Chapter 38

information.

Before Major Coote reached Daudpur he was overtaken by a horseman bearing a message from Clive.

"A job for you, Burke," said the major, after reading the note. "Mr. Clive is annoyed at the Nawab's escape and thinks he may give us trouble yet if he can join hands with Law and his Frenchmen. I am to send you ahead to reconnoiter. You've been to Murshidabad, I think?"

"No, only to Cossimbazar, but that is not far off."

"Well, you know the best part of the road, at any rate. The colonel wants you to go with a small party to Murshidabad and find out whether the Frenchmen have come within reach. You'll have to go on foot: take care you don't get into trouble. Pick your own men, of course. You must have a rest first."

"Two or three hours will be enough for me. If we start soon we shall reach Murshidabad before dawn, and with little risk. I'm to come back and report, sir?"

"Of course. No doubt you will meet us on the way."

On reaching Daudpur Desmond selected twenty Sepoys who knew the country and ordered them to be ready to start with him at midnight. Bulger and Mr. Toley he had already informed of his mission, and he found them more than eager to share in it. Just after midnight the little party set out. A march of some four hours brought them to the outskirts of Murshidabad. Desmond called a halt, encamped for the remainder of the night in a grove of palmyras, and at dawn sent forward one of the Sepoys, disguised as a ryot, to make inquiries as to what was happening in the town.

It was near midday when the man returned. He reported that the Nawab had gone to his palace, while the chiefs who had accompanied or followed him from the field of battle had shown their recognition that his cause was lost by deserting him and going to their own houses. He had heard nothing of the French. The Nawab, in order to ingratiate himself with the people, had thrown open his treasury, from which all and sundry were carrying off what they pleased. The city was in such a disturbed state that it would be exceedingly unsafe for any stranger to enter.

Desmond decided to remain where he was until nightfall, and then to skirt the city and move northwards in the hope of learning something definite of the movements of the French. Meanwhile he sent the man back to learn if anything happened during the day.

In the evening the man returned again. This time he reported that Mir Jafar had arrived with a large force and taken possession of the Nawab's palace of Mansurganj. Immediately after the traitor's arrival Sirajuddaula had collected all the gold and jewels on which he could lay hands and fled with his women. Suspecting that the luckless Nawab was making for Rajmahal in the hope of meeting Law there, Desmond made up his mind to follow. He struck his camp, marched all night, and soon after daybreak reached a village near the river some miles south of Rajmahal.

He was surprised to find the village deserted. But passing a small house, he heard cries of distress, and going in he found the place full of smoke from some straw that had been kindled, and a man tied by his thumbs to a staple in the wall. He recognized the man in a moment. It was Coja Solomon, Mr. Merriman's rascally agent of Cossimbazar. He was half dead with pain and fright. Desmond cut him loose and hurried him out of the stifling room into the open, where Bulger revived him with copious douses of water until he was sufficiently recovered to explain his unhappy plight.

"God be praised!" exclaimed the Armenian fervently. "You were in time, sir. I was seeking safety. The Faujdar of Murshidabad villainously ill-used me. He owes me much, but there is no gratitude in him. I saw that neither my life nor my goods were safe, so I packed up what valuables I could and left with my servants, intending to go to Patna, where I have a house. I had just reached this village when I saw a band of some fifty horsemen approaching from the other end, and fearing that I might be set upon and plundered I hastily concealed my goods at the edge of the tank hard by. Alas! it availed me nothing. My servants were dispersed, and the risaldar of the horsemen, a European, seized me and thrust me into this house, abandoned like all the rest, for the people fled before his approach, fearing he would burn and destroy. Then I was tied up as you saw, until I confessed where my valuables were hidden; one of my servants must have betrayed me. The risaldar promised to release me as soon as I should confess: but instead of that he set fire to the straw out of pure villainy, for what could I do to him? I have been a good friend to the English. Sir, pursue that man: he must be a Frenchman. I will give you a quarter, nay, a third of my goods, if you recover them."

"That is impossible, Khwaja. I've only twenty men on foot: what is the use of pursuing fifty on horseback? Your friendship for the British has come, I fear, a little too late."

The Armenian wrung his hands in despair, whining that he was a ruined man. Then his tone changed; was there not still a chance? He explained that, a few hours before his capture, he had met a man who had recognized him as the agent for Mr. Merriman. The man said that he was a servant of Surendra Nath Chuckerbutti and was on his way to meet Clive Sahib, carrying a letter to him from his master. But he was worn out, having come on foot a day and a night without rest. Coja Solomon unblushingly confessed that, while the man slept at midday, he had taken the letter from him and read it.

"Why did you do that?"

"I thought it would be safer with me, for every one knows--"

"Yes, that'll do, Khwaja; go on with your story."

"The letter was written at Malda, a village on the other side of the river, and the writer, Surendra Nath, informed Mr. Clive that the wife and daughter of Mr. Merriman were in his house there, and asked him to send a party to bring them away. Naturally, sir, I was pleased to find--"

"Go on with your story," cried Desmond impatiently, all excitement at coming upon the track of the ladies at last.

"It was while I was reading the letter that the horsemen came up. The risaldar took it from me, read it, and questioned me. His face changed. He smiled evilly, and from the questions he asked me, and from what I heard him say to his followers, he has gone to Malda, with a design to take these ladies."

"Stay, Khwaja, what was he like?"

"He was a tall man, with scars on his face, and on his right hand he wore a black glove."

"The scoundrel!" exclaimed Desmond.

His look of trouble and anxiety did not escape the Armenian.

"It is but a little since he left me," he said. "If you make your way to the village--it is three coss on the other side of the river--you may capture him, sir, as well as regain my property, a third of which is yours."

"But how--how, man?" cried Desmond impatiently. "How can we overtake him on foot?"

"He will have to ride near to Rajmahal to find a ford, sir. He will cross there, and ride back down the river some five coss before he comes to Malda."

"But could he not swim the river?"

"He could, sir, but it is a feat he is not likely to attempt, seeing that there is no need for haste. I implore you, sir, start at once. Otherwise I am a ruined man; my old age will be spent in poverty and distress."

"If he can not cross, how can I?" said Desmond.

"There is sure to be a boat on the bank, sir, unless they have all been seized by the Nawab, who, rumor says, is coming from Bhagwangola by river to Rajmahal."

Desmond felt uneasy and perplexed. He doubted whether his duty to Clive did not forbid him to go in search of the ladies, and there was no possibility of communicating in time with either Clive or Coote. Then it suddenly occurred to him that pursuit of Diggle might well come within his duty. Diggle was in the service of the Nawab; it was possible that he was even leading an advance guard of Law's Frenchmen.

"Were there any other Europeans besides the risaldar among the horsemen?" he asked.

"Two, sahib, and they were French. I suspect they were from the force of Law, sahib; he was, I know, at Patna a few days ago."

Desmond hesitated no longer. His affection for Mr. Merriman prompted an attempt to save the ladies: his mission from Clive was to discover the movements of the French. If he set off on Diggle's track he might succeed in both. It was a risky adventure--to pursue fifty men under such a leader as Diggle, with only a score. But twice before he had tried conclusions with Diggle and come off best: why should fortune fail him again?

Hurriedly explaining the situation to Mr. Toley and Bulger, he hastened with his men down to the river. There was no boat at the village ghat. He looked anxiously up and down. On the opposite side he saw a long riverboat moored in a narrow backwater. He could only get it by swimming, and here the current ran so swiftly that to swim would be dangerous. Yet on the spur of the moment he was preparing to take to the water himself when one of his men, a slim and active Sepoy, volunteered to go.

"Good! I will give you ten rupees if you bring the boat across. You are a good swimmer?"

"The sahib will see," replied the man, with a salaam and a smile.

He took a kedgeree pot, an earthen vessel used for cooking, and firmly tied to it a stout bamboo some six feet long, so that the thicker end of the pole was even with the mouth of the vessel. The boat was slightly down the stream. The man ran a little way upstream to a point where a spit of land jutted out into the river, his companions following quickly with the pot. This they placed mouth downwards in the water. Then the Sepoy mounted on top, launched himself on this novel buoy, and, holding on to the pole, floated breast high in the water down with the current, dexterously steering himself with his legs to the point where the boat was moored. Soon he reached the spot. He clambered into the boat and with rapid movements of the stern oar brought it to the other side, viewing with beaming face the promised reward.

While this was going on the sky had been darkening. A northwester was coming up, and after his experience on the eve of Plassey, Desmond knew what that meant. He hastily embarked his men, and the boat started: but it had scarcely covered a third of the distance across the river when the wind struck it. Fortunately the sail was not up: as it was, the flat-bottomed boat was nearly swamped. Drenching rain began to fall. The river was lashed to fury: for three crowded minutes it seemed to Desmond a miracle that the boat was still afloat. The waves dashed over its sides; the men, blinded by the rain, were too much cowed to attempt to bail out.

Desmond was at the helm; Bulger and Toley had an oar each; although only a few yards distant, Desmond could scarcely see them through the pelting rain. Then the wind moderated somewhat: he peremptorily ordered the men to use their brass lotis {drinking vessel} to bale out the boat, and determined to turn the storm to account.

With great difficulty he got the sail hoisted; and then the vessel ran down the river at racing speed. The distance to Malda, as the Armenian had told him, was six miles--four by river, two by land. By Diggle's route it was ten miles. The horsemen had had such a start of him that he feared he could not overtake them in time. Still, the storm that now helped him would hinder them. If he survived the perils of the river passage he might even yet succeed.

He was alive to the risks he ran. More than once, as the wind changed a point, it seemed that the cranky craft must turn turtle. But she escaped again and again, plunging on her headlong course. The Sepoys were sturdy enough fellows, but being unused to the water they cowered in the bottom of the boat, except when Desmond's stern command set them frantically bailing.

Almost before it seemed possible they came in sight of a bend in the river which one of the men, who knew the district, had described to Desmond as the nearest point to the village he sought. So rapid had the passage been that Desmond felt that, if they could only land in safety, they might have gained considerably on Diggle's horsemen. The latter must have felt the full effect of the gale: it was likely that they had taken shelter for a time. Desmond and his men were wet to the skin, but, profiting by the recollection of what had happened at Plassey, they had kept their ammunition dry.

At the bend the river presented a shelving beach, being at least twice as wide at this point during the rainy season as at other periods. Without hesitation Desmond ran the nose of the boat straight at the beach: she came to with a violent bump; the men tumbled out waist deep into the water, and with shrill cries of relief scrambled ashore.

No time was lost. Waiting only to inspect their muskets, Desmond at once began the march, the band being led by the man who knew the country. Another man, a noted runner, formerly a kasid in the employment of the Nawab of the Deccan, was sent in advance to find Surendra Nath's house, give him warning of Desmond's coming, and instruct him to have someone on the lookout for the approach of the enemy, if Diggle were not, indeed, already in possession of the village. The rest pushed on with all speed. The storm had cleared the air: the rain had ceased, and though it was unpleasant walking over the soppy ground, the march was much cooler than it would otherwise have been.

Desmond longed for a hill from which to get a view of the country. But, as almost everywhere in the valley of the Ganges, it was dead flat. The party was within a quarter of a mile of the village when the kasid came running back. He had found the Babu's house. From its flat roof a body of horse had been seen in the distance, nearly a coss away. Desmond at once ordered his men to double, and as they dashed into the village among the wondering people, the kasid pointed out Surendra Nath's house at the far end--a small two-storied building, surrounded by a wall and approached through a rickety iron gateway. It was the first house to which the approaching horsemen would come.

A man in native dress was standing at the gate. At first Desmond did not recognize him, but as he drew nearer he saw that it was Surendra Nath himself, looking years older--weak, thin, sunken-eyed, little like the sleek, well-fed Babu Desmond had last seen in Calcutta.

"Are the ladies safe?" asked Desmond, yards ahead of his men.

"Yes, sir, quite safe," replied Surendra Nath, trembling.

"Thank God for that! Go in, Babu: tell them we are here to protect them."

While speaking he had eagerly scanned the surroundings. On each side of the sodden track that did duty for a road there was a mango grove. Desmond directed Toley to take four men to one side, and Bulger four men to the other, and place themselves among the trees. When the first three files of the horsemen should have passed through, the seamen were to give the word to fire; then, taking advantage of the inevitable confusion, to rush with their men to the house. Desmond himself meanwhile, with the remaining twelve, set to work to strengthen the defenses. These proceedings were watched with amazement by the villagers, who, men, women, and children, stood in groups, discussing in shrill tones the movements of these energetic strangers.

There was a small veranda to the house. This was wrenched away by main force. The posts and other parts of the woodwork were carried to the gateway and piled up as rapidly as possible to form a rough barricade. Scarcely was this task half accomplished when the clanking of weapons was heard in the distance, soon accompanied by the swashing of horses' hoofs on the drenched soil.

Desmond coolly ordered his men to proceed with the work. A minute later there was a sharp discharge of musketry, followed by cries, shouts, and the sound of galloping horses. The villagers scuttled away shrieking. Immediately afterward Bulger and Toley with their eight men sprang from cover and made a dash for the wall.

"Muskets first!" shouted Desmond.

The muskets were pitched over: then the men scrambled up, Desmond and his Sepoys assisting them to get across. Almost the first to drop down into the compound was Bulger, whose hook had proved, not for the first time, of more service than a sound left arm. Once over himself, he used his hook to haul the Sepoys after him, with many a vigorous "Yo, heave ho!"

"All aboard, sir," he cried, when the last of the men was within the wall. "I may be wrong, but I lay my button hook 'tis now all hands to repel boarders; and only two cutlasses among us--mine and Mr. Toley's. What ho, mateys! who cares--"

Desmond ordered four of his men to post themselves at the barricaded gateway: the rest he divided into two parties, and stationed behind the wall at each side. The wall was six feet high--too high to fire over; but as it was in a somewhat dilapidated condition there was no difficulty in knocking away several loose bricks at intervals, so as to make a rough and ready battlement. Desmond instructed the men to fire alternately through the embrasures thus made. As soon as one had fired he was to fall back and reload as fast as possible while another man took his place. By this device, Desmond hoped to deceive the enemy for a time as to the number of the defenders in the compound.

But it was not to be expected that the enemy could long be kept out, and in the last resort it would be necessary to retreat to the house. In view of the presence of the ladies this was a step to be avoided if possible. It might indeed be the wiser course to surrender, for their sakes. As the thought struck Desmond he called to the Babu, who was keeping watch on the roof.

"Babu," he said, "ask the ladies to occupy the least exposed room. Tell them that if the enemy get over the wall I will try to make an arrangement with them, rather than provoke an attack on the house."

The Babu disappeared. But a few moments later Phyllis Merriman, wearing the costume of a native lady, came running out.

"Mother bids me say, Mr. Burke," she said, "on no account let such considerations weigh with you. She says, fight to the last. We will risk anything rather than go back to captivity. You will beat them, Mr. Burke, won't you?"

"I shall do my best, Miss Merriman," replied Desmond. "But pray go back: they may be here at any moment. I need not say how glad I am to find you well. Pray tell Mrs. Merriman that we shall all do our best for her and you."

"I know you will. And my father?"

"He is distressed, of course, but clings to hope. Do, Miss Merriman, retire at once. I see the enemy coming from the grove."

"Phyllis! Phyllis!" cried Mrs. Merriman from the house; "come in at once!

"Mr. Burke, send her in. Have no mercy on the wretches, I implore you."

The girl walked back reluctantly. Unknown to Desmond, she went no farther than the doorway, where, just hidden from sight, she watched all that followed.

The enemy had clearly been nonplussed by their sudden check. There were no British troops, as far as they knew, for many miles round, and concerted resistance from the natives was unlikely. But they were now emerging from the mango grove, a hundred yards away. They came on foot, leaving their horses out of musket range.

Desmond's heart sank as he counted them. There were even more than he had supposed. They numbered fifty-four and several had no doubt been left in charge of the horses. Still, he felt that he had two advantages. The first was his position behind the wall; the second, the fact that the enemy, unless they had obtained information from the villagers, could not know what force they had to deal with. Their ignorance, of course, must be only temporary: if one of them should succeed in mounting the wall the weakness of the defense must immediately be seen.

As the enemy, tall men in the costume of native cavalry, assembled by twos and threes at the edge of the grove, Desmond noticed three Europeans leave the main body and advance some way into the open. It was with a flush of indignation and a fierce resolve to bring him at last to book that Desmond recognized one of them as Diggle. With his companions he walked at a safe distance completely round the building.

For some time they halted at the back, carefully scanning the position. Here the wall approached the house much more closely than in the front, and no one could mount it without being fully exposed to fire from the upper windows. After his examination, Diggle returned with the two men, whom from their appearance Desmond judged to be Frenchmen, to the main body, and sent off half a dozen men toward the other end of the village. While they were gone one of the Frenchmen seemed to Desmond to be expostulating with Diggle: but the latter only laughed and waved his gloved hand in the direction of the house.

The messengers soon returned, dragging with them three of the villagers. These Diggle took aside separately and questioned: it was clear to Desmond that he was ascertaining the strength of the garrison. Apparently satisfied, he divided his force into three parts; the largest, consisting of some forty men, remained at the edge of the grove; the two smaller proceeded to the right and left of the back of the house. One was in command of a Frenchman, but the Frenchman who had expostulated with Diggle had apparently refused to have anything to do with the affair: he held himself aloof, and by and by disappeared into the grove.

Diggle's evident intention was to weaken the garrison by forcing Desmond to divide his already too small force. He had to detach eight of his men--three to the windows and five to the wall--leaving only fourteen, including Bulger and Toley, to meet the rush in front.

It was not long in coming. Diggle did not wait to parley. Taking a musket from one of his men he raised it to his shoulder and fired at a Sepoy, whose head just showed above the gate. The man raised his hand to his brow and fell back with a sharp cry--a bullet had plowed a furrow through his scalp. Desmond checked his men as they were about to fire in reply: but when, in the rush that followed, the enemy came within thirty yards, he gave the word, and seven muskets flashed forth across the barricade.

The attacking party were coming forward in close order, and five of the men fell. But the rest sprang forward with shrill yells, Diggle, who was untouched, urging them on. Even the fire of Desmond's second rank failed to check them. Two or three dropped; others were soon swarming up the wall; and though the defenders with clubbed muskets struck savagely at their heads and hands as they appeared above the coping, if one drew back, another took his place: and the wall was so long that at several points there were gaps between Desmond's Sepoys where the enemy could mount unmolested.

Desmond, having discharged his two pistols, disposing of one of the assailants with each shot, was in the act of reloading when Diggle leaped into the compound, followed by two of his men. Shouting to Bulger, Desmond threw the pistols and rammer on the ground behind him, and, drawing his sword, dashed at the three intruders, who were slightly winded by the charge and their exertions in scaling the wall.

Desmond could never afterward remember the details of the crowded moments that followed. There were cries all around him: behind, the strident voice of Mr. Toley was cheering his men to repel the assault at the back of the house: at his side Bulger was bellowing like a bull of Bashan. But all this was confused noise to him, for his attention was wholly occupied with his old enemy. His first lunge at Diggle was neatly parried, and the two, oblivious of all that was happening around them, looked full into each other's eyes, read grim determination there, and fought with a cold fury that meant death to the first that gave an opening to his opponent's sword.

If motive counted, if the right cause could always win, the issue admitted of no doubt. Desmond had a heavy score to pay off. From the time when he had met Diggle in the street at Market Drayton to his last encounter with him at the Battle of the Carts, he had been the mark of his enmity, malice, spite, trickery. But Desmond thought less of his own wrongs than of the sorrow of his friend, Mr. Merriman, and the harrowing wretchedness which must have been the lot of the ladies while they were in Diggle's power. The man had brought misery into so many lives that it would be a good deed if, in the fortune of war, Desmond's sword could rid the world of him.

And Diggle, on his side, was nerved by the power of hate. Baseless as were his suspicions of Desmond's friendship with Sir Willoughby Stokes, he felt that this boy was an obstacle. Ever since their paths had crossed he had been conscious that he had to do with a finer, nobler nature than his own: and Desmond's courage and skill had already frustrated him. As he faced him now, it was with the feeling that, if this boy were killed, a bar would be removed from his career.

Thus, on either side, it was war to the death. What Desmond lacked in skill and experience he made up for by youth and strength. The two combatants were thus equally matched: a grain in the scale might decide the issue. But the longer the fight lasted the better were Desmond's chances. He had youth in his favor. He had led a hard life: his muscles were like iron. The older man by and by began to flag: more than once his guard was nearly beaten down: nothing but his great skill in swordsmanship, and the coolness that never deserted him, saved him from the sharp edge of Desmond's blade.

But when he seemed almost at the end of his strength, fortune suddenly befriended him. Bulger, with his clubbed musket and terrible iron hook, had disposed of the two men who leaped with Diggle into the compound; but there were others behind them; three men dropped to the ground close by, and, making a simultaneous rush, bore Bulger back against Desmond, hampering his sword arm.

One of Desmond's Sepoys sprang to the rescue, but he was too late to stem the tide. A blow from a musket stock disabled Bulger's right arm; he lost his footing; as he fell, his hook, still active, caught Diggle's leg and brought him to the ground, just as, taking advantage of the diversion, he was making exultantly what he intended for a final lunge at Desmond. He fell headlong, rolling over Bulger, who was already on the ground.

How the end came Desmond did not clearly see. He knew that he was beset by three of Diggle's men, and, falling back before them, he heard the voice of Phyllis Merriman close by, and felt his pistols thrust into his hands. She had slipped out of the doorway, picked up the weapons as they lay where Desmond had flung them, completed the loading, and advanced fearlessly into the thick of the fray. At one and the same moment Desmond fired upon his enemies and implored the brave girl to go back.

Then suddenly there was a lull in the uproar. Bulger was upon his feet. Diggle's men paused to gaze at their prostrate leader. Then every man of them was scrambling pell mell over the wall, yelling as the stocks of the Sepoys' muskets sped them on their flight.

"What is it?" asked Desmond.

Bulger pointed to Diggle, among the fallen.

"He've gone to his account, sir, which I may be wrong, but the Almighty have got a long black score agen him."

"How did it happen?"

Bulger lifted his hook.

"'Twas that there Diggle as was the why and wherefore o' this little ornament, sir, and 'twas only right he should be paid for what he done. We fell down, him and me; I was under. He hoisted himself on his hands to get free, and I lifted my hook, sir, and caught him a blow under the chin. If it didn't break his neck, sir, my name en't Bill Bulger, which I'm sorry for his poor wicked soul all the same."

Phyllis had her hands clasped about Desmond's arm.

"Is he dead?" she asked in a voice of awe.

"Come away," said Desmond quietly, leading her toward the house. "Let us find your mother."