Athelstane Ford

We were brought into a sort of guard-house, situated, as well as I could judge, in the centre of the garden, and there kept till morning, to await the Nabob’s pleasure. Poor Rupert, who had broken his leg, tossed and moaned till daybreak, but I was so much exhausted that I could not keep awake, and fell into a sleep on the floor. In the morning, to my astonishment, I was offered some food, after which my captors dragged me pretty roughly into the palace. I said farewell to my cousin, doubting greatly whether I should ever see him again.

Surajah Dowlah, contrary to his custom, had me brought into him in his private apartments, there being present besides only some of the minions and low buffoons he kept by him to amuse him. He rolled his bloodshot eyes on me, as I was led in, looking as though he could have bit me, and played with a sharp, crooked knife which he had in his hand.

After overwhelming me with a torrent of imprecations which I should be ashamed to write down, he ordered me to tell him how I had got into his garden. Being well assured that nothing could make my position worse than it already was, and having some experience of the Nabob’s character by this time, I resolved on defying him. I therefore answered boldly —

“I got into the garden by means which I have, and which I shall not disclose. Your Highness may rest assured that you cannot keep me out of any place into which I choose to penetrate. Nevertheless I intended no outrage on you. You hold prisoner a countrywoman of mine, whom I intended to deliver out of your hands; and let me warn your Highness that whatever you may order to be done with me, the English will never leave you in peace till you have set that woman free.”

I was scarce prepared for the effect which these words produced on the intoxicated youth. He rose half way from his seat, raging like a fiend, then fell back again white and crouching, as if I had been about to deal him a blow, then passed into a fresh paroxysm of rage, and so from one state of mind to another in a way at once alarming and pitiful to behold.

“Do you know in whose presence you stand, infidel?” he shrieked. “Do you know that I am lord and Subhadar of Bengal, of Behar, and Orissa; and that I have a million men who would die at my bidding? I will have you torn piecemeal, I will have your eyes picked out with knives and your flesh torn by hot pincers! I will plunge this knife into you, I will rip you up as I would a wild boar, I will strew your entrails on the earth, I will give your heart to dogs to devour!”

He went on in this terrifying manner till he was out of breath. During the whole time I stood regarding him with a cool, undismayed expression which, I believe, disconcerted him more than any words I could have used. Then I said —

“Surajah Dowlah, your words are the words of a boaster, who is bold only when he sees his enemy before him disarmed. Beware of what you do; you are walking in the dark! Do you believe the paltry handful of English whom you drove out of Calcutta count for anything in the strength of our nation? If so, let me tell you there are men about you, men who have your trust, who could teach you otherwise. You are being deceived if your spies have not already told you of the armament which he whom you call Sabat Jung is already preparing to invade your dominions, when every hair of an Englishman’s head that you have injured will have to be reckoned for. And it will be well for you if, among all those who crouch before you, you find any to fight for you in that day.”

The servile crew that stood round the tyrant here began to cry out at me, and drown my voice. But I was satisfied with the impression I had made on the mind of their master. He listened, hanging his head, and casting meaning glances at me, as if doubtful how far I had authority for what I said. Finally he ordered me to be kept under a strong guard, and I was conveyed back to the same prison I had escaped from overnight.

CHAPTER XIV

IN A STRANGE LAND

I have now come to a period which was in many respects the strangest of my whole life, so that I often look back on it with wonder; and sitting here at the open window, framed in honeysuckle and sweetbriar, with the sounds of the farm in my ears and the prospect of the peaceful broad in front of me, I ask myself if I be truly that adventurous youth who once dwelt in captivity for many months in the court of an Indian prince, half victim and half plaything, one day caressed and loaded with rich gifts, the next threatened with death and torture.

Yet so it was. After the attempt whose miscarriage I have just related, the demeanour of the Nabob underwent a singular change. He relented from his severity towards us, and in fact a few days after, riding past our place of imprisonment one morning, he stopped at the door and calling Mr. Holwell out to him, bade him and his two companions betake themselves where they would, since he desired never to hear of them again.

However, in this dismissal he did not include me, choosing to put me on a different footing from the other prisoners he had taken at Fort William, and to hold me as a hostage – for so I am sure he considered me – for the friendship of Colonel Clive. He offered me the choice between being kept in chains or giving him my parole not to leave Moorshedabad without his consent. The Moors do not accept each other’s parole, but they trust that of a European, than which there can be no stronger proof of the dishonesty of their whole nation. I chose to comply with the Nabob’s condition, as I considered that I ought not to quit the place without having effected something for Marian. And by giving my parole I trusted to obtain opportunities for communicating with her, as well as with my luckless cousin Gurney, whom I had not seen since the morning after our adventure.

Whether Surajah Dowlah suspected my designs, and took particular measures for baffling them, I cannot say. But during the time that now followed, try as I would, I never succeeded in so much as hearing the smallest news of either of the two persons whom I knew to be in Moorshedabad. So close is the secrecy maintained by Orientals that they might have both been carried off into the recesses of Tartary, and yet not been more utterly out of my reach than they were, abiding in the same city.

Neither was I able to gain any certain tidings of my fellow countrymen. I only knew that the Nabob, intoxicated with the pride of his victory at Fort William, had neglected to take measures for pursuing the refugees and driving them from his country. So that they lay all together at Fulta, very miserably, wishing for succour to arrive from Madras, and passed the time, as I have since understood, in recriminations upon each other, for the misconduct and weakness which had brought about the fall of Calcutta. What were the real feelings of Surajah Dowlah towards myself I found it then, and find it still, very difficult to estimate. On many occasions he behaved towards me with the greatest kindness, and as though he had a real affection for me. He would send for me sometimes, when he was sober, and question me about the various kingdoms of Europe, particularly the French, English, and Dutch, those being the three nations which had factories in his dominions. It was plain that he did not believe very much of what I told him, supposing no doubt that I exaggerated in order to astonish him. I told him that the French were the most powerful military nation on the continent of Europe, but that we were their masters, having several times invaded and conquered their country. And I said that at sea the English had ever been reckoned the first of all nations, so much so that no foreign warship was allowed to pass through our seas without striking her topsails to any British vessel she might meet. When I spoke in this manner he would mock, and ask whether I supposed that a Frenchman would confirm these accounts, to which I made answer that such was scarcely to be expected, the French being a vain people, and given to boasting of their greatness.

When the Nabob had exhausted his questions – and he seldom asked me about any but military affairs – he would bestow on me a jewel, or a rich dress, and dismiss me with every mark of kindness. But on the very next day, perhaps, being sent for again, I found him in a drunken rage, ready to curse my nation and myself, and threatening to have my tongue pulled out for having abused him with lies and inventions about my miserable country. On these occasions I often heard him declare that the whole of Europe did not contain ten thousand men, and that as for King George, he was only fit to be a dewan or zamindar under himself.

It did not take me long to discover that the Nabob was entirely governed by those about him. When he could be prevailed on to listen to his uncle, Meer Jaffier, or to his aunt, the widow of Allaverdy Khan, his behaviour was rational enough; but more often he fell under the influence of his detestable Gentoo favourite Lal Moon, and other scoundrels of that stamp, when he became little more than a drunken sot. I felt during this period as though I was shut in the same cage with a capricious tiger, who one moment purred and fawned on me and the next showed his teeth with horrid snarls, nor was there ever a day on which I could feel secure that I should not be delivered to the executioner before the sun set.

Through all these changes of demeanour I adhered to the firm conduct I had at first taken up, and by never permitting the tyrant to see that I feared him, succeeded time after time in damping his frenzy. At the same time I acquired the friendship and esteem of some of the most considerable persons of his Court, particularly Roy Dullub, the dewan already mentioned, and the famous Meer Jaffier. My hold on the friendship of this distinguished Moor was strengthened by an incident which I am about to relate.

As soon as the rainy season was over, which lasted till the month of October, Surajah Dowlah marched out with his army into the country of Purneah, for the purpose of attacking his cousin, who was Phouzdar of that territory. The young Nabob bore a great hatred to this relation of his, and had frequently announced his intention of destroying him as soon as the weather should permit of his moving against him. At the head of the army, as usual, was the general, Meer Jaffier, and at my earnest request I was allowed to accompany him as one of his train.

We arrived at length, after a tedious march, at the foot of some hills, on the slope of which the Phouzdar’s army lay encamped. Our own force was much more numerous, but the Phouzdar’s position being a very strong one the Meer judged it not prudent to make an attack till he had had an opportunity of thoroughly examining the ground. With this view he chose out a small party, of whom I was one, and departed secretly from the camp at sunset, to explore the enemy’s neighbourhood.

The distance between the two armies was not very great; as near as I could judge it was about three miles. But we had no guide to direct us, and lost our way in the darkness, getting entangled first in the wood, and afterwards among a network of small, deep streams, too broad to jump, and dangerous to wade on account of the steepness of their banks and the slippery boulders with which their beds were strewn. So long did it take us to extricate ourselves out of these difficulties that when the sun rose we found ourselves close to the Phouzdar’s camp, and within full view of his army. We turned to retreat, but at the same time a loud halloo was raised behind us, and a troop of horsemen, with waving ensigns and steel accoutrements shining in the sun, dashed out from the enemy’s ranks and rode down upon us.

Meer Jaffier at once gave the order to face round, and form into a solid body to receive their onset. As they approached there was a tall young man in a high turban that blazed with diamonds, mounted on a noble white horse, who spurred swiftly in front, and rode straight for where our commander was posted, with me beside him. The Meer, who did not want courage, perceiving that this young man sought him out, instantly galloped forward to meet him, and cast his javelin. The javelin passed by the young man’s ear; he pulled up his horse, and threw his own in return with such good aim that he struck Meer Jaffier on the shoulder, who reeled and fell off his horse on to the ground. The other instantly rode up and leaped off his white horse to despatch his enemy, but I was on the spot just in time, and without dismounting, succeeded in striking the young man on the neck with my scymetar with such force that he fell down dead.

No sooner did they see him fall than the whole troop of the enemy’s horse turned round and went off, casting away their banners as they rode. Meer Jaffier, who had merely been stunned for the moment, came to himself directly afterwards, and on looking at the dead man’s face recognised him to be no other than the Phouzdar of Purneah himself. We were informed afterwards that he had mistaken us for the Nabob’s own bodyguard, and had come out to attack the Nabob himself.

This lucky accident put an end to the campaign, the whole country at once submitting to Surajah Dowlah. The ungrateful young tyrant chose to resent my action, declaring that it was his design to have put his cousin to death with his own hand, but Meer Jaffier expressed himself very handsomely about the service I had rendered him, and presented me with the white horse which the Phouzdar had ridden.

As soon as we were returned to Moorshedabad Surajah Dowlah marked his sense of resentment against me by withdrawing my liberty on parole, and ordering me into close confinement again. I thus learnt how dangerous is the path of those who would advance themselves at courts where everything depends on the personal favour of the monarch, and not, as in our own happy country, where the power is distributed among the Houses of Parliament and great Ministers, so that no man hath it in his power unduly to depress another. However, I had not lain in my new prison very long before I had reason to rejoice at the Nabob’s caprice, which had restored to me the right of plotting my escape from him. For one evening, when it began to be dusk, the door of my cell was suddenly opened, and the gaolers ushered in a person closely veiled and disguised, who, as soon as we were left alone, removed the wrappings from his face and showed himself to be none other than the Meer Jaffier in person.

“My son,” he said to me, regarding me with a look of some concern, “there has this day arrived at the palace a messenger from Monichund, who brings tidings that Sabat Jung, with a great armament of ships and men, has arrived in the mouth of the Hooghley, breathing vengeance against our lord Surajah Dowlah. And this news has so infuriated him against the whole English nation that, unless you can contrive to get away from Moorshedabad to-night you are like to forfeit your life on the morrow.”

Now whether this distinguished Moor was moved to this action by gratitude for my former service to him, or whether, as some of my friends think, he was already aiming at the treaty into which he afterwards entered with the English, and therefore wished to show his good will to us; yet of this I am sure, that he preserved my life on this night, an action for which I must always hold him in grateful remembrance. Under his directions I collected together my property, consisting chiefly of the gems which the Nabob had given me, and which I secreted on my person. He then brought me out of the prison, past the gaolers, whom he had bribed and dismissed, and took me by a back way to his own house. Here I found the beautiful white horse he had given me, which was named Ali, ready saddled and bridled for a journey. I had for some months been accustomed to wear the Moorish dress, so that I wanted nothing in the shape of disguise, save another application of my cousin Rupert’s paint, which was not to be had.

“Mount,” said the Meer, “and I will myself ride with you as far as the gate of the city and see you safely on your way.”

Accordingly he had his own horse made ready, a small, powerful, black mare, like a jennet, and on this led the way through the streets of the city, now nearly empty, to the southern gate. As we rode along together he gave me advice as to how I should proceed.

“You may now pass well enough among the Mahometans,” he said, “for you have learned a good deal of our manners, and if you had been willing to forsake your degrading idolatry, and embrace the true worship of Allah, you might have attained to a high position among us. But now you are to pass through the country parts of Bengal, in which there are few or no Moors, but only Gentoos, of whom I would have you beware. For the secret hatred of these people for us, their rulers and governors, is very great, so that though you should pass among them for a Moor, you would fare little better than if they knew you to be a Christian and a foreigner. Above all, beware of their Bramins, a faithless, perjured race, given over to all kinds of vile, heathen practices, such as you have no notion of. Let a Bramin once raise his finger against you among these people and you are lost, for by means of their manifold sorceries they have reduced the whole Gentoo population to be their slaves.”

He gave me some directions as to the road I was to travel, telling me I should have to make a circuit so as not to pass through Calcutta, which lay directly in the way to Fulta. The whole distance he estimated as a little more than two hundred miles, and he advised me to ride only at night, and conceal myself in the jungle during the day. I asked him what I should do to procure food.

“That will require some address,” he answered, “but you must avoid entering a village. You will have to keep your eyes open as you ride along, and when you come to some hut standing by itself with no others near, enter boldly and demand provisions for yourself and your horse. Beware of offering any money in payment, or they will suspect you to be a fugitive and fall upon you; but if you hold yourself towards them with pride and sternness, giving them only curses and blows, they will respect and grovel before you, for such is the nature of the Bengalese.”

As soon as we were arrived at the gate of the town Meer Jaffier bade me farewell.

“When you come before Sabat Jung you may salute him privately from me,” he said at parting. “Tell him that my nephew’s violence towards the English is far from commanding the approval of the elder and more prudent among us, and that we earnestly desire to see your factories restored and trade once more flourishing.”

In these last expressions I knew him to be sincere. For since the destruction of the English factories there had been a great falling off in the revenues of Bengal, so much so that even the Nabob himself was now inclined to repent of his action.

I thanked and saluted my protector, and giving the rein to my willing steed, galloped forth into the night. And now it would be easy for me to make a long story of those four days and nights which I spent in travelling through the unknown parts of Bengal, riding along dark forest paths with nothing to guide me but the stars, under mighty trees whose boughs arched overhead like caverns and grew downwards into the earth again, past sleeping Indian villages, where the dogs bayed behind prickly fences, swimming dark rivers on whose surface the reflections of strange idol temples rose and fell, and creeping through thick jungles where my ears were stunned by the screams of trooping jackals, and where my heart would sometimes come into my mouth as I saw the brown grass bend and shake with the passage of some great beast, and caught a glimpse of dark red stripes moving behind the reeds, and heard the heavy padding of its paws. But only once during this journey did I come into real danger, and that through a neglect of the wise advice given to me by my good friend at starting.

For though Meer Jaffier had so strictly warned me against the Indians, and particularly the Bramins, yet on the third night after my flight, beginning to feel somewhat confident by having got so far in safety, nothing would do but I must thrust my head into the lion’s den, by which I mean venture into one of their temples, at the very time they were busy about a great religious ceremony. I had been on my way since sundown, and had made very good progress, so that I supposed myself to have got over the greater part of my journey, when towards the middle of the night I came unexpectedly upon a great building, standing by itself on the edge of a stream, which building I at once knew to be a temple of the Gentoo religion.

Having passed several places of the same kind already I should not have taken much notice of this one, perhaps, if my attention had not been attracted by a peculiar drumming noise which seemed to proceed from the inside, and sounded very strange and awful in the darkness. I rode up as near as I dared, and then stopped, listening. The drumming grew louder and louder, and I presently began to distinguish a purpose in it. The sounds rose and fell in a certain regular order, very unlike the melody of our musical instruments, but yet very impressive to the ear. I found myself affected by a feeling of suspense as I listened, which quickly passed into one of fear, and at the same time I noticed that my horse had begun to shiver and sweat violently. The only effect of this was to fill me with a burning curiosity to know what this music was for. I tethered poor Ali to a tree, and though he seemed to be greatly distressed at being left alone, plunged into the undergrowth that surrounded the sides of the temple.

The whole place appeared to be in darkness. I groped my way at last to the foot of a flight of steps leading up to the front, and finding nobody on guard climbed up softly on all fours, only staying now and then to breathe deeply, and to try and still the excessive beating of my heart. The drums continued to sound, the notes becoming harsher and more distinct as I approached. At the top of the steps I found myself before a little stone doorway, through which a very faint dusky glimmer emerged. I passed in, treading on tiptoe, and came along a narrow stone passage, down which the sound of the drumming made a dismal echo. At the further end of the passage the way was closed by a thick curtain made of a substance that felt like stiff leather, and was, I believe, the hide of an elephant. I pushed this back far enough to let me through, and passed straight into the midst of the place.

As I did so the beating of the tom-toms broke on my ears with such vehemence that I was well-nigh stunned, and a waving dance of torches and cressets bewildered my eyes. I stood on the edge of a range of steps looking down upon an amphitheatre crowded with men. On the other side, over against me, rose a hideous idol, as high as the roof, with many heads, each grinning horribly, whilst from its body there protruded a monstrous array of clutching arms and hands, with other disfigurements too loathsome to be set down. The persons underneath me were all leaping and whirling round, with many gestures of homage to the idol, and they uttered cries and screams which were drowned by the noise of the drums.

In the midst of their frenzy I saw a man dart out stark naked, prostrate himself for a moment at the idol’s feet, and then inflict a terrible gash on himself with a knife which he had in his hand. Instantly the yellings and drummings were redoubled, the mass of worshippers whirled themselves round more furiously than ever, and then another and another man leaped forward and cut himself, each one more savagely than his fellow. Though I have never known what it is to be faint or sick in battle at the sight of wounds, nor even in a hospital, the spectacle of these ghastly mutilations offered up by these Indians in their madness to the idol turned me cold. I stood there watching them, and saw the stones of the temple all bloody like a shambles, and the dark faces of the worshippers distorted like maniacs, amid the smoke and flare of the torches, and a din like that of the pit; and remembering the different worship in which I had been brought up, and the pious services conducted by good Mr. Walpole, I thanked the Almighty who had granted me the blessed privilege of being born in a Christian land.

And with this prayer in my heart I was turning to go when all at once I was aware that I had been spied; the noise of the tom-toms and the screaming dropped as if by magic, the torches were extinguished as though a wind had suddenly passed through the place, and as I turned and fled I heard the pattering of innumerable naked feet behind me on the stones.

CHAPTER XV

THE COMING OF SABAT JUNG

If ever I felt afraid in my life it was when I fled out of the Indian temple with the whole swarm of devil-worshippers in full pursuit. I never thought I should have escaped alive, yet by the aid of Providence I did so, leaping down the steps by great bounds, finding my horse and unloosing him in the nick of time, and galloping off out of their reach. They kept up the pursuit for at least a mile, running with extraordinary swiftness, and tracking me like wolves; nevertheless in the end I got clean away.

This adventure served as a wholesome lesson to me to beware of meddling with the ways of strange peoples in a strange land. By dint of following Meer Jaffier’s wise and prudent directions I got over the rest of my journey without hindrance, and as day was breaking at the end of the following night I rode down on to the shore of the Hooghley.

There the first thing that met my eyes was the pennant of my old commander, Admiral Watson, flying from the main truck of his Majesty’s ship Kent, where she lay in the river, surrounded by a fleet, comprising the Tyger, Salisbury, Bridgewater, and a number of merchantmen. I gloated over this welcome sight almost with tears, as I realised that I was restored to my countrymen once more, after all my perils and wanderings. It did not take me long to reach the English camp on the edge of the river, where the spectacle of a turbaned Moor riding in on a white horse excited no small commotion.

I inquired for Colonel Clive, and was quickly brought to the door of his tent, where my kind friend Mr. Scrafton came out to speak to me. I was on the point of offering him my hand, but observing that he had no suspicions as to who it was I merely told him in Indostanee that I came from Moorshedabad, with a message from the Meer Jaffier, and suffered him to bring me in to Mr. Clive.

The famous Sabat Jung sat writing at a small table, from which he looked up as we entered, and cast a sharp glance over me. Mr. Scrafton spoke in English.