Chapter THE TENTH (9)

"And want to be doing something, I'll be bound. Well, 'twill need some thinking, what you're to do. We're badly served with news. We've got spies, of course; but I don't set much store by native spies in this country. We've information by the bushel, but when you come to sift it out there's precious little of it you can trust. And the enemy has got spies too--hundreds of 'em. I'll bet my boots there's a regular system of kasids for carrying news of us to Manik Chand and from him to the Nawab. If the truth was known, I daresay that rascal knows how many hairs I have on my bald crown under my wig--if that's any interest to him. Well, I suppose you'll join Mr. Merriman on board one of the ships. Better chance of escaping the fever there. I'll turn over a thing or two I have in my mind and send for you when I've done turning."

On the way back to the shore Desmond met the serang who had accompanied him down the river from Cossimbazar. The man explained that after the capture of Calcutta his brother Hubbo, the Company's syr serang,[#] had been impressed into the service of the Nawab, and he himself had been sent by Hubbo to Fulta to assist the Council and merchants of the Company. He had there met Mr. Merriman, whom in common with many others he had believed to be dead. Mr. Merriman, having no immediate need for his services, had willingly permitted him to take his brother's place in the employment of the Company.

[#] Head boatman.

Mr. Merriman welcomed Desmond with quite fatherly affection, and congratulated him heartily on his appointment. The _Hormuzzeer_ being unlikely, owing to the complete cessation of trade, to make another voyage for some months to come, he decided to take up his quarters on board, and Desmond lived with him as a matter of course. Desmond was shocked to see the change wrought on his friend by the loss of his wife and daughter. All his gay spirits had left him; he had thinned perceptibly, and his eyes had that strained look which only a great sorrow can cause.

"I have been thinking it over, Desmond," he said as they sat in the cabin, "and I can only conclude that this is one more of Peloti's villainies. Good God! had he not done me and mine harm enough? Who else would be so dead to all sense of right, of decency, as to seize upon two helpless women? My brother was hanged, Desmond; hanging is too good for that scoundrel; but we cannot touch him; he laughs at us; and I am helpless--helpless!"

"Like you, sir, I have come to believe that you owe this terrible sorrow to Diggle--I must always call him that. Don't give up heart, sir. What his motive is, if he has indeed captured the ladies, I cannot tell. It may be to use them as hostages in case he gets into trouble with us; it is impossible to see into the black depths of his mind. But I believe the ladies are safe, and, please God, I will learn something about them and maybe bring them back to you."

Desmond waited a couple of days in the hope of receiving a definite task from Major Killpatrick. But that officer, while an excellent soldier, was not fertile in expedients. The process of "turning things over in his mind" did not furnish him with an inspiration. He came on board the _Hormuzzeer_ one afternoon, and confessed that he didn't see how Desmond could possibly get up and down the river. Mr. Merriman reminded him that in the early days of the stay at Fulta, Mr. Robert Gregory had gone up with requests to the French and Dutch for assistance. Under cover of a storm he passed Tanna and Calcutta unnoticed by the Nawab's men.

"The French were very polite, but wouldn't move a finger for us," added Mr. Merriman. "The Dutch were more neighbourly, and sent us some provisions--badly needed, I assure you. Mr. Gregory is still with them at Chinsura."

"If he got through, why shouldn't I?" asked Desmond.

"My dear boy," said Killpatrick, "the river is narrowly watched. The Moors know that Gregory outwitted them; sure no other Englishman could repeat the trick. And if you were caught, there's no saying how Manik Chand might serve you. He seems disposed to be friendly, to be sure: he's made governor of Calcutta now, and wants to feel his feet. But he's a weak man, by all accounts; and weak men, when they are afraid, are always cruel. If he caught an Englishman spying out the land he'd most probably treat him after Oriental methods. In fact, the situation between him and us is such," concluded the major with a laugh, "that he'd be quite justified in stringing you up."

Major Killpatrick left without offering any suggestion. When he had gone Desmond spent an hour or two in "turning things over in his mind." He felt that the major was well disposed and would probably jump at any reasonable scheme that was put before him. After a period of quiet reflection he sought out Hossain the serang and had a long talk with him. At the conclusion of the interview he went to see Mr. Merriman. He explained that Hossain wished to return to the service of a former employer, a native grain merchant in Calcutta, who did a large trade along the Hugli from the Sanderbands to Murshidabad. The consent of the Council was required, and Desmond wished Mr. Merriman to arrange the matter without giving any explanation. The merchant was naturally anxious to know why Desmond interested himself in the man, and what he learnt drew from him an instant promise to obtain the Council's consent without delay. Then Desmond made his way to Major Killpatrick's hut, and remained closeted with that genial officer till a late hour.

Six weeks later a heavily laden petala, with a dinghy trailing behind, was dropping down the river above Hugli. Its crew numbered four. One was Hossain the serang, who had left Fulta with Desmond on the day after his interview with Major Killpatrick. Two were dark-skinned boatmen, Bengalis somewhat stupid in appearance. The fourth, who was steering, was rather lighter in hue, as well as more alert and energetic in mien: a lascar, as Hossain explained in answer to inquiries along the river. He had lately been employed on one of the Company's vessels, but it had been sunk in the Hugli during the siege of Calcutta. He was a handy man in a boat, and very glad to earn a few pice in this time of stagnant trade. Things were not looking bright for boatmen on the Hugli; as only a few vessels had left the river from Chandernagore and Chinsura since the troubles began, there was little or no opening for men of the shipwrecked crew.

The petala made fast for the night near the bank, at a spot a little below Hugli, between that place and Chinsura. When the two Bengalis had eaten their evening rice, Hossain told them that they might, if they pleased, take the dinghy and attend a tamasha[#] that was being held in Chinsura that night in honour of the wedding of one of the Dutch Company's principal gumashtas. The Bengalis, always ready for an entertainment of this kind, slipped overboard and were soon rowing down to Chinsura. Their orders were to be back immediately after the second watch of the night. Only the lascar and Hossain were left in the boat.

[#] Entertainment.

Ten minutes after the men had disappeared from view, the serang lit a small oil-lamp in the tiny cabin. He then made his way to the helm, whispered a word in the lascar's ear, and took his place. The latter nodded and went into the cabin. Drawing the curtains, he squatted on a mattress, took from a hiding-place in the cabin a few sheets of paper and a pencil, and, resting the paper on the back of a tray, began to write. As he did so he frequently consulted a scrap of paper he kept at his left hand; it was closely covered with letters and figures, these latter not Hindustani characters, but the Arabic figures employed by Europeans. The first line of what he wrote himself ran thus--

29 19 28 19 36 38 32 20 31 39 23 34 19 29 29 35 32 38 24 38 23 32

[#] Constructed from the cipher used by Mr. Watts at Murshidabad. [Transcriber's note: there was no footnote reference in the source book for this footnote.]

The letter or message upon which he was engaged was not a lengthy one, but it took a long time to compose. When it was finished the lascar went over it line by line, comparing it with the paper at his left hand. Then he folded it very small, sealed it with a wafer, and, returning to the serang, said a few words. Hossain made a trumpet of his hands, and, looking towards the left bank, sounded a few notes in imitation of a bird's warble. The shore was fringed here with low bushes. As if in answer to the call a small boat darted out from the shelter of a bush; a few strokes brought it alongside of the petala; and the serang, bending over, handed the folded paper to the boatman, and whispered a few words in his ear. The man pushed off, and the lascar watched the boat float silently down the stream until it was lost to sight.

Dawn was hardly breaking when Major Killpatrick, awakened by his servant, received from his hands a folded paper which by the aid of a candle he began to pore over, laboriously comparing it with a small code similar to that used by the lascar. One by one he pencilled on a scrap of paper certain letters, every now and then whistling between his teeth as he spelt out the words they made. The result appeared thus--

Magazines for ammunition and stores of grain being prepared Tribeni and Hugli. Bazar rumour Nawab about to march with army to Calcutta. Orders issued Hugli traffic to be strictly watched. Dutch phataks[#] closed. Forth unable leave Chinsura. Tanna Fort 9 guns; opposite Tanna 6 guns; Holwell's garden 5 guns; 4 each Surman's and Ganj; 2 each Mr. Watts' house, Seth's ghat, Maryas ghat, carpenter's yard.

[#] Gate or barrier.

"Egad!" he exclaimed, on a second reading of the message, "the boy's a conjurer. This is important enough to send to Mr. Clive at once. But I'll make a copy of it first in case of accident."

Having made his copy and sealed the original and his first transcription, he summoned his servant and bade him send for the kasid. To him he entrusted the papers, directing him to convey them without loss of time to Clive Sahib, whom he might expect to find at Kalpi.

It was December 13. Two months before, the fleet containing Colonel Clive and the troops destined for the Bengal expedition had sailed from Madras. The force consisted of 276 King's troops, 676 of the Company's, about a thousand sepoys, and 260 lascars. They were embarked on five of the King's ships, with Admiral Watson in the _Kent_, and as many Company's vessels. Baffling winds, various mishaps, and the calms usual at this time of the year had protracted the voyage, so seriously that the men had to be put on a two-thirds allowance of rations. Many of the European soldiers were down with scurvy, many of the sepoys actually died of starvation, having consumed all their rice, and refusing to touch the meat provided for the British soldiers, for fear of losing caste. When the Admiral at length arrived at Fulta, he had only six of the ten ships with which he started, two that had parted company arriving some ten days later, and two being forced to put back to Madras, under stress of weather.

While the _Kent_ lay at Kalpi, Clive received the message sent him by Major Killpatrick, and was visited by Mr. Drake and other members of the Council, from whom he heard of the sickness among the troops. On arriving at Fulta he at once went on shore and visited the Major.

"Sorry to hear of your sad case, Mr. Killpatrick," he said. "We're very little better off. But we must make the best of it. I got your note. 'Twas an excellent greeting. Young Burke is a capital fellow; I have not mistook his capacity."

"Faith, 'twas what I told him, sir. I said Colonel Clive never mistook his men."

"Well, if that's true, what you said won't make him vain. This information is valuable: you see that. Have you heard anything more from the lad?"

"Nothing, sir."

"And you can't communicate with him?"

"No, 'twas his scheme only to send messages; to receive them would double the risk."

"So: 'twas his scheme, not yours?"

"Egad, sir, I've no head for that sort of thing," said Killpatrick with a laugh. "Give me a company, and a wall to scale or a regiment to charge, and----"

"My dear fellow," interrupted Clive, "we all know the King has no better officer. Credit where credit is due, major, and you're not the man to grudge this youngster his full credit for an uncommonly daring and clever scheme. Did you see him in his disguise?"

"I did, sir, and at a distance he took in both Mr. Merriman and myself."

"Well, he's a boy to keep an eye on, and I only hope that tigers or dacoits or the Nawab's Moors won't get hold of him; he's the kind of lad we can't spare. Now, let me know the state of your troops."

When he had sent off his note to Major Killpatrick, Desmond enjoyed a short spell on deck preparatory to turning in. Hossain was placidly smoking his hubble-bubble; from the far bank of the Hugli came the mingled sounds of tom-toms and other instruments; near the boat all was quiet, the wavelets of the stream lapping idly against the sides, the stillness broken only by the occasional howl of a jackal prowling near the bank in quest of the corpses of pious Hindus consigned to the sacred waters of the Ganges.

Desmond was half dozing when he was startled into wakefulness by a sudden clamour from the native town. He heard shots, loud cries, the hideous blare of the Bengal trumpets. For half an hour the shouts continued intermittently; then they gradually died away. Wondering whether the tamasha had ended in a tumult, Desmond was about to seek his couch when, just beneath him, as it seemed, he heard a voice--a feeble cry for help. He sprang up and looked over the side. Soon a dark head appeared on the water. With a cry to the serang to cast loose and row after him, Desmond took a header into the stream, and in a few strokes gained the drowning man's side. He was clearly exhausted. Supporting him with one arm, Desmond struck out with the other, and being a strong swimmer he reached the stern of the boat even before the serang had slipped his moorings. With Hossain's aid he lifted the man into the boat, and carried him to the cabin. He was all but unconscious. A mouthful of arrack[#] from the serang's jar revived him. No sooner was he in command of his breath than he implored his rescuers for their help and protection. He had escaped, he said, from Hugli Fort, not without a gun-shot wound behind his shoulder. He spoke in Bengali. Seeing that he was too much exhausted and agitated to tell his story that night, Desmond bade the serang assure him of his safety. Then they made shift to tend his wound, and, comforting him with food and drink, left him to sleep and recover.

[#] A fermented liquor made from rice or the juice of the palm.

The two Bengalis who had been to Chinsura returned before they were expected. They had been alarmed by the uproar. As soon as they were aboard Desmond decided to drop a mile or two farther down the river. The boat coming to a ghat below Chandernagore, the serang ordered the men to pull in, and tied up for the rest of the night.

In the morning the Bengalis were despatched on some errand along the bank, and the coast being clear Desmond went with the serang to the wounded man to learn particulars of his escape. The Bengali had now almost wholly recovered, and was very voluble in his gratitude for his rescue. While he was speaking the boat slightly shifted her position, and the Bengali suddenly caught sight, through the matting, of a large house beyond the ghat. He uttered an exclamation of fear, and begged the serang with frantic waving of the hands to leave the spot at once.

"Why, O brother, this fear?" asked Hossain.

"I will tell you. It is a great fear. Just before the coming of the rains I was at Khulna. There I was hired by the head serang of a lady travelling to Calcutta. She was the wife of a burra sahib of the great Company, and with her was her daughter. All went well until we came near Chandernagore; we struck a snag; the boat sprang a leak; we feared the bibis would be drowned. We rowed to this very ghat; a sahib welcomed the ladies; they went into his house yonder. Presently he sent for us; we lodged with his servants; but in the night we were set upon, bound, and carried to Hugli. False witnesses accused us of being dacoits; we were condemned; and I was confined with others in the prison.

"Always since then have I looked for a chance of escape. It came at last. Some of the jailers went last night to the tamasha at Chinsura. I stole out and got away. A sentry fired upon me, and hit me; but I am a good swimmer and I plunged into the river. You know all that happened then, O serang, and I beseech you leave this place; it is a dreadful place; some harm will come to us all."

Desmond's knowledge of Bengali was as yet slight, and he caught only portions of the man's narrative. But he understood enough to convince him that he was at last on the track of the missing ladies; and when, shortly afterwards, Hossain gave him in Urdu the whole of the story, he determined at once to act on the information. On the return of the two Bengalis, he arranged with the serang to set them at work on some imaginary repairs to the boat: that pretext for delay was as good as another. Then, Hossain having reassured the fugitive, he himself landed and made his way up to the house.

It was closed. There was no sign of its being inhabited. But about a hundred yards from the gate Desmond saw a basti, and from one of the huts smoke was issuing. He sauntered up. Before the door, lolling in unstudied deshabille, squatted a bearded Mohammedan, whom from his rotundity Desmond guessed to be the khansaman of the big house.

"Salaam aleikam,[#] khansaman!" said Desmond suavely. "Pardon the curiosity of an ignorant sailor from Gujarat. What nawab owns the great house yonder?"

[#] Peace be with you!

The khansaman, beaming in acknowledgment of the implied compliment to his own importance, replied:

"To Sinfray Sahib, worthy khalasi."

"The great Sinfray Sahib of Chandernagore? Surely that is a strange thing!"

"Strange! What is strange? That Sinfray Sahib should own so fine a house? You should see his other house in Chandernagore: then indeed you might lift your eyes in wonder."

"Nay, indeed, I marvelled not at that, for Sinfray Sahib is indeed a great man. We who dwell upon the kala pani know well his name. Is it not known in the bazars in Pondicherry and Surat? But I marvel at this, khansaman: that on one day, this day of my speaking to you, I should meet the sahib's most trusty servant, as I doubt not you are, and also the man who has sworn revenge upon the owner of this house--ay, and on all the household."

"Bismillah!"[#] exclaimed the khansaman, spitting out his supari. He was thoroughly interested, but as yet unconcerned. "What do you mean, khalasi?"

[#] "In the name of Allah!"--a common exclamation.

"I parted but now, on the river, from a fellow-boatman who of late has lain in prison at Hugli, put there, they say, by order of Sinfray Sahib. He is not a dacoit; no man less so; but false witnesses rose up against him. And, I bethink me, he said that the sahib's khansaman was one of these men with lying lips. Surely he was in error; for your face, O khansaman, is open as the sun, your lips are fragrant with the very attar of truth. But he is filled with rage and fury; in his madness he will not tarry to inquire. If he should meet you--well, it is the will of Allah: no man can escape his fate."

The khansaman, as Desmond spoke, looked more and more distressed; and at the last words his face was livid.

"It is not true," he said. "But I know the blind fury of revenge. Do thou entreat him for me. I will pay thee well. I have saved a few pice.[#] It will be worth five rupees to thee; and to make amends to the madman, I will give him fifty rupees, even if it strips me of all I have. Allah knows it was not my doing; it was forced upon me."

[#] Coin, value one-eighth of a penny.

"How could that be, khansaman?" said Desmond, letting pass the man's contradictory statements.

"It is not necessary to explain; my word is my word."

"No doubt; but so enraged is the khalasi I speak of that unless I can explain to him fully he will not heed me. Never shall I dissuade him from his purpose."

"It is the will of Allah!" said the khansaman resignedly. "I will tell you. It was not Sinfray Sahib at all. He was at the Nawab's court at Murshidabad. He had lent his house to a friend while he was absent. The friend had a spite against Merriman Sahib, the merchant at Calcutta; and when the bibi and the chota bibi came down the river he seized them. Sinfray Sahib believes there was an attack by dacoits; but the bibi's peons were carried away by the sahib's friend: it was he that brought the evidence against them. The Angrezi sahib induced me to swear falsely by avouching that Sinfray Sahib was also an enemy of Merriman Sahib; but when the judge had said his word the sahib bade me keep silence with my master, for he was ignorant of it all. The Angrezi sahib is a terrible man: what could I do? I was afraid to speak."

"And what was the name of the Angrezi sahib?"

"His name?--It was Higli--no, Digli Sahib--accursed be the day I first saw him!"

Desmond drew a long breath.

"And what became of the bibi and the chota bibi?"

"They were taken away."

"Whither?"

"I do not know."

The answer was glib; Desmond thought a little too glib.

"Why then, khansaman," he said, "I fear it would be vain for me to reason with the man I spoke of. He has eaten the salt of Merriman Sahib; his lord's injury is his also. But you acted for the best. Allah hafiz! that will be a morsel of comfort even if this man's knife should find its way between your ribs. Not every dying man has such consolation. Live in peace, good khansaman."

Desmond, who had been squatting in the Oriental manner--an accomplishment he had learnt with some pains at Gheria--rose to leave. The khansaman's florid cheeks again put on a sickly hue, and when the seeming lascar had gone a few paces he called him back.

"Ahi, excellent khalasi! I think--I remember--I am almost sure I can discover where the two bibis are concealed."

"Inshallah![#] That is indeed fortunate," said Desmond, turning back. "There lies the best chance of averting the wrath of this much-wronged man."

[#] "Please God!"--a common exclamation.

"Wait but a little till I have clad myself duly; I will then go to a friend yonder and inquire."

He went into his hut and soon returned clothed in the garments that befitted his position. Walking to a hut at the end of the block, he made pretence, Desmond suspected, of inquiring. He was soon back.

"Allah is good!" he said. "The khitmatgar yonder tells me they were taken to a house three coss[#] distant, belonging to the great faujdar Manik Chand. It is rented from him by Digli Sahib, who is a great friend of his excellency."

[#] The coss is nearly two miles.

"Well, khansaman, you will show me the way to the house."

But the khansaman appeared to have donned, with his clothes, a sense of his own importance. The authoritative tone of the lascar offended his dignity.

"Who are you, scum of the sea, that you tell a khansaman of Bengal what he shall do? Hold your tongue, piece of seaweed, or by the beard of the Prophet----"

The threat was never completed, for Desmond, stepping up close to the man, caught him by the back of the neck and shook him till his teeth rattled in his head.

"Quick! Lead the way! Foolish khansaman, do you want your fat body shaken to a jelly? That is the way with us khalasis from Gujarat. Quick, I say!"

"Hold, khalasi!" panted the khansaman; "I will do what you wish. Believe me, you are the first khalasi from Gujarat I have seen----"

"Or you would not have delayed so long. Quick, man!"

With a downcast air the man set off. The sun was getting high; being fat and soft, the khansaman was soon in distress. But Desmond allowed him no respite. In about two hours they arrived at the house he had mentioned. The gate was ajar; the door broken open. Hastily entering, Desmond knew instinctively by the appearance of the place that it was deserted.

He went through the house from bottom to top. Not a living person was to be seen. But in one of the rooms his quick eye caught sight of a small hair-pin such as only a European woman would use. He picked it up. In another room a cooking-pot had been left, and it was evident that it had but lately been used. The simple furniture was in some disorder.

The khansaman had with much labour managed to mount the stairs.

"Inshallah!" he said. "They are gone!"

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SIXTH

*In which presence of mind is shown to be next best to absence of body.*

The khansaman's surprise was clearly genuine, and Desmond refrained from visiting on him his disappointment. Bitter as that was, his alarm was still more keen. What had become of the ladies! With all his old impulsiveness he had come to rescue them, never pausing to think of what risks he might himself run. And now they were gone! Could Diggle have suspected that his carefully hidden tracks were being followed up, and have removed his prisoners to some spot remoter from the river? It was idle to speculate; they were gone; and there was no obvious clue to their whereabouts.

The khansaman, limp and damp after his unwonted exercise, had squatted on the floor and was fanning himself, groaning deeply. Desmond went to the window of the room and looked out over the country, wondering, longing, fearing. As he gazed disconsolately before him, he caught sight of a party of horsemen rapidly approaching. Bidding the khansaman stifle his groans, he watched them eagerly through the chiks of the window. Soon a dozen native horsemen cantered up to the front gate and drew rein. One of them, clad in turban of gold tissue, short blue jacket lavishly decorated with gold, and crimson trousers, bade the rest dismount. He was a tall man, a handsome figure in his fine array. He wore a sword with hilt inlaid with gold, the scabbard covered with crimson velvet; and in his girdle was stuck a knife with agate handle, and a small Moorish dagger ornamented with gold and silver.

He stood for a time gazing as in perplexity at the broken gateway. His face was concealed by his turban from Desmond, looking from above. But when he directed his glance upward, Desmond, peering through the chiks, could scarcely believe his eyes. The features were those of Marmaduke Diggle. His heart thumped against his ribs. Never, perhaps, in the whole course of his adventures, had he been in such deadly peril. The appearance of the party had been so sudden, and he had been so deeply engrossed with his musings, that he had not had time to think of his own situation.

"Come, son of a pig," said Diggle at length, throwing himself from his horse and beckoning to his syce, "we will search the place. There must be something to show who the dacoits were."

He strode into the compound, followed by his trembling servant.

"Indeed, huzur," said the man in shrill tones of excuse, "we did our best. But they were many: our livers were as water."

"Chup[#], pig! Wait till you are spoken to," exclaimed Diggle, turning angrily upon him.

[#] Shut up.

"Achchha, sahib! bahut achchha, sahib![#]----"

[#] Good, sahib--very good, sahib.

A vicious kick cut short his protestations, and the two passed out of hearing of the two watchers above, the khansaman having brought his quivering flabbiness to Desmond's side. Diggle passed into the entrance-hall, the native horsemen waiting like statues at the gate.

"It is the sahib!" whispered the shaking khansaman to Desmond: "Digli Sahib. He will kill me. He is a tiger."

"Silence, fool!" said Desmond sternly: "there must be a way out. Jaldi jao![#] we shall be too late."

[#] Go quickly.

The man seemed glued to the spot with fear. The footsteps of Diggle could be heard in the rooms below. In a few minutes he would reach the upper story; then it would indeed be too late to flee. If they could gain the back staircase they might slip down and hide in the garden. But fright appeared to have bereft the khansaman of all power of movement. Yet Desmond, for more than one reason, was unwilling to leave him. He knew what Diggle's tender mercies were; but he also knew that the khansaman, if discovered, would certainly try to purchase his safety by betraying his companion. So, without more ado, seizing him by the neck, Desmond shook him vigorously.

"Come!" he said in a fierce whisper, "or I will leave you to face the sahib alone."

This summary treatment shocked the man from his stupor. Stepping on tiptoe he darted across the room, through the door communicating with a room beyond, into a narrow passage-way at the rear of the house. Here was a second staircase leading downwards to the servants' quarters.

"Wait there," said Desmond when they were half-way down. "If you hear any one coming up, rejoin me above."

He himself crept noiselessly back to the upper floor. No sooner had he reached the top than he heard Diggle moving in the room he had recently left. He darted to a khaskhas[#] curtain, through the meshes of which he could see into the two intercommunicating rooms. Diggle was carefully searching the apartment; he clearly knew it was the one lately occupied by the ladies.

[#] A fragrant grass whose roots are used for making screens.

As he stooped to pick up a cushion that lay on the floor beside a divan, his eye was caught by a scrap of crumpled paper. He snatched at it like a hawk and with quick fingers straightened it out--the fingers of the mittened hand that Desmond knew so well. On the paper was writing; the characters were English, but Diggle appeared to have some difficulty in making them out.

"'Your servant Surendra Nath Chuckerbutti,'" he said slowly aloud. "Who is Surendra Nath Chuckerbutti?" he asked his man, standing behind.

"Truly, huzur, I know not. It is a common name in Bengal--a vile Hindu; an unbeliever----"

"How did this paper come here?" cried Diggle impatiently.

"How should I know, sahib? I am a poor man, an ignorant man; I do not read----"

"Come with me and search the back of the house," said Diggle, turning away with an oath.

Desmond stepped noiselessly across the floor and joined the khansaman. They made their way out stealthily down the stairs, through the garden at the back, into a mango grove. There they remained hidden until Diggle, finding his search fruitless, remounted with his men and galloped away.

Desmond felt in a maze of bewilderment. It was clear that Diggle was ignorant of the whereabouts of the ladies; where had they been spirited to, and by whom? Apparently there had been an attack on the house, and they had been carried away: was it by friends or foes? What was the meaning of the paper found by Diggle? Had the Babu had any hand in the latest disappearance, or was it his letter that had put some one else on their track? Desmond had heard nothing of Surendra Nath or his father since the sack of Calcutta.

There was no clue to the solution of the problem. Meanwhile it was necessary to get back to Calcutta. The journey had been delayed too long already, and Hossain's employer the grain merchant would have good reason for complaint if he felt that his business was being neglected.

"We must go, khansaman," said Desmond.

The man was nothing loth. They returned by the way they had come. Desmond left the man some distance short of Sinfray's house, promising, in return for his assistance, to use his best offices with the irate manjhi[#] on his behalf. Then he struck off for the point lower down the river where his boat was moored. As soon as he arrived they got under way, and late that evening reached Tanna Fort, where they had to deliver their cargo of rice for the use of the Nawab's garrison.

[#] Steersman.

In the dead of night they were surprised by a visit from Hubbo, the serang's brother. He had seen them, as they passed, from one of the sloops that lay in the river opposite to the fort. Though in chief command of the Nawab's boats at that point, he was still secretly loyal to the Company, and was anxious to serve their interests to the best of his power. He had now brought important news. The three sloops and two brigantines that lay off the fort were, he said, filled with earth. On the approach of Admiral Watson's fleet they were to be scuttled and sunk in the fairway. A subahdar[#] of Manik Chand's force was at present on board one of the sloops to superintend the work of scuttling. The signal would be given by the subahdar himself from his sloop.

[#] Equivalent to captain of infantry.

"Very well, Hubbo," said Desmond, "that signal must not be given."

"But how prevent it, sahib? I wish well to the Company; have I not eaten their salt? But what can one man do against many? The subahdar is a very fierce man; very zabburdasti.[#] When he gives the word it will be death to disobey."

[#] Masterful.

Desmond sat for some time with his chin on his hands, thinking. Then he asked:

"Do you know where the British fleet is at present?"

"Yes, sahib. I was in the bazar to-day; it was said that this morning the ships were still at Fulta. The sepoys are recovering from their privations during the voyage."

"We will drop down the river to-morrow as soon as we have unloaded our cargo. You may expect us back ahead of the fleet, so keep a good look-out for us. I will take care that Mr. Drake is informed of your fidelity, and you will certainly be well rewarded."

Early in the morning the cargo was unloaded; then, under pretence of taking in goods at Mayapur, the petala dropped down the river and gained Fulta under cover of night.

Next morning Desmond, having resumed his ordinary attire, sought an interview with Clive.

"The very man I wished to see," said Clive, shaking hands. "Your scouting is the one ray of light in the darkness that covers the enemy's arrangements. You have done remarkably well, and I take it you would not be here unless you had something to tell me."

Desmond gave briefly the information he had learnt from Hubbo.

"That's the game, is it?" said Clive. "A pretty scheme, egad! 'Twill be fatal to us if carried out. 'Twould put a spoke in the admiral's wheel and throw all the work on the land force. That's weak enough, what with Mr. Killpatrick's men dying off every day--he has only thirty left--and my own sepoys mostly skeletons. And we haven't proved ourselves against the Nawab's troops; I suppose they outnumber us thirty to one, and after their success at Calcutta they'll be very cock-a-hoop. Yet 'tis so easy to sink a few ships, especially if preparations have been made long in advance, as appears to be the case."

"I think sir, it might be prevented."

Clive, who had been pacing up and down in some perturbation of mind, his head bent, his hands clasped behind him, halted, looked up sharply, and said:

"Indeed! How?"

"If we could get hold of the subahdar."

"By bribing him? He might not be open to bribery. Most of these native officials are, but there are some honest men among them, and he may be one. He wouldn't have been selected for his job unless Manik Chand thought him trustworthy. Besides, how are we going to get into communication with him? And even if we did, and filled him to the brim with rupees, how are we to know he wouldn't sell us in turn to the enemy?"

"But there are other ways, sir. We can depend on Hubbo, and if I might suggest, it would pay to promise him a rich reward if he managed to keep the passage clear."

"Yes, I agree. What reward would be most effective?"

"A few hundred rupees and the post of syr serang in the Company's service when Calcutta is retaken."

"Not too extravagant! Well, I will see Mr. Drake; the offer had better come from him and reach Hubbo through his brother."

"And then, sir, it ought not to be impossible to secure the subahdar himself when the moment arrives."

Clive looked at the bright eager countenance of the boy before him.

"Upon my word, my lad," he said, "I believe you can do it. How, I don't know; but you have shown so much resource already that you may be able to help us in this fix--for fix it is, and a bad one. 'Tis the will that counts; if one is only determined enough no difficulty is insuperable--a lesson that our friends from Calcutta might take to heart. But have you a plan?"

"Not at present, sir. I should like to think it over; and if I can hit on anything that seems feasible I should be glad of your leave to try."

"By all means, my lad. If you fail--well, no one will be more sorry than I, for your sake. If you succeed, you will find that I shall not forget. There's one thing I want to ask you before you go. Have you heard anything of my friend Merriman's ladies?"

"Yes, sir: and, as I suspected, Diggle is at the bottom of their disappearance."

He related the series of incidents up the river.

"Dressed like a native, was he? And looked like a risaldar?[#] There's no end to that fellow's villainy. But his day of reckoning will come I am sure of it, and the world will be none the worse for the loss of so vile a creature. If you take my advice, you'll say nothing to Mr. Merriman of this discovery. 'Twould only unsettle the poor man. He had better know nothing until we can either restore the ladies to him or tell him that there is no hope."

[#] Officer commanding a troop of horse.

"I don't give up hope, sir. They're alive, at any rate; and Diggle has lost them. I feel sure we shall find them."

"God grant it, my lad."

CHAPTER THE TWENTY-SEVENTH

*In which an officer of the Nawab disappears; and Bulger reappears.*

"This will be my last trip, sahib, for my present master. He says I waste too much time on the river. He also complains that I go to places without leave and without reason. He heard we were at Mayapur, and wanted to know why. I made excuses, sahib; I said whatever came into my head; but he was not satisfied, and I leave his service in a week."

"That is a pity, Hossain. Unless we are in the service of some well-known banya we cannot go up and down the river without exciting suspicion. However, let us hope that before the week is out the fleet will be here."

Desmond looked a little anxious. The success of his project for preventing the fouling of the passage at Tanna Fort was more than eyer doubtful. The petala was moored opposite the Crane ghat at Calcutta, taking in a cargo of jawar[#] for Chandernagore. The work of loading had been protracted to the utmost by the serang; for Desmond did not wish to leave the neighbourhood of Calcutta at the present juncture, when everything turned upon their being on the spot at the critical moment.

[#] Millet.

While they were talking, a man who had every appearance of a respectable banya approached the plank over which the coolies were carrying the jawar on board. He stood idly watching the work, then moved away, and squatted on a low pile of bags which had been emptied of their contents. For a time the serang paid no apparent heed to him; but presently, while the coolies were still busy, he sauntered across the plank, and strolling to the onlooker, exchanged a salaam and squatted beside him. Passers-by might have caught a word or two about the grain-market; the high prices; the difficulties of transit; the deplorable slackness of trade; the infamous duplicity of the Greek merchants. At last the banya rose, salaamed, and walked away.

As he did so the serang carelessly lifted the bag upon which the banya had been sitting, and, making sure that he was not observed, picked up a tiny ball of paper scarcely bigger than a pea. Waiting a few moments, he rose and sauntered back on board. A minute or two later the lascar in the after part of the boat was unobtrusively examining the scrap of paper. It contained three words and an initial:

_To-morrow about ten.--C._

A change had been made in the composition of Hossain's crew since the incident at Sinfray's house. One day Desmond had found one of the Bengalis rummaging in the corner of the cabin where he was accustomed to keep his few personal belongings. Hossain had dismissed the man on the spot. The man saved from the river had been kept on the boat and proved a good worker, eager, and willing to be of use. He was an excellent boatman, a handy man generally, and, for a Bengali, possessed of exceptional physical strength. At Desmond's suggestion Hossain offered him the vacant place, and he at once accepted it.

Since his rescue he had shown much gratitude to Desmond. He was quick-witted, and had not been long on board before he felt that the khalasi was not quite what he appeared to be. His suspicion was strengthened by the deference, slight but unmistakable, paid by the serang to the lascar; for though Desmond had warned Hossain to be on his guard, the man had been unable to preserve thoroughly the attitude of a superior to an inferior.

On receiving the short message from Clive, Desmond had a consultation with Hossain. The coolies had finished their work and received their pay, and there was nothing unusual in the sight of the boatmen squatting on deck before loosing their craft from its moorings.

"If we are to do what we wish to do, Hossain," said Desmond, "we shall require a third man to help us. Shall we take Karim into our confidence?"

"That is as you please, sahib. He is a good man, and will, I think, be faithful."

"Well, send the other fellow on shore; I will speak to the man."

The serang gave the second of the two Bengalis who had formed his original crew an errand on shore. Desmond beckoned up the new man.

"Are you willing to undertake a service of risk, for a big reward, Karim?" he asked.

The man hesitated.

"It will be worth a hundred rupees to you."

Karim's eyes sparkled; a hundred rupees represented a fortune to a man of his class; but he still hesitated.

"Am I to be alone?" he asked at length.

"No," said Desmond; "we shall be with you."

"Ji! Han! If the sahib"--the word slipped out unawares--"is to be there it is fixed. He is my father and mother: did he not save me from the river? I would serve him without reward."

"That is very well. All the same the reward shall be yours--to be paid to you if we succeed, to your family if we fail. For if we fail it will be our last day: they will certainly shoot us. There is time to draw back."

"If the sahib is to be there I am not afraid."

"Good. You can go aft. We will tell you later what is to be done. And, remember, on this boat I am no sahib. I am a khalasi from Gujarat."

"I will remember--sahib."

Desmond told the serang that the help of the man was assured, and discussed with him the enterprise upon which he was bent. He had given his word to Clive that the blocking of the river should be prevented, and though the task bade fair to be difficult he was resolved not to fail. The vessels that were to be sunk in the fairway were moored opposite the fort at a distance of about a ship's length from one another. The subahdar was on the sloop farthest down the river, Hubbo on the next. With the subahdar there were three men. The signal for the scuttling of the vessels was to be the waving of a green flag by the subahdar; this was to be repeated by Hubbo, then by the serang on the sloop above him, and so on to the end. The vessels were in echelon, the one highest up the river lying well over to the left bank and nearest to the fort, the rest studding the fairway so that if they sank at their moorings it would be impossible for a ship of any size to thread its way between them. It did not appear that anything had been done to ensure their sinking broadside to the current, the reason being probably that, whatever might be attempted with this design, the river would have its will with the vessels as soon as they sank.

"Our only chance," said Desmond, "is to get hold of the subahdar. If we can only capture him the rest should be easy--especially as Hubbo is on the next sloop, which screens the subahdar's from the rest. It is out of speaking distance from the fort, too--another piece of luck for us. I will think things over in the night, Hossain; be sure to wake me, if I am not awake, at least a gharri[#] before dawn."

[#] A 60th part of a day: _i.e._ 24 minutes.

It was the first of January, 1757. At half-past seven in the morning a heavily-laden petala was making its way slowly against the tide down the Hugli. Four men were on board; two were rowing, one was at the helm, the fourth stood looking intently before him. The boat had passed several vessels lying opposite Tanna Fort, at various distances from the bank, and came abreast of the last but one. There the rowers ceased pulling at an order from the man standing, who put his hand to his mouth and hailed the sloop. An answer came from a man on deck inviting the caller to come on board. With a few strokes of the oars the petala was run alongside, and Hossain joined his brother.

"Is it well, brother?" he said.

"It is well," replied Hubbo.

Desmond at the helm of the petala looked eagerly ahead at the last sloop of the line. He could see the subahdar on deck, a somewhat portly figure in resplendent costume. A small dinghy was passing between his vessel and the shore. It contained a number of servants, who had brought him his breakfast from the fort. The crews of the other vessels had prepared their food on board.

After a time a dinghy was let down from Hubbo's sloop. Hubbo himself stepped into it with one of his crew, and was rowed to the subahdar's vessel. Desmond, watching him narrowly, saw him salaam deeply as he went on board.

"Salaam, huzur!" said Hubbo. "Your excellency will pardon me, but bismillah! I have just discovered a matter of importance. Our task, huzur, has lain much on my mind; we have never done anything of the sort before, and seeing on yonder petala a man I know well, who has spent many years on the kala pani, I ventured to ask if he knew what time would be needed to sink a ship with several holes drilled in the hull."

"That depends on the size of the holes, fool!" said the subahdar with a snort.

"True, huzur; that is what the serang said. But he went on to tell me of a case like your excellency's. His ship was once captured by the pirates of the Sanderbands. They drilled several holes in the hull, and rowed away, leaving my friend and several of the crew to sink with the vessel. But the holes were not big enough. When the pirates had disappeared, the men on the ship, using all their strength, managed to run her ashore, filled up the holes at low tide, and floated her off when the tide came in again."

A look of concern crept over the subahdar's face as he listened. He was a man without experience of ships, and became uneasy at the suggestion that anything might mar the execution of his task. Manik Chand would not lightly overlook a failure.

"Hearing this, huzur," Hubbo continued, "I venture to mention the matter to your excellency, especially as it seemed to me, from what the serang said, that the holes drilled by the pirates were even larger than those made by the mistris[#] sent from the fort."

[#] Head workmen.

The subahdar looked still more concerned.

"Wai!" he exclaimed, "it is very disturbing. And there is no time to do anything; the Firangi's ships are reported to be on their way up the river; the dogs of Kafirs[#] may be here soon."

[#] Unbelievers.

He bit his fingers, frowned, looked anxiously down the river, then across to the brick fort at Tanna, then to the new mud fort at Aligarh on the other bank, as if wondering whether he should send or signal a message to one or the other. Hubbo was silent for a moment, then he said:

"Have I the huzur's leave to speak?"

"By the twelve imams[#], yes! but quickly."

[#] High priests descending from Ali, the son-in-law of Mahomet.

"There is a mistri on board the serang's boat who is used to working in ships--a khalasi from Gujarat. He might do something on board your excellency's ship. If this vessel sank, according to the plan, the Firangi would not be able to get aboard the others, and they would have time to sink slowly."

"Barik allah![#] It is a good idea. Bid the mistri come aboard at once."

[#] "Bravo!"

Hubbo sent a long hail over the water. The serang cast off the rope by which he had made fast to the sloop, and the petala came slowly down until it was abreast of the subahdar's vessel. Hossain, Desmond, and Karim stepped aboard, the last carrying a small box of tools. Only the Bengali was left in the boat. All salaamed low to the subahdar.

"This, huzur, is my friend," said Hubbo, presenting his brother. "This is the mistri, and this his assistant."

"Good!" said the subahdar. "Go down into the hold, mistri: look to the holes; if they are not large enough, make them larger, and as quickly as you can."

Desmond with Karim dived down into the hold. It was filled with earth, except where a gangway shored up with balks of timber had been left to give access to the holes that had been drilled and temporarily stopped. After a few words from the subahdar, Hubbo and his brother followed Desmond below.