Part 28

Desmond with Karim dived down into the hold. It was filled with earth, except where a gangway shored up with balks of timber had been left to give access to the holes that had been drilled and temporarily stopped. After a few words from the subahdar, Hubbo and his brother followed Desmond below.

Half an hour later, Hubbo climbed up through the hatchway and approached the subahdar, who was pacing the deck, giving many an anxious glance down the river.

"The mistri has bored another hole, huzur. He said the more holes the better. Perhaps your excellency will deign to see whether you regard it as sufficient."

"Nay, I should defile my clothes," said the subahdar, not relishing the thought of descending into the malodorous depths.

"As your excellency pleases," said Hubbo salaaming.

Then the gravity of his charge appeared to overcome the subahdar's scruples. Gathering his robes close about him, he stepped to the hatchway and lowered himself into the hold.

"We must hasten," he said. "The ships of the Firangi may appear at any moment, and I must be on the look-out. Meantime," he added to Hubbo, "you keep watch."

For a man of his build he was fairly active. Dropping on to the loose earth, he scrambled over it towards the oil-lamp by whose light the mistri and his assistant were working.

"This, huzur," said Hossain, pointing to a circular cut in the planking of the vessel, "is the new hole. It is not yet driven through, but if your excellency thinks it sufficient----"

The subahdar craned forward to examine it. "Khubbar dar!"[#] said Desmond in a low voice.

[#] Look out!

Hossain had only waited for this signal. He threw himself on the stooping subahdar and bore him to the floor, at the same time stuffing a gag between his teeth. In a couple of minutes he was lying bound and helpless. His ornate garment was but little sullied. It had been stripped from him by the mistri, who hastily donned it over his own scanty raiment, together with the subahdar's turban.

"How will that do, Hossain?" asked Desmond with a smile.

The serang held up the oil-lamp to inspect him. With his other hand he slightly altered the set of the turban and rearranged the folds of the robe.

"That is excellent, sahib," he said. "A little more girth would perhaps have been better, but in the distance no one will notice."

Then calling to Hubbo he said that all was ready. Hossain clambered through the hatchway, leaving Desmond concealed behind a large timber upright supporting the deck. As soon as the serang had reached his side Hubbo called to the men on watch and said--

"Eo! Ali, Chedi, come here!"

"Jo hukm!"[#] replied one of the men. Two of the three hurried aft, and at Hubbo's bidding swung down into the hold. The serang ordered them to go towards the lamp. They groped their way in that direction; Desmond sprang up through the hatchway; it was clapped down and firmly secured, and the subahdar with two-thirds of his crew was a prisoner in the hold. The third man at the far end of the boat had not seen or heard anything of what had happened.

[#] Whatever is ordered (I will obey)

So far the plot had succeeded admirably. Whatever order might reach the waiting vessels, it would not be given by the subahdar. The question now was, how to prevent the men in charge of the vessels and the authorities in Tanna Fort from becoming suspicious. The latter would not be difficult. Manik Chand would gain nothing by blocking the fairway unless it were absolutely necessary to do so, and, in common with other of the Nawab's lieutenants, he had an overweening confidence in the power of the forts to repel an attack from the English ships. For this reason it was advisable to make the minds of the other men easy, and Desmond soon hit on a plan.

"You had better return to your sloop, Hubbo," he said. "Send a message to the men on the other vessels that I--the subahdar, you know--have made up my mind to allow one of the enemy's ships to pass me before giving the signal. I shall thus capture one at least, and it may be the admiral's."

Hubbo set off, and when he reached his own vessel he sent a boat with a message to each of the ships in turn. Meanwhile, thinking the appearance of a petala alongside of the subahdar's sloop might awaken suspicion or at least curiosity in the fort, Desmond decided to send it down the river in charge of Hossain. He was thus left alone on deck with the subahdar's third man.

For a time the man, standing far forward, was unaware of the striking change in the personality garbed in the subahdar's clothes. But glancing back at length, he started, looked a second time, and after a moment's hesitation walked down the deck.

"Go back to your post," said Desmond sternly, "and see that you keep a good look-out for the Firangi's ships."

The man salaamed and returned to the prow in manifest bewilderment. More than once he looked back as he heard strange knockings from below. Desmond only smiled. If the sound was heard from the forts, it would be regarded merely as a sign that the preparations for sinking the vessel were not yet completed.

Time passed on, and ever and anon Desmond looked eagerly down the river for a sign of the oncoming fleet. At last, somewhere about midday, he observed signs of excitement in Tanna Fort, and almost simultaneously saw a puff of smoke and heard a report from one of its guns. Shortly afterwards he observed the spars of a British-built ship slowly approaching up-stream. In full confidence that the scheme for blocking the river was now frustrated, he awaited with patience the arrival of the fleet, wondering whether the forts would make a determined resistance.

Slowly the vessel drew nearer. Another shot was fired from the fort, with what result Desmond could not tell. But immediately afterwards he heard the distant report of a heavy gun, followed by a crash near at hand, and a babel of yells. A shot from the British ship had plumped right in the centre of Tanna Fort. At the same moment Desmond recognized the figure-head.

"'Tis the _Tyger_!" he said to himself with a smile. "Won't Captain Latham grin when he sees me in this rig!"

Then he laughed aloud, for the valiant defenders of Tanna Fort had not waited for a second shot. They were swarming helter-skelter out of harm's way, rushing at the top of their speed up the river and leaving their fortress to its fate. On the other bank the garrison of Aligarh Fort had also taken flight, and were streaming along with excited cries in the direction of Calcutta. The man in the bows of the sloop looked amazedly at the new subahdar. Why did he laugh? Why did he not wave the green flag that lay at his hand? When were the men who had gone below going to knock out the stoppings of the holes and take to the boat with himself and their commander? But the subahdar still stood laughing.

All at once Desmond, remembering the real subahdar below, asked himself: what if he drove out the bungs and scuttled the vessel? But the question brought a smile to his lips. He could not conceive of the Bengali playing such a heroic part, and he possessed his soul in peace.

Now the _Tyger_ was full in sight, and behind her Desmond saw the well-remembered _Kent_, Admiral Watson's flagship. The stampede from the forts had evidently been observed on board, for firing had ceased, and boats were already being lowered and filled with men. Desmond waited. The _Tyger's_ boats, he saw, were making for Tanna Fort: the _Kent's_ for Aligarh. But one of the latter was heading straight for the sloop. Desmond could not resist the temptation to a joke. Making himself look as important as he could, he stood by the gunwale watching with an air of dignity the oncoming of the boat. It was in command of a young lieutenant. The men bent to their oars with a will, and Desmond could soon hear the voice of the officer as he called to his crew.

But his amusement was mingled with amazement and delight when, in the big form sitting in the bow of the boat, he recognized no other than his old messmate, his old comrade in the Battle of the Carts--William Bulger. The joke would be even better than he had expected. The boat drew closer: it was level with the nose of the sloop; and the lieutenant sang out the command, "Ship oars!" It came alongside.

"Bulger," cried the lieutenant, "skip aboard and announce us to that old peacock on deck."

"Ay, ay, sir," replied Bulger, "which his feathers will be plucked, or my name en't Bulger."

At the side of the sloop lay the dinghy intended to convey the subahdar and his men ashore when the work of sinking had been started. It was made fast to the vessel by a rope. Bulger sprang into the dinghy and then began an ascent so clever, and at the same time so comical, that Desmond had much ado not to spoil his joke by a premature explosion of laughter. The burly seaman swarmed up the rope like a monkey, clasping it with his legs as he took each upward grip. But the comedy of his actions was provided by his hook. Having only one arm--an arm, it is true, with the biceps of a giant--he could not clutch the rope in the ordinary way. But at each successive spring he dug his hook into the side of the vessel, and mounted with amazing rapidity, talking to himself all the time.

"Avast, there!" he shouted, as with a final heave upon the hook dug into the gunwale he hoisted himself on deck. "Haul down your colours, matey, which they make a pretty pictur', they do."

He came overpoweringly towards Desmond, his arm and stump spread wide as if to embrace him.

"I may be wrong," said Desmond, "but have I not the pleasure of addressing Mr. William Bulger?"

Bulger started as if shot. His broad face spelt first blank amazement, then incredulity, then surprised belief. Spreading his legs wide and bending his knees, he rested his hand on one and his hook on the other, shut one eye, and stuck his tongue out at the corner of his mouth.

"By the Dutchman!" he exclaimed, "if it don't beat cock-fighting! Sure, 'tis Mr. Burke himself! Anna Maria! But for why did you go for to make yourself sich a Guy Faux guy, sir?"

"How are you, old fellow?" said Desmond heartily. "I am a bit of a scarecrow, no doubt, but we've won the trick, man. The real guy is down below, dead from fright by this time, I expect. Sorry to give you the trouble of boarding, sir," he added, as the lieutenant came over the side. "If you'll take me into your boat, I'll be glad to report to the admiral or to Colonel Clive."

"By jiminy, Mr. Burke!" said the lieutenant, laughing, "you've got a way of your own of popping up at odd times and in odd places. Come with me by all means--just as you are, if you please. The admiral wouldn't miss the look of you for anything. By George! 'tis a rare bit of play-acting. Did I hear you say you've got some natives under hatchways?"

"Yes; the owner of this finery is below with two of his men. You can hear him now." There was a violent and sustained knocking below deck. "I'll send my man to release him. The fleet are all coming up, sir?"

"Yes; the _Bridgewater_ and _Kingfisher_ are close in our wake. Come along; we'll catch the admiral before he goes ashore."

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-EIGHTH

*In which Captain Barker has cause to rue the day when he met Mr. Diggle; and our hero continues to wipe off old scores.*

Desmond received a warm welcome both from Admiral Watson and Colonel Clive. His account of the manner in which he had defeated Manik Chand's scheme for blocking the river was received with shouts of laughter, while his ingenuity and courage were warmly commended by both officers. Indeed, the admiral, always more impulsive than Clive, offered him on the spot a lieutenancy in the fleet, and was not very well pleased when Desmond politely declined the honour. Desmond caught a gleam of approval in Clive's eyes, and later in the day, when he saw his hero alone, he felt well rewarded.

"A naval lieutenant ranks higher than a lieutenant in the army--I suppose you know that, Burke?" said Clive.

"Yes, sir."

"And you're only a cadet. From to-day you are a lieutenant, my lad. I am pleased with you, and whatever his enemies say of Bob Clive, no one ever said of him that he forgot a friend."

The forces proceeded to Calcutta next day, and retook the town with surprising ease. Manik Chand was so much alarmed by seeing the effect of the big guns of the fleet that he abandoned the place almost without striking a blow, and when the British troops entered they were too late even to make any prisoners save a few of the rag-tag and bobtail in the rear.

Mr. Merriman returned to Calcutta a few days later. Desmond was grieved to observe how rapidly he was aging. In spite of Clive's recommendation to keep silence he could not refrain from telling his friend what he had discovered about the missing ladies; and he did not regret it, for the knowledge that they were alive and, when last heard of, out of Peloti's clutches, acted like a tonic. Merriman was all eagerness to set off and search for them himself; but, Desmond pointing out the danger of such a course, he reluctantly agreed to wait a little longer, and see whether any news could be obtained during the operations which Clive was planning against the Nawab.

Meanwhile, Desmond learnt from Bulger what had happened to him since the fall of Calcutta. He was one of the hundred and forty-six thrown into the Black Hole.

"'Tis only by the mercy of the Almighty I'm here to-day," he said solemnly. "I saw what 'twould be as soon as the door of that Black Hole was locked, and me and some others tried to force it. 'Twern't no good. Mr. Holwell--he's a brave man, an' no mistake--begged an' prayed of us all to be quiet; but lor' bless you, he might ha' saved his breath. 'Twas a hot night; we soon began to sweat most horrible an' feel a ragin' thirst. We took off most of our clothes, an' waved our hats to set the air a-movin'; which 'twas hard enough work, 'cos we was packed so tight. I en't a-going' to tell you all the horrors o' that night, sir; I'd like uncommon to forget 'em, though I don't believe I never shall. 'Twas so awful that many a poor wretch begged of the Moors outside to fire on 'em. Worst was when the old jamadar put skins o' water in at the window. My God! them about me fought like demons, which if I hadn't flattened myself against the wall I should ha' been crushed or trodden to death, like most on 'em. For me, I couldn't get near the water; I sucked my shirt sleeves, an' 'tis my belief 'twas on'y that saved me from goin' mad. A man what was next me took out his knife an' slit a vein, 'cos he couldn't bear the agony no longer. Soon arter, I fell in a dead faint, an' knowed no more till I found myself on my back outside, with a Moor chuckin' water at me. They let me go, along with some others; and a rotten old hulk I was, there en't no mistake about that. Why, bless you, my skin come out all boils as thick as barnacles on a hull arter a twelve months' voyage, all 'cos o' being in sich bad air without water. And then the fever came aboard, an' somehow or other I got shipped to the mounseers' hospital at Chandernagore, which they was very kind to me, sir; there en't no denyin' that. I may be wrong, but I could take my oath, haffidavy, an' solemn will an' testament that a mounseer's got a heart inside of his body arter all, which makes him all the better chap to have a slap at if you come to think of the why an' wherefore of it."

"But how came you on board the _Tyger_?"

"Well, when my boils was gone an' the fever slung overboard, I got down to Fulta an' held on the slack there; an' when the ships come up, they sent for me, 'cos havin' sailed up an' down the river many a time, they thought as how I could do a bit o' pilotin', there not bein' enough Dutch pilots to go round. An' I ha' had some fun, too, which I wonder I can laugh arter that Black Hole and all. By thunder! 'tis a merry sight to see the Moors run. The very look of a cutlass a'most turns 'em white, and they well-nigh drops down dead if they see a sailor man. Why, t'other day at Budge-Budge--they ought to call it Fudge-Fudge now, seems to me--the Jack-tars went ashore about nightfall to help the lobsters storm the fort in the dark. But Colonel Clive he was dog-tired an' went to his bed, sayin' as how he'd lead a boardin' party in the mornin'. That warn't exactly beans an' bacon; nary a man but would ha' took a big dose o' fever if they'd laid out on the fields all night. Anyways, somewhere about eleven, an' pitch dark, a Jack which his name is Strahan--a Scotchman, by what they say--went off all alone by himself to have a sort of private peep at that there fort. He was pretty well filled up wi' grog, or pr'aps he wouldn't ha' been quite so venturesome. Well, he waded up to his chin in a ditch o' mud what goes round the fort, with his pistols above his head. When he gets over, bang goes one pistol, an' he sets up a shout: 'One and all, my boys! one and all, hurray!' a-dreamin' I s'pose as he was captain of a boardin' party an' a crew o' swabs behind him. Up he goes, up the bastion; bang goes t'other pistol; then he outs with his cutlass, a-roarin' hurray with a voice like a twelve-pounder; down goes three o' them Moors; another breaks Jack's cutlass with his scimitar; bless you, what's he care? don't care a straw, which his name is Strahan; he've got a fist, he have, an' he dashes it in the Moor's face, collars his scimitar, cuts his throat and sings out 'Ho, mateys! this 'ere fort's mine!' Up comes three or four of his mates what heard his voice; they swings round the cannon on the bastion an' turns it on the enemy; bang! bang! and bless your heart, the Moors cut and run, an' the fort was ourn."

At the moment Desmond thought that Bulger was drawing the long bow. But meeting Captain Speke of the _Kent_ a little later, he asked how much truth there was in the story.

"'Tis all true," said the captain, laughing, "but not the whole truth. The day after Strahan's mad performance the admiral sends for him: discipline must be maintained, you know. 'What's this I hear about you?' says Mr. Watson, with a face of thunder. Strahan bobbed, and scratched his head, and twirled his hat in his hand, and says: 'Why to be sure, sir, 'twas I took the fort, and I hope there en't no harm in it!' By George! 'twas as much as the admiral could do to keep a straight face. He got the fellow to tell us about it: we had our faces in our handkerchiefs all the time. Then Mr. Watson gave him a pretty rough wigging, and wound up by saying that he'd consult me as to the number of lashes to be laid on. You should have seen the fellow's face! As he went out of the cabin I heard him mutter: 'Well, if I'm to be flogged for this 'ere action, be hanged if I ever take another fort alone by myself as long as I live!'"

"Surely he wasn't flogged?" said Desmond, laughing heartily.

"Oh no! Mr. Watson told us as a matter of form to put in a plea for the fellow, and then condescended to let him off. Pity he's such a loose fish!"

For two months Desmond remained with Clive. He was with him at the capture of Hugli, and in that brisk fight at Calcutta on February 5 which gave the Nawab his first taste of British quality. Siraj-uddaula was encamped to the north-east of the town with a huge army. In a heavy fog, about daybreak, Clive came up at the head of a mixed force of King's troops, sepoys and sailors, some 2,000 men in all. Hordes of Persian cavalry charged him through the mist, but they were beaten off, and Clive forced his way through the enemy's camp until he came near the Nawab's own tents, pitched in Omichand's garden. Siraj-uddaula himself was within an ace of being captured. His troops made but a poor stand against the British, and by midday the battle was over.

Scared by this defeat, the Nawab was ready to conclude with the Company the treaty which long negotiations had failed to effect. By this treaty the trading privileges granted to the Company by the Emperor of Delhi were confirmed; the Nawab agreed to pay full compensation for the losses sustained by the Company and its servants; and the right to fortify Calcutta was conceded. The long-standing grievances of the Company were thus, on paper, redressed.

A day or two after the battle a ship arrived with the news that war had been declared in Europe between England and France. Efforts to maintain neutrality between the English and French in Bengal having failed, Clive wished the Nawab to join him in an attack on the French settlements in Bengal. This the Nawab refused to do, though he wrote promising that he would hold as enemies all who were enemies of Clive--a promise that bore bitter fruit before many months had passed.

The French were keen rivals of the Company in the trade of India, and constantly took advantage of native troubles to score a point in the game. Clive had come to Bengal with the full intention of making the Company, whose servant he was, supreme; and having secured the treaty with Siraj-uddaula he resolved to turn his arms against the French. They were suspected of helping the Nawab in his expedition against Calcutta: it was known that the Nawab, treating his engagements with reckless levity and faithlessness, was trying to persuade Bussy, the French commander in the Dekkan, to help him to expel the British from Bengal. There was excuse enough for an attack on Chandernagore.

But before Clive could open hostilities, he was required, by an old arrangement with the Mogul, to obtain permission from the Nawab. This permission was at length got from him by Omichand. The sack of Calcutta by the Nawab had caused Omichand great loss, and, hoping in part to retrieve it, he made his peace with Clive and the Council, and was then selected to accompany Mr. Watts when he went as British representative to Murshidabad. The wily Sikh, working always for his own ends, contrived to make the unstable young despot believe that the French were tricking him, and in a fit of passion he sealed a letter allowing Admiral Watson to make war upon them. He repented of it immediately, but the letter was gone. On the day after it reached the Admiral, March 12, 1757, Clive sent a summons to Monsieur Renault, the governor of Chandernagore, to surrender the fort. No reply was received that day, and Clive resolved, failing a satisfactory answer within twenty-four hours, to read King George's declaration of war and attack the French.

Desmond was breakfasting among a number of his fellow-officers next morning when up came Hossain, the serang who had accompanied him in his eventful journeys up and down the Hugli. Lately he had been employed, on Desmond's recommendation, in bringing supplies up the river for the troops. The man salaamed and said that he wished to say a few words privately to the sahib. Desmond rose, and went apart with him. At sunrise, said the man, a vessel flying Dutch colours had dropped down the river past the English fleet. Her name was Dutch, and her destination Rotterdam; but Hossain was certain that she was really the _Good Intent_, which Desmond had pointed out to him as they passed Chandernagore, and which they had more than once seen since in the course of their journeys. Her appearance had attracted some attention on the fleet; and the _Tyger_ had sent a shot after her, ordering her to heave to; but having a strong north-east wind behind her, she took no notice of the signal and held on her course. Desmond thanked Hossain for the information, and, leaving his breakfast unfinished, went off at once to see Clive, whom he was to join that morning on a tour of inspection of the north-west part of the French settlement.