One of Clive's Heroes Part 36

"Did Mr. Clive say anything about a cadetship?"

"Not a word. He only said that I should get a share of the Gheria prize-money."

"That's something to the good. Use it wisely. I came out to Calcutta twenty years ago with next to nothing, and I've done well. There's no reason why you should not make your fortune too if your health will stand the climate. We'll have a talk over things before I sail."

A week later the _Bridgewater_ arrived from Gheria, with Diggle on board. He was imprisoned in the Fort, being allotted far too comfortable quarters to please Mr. Merriman. But Merriman's indignation at what he considered the Governor's leniency was changed to hot rage three days later when it became known that the prisoner had disappeared.

Not a trace of him could be discovered. He had been locked in as usual one night, and next morning his room was empty. Imprisonment was much less stringent in those days than now; the prisoner was allowed to see visitors and to live more or less at ease. The only clue to Diggle's escape was afforded by the discovery that, at the same time that he disappeared, there vanished also a black boy, who had been brought among the prisoners from Gheria and was employed in doing odd jobs about the harbour. Desmond had no doubt that this was Diggle's boy Scipio Africa.n.u.s. And when he mentioned the connexion between the two, it was supposed that the negro had acted as go-between for his master with the friends in the town by whose aid the escape had been arranged. Among the large native population of Bombay there were many who were suspected of being secret agents of the French, and as Diggle was well provided with funds it was not at all unlikely that his jailer had been tampered with.

Merriman's wrath was very bitter. He had been waiting for years, as he told Desmond, for the punishment of Peloti. It was gall and wormwood to him that the villain should have cheated the gallows.

Diggle's escape, however, gave Merriman an opportunity to secure Desmond's services. The culprit being gone, the evidence was no longer required. Finding that Desmond was still ready to accept the position of mate on the _Hormuzzeer_, Merriman consulted Mr. Bourchier, who admitted that he saw no reason for detaining the lad. Accordingly, at the end of the first week in March, when the vessel stood out of Bombay harbour, Desmond sailed with her.

The weather was calm, but the winds not wholly favourable, and the _Hormuzzeer_ made a somewhat slow pa.s.sage. Mr. Merriman was impatient to reach Calcutta, and Desmond was surprised at his increasing uneasiness.

He had believed that the French and Dutch were the only people in Bengal who gave the Company trouble, and as England was then at peace with both France and the Netherlands, there was nothing, he thought, to fear from them.

"You are mistaken," said Mr. Merriman, in the course of a conversation one day. "The natives are a terrible thorn in our side. At best we are in Bengal on sufferance; we are a very small community--only a hundred or two Europeans in Calcutta: and since the Marathas overran the country some years ago we have felt as though sitting on the brink of a volcano.

Alivirdi wants to keep us down; he has forbidden us to fight the French even if war does break out between us at home; and though the Mogul has granted us charters--they call them firmans here--Alivirdi doesn't care a rap for things of that sort, and won't be satisfied until he has us under his heel. Only his trading profits and his fear of the Mogul have kept him civil."

"But you said he was dying."

"So he is, and that makes matters worse, for his grandson, Siraj-uddaula, who'll probably succeed him, is no better than a tiger.

He lives at Murshidabad, about 100 miles up the river. He's a vain, peac.o.c.ky, empty-headed youth, and as soon as the breath is out of his grandad's body he'll want to try his wings and take a peck or two at us.

He may do it slyly, or go so far as to attack us openly."

"But if he did that, sure Calcutta is defended; and, as Mr. Clive said to me in Gheria, British soldiers behind walls might hold out for ever."

"Clive doesn't know Calcutta then! That's the mischief! At the Maratha invasion the Bengalis on our territory took fright, and at their own expense began a great ditch round Calcutta--we call it the Maratha ditch; but the Nawab bought the Marathas off, the work was stopped, the walls of the fort are now crumbling to ruins, and the cannon lie about unmounted and useless. Worst of all, our governor, Mr. Drake, is a quiet soul, an excellent worthy man, who wouldn't hurt a fly. We call him the Quaker. Quakers are all very well at home, where they can 'thee' and 'thou' and get rich and pocket affronts without any harm; but they won't do in India. Might is right with the natives; they don't understand anything else; and as sure as they see any sign of weakness in us they'll take advantage of it and send us all to kingdom come. And I'm thinking of the women folk: India's no place for them at the best; and I did all I could to persuade my wife and daughter to remain at home. But they would come out with me when I returned last year; and glad as I am to have them with me I sometimes get very anxious; I can't bear them out of my sight, and that's a fact."

Mr. Merriman showed his relief when, on the 30th of April, he noticed the yellow tinge in the water which indicated that the vessel was approaching the mouth of the Hugli. Next day the vessel arrived at Balasore, where a pilot was taken on board, and entered the river. Mr.

Merriman pointed out to Desmond the island of Sagar, whither in the late autumn the jogis came down in crowds to purify themselves in the salt water, "and provide a meal for the tigers," he added. At Kalpi a large barge, rowed by a number of men dressed in white, with pink sashes, came to meet the _Hormuzzeer_.

"That's my budgero," said Merriman. "We'll get into it and row up to Calcutta in half the time it would take the ship. Each of us merchants has his own budgero, and instead of putting our men in b.u.t.tons with our arms and all that nonsense, we give them coloured sashes--and don't our women squabble about the colours, my boy, just don't they!"

In the budgero they pa.s.sed the Dutch factory at Fulta, and the Subah's forts at Budge Budge and Tanna. At Gobindpur's reach, Merriman pointed out the pyramid of stone that marked the limit of the Company's jurisdiction. Soon the gardens of the British merchants came in sight, then the Company's docks, and at last the town of Calcutta, where the Company's landing-stage was thronged with people awaiting the arrival of the budgero in the hope of getting news from home.

"There's Surendra Nath and his father," said Mr. Merriman, as they came near the steps. His jolly face beamed when he stepped on to the ghat.[#] "Hullo, Babu!" he said. "Glad to see you again." He shook hands with both the men; the elder was much like his son, a slightly-built Bengali, with white hair and very bright eyes. Both were clad in dhotis of pure white; their legs were bare from the knee, their feet shod with sandals. When the greeting had pa.s.sed between them and their master, the old man moved towards Desmond, put his hands together, and made a deep salaam.

[#] Landing-stage.

"I have heard what the sahib did for my son. I thank the sahib," he said.

"Yes, 'twas excellent good fortune for Surendra Nath," said Mr.

Merriman. "I knew you would be overjoyed to see your son again. But how is the bibi,[#] and the chota[#] bibi?"

[#] Lady: _mem-sahib_ was not yet in use.

[#] Young.

"They were well, sahib, when last I heard. They are on a visit to Watts Sahib, at Cossimbazar."

Merriman's face fell, but he had no time to say more, for he was accosted by a friend.

"Glad to see you back, Mr. Merriman. I've wanted your voice on the Council for some time past."

"Is anything wrong, Mr. Holwell?" asked Merriman anxiously.

"Everything is wrong. Alivirdi died a fortnight ago; Siraj-uddaula has stepped into his shoes; and Drake has made a mess of everything, with Manningham's and Frankland's a.s.sistance. I want you to come and dine with me this evening; we must have a serious talk; I've asked two or three men of our sort in antic.i.p.ation of your consent."

"Very well. Let me present my friend Mr. Burke. He escaped from Gheria; you've heard that Colonel Clive captured the place?"

"Yes; we had despatches from Admiral Watson some days ago. I have heard of Mr. Burke's adventures; your servant, sir; I am delighted to meet you. Well, Merriman, three o'clock; I will not detain you now; you'll want to get home."

Mr. Merriman's bearers were at hand with his palanquin; he got into it; the men set off at a swinging pace, warning the bystanders with their cry of "Tok! Tok!" and Desmond walked by the side of the chair, amused to watch the self-important airs of the peon who went in front. They pa.s.sed the Fort and the Company's house, and arrived at length at a two-storey flat-roofed house with a veranda, the windows filled, not with oyster sh.e.l.ls as at Bombay, but with thin screens of reeds.

"Here we are," said Merriman with a sigh of relief "Now I'll hand you over to the baniya[#]; he'll show you to your room. I'm vexed that my wife is not here; of course she didn't know when to expect me; and Mrs.

Watts is an old friend of hers. 'Tis a relief in one way; for Mr. Watts is a shrewd fellow--he's head of our factory at Cossimbazar, and senior member of Council here--and he would have sent the ladies away if he scented danger. Sorry I shall have to leave you; I must dine with Mr.

Holwell; he's our zamindar--judge of the Cutcheri court and collector of taxes: a fine fellow, the most cool-headed man on the Council. But the khansaman will give you something to eat: and I'll be back as soon as I can. You can take it easy on the veranda, and you'll find a hookah if you care to try it."

[#] Factotum.

"No, thanks," said Desmond with a smile; "I've no fancy that way."

Shortly afterwards Mr. Merriman left the house in his palanquin, wearing the short white calico jacket that was then _de rigueur_ at dinner parties. It was late before he returned. There was an anxious and worried look on his face, but he said cheerily:

"Well, how have you been getting on?"

"I've been reading, sir: I found a volume of Mr. Fielding's _Amelia_, and 'twas a change to read after eighteen months without setting eyes on a book. I hope you had a good dinner."

"'Pon my soul I don't know. None of us know. I warrant. We had too much to talk about to think about our appet.i.tes. Two or three members of Council were there, and Captain Minchin, the military commandant.

Things are looking black, Desmond. Alivirdi is dead, and, as I expected, his scoundrel of a grandson, Siraj-uddaula, is the new Subah.

He has imprisoned one of his rivals, his aunt, and is marching against another, his cousin Shaukat Jung; and 'tis the common talk that our turn will come next."

"But why should he be at odds with us?"

"Why, to begin with, he's a native and hates us; thinks we're too rich; and though he's rich enough he would like to get what we have and turn us out. Then our president Mr. Drake has acted in the weakest possible way; the very way to encourage the Subah. Instead of siding with Siraj-uddaula from the first, as he might well have done, because the rivals never had the ghost of a chance, he shilly-shallied. Then he offended him by giving shelter to a fellow named Krishna Das, who came in a month ago with fifty sacks of treasure from Murshidabad; it really belonged to the Subah's aunt, but the Subah had an eye on it and he's furious at losing it. That wasn't enough. Mr. Watts at Cossimbazar had warned the Council here of the new Subah's unfriendliness; they talk at Murshidabad of our weak defences and how easy it would be to overcome us. He advised Mr. Drake to keep on good terms with the Subah; but what must he do but turn out of the place a man named Narayan Das, the brother of the new Nawab's chief spy."

"Sure you don't allow the enemy's spies to live in Calcutta?"

"Sure we can't help ourselves. The place is full of them--spies of the Subah, and of the French too. We can't do anything. We may suspect, but if we raised a hand we should stir up a hornets' nest, as indeed Mr.

Drake appears to be doing. But that isn't all. The Company's ship _Delaware_ came in a fortnight ago with the news that a French fleet is fitting out under Count Lally, at Brest; 'tis supposed war will break out again and the fleet is intended to attack us here. So that we may have the Subah making common cause with the French to crush us. He'll turn against the French then, but that won't save us. On top of that comes a fakir from Murshidabad demanding in the Subah's name that we should stop work on our fortifications; the insolence of the wretch pa.s.ses all bounds. Mr. Drake properly refused the demand; he said we were repairing our defences in case we needed 'em against the French; but he undertook not to start any new works, which was a mistake.

Altogether, Desmond, things are in a pretty mess. I'm afraid Mr. Drake is not the man to cope with a grave situation; but he has the majority of the Council with him, and we can't alter it. Now I think we had better turn in; perhaps I shall feel better after a good sleep; I am certainly far from easy in mind."

Desmond slept like a top on his light mattress, enveloped in his mosquito curtains. In the morning he accompanied Mr. Merriman to his daftarkhanah,[#] where he found a large staff under the superintendence of the muhri,[#] Surendra Nath's father. He returned to the house for tiffin, spent the afternoon indoors over his novel, and after the three o'clock dinner accompanied his host in a walk through the English quarter.