Athelstane Ford

“Well, when we got outside the river, we pointed her head for the nor’ard, and by keeping pretty close along the shore, though we hadn’t a soul on board that could navigate, we managed to bring the old Fair Maid safe into port – that’s Bombay. You may strike me blind as I set here, when I tells you that no sooner did we bring up in the harbour than who should we see carmly settin’ on the quay a-waiting for us but that eternal cousin of yourn! How on earth he got there’s a mystery, but there he was; and as soon as he sights the Fair Maid he comes off in a boat as cool as you please and takes the command again.”

“Why did you let him?” I asked, with a touch of my old resentment against Rupert. “Why didn’t you refuse to take him on board?”

Old Muzzy gave me a reproachful look and shook his head gravely.

“No, no, boy, we couldn’t go for to do that. That would ha’ been flat mutiny; and remember his name was on the ship’s books as first officer, and he might have pistolled us every one and had the law on his side. We didn’t dare leave him neither, ’cause that would ha’ been desertion, d’ye see, and he might have got out a warrant and had us brought on board again in irons.”

“What did you do, then?” I demanded as he paused, and a smile of deep cunning slowly overspread his face.

“I’ll tell you what we did, Athelstane, my hearty. We got ourselves pressed!”

“Pressed?”

“Took by the crimps, you understand, and pressed to serve King George. Oh, but it was a rare spree to see them crimps a-laying in wait for us, and enticing us into their dens, and filling us up with rum till we nearly bust where we sat, so that they could go and bring the pressgang down upon us. And us all the time asking nothing better, and ready to serve of our own accord, only it might ha’ looked suspicious, d’ye see, it being agin natur for a honest seaman to want to go on board a man-o’-war.”

The boatswain began to quiver and roll to and fro with spasms of inward laughter at the recollection of his strategy.

“And you should ha’ seen your cousin’s face when he stood all alone on the deck of the Fair Maid, and saw a boatload of us being rowed past him to the Tyger, every man jack of us in irons, and laughing in his face as we went by! And so that’s how it is as I’m in King George’s uniform, and right glad I am to find you in company again. For if ever I took a fancy to a young feller, I took one to you from the moment I first clapped eyes on you, and says I to myself, ’I’ll make that lad a tight sailor yet,’ I says, and I’d ha’ done it, my boy, but for that scrub of a cousin of yours. And I’ve taken a blessed fort to-night for King George; and I’ll tell ’em you was with me, and in command of the party, and they’ll put your name in the despatches, and make you an admiral yet, or my name ain’t Muzzy!”

CHAPTER XVI

A BATTLE IN THE DARK

With some difficulty I persuaded my zealous friend to change his intention of ascribing to me the capture of Budge-Budge. It was well I did so, for Mr. Clive, when he heard the particulars of the affair, chose to resent the breach of discipline on the part of the sailors more than he approved of their reckless enterprise. So that old Muzzy, to his surprise, instead of being rewarded for his achievement, found himself lucky to get off with nothing worse than a reprimand for his drunkenness and disobedience to orders.

The next day we marched upon Calcutta.

The ships went before us to clear the way, but they met with no resistance, all the Indian forces retiring before our advance. In the affair before Budge-Budge it seems that one of the shots from the guns had passed close to the turban of Monichund, and this had so terrified him that he never halted in his retreat till he came to Moorshedabad, all the way communicating his own fears to the garrisons he passed. When we entered the town of Calcutta, therefore, we saw the English colours already flying again from the fort, Admiral Watson having sent a party ashore to take possession.

I am sorry to say that some bad blood arose between the gallant Admiral and Mr. Clive over this incident. In fact there had been already several jealousies between the two services, the Admiral and his officers affecting to regard the Company’s forces as on an inferior footing to themselves. This feeling was heightened by the fact that Mr. Watson’s rank in the navy was higher than that of Colonel Clive in the army, which gave him the precedence, though everybody knew that the real leader and director of the campaign was the Colonel.

I was with Mr. Clive when he came up to the entrance to the fort, and can still see the stern look on his face when the sentinel stationed there by Captain Coote refused him admission.

“Do you know who I am, fellow?” he cried. “I bid you let me pass this instant, or I will have you court-martialled as sure as my name is Robert Clive!”

The sentinel drew back, and we passed in, but were immediately met in the courtyard by Mr. Coote himself.

“What is the meaning of this performance, sir?” the Colonel asked him sternly. “Are you aware that I hold his Majesty’s commission as lieutenant-colonel, and that you and all your men are therefore under my commands?”

“I am very sorry sir,” replied the other, beginning to blench a little, “but I was put into possession of this place by Admiral Watson, who has given me his commission as governor, and bid me hold it on his behalf till the arrival of Mr. Drake.”

“Then, Captain Coote,” retorted Mr. Clive, turning pale, “I order you to give up this fort to me, as your superior officer on land, failing which I shall order you to be arrested.”

The Captain gave way at this threat, but contrived to despatch a message to Mr. Watson of what had occurred. The Admiral, whose spirit was as high as Mr. Clive’s, at once sent on shore to say that unless Mr. Clive instantly quitted the fort, leaving Captain Coote in possession, he should open fire on it from the Kent.

In the end, however, a compromise was effected, by virtue of which the Admiral was to hold the fort for the remainder of that day, in compliment to his services in having taken it, but at the end of that period he was to deliver it up to Mr. Clive as the military representative of the Company.

Such were some of the difficulties with which this distinguished man had to contend. He would sometimes say to me, in his moments of confidence —

“I declare to you, Ford, that if I had known how I was to be vexed and thwarted by those whose duty it is to assist me, I would never have undertaken this command. After ruining their own affairs these Bengal gentlemen criticise and hamper every step I take to restore them; and Admiral Watson is more zealous in maintaining what he considers the honours due to his profession, than he is in beating the Moors.”

But in spite of this occasional bitterness, the Colonel entertained a great respect for Mr. Watson’s courage and abilities as a seaman, more especially after the celebrated affair of Chander Nugger. Whilst Mr. Clive, with the other members of the committee, was engaged in settling the affairs of Calcutta, some spies came in with the news that the town of Hooghley lay very open to attack, the garrison being greatly dismayed and ready to give up the place on very slight provocation. Accordingly the Admiral sailed up the river against it with his fleet, and some troops under Major Kilpatrick and Captain Coote, attacking it on the land side, it was taken with very little loss on our side, and destroyed. But as I was not present on this occasion, so I shall say little about it, except to remark that it served to yet further impress the Indians with a sense of our power, and put Surajah Dowlah on marching from Moorshedabad to crush us with all his force.

The state in which we found Calcutta was indeed pitiable. The native quarter, especially that inhabited by the meaner sort of people, was not much injured, but all the English mansions and factories lay in ruins. The unfortunate servants of the Company, although thus restored to their former home, found themselves without shelter or money, the traffic having, of course, entirely ceased. It was fortunate for me that I had been able to bring away the jewels which Surajah Dowlah had given me in his fits of maudlin friendship, for these fetched a good price among the Gentoo merchants, and procured me as much money as I had occasion for. But with most of the others, from Mr. Drake downwards, it was different; and if the plunder of Hooghley had not brought in about a lac and a half of rupees, about this time, into the Company’s coffers, I scarce know what they would have done.

News arrived from Aleppo, shortly after these transactions, that war had again broken out in Europe between us and the French. This raised the prospect of a fresh peril for us, it being feared that the French in Chander Nugger would join forces with the Nabob. So seriously did Colonel Clive regard this outlook, that he consented to send proposals for an accommodation to Surajah, who was now in full march to the southward. To these proposals the Nabob pretended to return a favourable answer, nevertheless he continued advancing, and in order to be prepared against him Mr. Clive fortified an entrenched camp just outside the Morattoe ditch, to the northward, by which the Moors would have to pass before they could attack the town.

Things were in this position when one morning about the beginning of February, rising at daybreak, and strolling outside the camp, I saw the whole horizon to the northward lit with the flames of burning villages. I hastened to rouse Mr. Clive, and he came out and stood beside me, watching, while from a cloud of dust along the road the van of the approaching army emerged, one blaze of gorgeous uniforms and tossing spears, marching towards the Morattoe ditch.

For some time we stood in silence, as troop after troop came on, crowding along the high road, and casting fierce looks towards our encampment as they passed. A frown gathered on the Colonel’s brow, and he began to think aloud, as was his custom sometimes, when we were alone.

“Shall I attack them now? I might cut off their vanguard, and again I might be caught between two fires. The rest of the army cannot be far behind – better wait and ascertain their numbers. Besides, it is too soon to say whether or no the Nabob means to play me false. An attack now would hazard everything; I am bound to wait and give them time to show their true inclinations.”

He raised his head, and looked at me.

“Go round the town, Ford, rouse the outposts everywhere, and bid them stand on the defensive. If the Moors attempt to cross the ditch and enter the town, they are to beat them back, and send me word, but not to follow them. Then return to me.”

I hastened away to execute these orders, which were duly carried out. In one or two places the Moors attempted incursions, but were speedily checked. This contented them for that day. On the following morning the main army, accompanied by Surajah Dowlah in person, debouched on the plains, and proceeded to spread itself round the threatened town.

In the afternoon Mr. Clive summoned me to him. I found him in the tent with Mr. Scrafton, and he held a letter in his hand.

“The Nabob has sent to me,” he said, “desiring me to appoint some persons to treat with him of the peace, and I have chosen Mr. Scrafton and you as my deputies. What do you say, Ford? Are you ready to trust your head in the tiger’s jaws again, after your late adventures?”

“If you think fit to send me, sir, I am ready at all times to obey any orders I may receive from Colonel Clive.”

He smiled, well pleased.

“Well said, my lad. I knew you were something better than a purser, and as soon as this business is over I will see to it that you get a commission in the Company’s forces, if that will serve your turn.”

I thanked him, and Mr. Scrafton and I at once set out for Surajah’s quarters, which we were informed were at a place called Nabob-gunge. But on arriving there we found that the treacherous Moor had pursued his march towards the town and when we at last overtook him, late in the evening, we found him with his headquarters established in a house belonging to the Gentoo merchant Omichund, which house lay actually within the Morattoe ditch, and was therefore included in the territories of Calcutta.

We were here received by Roy Dullub, the Dewan, who instantly recognised me, and manifested some alarm at my thus appearing in the character of Colonel Clive’s emissary. He glanced over us both with an air of suspicion, and desired to know whether we had pistols concealed in our dress.

Mr. Scrafton laughed in his face.

“We are not assassins,” he said severely. “We do not deal with our enemies in that way. If our employer, Mr. Clive, desires to kill the Nabob, rest assured he will come in broad daylight, at the head of his army, and do it that way.”

Roy Dullub gave way after this rebuke, and led us into the presence of his master. The Nabob was seated in full durbar, with all his officers round him and the evil Lal Moon crouched like a snake beside his ear. All the way round the walls of the apartment was placed a row of huge guards, men of formidable size and ferocious countenances, who, to appear still more dreadful, had their dresses stuffed out and their turbans of twice the common size. Throughout the audience they kept their eyes fixed on us with a most bloodthirsty expression, as though expecting the signal to fall upon and slay us.

Surajah Dowlah was little changed from when I had last seen him. His features still preserved that aspect of ruined handsomeness and marred and minished glory, which is ascribed to the fallen archangel by our great poet Milton – whom I, for one, will never stoop to compare with your writer of lascivious stage-plays and sonnets, after whom all the world is now running frantic. Roy Dullub handed the paper which we had brought containing our proposals to the Nabob, who read it over before he condescended to glance at us.

No sooner did he see me, however, than his face changed. He turned his head, and whispered something to his favourite, pointing to me at the same time. Then he addressed us, with smooth civility, pretending to ignore our previous acquaintance.

“I will desire my ministers to consider your proposals,” he said. “The Dewan shall confer with you, and let you know my pleasure.”

“That is not enough for us,” replied Mr. Scrafton. He naturally took it on himself to speak, as my elder and superior. “Your Highness has committed a breach of good faith in crossing the English boundary while negotiations are in progress.”

“You need have no fear about that,” the Nabob responded. “My intentions towards the English are friendly. I come among you simply as a guest. Tell Sabat Jung that he may lay down his sword and confide in my goodwill.”