Part 11

Desmond was impatient of the man's lack of spirit. But he suffered no sign of his feeling to escape him. He had grown to have a liking for the Babu.

"Well, I shall not give up the idea," he said. "Perhaps I shall speak of it to you again."

Two nights later, in the dark and silent hours, Desmond reopened the matter. This time the conversation lasted much longer, and in the course of it the Babu became so much interested and indeed excited that he forgot his usual caution, and spoke in a high-pitched tone that woke the Biluchi on the other side. The man hurled abuse at the disturber of his repose, and Surendra Nath regained his caution and relapsed into his usual soft murmur. Desmond and he were still talking when the light of dawn stole into the shed; but though neither had slept, they went about their work during the day with unusual briskness and lightness of heart.

That evening, after the prisoners had eaten their supper in their respective eating-rooms, they squatted against the outer wall of the shed for a brief rest before being locked up for the night. The Babu had promised to tell a story. The approaches to the yard were all guarded by the usual sentries, and in the distance could be heard the clanking of the warder's keys as he went from shed to shed performing his nightly office.

"The story! the story!" said one of the Marathas impatiently. "Why dost thou tarry, Babu?"

"I have eaten, Gousla, and when the belly is full the brain is sluggish. But the balance is adjusting itself, and in a little I will begin."

Through the further gate came the warder. Desmond and his companions were the last with whom he had to deal. His keys jangling, he advanced slowly between two Marathas armed with matchlocks and two-edged swords.

The Babu had his back against the shed, the others were grouped about him, and at his left there was a vacant space. It was growing dusk.

"Hail, worthy jailer!" said Surendra Nath pleasantly. "I was about to tell the marvellous story of King Bhoya's golden throne. But I will even now check the stream at the source. Your time is precious. My comrades must wait until we get inside."

"Not so, Babu," said the warder gruffly. "Tell thy tale. Barik Allah![#] you nine are the last of my round. I will myself wait and hear, for thou hast a ready tongue, and the learning of a pundit,[#] Babu, and thy stories, after the day's work, are they not as honey poured on rice?"

[#] Praise to Allah!

[#] Learned man, teacher.

"You honour me beyond my deserts. If you will deign to be seated!"

The warder marched to the vacant spot at the Babu's side, and squatted down, crossing his legs, his heavy bunch of keys lying on the skirt of his dhoti. The armed Marathas stood at a little distance, leaning on their matchlocks, within hearing of the Babu, and at spots where they could see any one approaching from either end of the yard. It would not do for the warder to be found thus by the officer of the watch.

"It happened during the reign of the illustrious King Bhoya," began the Babu; then he caught his breath, looking strangely nervous. "It is the heat, good jailer," he said hurriedly; "--of the illustrious King Bhoya, I said, that a poor ryot[#] named Yajnadatta, digging one day in his field, found there buried the divine throne of the incomparable King Vikramaditya. When his eyes were somewhat recovered from the dazzling vision, and he could gaze unblinking at the wondrous throne, he beheld that it was resplendent with thirty-two graven images, and adorned with a multitude of jewels: rubies and diamonds, pearls and jasper, crystal and coral and sapphires.

[#] Peasant.

"Now the news of this wondrous discovery coming to the ears of King Bhoya, he incontinently caused the throne to be conveyed to his palace, and had it set in the midst of his hall of counsel that rose on columns of gold and silver, of coral and crystal. Then the desire came upon him to sit on this throne, and calling his wise men, he bade them choose a moment of good augury, and gave order to his servitors to make all things ready for his coronation. Whereupon his people brought curded milk, sandalwood, flowers, saffron, umbrellas, parasols, divers tails--tails of oxen, tails of peacocks; arrows, weapons of war, mirrors and other objects proper to be held by wedded women--all things, indeed, meet for a solemn festival, with a well-striped tiger-skin to represent the seven continents of the earth; nothing was wanting of all the matters prescribed in the Shastras[#] for the solemn crowning of kings; and having thus fulfilled their duty, the servitors humbly acquainted his majesty therewith. Then, when the Guru,[#] the Purohita,[#] the Brahmans, the wise men, the councillors, the officers, the soldiers, the chief captain, had entered, the august King Bhoya drew near to the throne, to the end that he might be anointed.

[#] Holy Books.

[#] Religious teacher.

[#] Hereditary priest of the royal house.

"But lo! the first of the carven figures that surrounded the throne thus spake and said: 'Hearken, O king. That prince who is endowed with sovereign qualities; who shines before all others in wealth, in liberality, in mercy; who excels in heroism and in goodness; who is drawn by his nature to deeds of piety; who is full of might and majesty; that prince alone is worthy to sit upon this throne--no other, no meaner sovereign, is worthy. Hearken, O king, to the story of the throne.'"

"Go on, Babu," said the jailer, as the narrator paused; "what said the graven image?"

"'There once lived,'" continued the Babu, "'in the city of Avanti, a king, Bartrihari by name. Having come to recognize the vanity of earthly things, this king one day left his throne and went as a jogi[#] afar into the desert. His kingdom, being then without a head--for he had no sons, and his younger brother, the illustrious Vikramaditya, was travelling in far lands--fell into sore disorder, so that thieves and evil-doers increased from day to day.

[#] Ascetic.

"'The wise men in their trouble sought diligently for a child having the signs of royalty, and in due time, having found one, Xatrya by name, they gave the kingdom into his charge. But in that land there dwelt a mighty jin,[#] Vetala Agni,[#] who, when he heard of what the wise men had done, came forth on the night of the same day the young king had been enthroned and slew him and departed. And it befell that each time the councillors found a new king, lo, the Vetala Agni came forth and slew him.

[#] Evil spirit.

[#] Spirit of fire.

"'Now upon a certain day, when the wise men, in sore trouble of heart, were met in council, there appeared among them the illustrious Vikramaditya, newly returned from long travel, who, when he had heard what was toward, said: "O ye wise men and faithful, make me king without ado." And the wise men, seeing that Vikramaditya was worthy of that dignity, thus spake: "From this day, O excellency, thou art king of the realm of Avanti." Having in this fashion become king of Avanti, Vikramaditya busied himself all that day with the affairs of his kingdom, tasting the sweets of power; and at the fall of night he prepared, against the visit of the Vetala Agni, great store of heady liquors, all kinds of meat, fish, bread, confections, rice boiled with milk and honey, sauces, curded milk, butter refined, sandalwood, bouquets and garlands, divers sorts of sweet-scented things; and all these he kept in his palace, and himself remained therein, reclining in full wakefulness upon his fairest bed.

"'Then into this palace came the Vetala Agni, sword in hand, and went about to slay the august Vikramaditya. But the king said: "Hearken, O Vetala Agni; seeing that thy excellency has come for to cause me to perish, it is not doubtful that thou wilt succeed in thy purpose; albeit, all these viands thou dost here behold have been brought together for thy behoof; eat, then, whatsoever thou dost find worthy; afterwards thou shalt work thy will." And the Vetala Agni, having heard these words, filled himself with this great store of food, and, marvellously content with the king, said unto him: "Truly I am content, and well-disposed towards thee, and I give thee the realm of Avanti; sit thou in the highest place and taste its joys; but take heed of one thing: every day shalt thou prepare for me a repast like unto this." With these words, the Vetala Agni departed from that spot and betook him unto his own place.

"'Then for a long space did Vikramaditya diligently fulfil that command; but by and by growing aweary of feeding the Vetala Agni, he sought counsel of the jogi Trilokanatha, who had his dwelling on the mount of Kanahakrita. The jogi, perceiving the manifold merits of the incomparable Vikramaditya, was moved with compassion towards him, and when he had long meditated and recited sundry mantras,[#] he thus spake and said: "Hearken, O king. From the sacred tank of Shakravatar spring alleys four times seven, as it were branches from one trunk, to wit, seven to the north, seven to the east, seven to the west, and seven to the south. Of the seven alleys springing to the north do thou choose the seventh, and in the seventh alley the seventh tree from the sacred tank, and on the seventh branch of the seventh tree thou shalt find the nest of a bulbul. Within that nest thou shalt discover a golden key.'"

[#] Hymns and prayers.

The Babu was now speaking very slowly, and an observer watching Desmond would have perceived that his eyes were fixed with a strange look of mingled eagerness and anxiety upon the story-teller. But no one observed this; every man in the group was intent upon the story, hanging upon the lips of the eloquent Babu.

"'Having obtained the golden key,'" continued the narrator, "'thou shalt return forthwith to thy palace, and the same night, when the Vetala Agni has eaten and drunk his fill, thou shalt in his presence lay the key upon the palm of thy left hand, thus----'" (here the Babu quietly took up a key hanging from the bunch attached to the warder's girdle, and laid it upon his left palm). "'Then shalt thou say to the Vetala: "O illustrious Vetala, tell me, I pray thee, what doth this golden key unlock?" Then if the aspect of the Vetala be fierce, fear not, for he must needs reply: such is the virtue of the key; and by his words thou shalt direct thy course. Verily it is for such a trial that the gods have endowed thee with wisdom beyond the common lot of men.

"'Vikramaditya performed in all points the jogi's bidding; and having in the presence of the Vetala laid the golden key upon the palm of his hand, a voice within bade him ask the question: "O Vetala, what art thou apt to do? What knowest thou?" And the Vetala answered: "All that I have in my mind, that I am apt to perform. I know all things." And the king said: "Speak, then; what is the number of my years?" And the Vetala answered: "The years of thy life are a hundred." Then said the king: "I am troubled because in the tale of my years there are two gaps; grant me, then, one year in excess of a hundred, or from the hundred take one." And the Vetala answered: "O king, thou art in the highest degree good, liberal, merciful, just, lord of thyself, and honoured of gods and Brahmans; the measure of the days that are ordained to fill thy life is full; to add anything thereto, to take anything therefrom, are alike impossible." Having heard these words the king was satisfied, and the Vetala departed unto his own place.

"'Upon the night following the king prepared no feast against the coming of the Vetala, but girt himself for fight. The Vetala came, and seeing nothing in readiness for the repast, but, on the contrary, all things requisite to a combat, he waxed wroth and said: "O wicked and perverse king, why hast thou made ready nothing for my pleasure this night?" And the king answered: "Since thou canst neither add to my length of years, nor take anything therefrom, why should I make ready a repast for thee continually and without profit?" The Vetala made answer: "Ho!--'tis thus that thou speakest! Now, truly, come fight with me; this night will I devour thee."

"'At these words the king rose up in wrath to smite the Vetala, and held him in swift and dexterous combat for a brief space. And the Vetala, having thus made proof of the might and heroism of the king, and being satisfied, spake and said: "O king, thou art mighty indeed; I am content with thy valour; now, then, ask me what thou wilt." And the king answered: "Seeing that thou art well-disposed towards me, grant me this grace, that when I shall call thee, thou wilt in that same instant stand at my side." And the Vetala, having granted this grace to the king, departed unto his own place.'"

The Babu waved his hands as a sign that the story was ended. He was damp with perspiration, and in his glance at Desmond there was a kind of furtive appeal for approval.

"Thou speakest well, Babu," said the warder. "But what befell King Bhoya when the graven image had thus ended his saying?"

"That, good jailer, is another story, and if you please to hear it another night I will do my poor best to satisfy you."

"Well, the hour is late." The warder rose to his feet and resumed his official gruffness. "Come, rise; it is time I locked your fetters; and, in good sooth, mine is no golden key."

He chuckled as he watched the prisoners file one by one into the shed. Following them, he quickly locked each in turn to his staple in the wall and went out, bolting and double locking the door behind him.

"You did well, my friend," whispered Desmond in English to the Babu.

"My heart flutters like the wings of a bulbul," answered the Babu; "but I am content, sahib."

"But say, Surendra Nath," remarked one of the Maratha captives, "last time you told us that story you said nothing of the golden key."

"Ah!" replied the Babu, "you are thinking of the story told by the second graven image in King Vikramaditya's throne. I will tell you that to-morrow."

CHAPTER THE TWELFTH

*In which our hero is offered freedom at the price of honour; and Mr. Diggle finds that he has no monopoly of quotations.*

Next morning, when Desmond left the shed with his fellow-prisoners, he took with him, secreted in a fold of his dhoti, a small piece of clay. It had been given him overnight by the Babu. An hour or two later, happening to be for a moment alone in the tool-shop, he took out the clay and examined it carefully. It was a moment for which he had waited and longed with feverish impatience. The clay was a thin strip, oval in shape, and slightly curved. In the middle of it was the impression, faint but clear, of a key. A footstep approaching, he concealed the clay again in his garment, and, when a workman entered, was busily plying a chisel upon a deal plank.

Before he left the tool-shop, he secreted with the clay a scrap of steel and a small file. That day, and for several days after, whenever chance gave him a minute or two apart from his fellow-workmen, he employed the precious moments in diligently filing the steel to the pattern on the clay. It was slow work: all too tedious for his eager thought. But he worked at his secret task with unfailing patience, and at the week's end had filed the steel to the likeness of the wards of a key.

That night, when his "co-mates in exile" were asleep, he gently inserted the steel in the lock of his ankle-band He tried to turn it. It stuck fast; the wards did not fit. He was not surprised. Before he made the experiment he had felt that it would fail; the key was indeed a clumsy, ill-shapen instrument. But next day he began to work on another piece of steel, and on this he spent every spare minute he could snatch. This time he found himself able to work faster. Night and morning he looked searchingly at the key on the warder's bunch, and afterwards tried to cut the steel to the pattern that was now, as it were, stamped upon his brain.

He wished he could test his second model in the morning light before the warder came, and correct it then. But to do so would involve discovery by his fellow-captives; the time to take them into his confidence was not yet. He had perforce to wait till dead of night before he could tell whether the changes, more and more delicate and minute, made upon his key during the day were effective. And the Babu was fretful; having done his part, admirably, as Desmond told him, in working the key into his story, he seemed to expect that the rest would be easy, and did not make account of the long labour of the file.

At length a night came when, inserting the key in the lock, Desmond felt it turn easily. Success at last! As he heard the click, he felt an extraordinary sense of elation. Quietly unclasping the fetter, he removed it from his ankle and stood free. If it could be called free--to be shut up in a locked and barred shed in the heart of one of the strongest fortresses in Hindustan! But at least his limbs were at liberty. What a world of difference there was between that and his former state!

Should he inform the Babu? He felt tempted to do so, for it was to Surendra Nath's ingenuity in interpolating the incident of the key into a well-known story that he owed the clay pattern of the warder's key. But Surendra Nath was excitable; he was quite capable of uttering a yell of delight that would waken the other men and force a premature disclosure. Desmond decided to wait for a quiet moment next day before telling the Babu of his success. So he replaced his ankle-band, locked the catch, and lay down to the soundest and most refreshing sleep he had enjoyed for many a night.

He had only just reached the workshop next morning when a peon came with a message that Angria Rao[#] required his instant attendance at the palace. He began to quake in spite of himself. Could the prince have discovered already that the lock of his fetters had been tampered with? Desmond could scarcely believe it. He had made his first test in complete darkness; nothing had broken the silence save the one momentary click; and the warder, when he unloosed him, had not examined the lock. What if he were searched and the precious key were found upon him? It was carefully hidden in a fold of his dhoti. There was no opportunity of finding another hiding-place for it; he must go as he was and trust that suspicion had not been aroused. But it was with a galloping pulse that he followed the peon out of the dockyard, within the walls of the fort, and into the hall where he had had his first interview with the Pirate.

[#] A chief or prince.

His uneasiness was hardly allayed when he saw that Angria was in company with Diggle. Both were squatting on the carpeted dais; no other person was in the room. Having ushered him in, the peon withdrew, and Desmond was alone with the two men he had most cause to fear. Diggle was smiling, Angria's eyes were gleaming, his mobile lips working as with impatience, if not anxiety.

The Pirate spoke quickly, imperiously.

"You have learnt our tongue, Firangi[#] boy?" he said.

[#] Originally applied by the natives to the Portuguese, then to any European.

"I have done my best, huzur," replied Desmond in Urdu.

"That is well. Now hearken to what I say. You have pleased me; my jamadar[#] speaks well of you; but you are my slave, and, if I will it, you will always be my slave. You would earn your freedom?"

[#] Lieutenant.

"I am in your august hands, huzur," said Desmond diplomatically.

"You may earn your freedom in one way," continued Angria in the same rapid impatient tone. "My scouts report that an English fleet has passed up the coast towards Bombay. My spies tell me that in Bombay a large force is collected under the command of that soor ka batcha[#] Clive. But I cannot learn the purpose of this armament. The dogs may think, having taken my fortress of Suvarndrug, to come and attack me here. Or they may intend to proceed against the French at Hyderabad. It is not convenient for me to remain in this uncertainty. You will go to Bombay and learn these things of which I am in ignorance and come again and tell me. I will then set you free."

[#] Son of a pig.

"I cannot do it, huzur."

Desmond's reply came without a moment's hesitation. To act as a spy upon his own countrymen--how could Angria imagine that an English boy would ever consent to win his freedom on such terms? His simple words roused the Maratha to fury. He sprang to his feet and angrily addressed Diggle, who had also risen, and stood at his side still smiling. Diggle replied to his vehement words in a tone too low for Desmond to catch what he said. Angria turned to the boy again.

"I will not only set you free; I will give you half a lakh of rupees; you shall have a place at my court, or, if you please, I will recommend you to another prince, in whose service you may rise to wealth and honour. If you refuse, I will kill you; no, I will not kill you, for death is sweet to a slave; I will inflict on you the tortures I reserve for those who provoke my anger: you shall lose your ears, your nose, and----"

Diggle again interposed.

"Pardon me, bhai[#]," Desmond heard him say, "that is hardly the way to deal with a boy of my nation. If you will deign to leave him to me, I think that in a little I shall find means to overcome his hesitation."

[#] Brother.

"But even then, how can I trust the boy? He may give his word to escape me; then betray me to his countrymen. I have no faith in the Firangi."

"Believe me, if he gives his word he will keep it. That is the way with us."

"It is not your way."

"I am no longer of them," said Diggle with consummate aplomb. "Dismiss him now; I will do my best with him."

"Then you must hasten. I give you three days: if within that time he has not consented, I will do to him all that I have said, and more also."

"I do not require three days to make up my mind," said Desmond quietly. "I cannot do what----"

"Hush, you young fool!" cried Diggle angrily in English. Turning to the Pirate he added: "The boy is as stiff-necked as a pig; but even a pig can be led if you ring his snout. I beg you leave him to me."

"Take him away!" exclaimed Angria, clapping his hands. Two attendants came in answer to his summons, and Desmond was led off and escorted by them to his workshop.

Angry and disgusted as he was with both the Maratha and Diggle, he was still more anxious at this unexpected turn in his affairs. He had but three days! If he had not escaped before the fourth day dawned, his fate would be the most terrible that could befall a living creature. The tender mercies of the wicked are cruel! He had seen, among the prisoners, some of the victims of Angria's cruelty; they had suffered tortures too terrible to be named, and dragged out a life of unutterable degradation and misery, longing for death as a blissful end. With his quick imagination he already felt the hands of the torturers upon him; and for all the self-control which his life in Gheria had induced, he was for some moments so wholly possessed by terror that he could scarcely endure the consciousness of existence.

But when the first tremors were past, and he began to go about his usual tasks, and was able to think calmly, not for an instant did he waver in his resolve. Betray his countrymen! It was not to be thought of. Give his word to Angria and then forswear himself! Ah! Even Diggle knew that he would not do that. Freedom, wealth, a high place in some prince's court! He would buy none of them at the price of his honour. Diggle was false, unspeakably base; let him do Angria's work if he would; Desmond Burke would never stoop to it.