Rujub, the Juggler

As they watched, a native officer came up. He stood for a minute talking with the soldiers. By his gesticulations it could be seen he was exceedingly angry, and the men took their muskets and began to walk up and down. Then the officer knocked at the gate. Instead of its being opened, a man appeared at a loophole in the gate tower, and the officer handed to him a paper. A minute later the gate was opened sufficiently for him to pass in, and was then closed behind him.

“They are evidently pretty strict,” Bathurst said. “I don’t think, Rujub, there is much chance of our doing anything there.”

Rujub shook his head. “No, sahib, it is clear they have strict orders about opening and shutting the gate.”

“It would not be very difficult to scale the wall of the house,” Bathurst said, “with a rope and a hook at its end; but that is only the first step. The real difficulty lies in getting the prison room open in the first place—for no doubt they are locked up at night—and in the second getting her out of it, and the building.”

“You could lower her down from the top of the wall, sahib.”

“Yes, if one could get her out of the room they are confined in without making the slightest stir, but it is almost too much to hope that one could be able to do that. The men in charge of them are likely to keep a close watch, for they know that their heads would pay for any captive they allowed to escape.”

“I don’t think they will watch much, sahib; they will not believe that any of the women, broken down as they must be by trouble, would attempt such a thing, for even if they got out of the prison itself and then made their escape from the building, they would be caught before they could go far.”

“Where does the prison house lie, Rabda?” Bathurst asked.

“It is on the left hand side as you enter the gate; it is the farthest door. Along that side most of the buildings—which have been used for storehouses, I should say, or perhaps for the guards when the place was a palace—have two floors, one above the other. But this is a large vaulted room extending from the ground to the roof; it has windows with iron gratings; the door is very strong and heavy.”

“And now, sahib, we can do nothing more,” Rujub said. “I will return home with Rabda, and then go over to Bithoor.”

“Very well, Rujub, I will stay here, and hear what people are talking about.”

There were indeed a considerable number of people near the building: the fact that the white prisoners were within seemed to exercise a fascination, and even women brought their children and sat on the banks which marked where gardens had once been, and talked of the white captives. Bathurst strolled about among the groups of Sepoys and townspeople. The former talked in loud tones of the little force that had already started from Allahabad, and boasted how easily they would eat up the Feringhees. It seemed, however, to Bathurst that a good deal of this confidence was assumed, and that among some, at least, there was an undercurrent of doubt and uneasiness, though they talked as loudly and boldly as their companions.

The townspeople were of two classes: there were the budmashes or roughs of the place, who uttered brutal and ferocious jokes as to the probable fate of the white women. There were others who kept in groups apart and talked in low voices. These were the traders, to whom the events that had taken place foreboded ruin. Already most of the shops had been sacked, and many of the principal inhabitants murdered by the mob. Those who had so far escaped, thanks in some instances to the protection afforded them by Sepoy officers, saw that their trade was ruined, their best customers killed, and themselves virtually at the mercy of the mob, who might again break out upon the occasion of any excitement. These were silent when Bathurst approached them. His attire, and the arms so ostentatiously displayed in his sash, marked him as one of the dangerous class, perhaps a prisoner from the jail whose doors had been thrown open on the first night of the Sepoy rising.

For hours Bathurst remained in the neighborhood of the prison. The sun set, and the night came on. Then a small party of soldiers came up and relieved the sentries. This time the number of the sentries at the gate was doubled, and three men were posted, one on each of the other sides of the building. After seeing this done he returned to the house. After he had finished his evening meal Rujub and Rabda came into the room.

“Now, sahib,” the former said, “I think that we can tell you how the lady is. Rabda has seen her, spoken to her, and touched her; there is sympathy between them.”

He seated Rabda in a chair, placed his hand on her forehead, and then drew the tips of his fingers several times slowly down her face. Her eyes closed. He took up her hand, and let it fall again. It was limp and impassive. Then he said authoritatively, “Go to the prison.” He paused a moment.

“Are you there?”

“I am there,” she said.

“Are you in the room where the ladies are?”

“I am there,” she repeated.

“Do you see the lady Hannay?”

“I see her.”

“How is she?”

“She is lying quiet. The other young lady is sitting beside her. The lower part of her face is bandaged up, but I can see that she is not suffering as she was this morning. She looks quiet and happy.”

“Try and speak to her. Say, ‘Keep up your courage, we are doing what we can.’ Speak, I order you.”

“I have spoken.”

“Did she hear you?”

“Yes. She has raised herself on her arm; she is looking round; she has asked the other young lady if she heard anything. The other shakes her head. She heard my words, but does not understand them.”

Rujub looked at Bathurst, who mechanically repeated the message in English.

“Speak to her again. Tell her these words,” and Rujub repeated the message in English.

“Does she hear you?”

“She hears me. She has clasped her hands, and is looking round bewildered.”

“That will do. Now go outside into the yard; what do you see there?”

“I see eight men sitting round a fire. One gets up and walks to one of the grated windows, and looks in at the prisoners.”

“Is the door locked?”

“It is locked.”

“Where is the key?”

She was silent for some time.

“Where is the key?” he repeated.

“In the lock,” she said.

“How many soldiers are there in the guardroom by the gate?”

“There are no soldiers there. There are an officer and four men outside, but none inside.”

“That will do,” and he passed his hand lightly across her forehead.

“Is it all true?” Bathurst asked, as the juggler turned to him.

“Assuredly it is true, sahib. Had I had my daughter with me at Deennugghur, I could have sent you a message as easily; as it was, I had to trust only to the power of my mind upon yours. The information is of use, sahib.”

“It is indeed. It is a great thing to know that the key is left in the lock, and also that at night there are the prison keepers only inside the building.”

“Does she know what she has been doing?” he asked, as Rabda languidly rose from her chair.

“No, sahib, she knows nothing after she has recovered from these trances.”

“I will watch tomorrow night,” Bathurst said, “and see at what hour the sentries are relieved. It is evident that the Sepoys are not trusted to enter the prison, which is left entirely to the warders, the outside posts being furnished by some regiment in the lines. It is important to know the exact hour at which the changes are made, and perhaps you could find out tomorrow, Rujub, who these warders are; whether they are permanently on duty, or are relieved once a day.”

“I will do that, sahib; if they are changed we may be able to get at some of them.”