On the Face of the Waters Part 55

"It is foolishness!" she said fiercely. "The mems cannot be suttee. I will not have it."

Kate stared at her. "But I must----" she began.

"There is no must at all," interrupted Tara superbly; "I will find some other way." And then she bent over quickly, and Kate felt her hands upon her hair. "There is plenty left," she said with a sigh of relief. "I will plait it up so that no one will see the difference."

And she did. She put the gold bangle on again also, and by dawn the next day Kate found herself once more installed as a screened woman; but this time as a Hindoo lady under a vow of silence and solitude in the hopes of securing a son for her lord through the intercession of old Anunda, the Swami.

"I have told Sri Anunda," said Tara with a new respect in her manner.

"I had to trust someone. And he is as G.o.d. He would not hurt a fly."

She paused, then went on with a tone of satisfaction, "But he says the mem could not have been suttee, so that foolishness is well over."

"But what is to be done next, Tara?" asked Kate, looking in astonishment round the wide old garden, arched over by tall forest trees, and set round with high walls, in which she found herself. In the faint dawn she could just see glimmering straight paths parceling it out into squares; and she could hear the faint tinkle of the water runnels. "I can't surely stop here."

"The mem will only have to keep still all day in the darkest corner with her face to the wall," said Tara. "Sri Anunda will do the rest.

And when Soma returns he must take the mem away before the thirty regiments come and the trouble begins."

"Thirty regiments!" echoed Kate, startled.

"He and others have gone out to see if it is true. They say so in the Palace; but it is full of lies," said Tara indifferently.

It was indeed. More than ever. But they began to need confirmation, and so there was big talk of action, and jingling of bits and bridles and spurs in the city as well as in the camp. They were to intercept the siege train from Firozpur; they were to get round to the rear of the Ridge and overwhelm it. They were to do everything save attack it in face.

And, meanwhile, other people besides Soma and such-like Sadducean sepoys had gone out to find the thirty regiments, and secret scouts from the Palace were hunting about for someone to whom they might deliver a letter addressed

"To the Officers, Subadars, Chiefs, and others of the whole military force coming from the Bombay Presidency:

"To the effect that the statement of the defeat of the Royal troops at Delhi is a false and lying fabrication contrived by contemptible infidels--the English. The true story is that nearly eighty or ninety thousand organized Military Troops, and nearly ten or fifteen thousand regular and other Cavalry, are now here in Delhi. The troops are constantly engaged, night and day, in attacks on the infidels, and have driven back their batteries from the Ridge. In three or four days, please G.o.d, the whole Ridge will be taken, when every one of the base unbelievers will be sent to h.e.l.l. You are, therefore, on seeing this order, to use all endeavors to reach the Royal Presence, so, joining the Faithful, give proofs of zeal, and establish your renown.

Consider this imperative."

But though they hunted high and low, east, north, south, and west, the Royal scouts found no one to receive the order. So it came back to Delhi, damp and pulpy; for the rains had begun again, turning great tracts of country into marsh and bog, and generally wetting the blankets in which the sepoys kept guard sulkily.

CHAPTER III.

THE BEGINNING OF THE END.

They drenched Kate Erlton also, despite the arcaded trees above her corner as she sat with her face to the wall in the wide old garden. At first her heart beat at each step on the walk behind her, but she soon realized that she was hidden by her vow, happed about from the possibility of intrusion by her penance. But not many steps came by her; they kept chiefly to the other end of the garden where Sri Anunda was to be found. It was a curious experience. There was a yard of two of thatch, screened by matting and supported by bamboos, leaning not far off against the wall; and into this she crept at night to find the indulgence of a dry blanket. At first she felt inclined to seek its shelter when the rain poured loudly on the leaves above her and fell thence in big blobs, making a noise like the little ripe figs when the squirrels shook them down; but the remembrance that such women as Tara performed like vows cheerfully kept her steady. And after a day or two she often started to find it was already noon or dusk, the day half gone or done. Time slipped by with incredible swiftness in watching the squirrels and the birds, in counting the raindrops fall from a peepul leaf. And what a strange peace and contentment the life brought! As she sat after dark in the thatch, eating the rice and milk and fruit which Tara brought her stealthily, she felt, at times, a terrified amaze at herself. If she ever came through the long struggle for life, this surely would be the strangest part of the dream. Tara, indeed, used to remark with a satisfied smile that though the mem could not of course be suttee, still she did very well as a devoted and repentant wife. Sri Anunda could never have had a better penitent.

And then, in reply to Kate's curious questions, she would say that Sri Anunda was a Swami. If the mem once saw and spoke to him she would know what that meant. He had lived in the garden for fifteen years.

Not as a penance. A Swami needed no penance as men and women did; for he was not a man. Oh, dear no! not a man at all.

So Kate, going on this hint of inhumanity, and guided by her conventional ideas of Hindoo ascetics, imagined a monstrosity, and felt rather glad than otherwise that Sri Anunda kept out of her way.

She was eager also to know how long she might have to stay in his garden. The vow, Tara said, lasted for fifteen days. Till then no one would question her right to sit and look at the wall; and by that time Soma would have returned, and a plan for getting the mem away to the Ridge settled. For the master was evidently not going to return to the city; perhaps he had forgotten the mem? Kate smiled at this, drearily, thinking that indeed he might; for he might be dead. But even this uncertainty about all things, save that she sat and watched the squirrels and the birds, had ceased to disturb her peace.

As a matter of fact, however, he was thinking of her more than ever, and with a sense of proprietorship that was new to him. Here, by G.o.d's grace, was the one woman for him to save; the somebody to kill, should he fail, needing no selection. There were enough enemies and to spare within the walls still, even though they had been melting away of late. But a new one had come to the Ridge itself, which, though it killed few, sapped steadily at the vigor of the garrison. This was the autumnal fever, bad at Delhi in all years, worse than usual in this wet season, counterbalancing the benefit of the coolness and sending half a regiment to hospital one day and letting them out of it the next, sensibly less fit for arduous work. It claimed Jim Douglas, already weakened by it, and made his wound slow of healing.

"You haven't good luck certainly," said Major Erlton, finding him with chattering teeth taking quinine dismally. "I don't know how it is, but though I'm a lot thinner, this life seems to suit me. I haven't felt so fit for ages."

He had not been so fit, in truth. It was a healthier, simpler life than he had led for many a long year; and ever since John Nicholson had bidden him go back to his tent and sleep, even the haggardness had left his face; the restlessness having been replaced by an eager certainty of success. He was coming steadily to the front, too, so the Ridge said, since Nicholson had taken him up. And he had well deserved this, since there was not a better soldier; cool, stubborn, certain to carry out orders. The very man, in short, whom men like the General wanted; and if he stayed to the finish he would have a distinguished career before him.

But Herbert Erlton himself never thought of this; he hated thought instinctively, and of late had even given up thinking of the city. He never sat and watched the rose-red walls now. Perhaps because he was too busy. So he left that to Jim Douglas, who had nothing else to do, while he went about joyously preparing to accompany Nicholson in his next lesson of law and order.

For in the city it was becoming more and more difficult every day to make the lies pa.s.s muster, even in the Palace; and so, in despair, the four Commanders-in-Chief for once had laid their heads together and concocted a plan for intercepting the siege train from Ferozpur. So it was necessary that they should be taught the futility of such attempts. Not that even the Palace people really believed them possible. How could they? when almost every day, now, letters came to the Ridge from some member or another of the Royal family asking effusively how he could serve the English cause. Only the old King, revising his lists of precedence, listening still to brocaded bags, taking cooling draughts, making couplets, being cozened by the Queen, and breathed upon by Hussan Askuri, hovered between the policy of being the great Moghul and a poor prisoner in the hands of fate. But the delights of the former were too much for him as a rule, and he would sit and finger the single gold coin which had come as a present from Oude as if he were to have the chance of minting millions with a similar inscription.

"Bahadur Shah Ghazee has struck upon gold the coin of Victory."

Even in its solitary grandeur it had, in truth, a surpa.s.sing dignity of its own in the phrase--"struck upon gold the coin of Victory." So, looking at it, he forgot that it was a mere sample, sent, as the accompanying brocaded bag said, with a promise to pay more when more victory brought more gold. But Zeenut Maihl, as she looked at it, thought with a sort of fury of certain gold within reach, hidden in her house. What was to become of these coins with John Company's mark on them? For she still lingered in the Palace. Other women had fled, but she was wiser than they. She knew that, come what might, her life was safe with the English as victors; so there was nothing but the gold to think of. The gold, and Jewun Bukht, her son. The royal signet was in her possession altogether now, and sometimes the orders, especially when they were for payment of money, had to go without it, because "the Queen of the World was asleep." But she did not dream.

That was over; though in a way she clung fiercely to hope. So Ghaus Khan with the Neemuch Brigade, and Bukht Khan with the Bareilly Brigade, and Khair Sultan with the sc.r.a.pings and leavings of the regiments, who, owning no leader of their own, did what was right in their own eyes, set out to intercept the big guns; and Nicholson set out on the dawn of the 25th to intercept them.

The rain poured down in torrents, the guns sank to their axles in mud, the infantry slipped and slithered, the cavalry were blinded by the mire from the floundering horses. So from daybreak till sunset the little force, two thousand in all--more than one-half of whom were natives--labored eighteen miles through swamps. At noon, it is true, they called a halt nine miles out at a village where the women cl.u.s.tered on the housetops in wild alarm, remembering a day--months back--when they had cl.u.s.tered round an unleavened cake, and the head-man's wife had bidden them listen to the master's gun over the far horizon.

They were to listen to it again that day. For the enemy was ten miles further over the marshes; and it was but noon. The force, no doubt, had been afoot since four; but General Nicholson was emphatically not an eight-hour man. So the shovings and slitherings of guns and mortals began again cheerfully.

Still it was nigh on sundown when, across a deep stream flowing from the big marshes to the west, these contract-workers came on the job they were eager to finish ere nightfall. Six thousand rebels of all arms, holding three villages, a bastioned old serai, and a town. It was a strong position, in the right angle formed by the stream and the flooded ca.n.a.l into which it flowed. Water, impa.s.sable save by an unknown ford in the stream, by a bridge held in force over the ca.n.a.l, on two sides of it. On the others dismal swamps. A desperately strong position to attack at sundown after eighteen miles slithering and shoving in the pouring rain; especially with unknown odds against you.

Not less, anyhow, than three to one. But John Nicholson had, a single eye; that is, an eye which sees one salient point. Here, it was that bridge to the left, leading back to safe shelter within the walls of Delhi. A cowardly foe must have no chance of using that bridge during silent night watches. So, without a pause, fifteen hundred of the two thousand waded breast-high across the stream to attack the six thousand, Nicholson himself riding ahead for a hasty reconnoissance, since the growing dusk left scant leisure for anything save action.

Yet once more a glance was sufficient; and, ere the men, exposed to a heavy fire of grape in crossing the ford, were ready to advance, the orders were given.

There was a hint of cover in some rising ground before the old serai--the strongest point of the defense. He would utilize this, rush the position, change front, and sweep down on the bridge. That must not remain as a chance for cowards an instant longer than he could help; for Nicholson in everything he did seems never to have contemplated defeat.

So flanked by the guns, supported by squadrons of the 9th Lancers and the Guides cavalry, the three regiments[7] marched steadily toward the rising ground, following that colossal figure riding, as ever, ahead.

Till suddenly, as his charger's feet touched the highest ground, Nicholson wheeled and held up his hand to those below him.

"Lie down, men!" came his clear strong voice as he rode slowly along the line; "lie down and listen to what I've got to say. It's only a few words."

So, sheltered from the fire, they lay and listened. "You of the 61st know what Sir Colin Campbell said to you at Chillianwallah. He said the same thing to others at the Alma. I say it to you all now. 'Hold your fire till within twenty or thirty yards of that battery, and then, my boys! we will make short work of it!'"

Men cannot cheer lying on their stomachs, but the unmelodious grunt--"We will, sir, by G.o.d, we will!"--was as good as one.

Nicholson faced round on the serai again, and gave the order to the artillery. So, in sharp thuds widening into a roar, the flanking guns began work. Half a dozen rounds or so, and then the rider--motionless as a statue in the center--looked back quickly, waved his sword, and went on. The men were up, after him, over the hillock, into the mora.s.s beyond, silently.

"Steady, men! steady with it. On with you! Steady!"

They listened to the clear sonorous voice once more, though there was no shelter now from the grape and canister, and musket b.a.l.l.s; or rather only the shelter of that one tall figure ahead riding at a foot's-pace.

"Steady! Hold your fire! I'll give the word, never fear! Come on! Come on!"

So through a perfect bog they stumbled on doggedly. Here and there a man fell; but men will fall sometimes. "Now then! Let them have it."

They were within the limit. Twenty yards off lay the guns. There was one furious volley; above it one word answered by a cheer.

So at the point of the bayonet the serai was carried. Then without a pause the troops changed front with a swiftness unforeseen and swept on to the left.

"To Delhi, brothers! To Delhi!" The old cry, begun at Meerut, rose now with a new meaning as the panic-stricken guns limbered up and made for the bridge. Too late! Captain Blunt's were after them, chasing them.

The wheel of the foremost, driven wildly, jammed; those following couldn't pull up. So, helter skelter, they were in a jumble, out of which Englishmen helped the whole thirteen! The day, or rather the night, was won; for Nature's dark flag of truce hung even between the a.s.sailants and the few desperate defenders of the third village, who, with escape cut off, were selling their lives at a cost to the attackers of seventeen out of that total death-roll of twenty-five.