
would have seen them but for the obscurity of the room. They had
pressed the door many times, but it was less yielding than the
one which led into the inner apartment, and it was not until Dr.
Avery had pushed against it with his full strength that it slowly
swung inward, the draught of air extinguishing the match he had
just lighted. Igniting another, he shaded it with one hand and
peered into the yawning space beyond. The stir of air showed the
tunnel! was connected with the outside world and the surgeon believed
the underground passage led to the river. He hurried back to his
friends with the important tidings.
"If we had only known this last night,"
said Mr. Warnngford, "we might have passed out of the temple."
"And probably into an ambush."
"We may do that as it is, for it is
hard to understand why Wana Affghar has withdrawn his guard."
"Perhaps he has not, or the one or
more men in the secret, who have gone off with him, have kept
it to themselves, for reasons which we need not try to guess.
"It is not yet time for us to leave,"
added the missionary, "but I feel that we should use the
path that has so providentially cleared."
It was while this conversation was going
on that Ramsurun Duss and his Ghoojurs took their place about
the entrance to the temple. Our friends thought it prudent to
look farther into the tunnel before availing themselves of the
opportunity it seemed to offer. While the elder held the door
open, the younger groped his way for fifty feet or more from the
building. He was amazed by the perfection of the work. The passage
was three feet wide and almost twice as high. Top, bottom and
sides were lined with the same durable cement that had been plentifully
used through-out the temple itself. It was hard and smooth and
during the dry season was as free as gunpowder from moisture.
No public building could have had a better hallway than that along
which the surgeon traveled for a considerable distance.
"If it is like this throughout, it
is a more pleasant means of egress than across the plain by moonlight."
Dr. Avery was so impressed with the value
of time that he did not explore farther, but made haste to rejoin
his friends. It was then near eight o'clock. He walked to the
front of the archway and looked out to learn whether the coast
was clear. Everything seemed favorable and there was no reason
for further delay.
How little did he or any of the party dream
that at that very moment, Ramsurun Duss and his murderous Ghoojurs
were crouching near the entrance impatiently waiting for him and
his companions to come within range of their guns!
Naturally Dr. Avery took the lead. He went
carefully down the steps, lighting match after match for the guidance
of all. Marian came next, her father bringing up the rear.
"Close the door after you," said
the surgeon to the elder; "quite likely they will search
through the temple for us. Is there any way of fastening it?"
"Fortunately there is not."
"Why do you say fortunately?"
"If there were, do you suppose it would
have been left so we could open it?"
"I did not think of that," replied
the surgeon, whose spirits rose at the prospect before them. He
continued to burn matches at brief intervals, until they had penetrated
so far that Mr. Warringford suggested the light might attract
attention from the farther end of the passage-way. The tiny flame,
therefore, was allowed to flicker out and for a time the journey
was pushed in utter darkness. The surgeon's outstretched arms
and shuffling feet found no irregularity in the admirably constructed
tunnel, which must have been the work of some master mason of
ancient times.
It will be remembered that the distance
from the ruined temple to the river was about two hundred yards.
When it seemed to Dr. Avery that he had traveled that far, he
walked more slowly and felt his way with extreme care. Soon thereafter
the party heard the soft flow of water but a short distance beyond.
Following this rhythmic murmur of flowing
water, the fugitives groping through the tunnel saw a faint glow
in front of them.
"It is the star gleam at the front
of the passage. This is a good time to light another match,"
remarked Dr. Avery the leader, and all stood still while he rasped
the phosphorus along the dry cement at his side. The tiny twist
of flame did not give the view they wished, but it told them there
was no further need of hesitation. Fifty feet further and the
end of the tunnel was reached. They emerged near the river, wondering
why it was they found no means of closing the outer entrance.
It must have been concealed in some way, since one of the essentials
of underground passages is secrecy. A few steps off there was
a growth of vegetation around the mouth, which was not likely
to be observed from the river or the bank above.
The first thing to do was to learn whether
any of their enemies were near. So far as could be seen none of
the Ghoojurs were within call and the little party moved to the
water's edge, where they dipped up enough fluid in the palms of
their hands to quench their burning thirst. As with the Ganges,
the waters were roiled, but the fugitives eagerly drank of them.
Possibly in time, they might have acquired a liking for the muddy
current, as do those who voyage up and down our own Mississippi.
"We have been fortunate beyond our
deserts," said Mr. Warringford reverently, "and I have
an unwavering faith that we shall be delivered out of all our
perils. Luchman told us to go to the river bank a quarter of a
mile above, but we have not been able to follow his directions
since the tunnel does not lead that way."
"We can soon get to the spot which
we may consider our starting point," said the surgeon. "Let
us hasten, for this is one of those chances that we are not likely
to come upon the second time."
The stream upon whose bank they paused was insignificant at the
time, though during the rainy season, it was a large, muddy and
swiftly rolling river, showing the peculiarity that impresses
the traveler in going up the Ganges. The bed over which the current
flows is so soft and free from obstructions that scarcely any
sound is heard. The shore was dry and sandy, of a yellowish color
and with trees scattered at rare intervals.
The guide had told them to Waste no time,
but to press on without thought of him. It was important above
everything else to lessen the distance between them and Kurnal
and the few hours thus gained were more than likely to decide
their fate.
During these precious minutes the Ghoojurs
were squatted near the entrance of the tunnel, awaiting the appearance
of the fugitives. Mrs. Warringford told her friends to feel no
solicitude on her account, as the long enforced rest made the
exercise of walking pleasant, despite the suffocatingly hot night,
and she was able to walk a long way. They followed the stream
rather than the beaten path, for its course in that section is
north and south and anyone who traveled toward its source must
approach Kurnal. They had gone perhaps two miles farther when
they were startled by the sight of a small boat which whirled
around a curve in the stream and was upon them before they were
aware. It contained five or six men who were doubtless fully armed.
All the fugitives could do was to hide behind a clump of peepul
trees and hope for the best. The stream was so shallow that the
occupants of the craft seemed to give all their efforts to preventing
it from sticking fast upon the numerous bars, and doubtless it
was this fact that saved the party on shore from discovery. As
soon as the danger was past, our friends resumed their journey,
keeping in the shelter Whenever possible; in this way they were
favored by the great number of groves that are scattered through
India, planted many years before by wealthy men, who thought thus
to secure enough merit to outweigh such atrocities as their descendants
were committing at this very time. The night was a memorable one
to the fugitives, who knew that in front was safety and behind
was death. There had been nights of more dangerous adventure,
but somehow the feeling was with all, that this was the crisis
of their long and weary wanderings.
Directly in the east the glare of some conflagration
filled the sky. It was not far off and may have had no special
significance, but to the refugees it seemed a part of the appalling
drama just opening, before which the civilized world was to stand
aghast. Little conversation was indulged in, for all were oppressed
with anxious imaginings. Where the nature of the ground permitted,
Dr. Avery drew the arm of Marian within his own, and husband and
wife did the same, for they were an example of the beautiful love
and trust that grows brighter with the passing years. Eager as
they were to push on, they could not escape the enervating effect
of the temperature which at times seemed like that of the "hinges
of Hades." There are days and nights in the Deccan and other
parts of India where only a salamander can be considered proof
against the appalling torridity. Hundreds have died in Madras
and Bombay in their beds at midnight from heat stroke and there
are times when it is said, the rash foreigner who attempts to
cross the street at noonday without protection from the smiting
rays is sure to be stricken dead in his tracks.
All were walking languidly when the missionary
was overcome by a faintness which was the direct result of the
intense throbbing heat. He knew it would be death to disregard
the warning and he quietly asked his friends to allow him to lest
for a brief while. Fortunately they were on the edge of a large
grove at the time. Avery decided there was little to be feared
from wild beasts: the monkeys, though in great numbers, being
harmless. All sat down near the margin where they decided to stay
until morning which could not be far off.
The missionary did not let the others know
how ill he felt nor did they suspect anything serious was the
matter with him When he reclined on the warm earth and sank into
slumber, no one felt a doubt that he would be fully recovered
in the morning, and they were not disappointed.
The women spread their shawls on the ground
and Marian, resting her head against the tree behind her, made
her mother lay hers in her lap. In this posture the two finally
fell asleep and were not awakened until daylight. But it was otherwise
with Dr. Avery. He seemed to require little more sleep than Luchman
and he was so wide awake that he felt it was useless to try to
woo reluctant slumber. It was not necessary to walk to and fro
as he did while guarding the temple, and with both guns at his
side, he threw himself down on the margin of the grove.
"Confound it!" he growled mopping
his forehead, "talk about the Upper Nile and the Red Sea
and Persia and various other places being hot, they can't beat
this, for if they did, no one would ever live to tell about it.
If England had to live in Persia, she would drop her like a hot
potato. Now what should I do without Lilia?"
Drawing a hookah from his pocket he filled
it with tobacco which Luchman had procured for him some time before
and striking a match smoked with the slow, deliberate enjoyment
of a lover of the weed.
"My supply is running short and it
doesn't equal the cheroots I brought from Calcutta, but it beats
nothing by a thousand per cent. It is such a solace on these horrible,
steaming nights that I pity those who don't use it. How fine it
would be for Mr. Warringford and his wife and Marian--that is
to say for the old gentleman."
He smoked until only ashes remained, when
he re-filled the cocoanut bowl.
"Kurnal isn't so far from Delhi,"
he added, his thoughts drifting in another direction; "and
we must be pretty near the smaller town. Hangnation! I've heard
that noise a dozen times; what can it mean?"
A low tremulous whistle sounded on the still
night as it had sounded repeatedly. Rising to his feet, Dr. Avery
returned the call, muttering:
"That is the signal we agreed upon
with Luchman and it must be he, but I forgot about it until now.
Several exchanges of signals followed, when
the guide walked forward and in the pleasure of the meeting, they
exchanged a Masonic grip. In answer to inquiries, Avery replied
that the family of the missionary were sleeping near by, while
he was essaying the role of sentinel, with the report that thus
far everything had gone well. Luchman listened with great interest,
after which he told his story. When he entered the temple he found
that Wana Affghar had betrayed him and he vowed that no matter
what the consequences might be to himself, he would slay the perfidious
miscreant. By means of lighted matches, the Hindoo studied the
well trodden soil in front of the archway and was surprised by
his failure to find the delicate footprints of the women leading
outward. He began to hope that matters might not be as bad as
he feared. Then came a renewal of the suspicion he had felt all
along, that there was an underground communication with the temple
which providentially the fugitives had discovered and put to good
use. Hurrying to the shore of the stream, it did not take him
long to learn the thrilling truth: there in the sandy soil he
saw the tracks of the two men and their companions.
The good fellow was happy again, and despite
the horrible heat, he pressed on with more ardor than before.
He saw that while Wana Affghar had played the traitor, Heaven
had brought his scheme to naught.
"Won't he pursue us when he learns
we have fled?" asked the surgeon.
"No, the distance is too jar; he knows
he cannot over-take us. Besides it was the great diamond he was
seeking. We have only to improve the opportunity Heaven has given
us.
"Shall we follow the stream to its
end?"
"No, sahib, for it makes a turn to
the west a few miles farther on and we shall have to leave it.
But our task is much easier and safer than at any time since we
left the Cashmere Gate."
"In what respect?"
"We can keep to paths through the jungle,
which reaches to within four miles of Kurnal and may get a ride
with some ryot, which will greatly help the ladies."
"Will that be prudent?"
"We should have had little trouble
after leaving Delhi, sahib, had we been like all other fugitives.
Our danger, if you will stop to think, came from Wana Affghar
of Panipat and his Ghoojurs, not because he wanted us, but because
he coveted the great diamond. Had you taken one direction and
I another he would have given no heed to you but pursued me. He
will do so no more.
"It must be near morning, Luchman."
"It is, sahib; it is growing light:
our friends will need food: wait here till I bring it."
Before the others awoke, the guide returned.
"I have found a hut, sahib, where we
can have all the food we need."
"Why did you not bring it with you?"
"It will be more pleasant for the ladies
to go there; they can bathe, attend to their toilets and be in
a house while the hot wind is blowing."
Before it was fairly light, all three were
awake and warmly greeted Luchman whose escape from Wana Affghar
was hardly less remarkable than their own. The missionary and
his family were glad to go to the hut with the guide, for the
accommodations offered were such as people in their situation
long for and appreciate. The mud house was occupied by a man,
his wife and two children, all of whom deemed themselves honored
by receiving such visitors under their roof. The simple people
had never before been spoken to in their own tongue by a foreign
lady. The dwelling was a tidy one with two rooms and was built
of sun-dried bricks, thatched with corn stalks, but to the refugees
after their toil and privations, it was a palace. The low caste
of the native allowed him to supply them with food and entertainment.
From a neighboring well he drew the cool water for bathing, while
the wife ground the grain in a hand mill and soon supplied her
guests with chuppaties and a species of grain porridge known as
dalbhat. This simple food, eaten in safety, was delicious and
flourishing.
The furniture of the house consisted of
a charpoy or native bedstead and a few cooking utensils. Outside
under the shade of a mango tree was another charpoy, which was
used as a chair during the day. While our friends were seated
on the ground partaking of their meal, the housewife stood over
them with a dried palm leaf, which she deftly used as a fan, thus
enabling her visitors to eat in comfort. Having been accustomed
in their own home to huge punkhas--fan--suspended from the ceiling
and kept going day and night during the hot season, and having
suffered so much misery on the road to this primitive hut, it
can be understood how welcome the service of the housewife was
to the tired fugitives.
The women spent as much of the day as they
could in slumber, for they expected to travel most of the night.
Dr. Avery tumbled into the charpoy under the tree outside, but
instantly tumbled out again when he found a venomous serpent had
pre-empted the quarters.
"Devil take the snakes!" he exclaimed
with a shiver of disgust; "you never know where to look for
them in India except where you don't want to see 'em."
After some manipulation with a long stick,
Avery dislodged the reptile from his nest and despatched it. Making
sure that none of its friends was in the charpoy, he rolled over
into it and slept until the afternoon was gone.
With the close of the day, the silent housewife
prepared the evening meal. While moving about she was accompanied
by a musical tinkle from her toe rings and the jingle of the bracelets
and amulets on her ever busy arms. A brief while after the meal,
it was noticed that Luchman had disappeared and there was a natural
curiosity as to the reason. No one, however, had any misgiving,
for if any man possessed the faculty of being on hand when needed,
he was that individual. A liberal gift of money was made to the
couple, who were profuse in their thanks and urged their visitors
to come again and even to spend many weeks under their humble
roof. While the good missionary was improving the occasion by
speaking to them of the claims and beauties of the Christian religion,
the sound of wagon wheels in the road was heard and peeping out
with some alarm they saw that a large cart, drawn by a pair of
hump-shouldered oxen and occupied by a single person, halted in
front of their dwelling. This superintendent of motive power proved
to be their old friend Luchman.
He did not explain by what means he had
acquired the property, but no one doubted it was by honest purchase
or hire. All the party entered the vehicle and after profound
salaams from the native and his wife to the Gurib-purwan, or "protectors
of the poor," they headed northward toward Kurnal.
The journey had no lack of incident, but
nothing of a dangerous nature occurred. The sight of a native
driving such a cart and accompanied by several others, who from
their apparel were Hindoos, was too common to attract more than
passing notice. They had passed beyond the ring of fire that encircled
Delhi and the next day reached the little town where the position
of the British authorities was so strong that it seemed all peril
of the flight from the capital of the newly proclaimed Mogul Empire
was at an end.
My narrative touches only the fringe of
the Sepoy Mutiny of 1857-58. Its later history is written in letters
of fire. Never has the world witnessed more horrifying scenes
of atrocity, perfidy and massacre than those that swept over India
those days when the legions of darkness were loosed for a season.
The Mogul Empire was proclaimed at Delhi
in May. On the last day of the same month, the mutiny at Cawnpore
took place: the city was invested by Nana Sahib on the 6th of
June; it surrendered twenty days later and the garrison was butchered
the next day. On the 16th of July, General Havelock was so near
and Nana Sahib knowing that he would be forced to vacate Cawnpore,
the most awful massacre of all--that of the women and children--was
perpetrated, directly after which Nana Sahib withdrew and the
city was relieved by General Havelock.
The principal massacres down to the close
of July were at Mutta, Delhi, Lucknow, Bareilly, Neemuch, Fyzabad
and Cawnpore. But the wails of British India were borne across
the thousands of miles of land and sea to England and she arose
in her majestic wrath and sent the veterans of the Crimea to visit
retribution on the heads of the merciless Sepoys, the united Hindoos
and Mussulmans and, because it was delayed, the vengeance was
the more terrible.
Delhi, the Mogul capital, was invested by General Barnard on June
8, assaulted September 14, and captured on the 20th. The wretched
puppet, Mohammed Suraj-oo-deen Shah Gezee, fled before the swinging
hosts, but was pursued and captured by Captain Hodson, who promised
to spare his life if he surrendered. On the same day, two sons
and one grandson of the Emperor, all three among the leading fiends
in the massacres, were shot dead by Captain Hodson with his revolver
while they were seated in a carrage, surrounded by a frenzied
mob bent on rescuing them.
Order being finally restored at Delhi, a
military commission was appointed to try the leading mutineers
that had been captured, in or near the city. Such commissions
generally convict, and by this one, twenty members of the Delhi
royal family were executed, together with a number of red-handed
Choojur Chiefs. In the month of January, the Emperor himself was
placed on trial. He was found guilty on each of the four charges
alleged against him, the penalty of which is death as a traitor
and felon; but because of the promise given at the time of his
surrender to Captain Hodson, he was sentenced to a life transportation
to the Andaman Islands. This was changed to British Kaifraria,
and this in turn to a station in British Burrnah, known as Tonghoo,
some three hundred miles inland from Rangoon, where he arrived
on the 9th day of December, 1858. And there in 1861, at the great
age of ninety years, closed the career of the last sovereign of
the race of Timur.
Nana Dhoonda Pant, known in history as Nana
Sahib, was the foulest fiend of the Sepoy Mutiny. His ultimate
fate will never be known. The British Government offered a reward
of a lac of rupees (Thirty-three Thousand Dollars) for his capture
and several persons were arrested because of their resemblance
to him. By some it was reported that he crossed the Himalayas
and found refuge among the tribes of the north, and by others
it was claimed that he was afterwards seen in different parts
of Hindustan, while more believe he was killed during the closing
scenes of the uprising. Strange as it may seem, twenty years later,
many persons in India were convinced he was alive, so changed
by years and so disguised that none but his most intimate friends
suspected his identity. It is incredible, however, that such was
the case.
The author of "The Land of the Veda"
used the following impressive language:
"When again defeated for the fifth
time, he fled to the congenial society of Khan Bahador at Bareilly,
where he made his last stand; and he then, having filled to overflowing
the measure of his guilt, passed away like a thief in the night,
and left his wealth to the spoiler. He and his followers entered
the jungles of Oude, and penetrated deep into desolate wilds,
where the malarious fever soon thinned out his company and reduced
the remnant to the final distress. For the last that is known
of this man's doom we have to depend upon the reports of two native
spies who followed him, and two of his servants who subsequently
found their way out of the Himalayan solitudes. Wasted and worn
at last by fever and starvation, they are reported to have held
a council and concluded to put their swords each through his own
women, and then to separate and die alone. Certainly a remnant
of any them has never since been seen. The Nana Sahib wore that
great ruby which was so celebrated for its size and brilliancy.
His priests had told him that it was an amulet which secured to
him a charmed life. He trusted in it, no doubt, to the very last.
It was probably in his turban when he wandered up the deep ravine
to die alone; and if so, there it lies today, for no human hand
will penetrate those pestilential jungles to gather it. The eagles
of the Himalayas alone, as they look down from their lofty heights
for their prey, are the only creatures that will ever see the
burning rays of that ruby, as it shines amid the rags of the vagrant
who perished there long years ago.
I have said that Luchman, the Hindoo, had
no more humor in his make-up than an American Indian, but even
our noble redmen now and then indulge in pleasantry, and there
have been instances when they actually laughed. None the less
the dusky hero was one of the most reserved of men and rarely
was anything more than a flitting smile seen upon his face. To
picture him as chuckling with mirth was beyond the imagination
of any of his friends, but I have now to relate an instance in
which they saw such an amazing display on his part.
Early in the year 1858, Reverend Francis
Warringford, the missionary, and. his family re-established themselves
in the royal city of Delhi. Their house had been destroyed during
the commune of the preceding twelve months, but the good man had
enough means left to procure another and cheerfully resumed work
in the Master's vineyard.
Luchman did valuable service as a guide
for the British forces and proved, like every native convert,
faithful amid the fiery temptations. As I have said before, one
of the most striking facts connected with the Sepoy Mutiny, is
that not a single instance is known of a native professing Christianity
swerving from his faith.
Surgeon Avery was professionally engaged
during the closing scenes of the rebellion. He and Luchman were
generally within communicating distance of each other and one
evening they met at the home of the missionary, where they were
always warmly welcomed. Dr. Avery had not forgotten his duty to
the memory of his noble friend George Harkins and the little company
were indulging in reminiscences of those memorable days and nights
following the flight from Delhi, when the Doctor suddenly asked:
"What the mischief is the matter with
Luchman?"
The Hindoo's shoulders were actually bobbing
up and down and an odd chuckling came from his throat. Everyone
smiled because of the unprecedented sight. Seeing their eyes turned
upon him, Luchman instantly became his sober self and gravely
asked the missionary:
"Will the sahib write a letter for
me?"
"With pleasure," replied the gentleman,
and Marion brought forth pen, ink and paper.
"Mother and I shall withdraw,"
said she, supposing the matter was private.
"No, no, no," protested Luchman
with an expansive grin, you must help me think what to say in
my letter." He had some knowledge of written English and
spoke it remark-ably well though for the sake of smoothness in
our narrative I have not tried to transcribe his speech verbatim.
"I am ready," said Mr. Warringford,
taking up the pen and dipping it into the ink; "to whom shall
it be addressed?"
"To Wana Affghar, Panipat."
Every countenance expressed astonishment
and once more Luchman chuckled and straightway became as solemn
as an owl.
"How will your letter be delivered?"
asked the amanuensis.
"I will get it to him, sahib."
"Proceed."
Luchman fidgeted uneasily in his seat. This
was not the kind of business to which he was accustomed. Observing
his embarrassment, Mr. Warringford addressed the missive.
"To Wana Aifghar, Panipat, Luchman
sends salaams."
Reading this aloud the writer added:
"Now, my good friend, instead of trying
to think of the form, tell me what you wish to say and I shall
put it together for you."
Still the native was restless.
"Recall to Wana Affghar the agreement
we made for the ransom of the Feringhees who were held in the
temple."
This was done.
"Tell him I meant to keep my part as
a Christian."
"I shall write that you did so."
"No, sahib, write it as I said."
It was so written.
"But I distrusted him and I waited
to be sure he had not broken his word."
The pen moved rapidly, but everyone except
Luchman was mystified.
"Say to him that if he had been faithful,
I should have given him the great diamond."
"Why, Luchman, you did give it to him,"
said the missionary, leaning back in his chair with arrested pen,
while the others looked their amazement. The native indulged in
another of his astonishing chuckles and then explained:
"I did not give Wana Affghar the real
diamond; I gave him a false one and brought away the true one
with me. It was in my turban all the time, close to the false
one. Had I found that he had kept his promise, I should have given
him the true diamond afterwards, for I had promised to do so and
I am a Christian. I had the false one made when I was in Calcutta
and carried it with me alongside the true one. Wana Affghar will
never see the great diamond, for I have given it to another."
The pen of the writer dropped to the floor.
"Can this be possible?"
"Will you write that, sahib?"
"Wait till I pull myself together,"
replied the gentleman as he picked up the pen. Finally the words
were written and when the excitement had subsided, the interesting
story was completed.
Between Wana Affghar and Luchman, the game
was a genuine one of "diamond cut diamond," and though
you may have decided that the Ghoojur chieftain had over-matched
the Hindoo, you will now change your mind. During one of Luchman's
occasional visits to Calcutta, he secured the services of a native
lapidary, who by some alchemy unknown outside his country, made
a perfect imitation of the wonderful stone, which the Hindoo took
away with him, impelled to do so by the thought that it might
serve him in some such contingency as that which actually arose.
Inserting his fingers once more in his turban,
he now brought forth a piece of soft tissue paper and turning
toward Marion tossed it into her lap.
"I have saved it for you," said
he, "but did not give it before, because I feared you could
not keep it while the war was waging about you.
"But why do you give it to me, Luchman?"
asked the astonished young woman. The native was silent for a
moment, as if struggling with his emotion. Then in a low voice
he said:
"Your father, the sahib, told me so
much about Christianity that I could not sleep for thinking: I
was sorrowed by the words of your good mother, but I had been
so wicked a man that I did not believe God would ever pardon me.
It was you, the daughter, that showed me that my Heavenly Father
would pardon the worst of sinners. I asked him to forgive and
make a new man of me and He did so. I found the jewel of great
price; you possessed it long ago; take this,--not from me but
from my heart."
There could be no refusal of such a request.
"It is a fortune," said Dr. Avery,
"but immense as is its worth it cannot be compared with my
jewel,--my wife soon to be."
After a moment's hush, Luchman turned to
Dr. Avery with a curious expression on his face.
"If Wana Affghar were a Freemason,
would it be right for me to treat him as I did?"
The reply of the surgeon was instantaneous:
"Brother, your supposition is not supposable.
You are a Freemason. It is impossible for him ever to be one:
you are the real diamond; he is the paste and we don't make Freemasons
out of paste. So mote it be."
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