Athelstane Ford Part 24

I hesitated. He evidently expected that I should name some large sum in rupees, such as was promised by the terms of the treaty to Mr.

Watts and others of those privy to it.

"What I ask for is neither money nor jewels," I said, "but the lives of the two persons who, I believe, are now kept somewhere concealed in the palace of the Nabob."

Meer Jaffier understood me.

"You mean the Englishwoman who was brought here from Calcutta, and the Englishman who was formerly a spy in Surajah Dowlah's service?"

I nodded my head.

"It may be that the woman is, as you say, still in the Nabob's harem.

But I cannot think that the man is alive. He has most probably been secretly put to death for his offence in breaking into the garden of the seraglio."

"I took part in that offence, and yet I am alive still," I answered.

"Well, what is it you ask of me?"

"I ask your promise that the moment Surajah Dowlah is overthrown, and the power has pa.s.sed into your hands, you will aid me to ransack the palace of Moorshedabad in search of that woman and that man."

Meer Jaffier bowed his head.

"You shall do so. Nay, more, to convince you that I am in earnest I will write you an authority now, before you leave me, which will become of effect as soon as Colonel Clive has driven my nephew from the musnud."

A few minutes afterwards I had re-entered the palanquin, and was being conveyed back to Mr. Watts's house.

The next day, rising early, I pretended some business with Mr. Watts, and followed after him on horseback to Cossimbuzar. Here I was met by some of his native servants, who told me that he had gone hunting the evening before, and had not returned. Desiring them to show me the way he had gone, I went on till I was out of sight, and then, striking into a gallop, rode southward for my life towards the English lines.

The sun was low down in the western sky, as, riding slowly on my exhausted beast, I drew near the village of Cutwah, and espied the uniforms of the English sentries gleaming through the trees. The first men who I came up to stood in a little group together, their muskets resting on the ground, while they talked together in low tones. They looked up as I approached, and seeing the Company's uniform, saluted me, while I stopped to show them the pa.s.s which I carried. But they said nothing, and as I pa.s.sed on further into the camp I was struck by the silence that prevailed. All round me I saw the men cooking their suppers, or pa.s.sing to and fro with water vessels, but their heads hung down, and I heard none of the cheering and singing which generally prevailed when Colonel Clive had his troops upon the march against an enemy.

Pressing forward to the headquarters, I found the same evidences of dejection increased on all sides, till at last I met Major Coote walking with two other officers away from the commander's tent. The Major at once stopped me, and asked me how I did, but in so dull a fashion that I could see he was as dispirited as the rest.

"I am quite well, I thank you, sir," I answered him, "but a little surprised at the state of the camp. I am but this moment arrived from Moorshedabad. Can you tell me if anything untoward has taken place?"

Major Coote turned to the two young officers, and signed to them to withdraw. As soon as they were out of earshot he stepped up to the side of my horse, and laying his hand on the saddle addressed me in a low tone--

"Harkye, Ford, I know you to be a discreet youngster, and so I'll tell you my mind plainly. I don't know what news you bring from Moorshedabad, and I don't ask, but we've had such accounts from that cursed place lately that Colonel Clive has begun to believe that not a single man of them all is to be trusted, from Meer Jaffier down. He doesn't think them worth fighting for, and what's more, he doesn't think they mean to join him as they have promised. The long and short of it is, he has just called a council of war of all his officers--you would have been there if you had arrived an hour sooner, and therefore it's no breach of confidence to tell you--he called the council to decide whether we should go forward and fight, or give it up and go back. And he gave his own voice for going back, and the d--d council, two-thirds of 'em, followed suit; and the upshot of it is we're to put our tails between our legs and _go_ back--and that's why you see the whole army ready to throw down their arms like so many children!"

I was aghast at this intelligence, hardly believing it possible that the courage of Colonel Clive should have failed him, though I was better able than most to estimate the worries and cares thrust upon his shoulders by the mingled folly and malice of those who should have given him their best support.

"Where is the Colonel?" I exclaimed. "I must see him at once! I have news that may induce him to change his mind. At all events, I'll take the liberty to persuade him."

"He wandered off by himself," Major Coote answered, brisking up a little. "He went into that grove of trees across there, as soon as the council was dismissed, and he has been there ever since."

I turned and looked at the grove. As I did so I saw some bushes parted, and the figure of my beloved chief emerged, walking with a swift, firm tread.

Instantly I flung myself from my horse, and rushed towards him. But he advanced of his own accord to where Major Coote stood watching us.

"I have altered my mind," he said briefly, with the martial ring in his voice that I had heard first on the morning of Monichund's attempted surprise before Budge-Budge. "I have come round to your opinion, Coote. To-morrow morning we march forward, and engage the enemy wherever we find him."

CHAPTER XIX

_PLa.s.sY_

And now it befalls to me to relate what I saw of that famous day which changed the relations between the English and Moors throughout the whole empire of Indostan. And I think that never before nor since was such a singular engagement fought, and so little really done to effect so tremendous a result.

After I had communicated to Colonel Clive what had pa.s.sed between Meer Jaffier and myself at our secret interview, he believed less than ever in the Meer's promises of a.s.sistance.

"I do not think the man means to betray me, but like all the Bengalese he is a coward, and dares not carry out his promises when the moment comes."

Such was his judgment, in which I was obliged to agree; though I confess I had a liking for Meer Jaffier, and felt much pity for him in his subsequent misfortunes.

It was one o'clock, an hour after midnight, when our little army of three thousand men arrived and took up their quarters in the grove of Pla.s.sy. Of these, two thousand were Sepoys, the remainder being European troops, with some sailors from the fleet and about one hundred Topa.s.ses: we had also eight field-pieces and two howitzers.

The grove in which we encamped was enclosed in a bank and ditch, within which were mango trees, very regularly planted in straight rows, the whole place being about half a mile in length, and less than a quarter in breadth. It stood near the edge of the river, which defended it from approach on the left, where there was a small house or hunting lodge, which Colonel Clive chose as his headquarters.

Facing the grove to the north was the entrenched camp where the Nabob's army had lain ever since their retreat from Calcutta. The troops had been partly withdrawn a few days before, but they were now returned; and we heard their drums and cymbals beating all night long.

Colonel Clive, who had restored me to my former position as his secretary, and kept me near him, bade me lie down and sleep in the lodge. But though I lay down, I was too excited to do more than doze off for a minute at a time, and every time that I opened my eyes I saw the Colonel either walking to and fro, as if impatient for the day to break, or sitting at a table with maps spread out before him, studying them by the light of a torch. Sometimes he went out of the lodge for a few minutes to see that all was quiet, but soon returned and resumed his meditations.

As soon as it was light enough to see, I got up, unable to lie still any longer, and joined Mr. Clive.

"Ah, Ford, so you are awake, eh!" he observed smiling. "You don't look as though you had slept very soundly. Let us get on to the roof, and perhaps we may see what those fellows are about."

We mounted together by a narrow stair leading on to a flat roof, and looked about us. On the left the mist was slowly rising from the river, on the right the foliage of the trees hid our own troops from view. But in front of us to the north we beheld spread out a scene of such magnificence that I confess I trembled, and even Colonel Clive uttered an exclamation of surprise.

The Nabob's army lay in their entrenched camp, one angle of the rampart, that nearest to us, being strengthened with a small redoubt armed with cannon. Behind and away almost as far as we could see, stretched the tents and lines of armed men, the whole just beginning to stir with the first movements of the day. In the midst rose a splendid pavilion, adorned by flags, before the door of which stood a train of horses and attendants, while lesser tents were pitched all round it, each one displaying the ensign of some great officer. Crowds of men could be seen pushing to and fro, catching up their weapons and falling into some sort of military order, while others brought up horses and elephants, the caparisons of which shone gaily with silk of many colours. So great was the throng, and so confused were their motions, that I could not even guess their numbers, but Colonel Clive, glancing over them with the eye of a veteran, declared that there must be at least fifty thousand men, of whom upwards of fifteen thousand were cavalry. Their guns I counted myself up to forty-three, and they had others which they left in the camp.

As we stood and watched, this great host began to slowly pour out from different openings in the rampart and advance on the plain, forming a sort of bow round the front and right flank of our position. The river, as I have said, protected the left, and they made no attempt to close round the rear.

"I wonder which is Meer Jaffier's division?" muttered Colonel Clive anxiously, as the array extended itself. The infantry remained for the most part between the camp and our front, while the ma.s.ses of cavalry spread away to our right, forming their left wing. The army was not in one line, but seemed to advance in a number of detached bodies, the intervals between them being filled up with the guns.

This artillery was a truly formidable spectacle. Our own few guns were merely six-pounders, nor had we the means of transport for larger pieces. But many of the Nabob's cannon were of immense calibre, 24 and even 32-pounders, more suitable for siege guns than to be brought into action. They were mounted on high wooden stages, which bore not merely the cannon but the artillerymen and ammunition as well, and each of these carriages was drawn along by as many as eighty or a hundred huge white oxen, of the famous Purneah breed. Moreover, in case the oxen should not prove sufficient, an elephant walked behind each of these moving platforms, and b.u.t.ted it with his forehead from behind whenever it stuck from any difficulty of the ground.

Between the grove where we lay and the enemy's camp there were a couple of tanks, such as the Indians build to contain rain water.

These tanks, being protected by banks of earth, served the purpose of redoubts, and we saw a small body of men, about forty or fifty, advance to the tank nearest us, dragging two light guns, with which they at once began playing on the grove.

"Those are white men!" exclaimed Colonel Clive, who had been watching this movement. "They must be Frenchmen sent from Bra.s.sy--unless they are some of those that escaped from Chander Nugger."

While he was speaking the fire from the tank was taken up by the rest of the Nabob's artillery, and a roar arose from the whole face of the advancing army. Colonel Clive watched the result closely for a few minutes.

"They are doing very little harm," he observed. "They fire too high.

Most of the b.a.l.l.s are pa.s.sing over the heads of our men. But it will not do for us to stay in the shelter of the grove; they may think we are afraid of them."

He hurried down to the ground, bidding me keep near him, and went to where our men were waiting, just within the ditch which enclosed the grove. One Sepoy had been killed by the discharge from the tank, and three or four wounded, but otherwise we had not suffered.

The Colonel quickly made his dispositions, and the little force marched boldly out from its shelter and faced the enemy. At this the whole Moorish army halted, still out of point-blank range, and contented themselves with continuing their artillery fire, which we returned as best we could with our few guns. Colonel Clive pa.s.sed to and fro along the line several times, noting everything that happened, and anxiously watching for some symptom of the promised desertion by Meer Jaffier. But nothing happened, the Moor's infantry remained steady in our front, and the dark ma.s.ses of cavalry continued to hang threateningly on our flank.