The Mercy of the Lord Part 33

John Carruthers looked up.

"He means electric and thermos," said Horace Alexander, with an odd sort of cackle in his voice; something seemed to have risen in his throat and prevented his speaking clearly.

"We carried the _chota sahib_ by turns, seeing there might have been serpents in the way," continued the old man, "and made for the railway, since that was all the direction _Jullunder Baba_ would give. Then Iman, remembering the old tomb--the Huzoor will remember it also, since there was a case about it in his court----"

"And the Huzoor," broke in Iman, "decided virtuously, that being the tomb of a saint, it should stand, and the railway move----"

"Remembering it," went on old Bisvas, "he said, 'It would give shelter to the child.' So thither we went, and there the _chota sahib_, having remembered he had not said his prayers as he had promised the Huzoor, said them. He knelt, Huzoor, on that slab, lest the floor should be damp----"

"Yes," a.s.sented the child's father as the old man paused. Once again there was that lump in his throat. He saw, as in a vision, the old Mahomedan tomb rearing its half-ruined dome so close to the railway--the white-faced child praying G.o.d to bless everyone he loved, those dark faces standing round reverently.

"Lo!" continued old Bisvas gently, "I think the saint down below must have heard--Iman says he did--for what followed was of no man's making.

We were all drowsing in the tomb--'tis a good five miles from the Huzoor's bungalow to the railway, for all it goes so near to the city--when _Baba-jee_--he hath the ears of a mouse still--said 'Hist!'

"So I looked out, and there were men--five or six of them, on the line.

Then it came to me what the ill-begotten hounds had been doing in Bengal, and a sort of fury seized on me. So I crept back. _Jullunder Baba_ was asleep among the blankets on the tomb slab, but I whispered the others, and they unbuckled their swords and made ready."

The faces of the four old warriors who, standing two on one side two on the other of the speaker, had watched his every word, were a study.

Exultation, pride, absolute satisfaction showed in every line of them, and the lean old fingers gripped their sword-hilts once more.

"Then _Baba-jee_ gave the word--he was '_senior-orfficer_,'

and--and--Huzoor, they ran away!!!"

Even John Carruthers' chuckle had a suspicion of a sob in it.

"And then! Oh! hero!" he said, "what then?"

"Huzoor! I looked out over the desert and far, far away on the straight line I saw light. And there was a faint rumble in the air. It was a train. Mayhap the _chota sahib_ had been right, mayhap it was the Train-of-Majesty! So I turned on the 'trick lamp,' and there it was on the line--that thing--it had a string to it that lay on the rail.

And--and--Huzoor! my memory fails me--There was the child, and there was the train!--I had to decide----

"Then I cried to Iman, 'Quick! the _chota sahib_! Run far with him--far!--far!' So when that was done I up with my sword and I smote the string that lay on the rail!----" he paused, then went on--

"So that was done also; and Iman brought the child back, and the train sped past, and we all stood in a row and did _durshan_; though I know not if it was _durshan_ or not, since, mayhap, it was not the Royal train after all."

The old eyes looked almost wistfully at those two men in office, but the child's were on his father's confidently:

"But it _was_ the Royal train, wasn't it, daddy?" said the child's voice, and Horace Alexander's answered huskily:

"Perhaps it was, _Rex_; anyhow, you and the others did _durshan_. Of that I am sure."

Content settled to those two faces, the old and the young, and the ancient warrior went on--

"Then there was nothing to do, Huzoor, save to come home and bring the poisonous thing with us. I was for sending the _chota sahib_ on in Iman's care and carrying the thing myself; but _Jullunder Baba_ would not go without it. So Bhim and the Father took the devil's box apart lest it should kill everyone, and with Bhim's _kukri_ they prized it open"--a faint sigh came from the Europeans--"and spilt the witches'

brew in the sand. That is all, Huzoor! Your slaves did what they could.

The men ran away so fast, it was not possible for us, aged ones, to pursue them."

"But," broke in the most aged, "they were dressed like the Huzoors--in trousers, and my sword was b.l.o.o.d.y, so I must have hit someone."

"And so was mine," said each of the ancient warriors in turn.

Horace Alexander cleared his throat.

"Really!" he began, "I scarcely know how to thank----"

"Daddy!" said Rex's eager voice, "I know! I'm goin' to give each of 'em my army medal with '_Wex_ and _Imp_ in 'wed, and _et_ in black on it; an' they'll be orful pleased--won't you, Army?"

"Huzoor!" The old arms were stiff in salute, and then the oldest voice struck up quaveringly. "Lo! _sahiban_! it is enough for us that we have done _durshan_ ere death. It brings contentment, even though both sieges of Bhurtpore is denied to some of us."

As, led by Rex, they marched out to the verandah, the two officials looked at one another.

But they said nothing for a minute. Then John Carruthers burst out:

"d.a.m.n the cipher! I told you it wasn't safe. Look here, sir, we must keep this quiet for the time."

Horace Alexander nodded.

THERE AROSE A MAN

This was one of the many stories which Nathaniel James Craddock told me in the cab of his engine while we used to go up and down that ribbon of red brick metalling edged with steel which was slowly laying itself out over a wide sandy desert.

Some of these were tragic, some comic, some betwixt and between; but most of them were worth the re-telling, especially as told by him. But the discursiveness of his method does not lend itself to print, so they all suffer in the process; even though, as I write, I seem to hear the steady grind of the engine, to feel the fine fretting of a sand storm on my cheek, and see the clear blue eyes looking at me with a keenness which always came as a surprise out of that bleared dissipated face.

"It was 'arter I 'ad that peep o' the Noo Jerusalem, sir, at the bottom o' the King's Well, 'as I come upon pore old 'Oneyman. I was a bit on the loose, you see, sir; them sort o' peeps wakes up the spiritooal nater o' a man, an' it's heads I win, tails you lose, if 'e takes to prayers or to drink. I tuk to the latter"--here he gave a slight cough, and added gently--"more nor usual. An' so I come across 'Oneyman. 'E'd 'ad a peep o' h.e.l.l, sir, for 'e'd seen 'is wife's dead body lyin' where he'd left 'er safe an' sound waitin' for 'er baby to be born in doo time." There was always a biblical tw.a.n.g about Craddock's recitations which gave them a mournfully dignified tone. "'E 'ad friends in 'igh places, sir, an' one o' them, w'en he come through 'is brain fever, made 'im Conservancy Inspector down Bandelkhand way. It wasn't the place for 'im. They was wot they call Suckties, sir, down there, though there was precious little o' the babe an' sucklin' about _their_ methods, but contrariwise, battle an' murder an' sudden death. They was for ever killin' goats an' kids, an' smearin' ole Mother Kali with blood--never knew such chaps for paintin' the town red! So the _Khush-boo sahib_,[3] as they call him in their topsy turvey way, since it weren't perfoom but real stinks down by them temple steps, couldn't never forget the sights he see in Mutiny time. When 'e was in 'is cups, 'e'd sit an' cry about it; for 'e was a little bit of a man, sir, the smallest man as ever I see, an' all wrinkled like an' wizened; just for all the world the same as the monkeys as used to come down in crowds on feast days, an' leg it with the orferings folk used to bring to ole Mother Kali. That's 'ow 'Oneyman come on reduction, as the sayin' is; tho', pore chap, them as look on 'is face might a-seen that 'e wasn't for long; not even if they'd made 'im Guv'ner-General-in-Council; for what with--savin' your presence, sir--a galloping consumption, both o'

drink an' lungs, 'e was wearin' away like snowdrifts in summer."

Here Craddock paused to whistle a familiar tune. "Beg pardin, sir, but it comes home to me so, for he was awful fond of 'is wife. Well!

whether it was 'is name--'Oneyman, you know, sir, being the G.o.d o'

monkeys[4]--or whether it was 'is nater, he was uncommon kind to the _bunder logue_. Used to say they was the only Christians in the place, 'cos they wouldn't 'ave no meat offered to hidols, sir. An' it's true as gospel, sir, they wouldn't. You should a' seen them waitin' in the trees, and hover the arches an' crocketty things on the temples, while three or four smug Brahmins was going the rounds with a party o'

country folk, full up o' sugar candies, an' parched rice, an' platters o' curds to leave at each 'oly spot. It was a rare sight; for, you see, the monkeys were 'oly too, an' the priests dursn't even 'eave a brick at 'em.

"They 'ad just to lump it when the beasts 'oofed away with all the best things afore their very eyes. An' 'Oneyman used to amoose himself of an evening by sittin' on the steps an' larfin' fit to split. I told 'im it weren't perlite; but there! it ain't no use talkin' to a man as has seen 'is wife lyin' dead.

"Then one day an ole buck monkey 'oofed it with a bag of rupees, an'

dropped it, as 'e was climbin' a tree, above 'Oneyman's 'ead. And 'Oneyman, being in no state to know 'is own 'and, much less wot it 'eld, gathered some of 'em up, an' swore 'e'd keep 'em. That's 'ow it was. So 'e got the sack: though anyone as had eyes might a-seen it was the weddin' garment o' a shroud _he_ was wantin', pore chap.

"I was runnin' ballast then on a bit o' new line that was cuttin' its way through jungle land, yard by yard an' inch by inch. It give one a sorter shock, sir, every day, as I come up with my trucks, to find the engine goin' so much further, an' yet to get 'eld up at last by the same ole blocking o' trees an' creepers an' b.u.t.terflies an' all that.

Seemed as though there wasn't nothin' else before one, and as if it wasn't no use trying to get through with it. But they give me good wage, specially after they tuk to runnin' o' nights too, so I was able to put my hand into my breeches pocket when 'Oneyman said, 'You don't 'appen to 'ave a five-rupee about you, do'ee Craddock, for I ain't got a feather to fly with.' Then my stoker tuk sick an' I managed ter get 'Oneyman as _local demon_. It didn't 'urt no one, you see, sir, for I done both works without turnin' more 'airs than 'ad to turn with two shirts, one dryin' the other; an' it give 'Oneyman time to die respectable an' quiet like at the back o' the lamp room in the junction where I 'ad my diggings. Not that it was much of a 'quiet and secluded 'ome for an invalid,' sir, specially after orders come to push on the work as much as may be before His Honner the Guv'ner or some such bigwig, I disremember which, come on tower. Still, 'e got a sight better, an' I used to tote 'im about as stoker up an' down the line, an' many a time as 'e see me 'angin' out my shirt to dry, 'e'd say, pitiful like, 'It had ought ter be mine; but I'd do as much for Nathaniel James Craddock if I could.' And he done it, sir, in the end, for I should a' lost my billet but for 'im.

"This is 'ow it 'appened. The monkeys weren't no better after 'Oneyman left, but rather the worse. They was more Christian-like than ever, an'

wouldn't 'ave no bowings down in the house of Rumnings. It got so bad as the Suckties couldn't stand 'em no more; but it was some leeches as a down-country man brought as done the trick at last. I don't mean proper blood leeches, sir, but them whited-sepulcre-the-other-way-round fruits as is marocky leather outside, an' my golly! in--Well! the 'ead bottlewasher Brahman, 'im as they called the Gossoon--though w'y, I can't say, since the only gossoon I ever 'eard tell on was a Hirish gentleman in the Colleen Bawn--was dead on leeches--'e was a real blood leech 'imself, if you like--but, though 'e kep 'is eye on them all the time 'e was palavering away about Mai Kali an' Shiv-_jee_, the ole buck monkey was too much for 'im, an' 'e 'ad nothin' but the marocky leather tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs as come floatin' down peaceful-like on 'is bald 'ead and big stummick as he stud dancin' with rage while _bunder-jee_ was eatin' the my golly.

"That, as I said, done the trick. There was a gold-printed letter come from Mai Kali ter say she was lonesome away in the jungles without 'er Hunooman--or some such rot. Then 'is Honner the bigwig was coming, an'

so on, an' so on. It ain't 'ard to do that sort o' thing, sir, w'en you don't have no Ten Commandments an' everyone is so accustomed to lying that it don't strike 'em as odd.

"How they done it, I don't know. All I know is that one moonlick night I saw the signal against me as I was running through to the junction with sand I'd bin far to fetch. And I didn't like it. I'd bin away two days without 'Oneyman, and bein' a bit lonesome I'd perraps had a drop too much. Or perraps it was the moonlick night as done it." Here Craddock's voice took on a hushed tone. "It wasn't like the Noo Jerusalem, sir, or them yaller bottles in the chimist's shop as I used to think was 'eaven when I was learning my dooty to my neighbour. There wasn't nothin' glittery about it, nothin' to make you think of the far away. It was there, right down beside you on the engine, cold an'

clear, taking the colour out of every mortal thing, till there weren't no difference a'twixt earth an' sky; till the pin point of the pole star wasn't no brighter than--than the safety valve; for I keeps 'em bright, you see, sir." Here he laid his hand affectionately on the throttle. "So I wasn't that pleased at 'aving to 'old up, specially as I was a bit late and 'ad to get through the junction afore tha Bigwig's train was due--for 'e was comin' that night.