CHAPTER XXIV

Pir Baksh renders Tynan a Service

This conversation with the chief commissioner took place one morning in late September. In the afternoon of the same day, Ted Russell was ordered to attend upon Sir John Lawrence. The great man looked at the boy with a keen penetrating glance, which, though it seemed to pierce him through and through, yet brought with it an assurance of confidence and kindness.

Sir John seem pleased by the inspection.

"So you are the lad who blew up the arsenal?" he asked, a wonderfully pleasant smile lighting up the rugged face.

"It's still in dispute, sir," said Ted, smiling in spite of his trepidation.

"What do you suppose has caused Ensign Tynan to make this claim?"

"I wish I knew, sir. Whilst watching them in court yesterday the idea struck me that Pir Baksh, the mutineer, had somehow got a hold over him."

"Ah!"

"Yes, sir. He was watching Tynan as a cat watches a mouse, and it struck me that he had made some sort of a bargain with Tynan to save him from death at the hands of the rebels if Tynan would whitewash his character. And it struck me that Tynan was sorry he'd ever been trapped into such a bargain."

Sir John's elbow was on the table and his head rested on the palm of his hand. Ted felt that he was reading his inmost thoughts.

"And perhaps," he remarked at length, "perhaps Pir Baksh considered that such whitewashing would be of little avail if it could be shown that Tynan had been guilty of cowardice, and so the lad has to pose as a hero? ... Um! It's just possible."

"I never thought of that, sir," said Ted with obvious admiration.

"I do not doubt your honour, Ensign Russell, and I mean to employ you upon an errand needing strength of character. Take this sealed letter to the officer in command at Amritsar. It is in cipher, and the key is found by reading every sixth word beginning at the end. The road, though safe enough for large bodies, is perilous for a small number; but Colonel Bratherton can only send two troopers with you. Go to him at once for horse and escort."

"Yes, sir."

"And understand, Ensign Russell, that should you be captured and have no time to destroy the letter, you must on no account disclose the key--on _no_ account!"

"I will not, sir."

Ted saluted and withdrew, greatly pleased by this signal mark of the confidence reposed in him. An hour after he had started, Ensign Tynan in his turn was standing before Sir John Lawrence.

"And so you believe that Russell meant to ruin your reputation out of spite? That is a very grave accusation, young man."

"I can't help it, sir. It's a fact, and my word is as good as his, and I have witnesses whilst he has none."

"Native evidence, I must remind you, Mr. Tynan, is not difficult to obtain. However, I cannot decide between you, and I have not sent for you to discuss that affair."

He proceeded to give Tynan a similar letter and precisely the same instructions and warning as those given to Ted. Tynan repaired to Colonel Bratherton, who supplied him with an escort consisting of Pir Baksh and two troopers, and with these he set out for Amritsar.

Night closed in with Indian abruptness before Tynan had covered half the distance. Suddenly a body of horsemen blocked the way. Tynan drew a pistol, but before he could take aim his arms were seized by the troopers of the escort, and he was roughly dragged to the ground. A search was made, and the letter was quickly brought to light.

Pir Baksh had been seized in like manner and was dropped beside Tynan, bound hand and foot. Tynan recognized the uniform of his assailants as that of the 60th Native Cavalry, and he remembered hearing that this rebel corps had been hovering about this stretch of the Grand Trunk Road for some days. The two troopers of his escort declared for the rebels at the first hint of danger. Somehow Harry Tynan was much more cool and collected than on the last occasion of a similar experience, and he was not nearly so frightened. Perhaps the explanation can be found in the fact that his present state of existence was so miserable that no change could be greatly for the worse.

The sowars took little notice of their prisoner. Two native officers, who seemed to have some knowledge of English, were eagerly scrutinizing Sir John's communication, the rest looking on. But the missive was evidently a poser, and the expressions of triumph changed to annoyance and chagrin as they shook their heads and gave up the puzzle.

"They will understand it," said one. "Make them explain."

The speaker nodded towards the prostrate captives, who were quickly kicked into a sitting posture and ordered to supply the key to the cipher. Pir Baksh was eagerness itself. He hastened to assure them that nothing would delight him more.

"This pig beside me," said he, "he knows the secret, and will quickly inform if you threaten him. As for me, I hate the Feringhis, having been their prisoner. Set free my hands, and I myself will question this cur and make him confess. Ugh! the very sight of him makes me ill. Coward, liar, and traitor is he!"

"If thou dost hate him so," asked a Mohammedan ressaidar, "why wert thou riding by his side as a friend? Thou canst not take us in so easily."

"Because my own safety obliged me to call him friend. This fellow blew up the Aurungpore magazine--he says he did so. Of course we must believe him, though I myself saw him trembling like a leaf begging for mercy. By me was he saved from the debris, saved that I might have the better revenge; and first I humbugged him into giving me a _chit_, saying I was loyal--I, Pir Baksh, leader of the rebels in Aurungpore!"

The subadar related the whole of the miserable business.

"It is true," said Tynan with quiet despair. "Save his life, for he is the blackest villain in Asia, and I had rather die alone than with him as comrade. Kill me and I shall be glad to get away from him."

A native officer cut the bonds, and bade Pir Baksh get up.

"Get the key from the cub, then. If he gives it willingly his life shall be spared. If not, do as thou wilt."

Pir Baksh smiled in pleasant anticipation, and humbly addressed his quondam officer.

"Will the protector of the poor deign to supply his slave with the explanation of that letter?"

Harry Tynan looked him straight between the eyes and said never a word. The poor lad had suffered much during the past three months, and again and again his own vileness had been laid bare to him. He had enough of good in his nature to shudder at the prospect. The lies he had told, the public whitewashing for his own ends of the villain Pir Baksh, the bribing of Dwarika Rai and the other Rajputs, all these had gone against the grain, but never had he seen his own meanness so clearly, until now that he knew that even this most contemptible scoundrel regarded him with far greater contempt.

Pir Baksh had rendered Tynan a service at last, for he had made a man of him. Then and there the ensign resolved that nothing should drag from him the secret of the cypher--that Pir Baksh should understand he was not wholly a coward. The rascal poised his sword above the boy's head.

"First I am going to slice off the right ear, then the left. If that is not enough, Ensign Sahib, I fear that the nose must go. After that--" Here he smiled and added: "But I think the sahib will not be so discourteous as to refuse his slave's request. Speak quickly or thine ear goes!"

Tynan turned a few shades paler, but he bit his lip and answered not a word. Amazed at this unlooked-for defiance the subadar hesitated--and someone sprang in front of Tynan, a fist shot out and was stopped by the nose of the Mussulman, who toppled over, and was instantly disarmed by two sowars, who knelt upon the traitor's chest and mocked his cries of rage.

"It's all serene, Tynan, old chap!" cried the voice of Ted Russell. "We're going to scrag that brute!"

He cut Tynan's bonds, whilst others trussed up the rebel, and I fear that no trouble was taken to spare him discomfort.

"It's all been a put-up job," Ted went on. "They collared me in the same way, meaning to test us by threats, to find out if either would betray the cipher. This is Lieutenant Kendal who's in command."

A short and rather "tubby" figure, arrayed in a rebel garb, came forward from the background and apologized for having been compelled to treat them roughly. He was obeying instructions, and assured them of his pleasure that neither had betrayed the trust.

"Yes, but you know everything now," said Tynan sullenly. "It was mean of you, Russell, to play this trick."

"I had no hand in it, Tynan, and was treated in much the same way an hour ago, except that they only threatened me with death, not torture; so you came out of the ordeal better than I, and I respect you for it."

"That's all very well. You come out with flying colours and I'm ruined. I say, Lieutenant Kendal, let me clear away. I don't care what happens to me, but I simply can't face the fellows who knew me. Only let me go, and I'll disappear completely."

"Sorry I can't do that, Mr. Tynan, but I have orders to take you back before Sir John. By Jove, I'll say all I can for you, though, and though Jan Larens can be stern he's really kindness itself. Make a clean breast of it, youngster."

They rode back in silence, and the pretended rebels repaired to their comrades of the Sikh Cavalry to relate a marvellous story of the wisdom of Jan Larens, from whom nothing could remain hidden. The great statesman was still hard at work at his unending task, but when he heard the lieutenant's tale he bade him send Tynan in. He greeted the boy with mingled kindness and sadness.

"This is a pitiable tale, youngster," he said, "though you have done your best to redeem it to-night, I am told. Tell me all about it, and keep nothing back. Regard me as one who wishes to help you."

Tynan broke down under the prolonged strain, and, bursting into tears, sobbed like a child. Bit by bit the grim though kindly ruler drew forth the whole story of temptation, hesitation, and fall, of misery and of lie upon lie that had gradually sunk the boy deeper in the morass.

"Sit down," he said. "You have been punished. Are you sorry it has all come to light?"

"Indeed I am not, sir. I feel as though a great weight had been taken away. I suppose I shall be hounded from the service at least, sir."

"I hardly think you would wish to remain in the army?" said Sir John gravely.

"I want to get away from everyone, sir, and I know I don't deserve any consideration. But I never meant to do it, sir. He led me on, and got me in his power."

"You have been punished--and you may be thankful for it, my lad, for you will have a better chance of a happy useful life than had your claim proved successful. This evening you acted like a man, and I will take upon myself to accept your resignation."

"Thank you, sir!" said Tynan joyfully, for he had never expected this. "Oh, thank you, sir! I will try to do better."

"You may set out again for Amritsar this night, and join Green's column at Umballa as a volunteer under an assumed name, if you can overtake them. I will give you credentials, and when the mutiny is crushed you may leave the country as you think best. My advice is to do your duty like a man as long as there is fighting to be done, and then return at once to England."

"Thank you, sir! I could wish for nothing better, and it's more than I deserve. I'll be a different man after this lesson. Indeed I will, sir."

"God help you to keep that resolution, my lad! Good-night!"

Breakfast was just over when the summons came for Ted. Sir John motioned him to take a seat.

"You have been thoroughly vindicated, Mr. Russell. Tynan has told me everything, and I congratulate you on having done your duty. You have suffered great anxiety and disappointment, but there is no doubt that you will obtain the reward you so highly deserve."

This virtual promise that the former recommendation would hold good, and that the Victoria Cross--most coveted of honours--would be his, dazzled our hero for a space. To Ted's credit be it said that his next thought was for poor Tynan.

"Thank you, sir! I--I hope Tynan won't be disgraced, sir. It was not altogether his fault."

"It will be necessary," said Sir John gravely, "to make public sufficient to clear your character. I have allowed him to resign, and he clears out to-night. I am glad, my lad, that you should have considered him."

"Wait a moment," said the ruler of the Punjab as Ted rose to go. "How would you like a commission in a corps of Irregular Horse?"

"Punjabis, sir?"

"Yes. Colonel Boldre, whose regiment has mutinied, is raising a corps in the Balandghar district, and he has written to ask me if you may join him. I think it would be a good thing, and should advise you to jump at the chance."

"Is there any likelihood of seeing active service with them, sir?"

The great statesman burst into one of his hearty laughs. He remembered the days when he was the age of Ted Russell--how he had longed to be a soldier like his father, who had led the forlorn hope at Seringapatam, or like his hero-brother Henry. The chuckles ceased, giving place to a sad smile as he thought of those past days. "A soldier I was born, and a soldier I will be!" he had declared as a lad, for all his family were soldiers. But the Lawrences were poor, and the civil service gave better remuneration than the military, and for his mother's and sisters' sakes John Lawrence had put aside the dream of his boyhood that he might earn enough to keep them from want. He knit his great brows and looked Ted up and down, and the boy did not know whether the grim administrator was pleased or displeased with him.

"So you have not smelt enough powder, eh?" he asked at length.

"I want to do my share, sir."

"Boldre's Horse are going to Cawnpore to join Sir Colin Campbell at once. The colonel will be setting out from Balandghar in a day or two, with perhaps a couple of hundred sowars, Sikhs, Pathans, and Punjabi Mohammedans. Mr. Jackson is raising a few score Sikhs and Dogras for him in the Jalandar district, and you are to set out at once to take charge of them, joining your commandant at Delhi."

"Thank you, sir! it's just what I should have chosen."

"Very good! but remember this. Do your duty with just as much thoroughness whether it seem attractive or the reverse. Should your fate tie you to duties of an uneventful nature, should you be out of the fighting and excitement, and have little chance of distinguishing yourself, remember that your work may be quite as necessary and useful, if not so showy. So, whatever you may be called upon to do, do it gladly. I will write to Jackson.---- Oh! I forgot--I am sending Colonel Boldre a couple of Sikh native officers for his regiment, tried men who have been proved and found faithful. They will go with you. They are good men; remember that. Good-day!"

Delighted with the turn of events Ted hastened to call upon the two Sikh officers. "Jim was right," he said to himself as he swung his leg over the saddle, "I am a lucky beggar. It's better being in a British regiment than in a poorbeah lot, but better still to be with Sikh and Pathan cavalry or Gurkha infantry, because Tommy has to be taken such care of, or he'll have sunstroke or cholera, or he'll wander away and get his throat cut, or else walk into an ambush. But these Cossacks of the Punjab are in at most of the fun, and they catch Pandy in snares instead of being caught by him."

Colonel Bratherton presented him to the two Sikhs. They were brothers, and in spite of a few years' difference in age, he could hardly tell one from the other. Each was dressed in white--no colour being more popular among the Sikhs--the snowy turbans setting off the triangle of dark face left visible, with piercing eyes, deep-set and determined, the well-shaped nose, tight mouth, and long beard and moustache twisted and turned upwards over the ears. They were tall and strong, with thin but sinewy legs--in fact, all that Sikhs should be.

Ted asked their names. Govind Singh was the elder, named after the last of the Sikh high-priests; Hira Singh the younger. He told them who he was, and that they must set out for Jalandar that night; and they looked him up and down with doubtful eyes, evidently not too favourably impressed by his youthful appearance. Ted found himself somewhat afraid of those eyes; they seemed to hold so much in reserve. But he felt that in a tight place he would be glad to be backed by men with eyes like theirs.

"When will you be ready?" he asked.

"Now," said Govind Singh.

"Then we set out after sundown."

"Very good, sahib! We go to Lucknow to help Henry Larens."

"But he is dead," Ted informed him.

Govind Singh shook his head.

"That is a poorbeah lie," said he. "As if those jackals of Oudh could kill the great chief!"

Astounded by the Sikh's incredulity, Ted asked if he had seen Sir Henry Lawrence.

"I? I knew him well, and so did Hira Singh, my brother. When the English fought the Afghans, nearly twenty years ago, we were at Peshawur in the Sikh army under Avitabile. The Sikh government had granted you Feringhis a passage through the Punjab, but we Sikh soldiers preferred our old enemies the Afghans, and we refused to fight on your side. We were ready to eat up your Khyber column in those days, and would have done it too, but for Henry Larens Sahib, who won our hearts, so that we fought for him, aye, even to Kabul. Then when we challenged you to war six years later and were beaten, he ruled the Punjab justly and with righteous dealing, as his brother does to-day. Jan Larens is a good and great man likewise, but Henry we loved most. We knew him well."

"It is true," echoed Hira Singh. "If all the Feringhis were like unto Henry Larens there would have been no mutiny. Just is he, and he understands us and knows our ways of thinking as no other white man has ever done. He loved us, yet was he firm--firm as is his brother, and never was there a braver man. How he defied us all at Peshawur, though at our mercy! And so great was his ikbal (prestige), that he forced us to aid him even against our will. Jan Larens is a just and good man, but for Henry Larens we would gladly lay down our lives. I know that he is dead, but my brother will not believe it."

"We will be ready before sundown, sahib," Govind Singh assured Ted as he left them, greatly impressed by this evidence of the influence of one good man, who had so won over his former enemies that they had become his staunchest friends.

Ensign Russell's kit was not extensive. He was now quite an old campaigner, having learned at Delhi how to do without many luxuries that he had formerly considered necessities. He gave his Mohammedan servant instructions to prepare for a long journey, and Kasim Ali received the news as a matter of course. Strange must be the lives of these Indian servants, who are ready to change their place of abode at a moment's notice for another hundreds of miles away. At Delhi, after the capture of the town, Ted had picked up a bargain in the shape of a nice Arab, good-tempered, robust, and speedy. But he also needed an animal for Kasim Ali, and another for his kit and supplies, so he now called upon an Afghan dealer whose horses he had previously noticed. The Afghan brought out one sorry brute after another and tried to pass them off as veritable treasures, such as Aurungzebe himself might have envied. Ted looked guileless, and the Afghan was pained to hear him remark:

"I'm in a hurry. If you have no horses, say so, and I'll go elsewhere."

The wily coper began to see that his customer was no ignorant griffin, so he changed his tone, dropped his protestations, and finally brought out a couple of serviceable beasts, not showy, but strong and in good condition. Ted at once declared that they would suit, and named the sum he was prepared to give; and the Afghan, seeing that it was "take or leave", ceased to haggle, and closed the bargain, not dissatisfied with the profit he had made. Kasim Ali led the steeds away.

"Must go and say good-bye to Ethel and the colonel next," said the ensign to himself.

Colonel Woodburn and his daughter had remained in Lahore after the unsatisfactory conclusion of the trial, in order to be able to give the lad any advice or assistance within their power. They were staying with a civilian friend of the colonel, towards whose bungalow Ted turned his horse's steps. The news that he had been cleared was already out, and Ethel waved her hand joyously as he hove in sight. Sending a servant to take the horse, she motioned the ensign to join her in the verandah.

"I am delighted, Ted!" she began. "Do you feel like a free man again?"

Ted sank luxuriously into the easy-chair.

"Ethel," he said with unwonted seriousness, "I feel like the man in the _Pilgrim's Progress_, whose burden has rolled from his shoulders. I suppose you have heard how the truth came out?"

"Yes; Lieutenant Kendal has told us the whole story this morning. But what has become of Tynan? What is to be done with him? Poor lad! he's had a harder time than you, Ted."

"Yes," Ted slowly answered, "I know he has. I'm sorry for him, and I don't know what has become of him. I don't think that Sir John has been hard upon him. Perhaps he's been able in some way to give him another chance. Sir John was very kind to me."

"They say he is stern, but I've never found him so.---- Well, father, here's the innocent victim of conspiracy, righted at last, and let off on condition that he won't do it again."

Colonel Woodburn and his host had entered the verandah. They congratulated Ted, and Mr. Moncrief added:

"You'll have tiffin with us, Mr. Russell? Make yourself at home here while you stay in Lahore."

"You're very good, Mr. Moncrief, but I'm leaving in a few hours. I'll stay to lunch, though, thanks!"

"That's right. Where are you going, then?"

Ted related the offer made to him by Sir John, and expressed his delight at the prospect. He had come to say good-bye.

"Colonel Boldre is a very nice man," Ethel said meditatively. "Father knows him well. I suppose you're an ensign no longer, then? I am glad to meet you, Lieutenant Russell."

Ted laughed.

"It's a promotion in a way, I suppose," said he, "but I'm not gazetted lieutenant yet."

"You soon will be, though," Colonel Woodburn assured him. "Your appointment is practically equal to promotion. Boldre is a good soldier. I wish I were equal to it."

"Do you still suffer any pain from the wound, colonel?" Ted asked.

"Hardly now, Ted. Still, I'm not fit for active service, only for garrison and depot."

"Tiffin is ready," Mr. Moncrief announced. "Lead the way, Miss Woodburn."

By seven o'clock Lieutenant Edward Russell, Risaldar[25] Govind Singh, Ressaidar Hira Singh, and Kasim Ali were on their way to Amritsar by the very road along which Ted had journeyed twenty-four hours ago. Jalandar was reached on the second day without mishap, and without any incident more exciting than a half-hour's alarm occasioned by the approach of a body of Native Horse. They turned out to be a detachment of the force maintained by the Sikh Raja of Kapurthala, a loyal prince who, in response to John Lawrence's invitation, had assisted the British at Delhi, and whose men were now engaged in keeping a portion of the great highway clear of budmashes and guerrilla mutineers.

[25] The cavalry ranks of _Risaldar_ and _Ressaidar_ correspond in some degree to the English _Major_ and _Captain_. The senior native officers, however, rank below the Junior British officers.

Ted was hospitably received by Mr. Jackson, a civilian official of the Cis-Sutlej States, who had enlisted some forty or fifty horsemen--Sikhs from the Jalandar Doab and Dogras from Kangra. A few days were needed in order to give the levies a little polish and complete their equipment, and during this period Ted stayed with Mr. Jackson. Then they set out for Delhi, through Ludhiana and Amballa.

Five months before a certain ensign had ridden along that road with the Corps of Guides, a lad in the highest of spirits. "Glory of youth glowed in his soul", as he rode by his brother's side and surveyed that splendid regiment, the pride of the Punjab, and, engrossed in the splendour of the martial array, he had given little thought to the horrors.

Five months ago! At times it seemed as many years, and yet again, as they passed some landmark, and a vivid recollection of some chance remark flashed across his brain, at such a time it seemed but yesterday. His spirits were still high, but experience had somewhat sobered him. He thought of the great events of that fateful period, of the scenes of carnage, of the lost friends and comrades, of the great Nicholson, of the plucky little Gurkhas, and those days at the house of Hindu Rao. How many of those grand men of the Guides, with whom he had ridden across the Punjab, had gone back to their depot at Hoti Mardan? How many of the little Gurkhas, whose arrival in the British camp he had witnessed, had marched back to their station in the hills of Dehra Dun? What months those had been for India and for himself! Then the rebels were winning at every point, except in the Punjab. Now the Mogul capital was once more in the hands of the British, the emperor was a captive, and though much remained to be done, the end of the great mutiny was in sight.

In the towns along the Ganges and its tributaries the sepoy hordes still held the upper hand, and their numbers were daily increasing. Gallant Havelock and chivalrous Outram had at length broken their way through and relieved the intrepid garrison of Lucknow, but the mutineers had closed behind them, and they in their turn were shut up in the Residency, and Henry Lawrence, the best-loved Englishman who had ever set foot in India, was dead. Hardly a big town along the Ganges but had its tale of murder and black treachery to unfold.

Delhi had been captured, but its swarms of mutineers had gone to augment the ranks of the sepoys who were holding a reign of terror in Oudh; and though Sir Colin Campbell was at the head of a fine army, there were still threescore rebels against each white man.

Arrived at the Mogul capital, Ted learned that Colonel Boldre had gone on to Agra, whither he was to proceed with all speed. The route thus far was open, for the Delhi column under Hope Grant and Greathed had cleared the way, and fifty mounted Irregulars had little to fear from undisciplined and cowardly budmashes.