Begumbagh: A Tale of the Indian Mutiny

  STORY ONE, CHAPTER TEN.

  The orderly took back a despatch from Captain Dyer, starting at daybreakthe next morning; but before then, we all knew that matters were gettingto wear a terrible aspect. At first, I had been disposed to think thatthe orderly was romancing, and giving us a few travellers' tales; but Isoon found out that he was in earnest; and more than once I felt ashiver as he sat with our mess, telling us of how regiment afterregiment had mutinied and murdered their officers; how station afterstation had been plundered, collectors butchered, and their wives anddaughters sometimes cut down, sometimes carried off by the wretches, whohad made a sport of throwing infants from one to the other on theirbayonets.

  "I never had any children," sobbed Mrs Bantem then; "and I never wishedto have any; for they're not right for soldiers' wives; but only tothink--the poor sweet, suffering little things. Oh, if I'd only been aman, and been there!"

  We none of us said anything; but I believe all thought as I did, that ifMrs Bantem had been there, she'd have done as much--ah, perhaps more--than some men would have done. Often, since then, as I think of it, andrecall it from the bygone, there I can see Mother Bantem--though why wecalled her mother, I don't know, unless it was because she was like amother to us--with her great strapping form; and think of the way inwhich she--

  Halt! Retire by fours from the left.

  Just in time; for I find handling my pen's like handling acommander-in-chief's staff and that I've got letters which make words,which make phrases, which make sentences, which make paragraphs, whichmake chapters, which make up the whole story: and that is for all theworld like the army with its privates made into companies, andbattalions, and regiments, and brigades. Well, there you are: if youdon't have discipline, and every private in his right place, where areyou? Just so with me; my words were coming out in the wrong places, andin another minute I should have spoiled my story, by letting you knowwhat was coming at the wrong time.

  Well, we all felt very deeply the news brought in by that orderly, forsoldiers are not such harum-scarum roughs as some people seem toimagine. For the most part, they're men with the same feelings ascivilians; and I don't think many of us slept very sound that night,feeling as we did what a charge we had, and that we might be attacked atany time; and a good deal of my anxiety was on account of Lizzy Green;for even if she wouldn't be my wife, but Harry Lant's, I could not helptaking a wonderful deal of interest in her.

  But all the same it was a terribly awkward time, as you must own, forfalling in love; and I don't know hardly whom I pitied most, CaptainDyer or myself; but think I had more leanings towards number one,because Captain Dyer was happy; though, perhaps, I might have been; onlylike lots more hot sighing noodles, I never once thought of asking thegirl if she'd have me. As for Lieutenant Leigh, I never once thought ofgiving him a bit of pity, for I did not think he deserved it.

  Well, the trooper started off at daybreak, so as to get well on hisjourney in the early morning; and about an hour after he was gone, I hada fancy to go into the old ruined room again, where there was the bit ofa scene I've told you of. My orders from Captain Dyer were, to watchChunder strictly, both as to seeing that he did not again insult any ofthe women, and also to see if he had any little game of his own that hewas playing on the sly; for though Lieutenant Leigh, on being told,pooh-poohed it all, and advised a flogging, Captain Dyer had hissuspicions--stronger ones, it seemed, than mine; and hence my orders andmy being excused from mounting guard.

  It was all very still, and cool, and quiet as I walked from room toroom, slowly and thoughtfully, stopping to pick up my broken pipe, whichlay where I had dropped it; and then going on into the next room, where,under the window, lay the bit of cotton cobweb and cat's-cradle workLizzy had been doing, and had left behind. I gave a bit of a gulp as Ipicked that up, and I was tucking it inside my jacket when I stoppedshort, for I thought I heard a whisper.

  I listened, and there it was again--a low, earnest whispering of firstone and then another voice in the next room, whose wide broken doorwaystood open, for there wasn't a bit of woodwork left.

  I have heard about people saying, that in some great surprise or fright,their hearts stood still; but I don't believe it, because it alwaysstrikes me that when a person's heart does stand still, it never goes onagain. All the same, though, my heart felt then as if it did standstill with the dead, dull, miserable feeling that came upon me. Only tothink that on this, the second time I had come through these ruinedrooms, and they were here again! It was plain enough Harry Lant andLizzy made this their meeting-place, and only they knew how many timesthey'd met before.

  Time back, I could have laughed at the idea of me, a great strappingfellow, feeling as I did; but now I felt very wretched; and as I thoughtof Harry Lant kissing those bright red lips, and looking into those deepdark eyes, and being let pass his hand over the glossy hair, with theprospect of some day calling it all his own, I did not burn all overwith a mad rage and passion, but it was like a great grief coming uponme, so that, if it hadn't been for being a man, I could have sat downand cried.

  I should think ten minutes passed, and the whispering still went on,when I said to myself: "Be a man, Isaac; if she likes him better, hasn'tshe a right to her pick?" But still I felt very miserable as I turnedto go away, when a something, said a little louder than the rest,stopped me.

  "That ain't English," I says to myself. "What! surely she's notlistening to that black scoundrel?"

  I was red-hot then in a moment; and as to thinking whether this or thatwas straightforward, or whether I was playing the spy, or anything ofthat sort, such an idea never came into my head. Chunder was evidentlytalking to Lizzy Green in that room; and for a few seconds I felt blindwith a sort of jealous savage rage--against her, mind, now; and going ontip-toe, I looked round the doorway, so as to see as well as hear.

  I was back in an instant with a fresh set of sensations busy in mybreast. It was Chunder, but he was alone; there was no Lizzy there; andI don't know whether my heart beat then for joy at knowing it, or forshame at myself for having thought such a thing of her.

  What did it mean, then?

  I did not have to ask myself the question twice, for the answer came--Treachery! And stealing to the slit of window in the room I was in, Ipeeped cautiously out in time to see Chunder throwing out what lookedlike a white packet. I could see his arm move as he threw it down to aman in a turban--a dark wiry-looking rascal; and in those few seconds Iseemed to read that packet word for word, though no doubt the writingwas in one of the native dialects, and my reading of it was, that it wasa correct list of the defenders of the place, the women and children,and what arms and ammunition there were stored up.

  It was all plain enough, and the villain was sending it by a man whomust have brought him tidings of some kind.

  What was I to do? That man ought to be stopped at all hazards; and whatI ought to have done was to steal back, give the alarm, and let a partygo round to try and cut him off.

  That's what I ought to have done; but I never did have much judgment.

  Now for what I did do.

  Slipping back from the window, I went cautiously to the doorway, andentered the old room where Chunder was standing at the window; and Iwent in so quietly, and he was so intent, that I had crept close, andwas in the act of leaping on to him before he turned round and tried toavoid me.

  He was too late, though, for with a bound I was on him, pinioning hishands, and holding him down on the window-sill, with his head half out,as bearing down upon him, I leaned out as far as I could, yelling out:"Sentry in the next roof, mark man below. Stop him, or fire."

  The black fellow below drew a long, awkward-looking pistol, and aimed atme, but only for a moment. Perhaps he was afraid of killing Chunder,for the next instant he had stuck the pistol back in his calico belt,and, with head stooped, was running as hard as he could run, when Icould hardly contain myself for rage, knowing as I did how important itwas for him to have been stopped.

&
nbsp; "Bang!"

  A sharp report from the roof, and the fellow made a bound.

  Was he hit?

  No: he only seemed to run the faster.

  "Bang!"

  Another report as the runner came in sight of the second sentry.

  But I saw no more, for all my time was taken up with Chunder; for as thesecond shot rang out, he gave a heave, and nearly sent me through theopen window.

  It was by a miracle almost that I saved myself from breaking my neck,for it was a good height from the ground; but I held on to him tightlywith a clutch such as he never had on his arms and neck before; andthen, with a strength for which I shouldn't have given him credit, hetussled with me, now tugging to get away, now to throw me from thewindow, his hot breath beating all the time upon my cheeks, and histeeth grinning, and eyes rolling savagely.

  It was only a spurt, though, and I soon got the better of him.

  I don't want to boast, but I suppose our cold northern bone and muscleare tougher and stronger than theirs; and at the end of five minutes,puffing and blown, I was sitting on his chest, taking a paper frominside his calico.

  That laid me open; for, like a flash, I saw then that he had a knife inone hand, while before another thought could pass through my mind, itwas sticking through my jacket and the skin of my ribs, and my fist wasdriven down against his mouth for him to kiss for the second time in hislife.

  Next minute, Captain Dyer and a dozen men were in the room, Chunder washandcuffed and marched off, and the captain was eagerly questioning me.

  "But is that fellow shot down or taken--the one outside?" I asked.

  "Neither," said Captain Dyer; "and it is too late now: he has got farenough away."

  Then I told him what I had seen, and he looked at the packet, his browknitting as he tried to make it out.

  "I ought to have come round, and given, the alarm, captain," I saidbitterly.

  "Yes, my good fellow, you ought," he said; "and I ought to have had thatblack scoundrel under lock and key days ago. But it is too late now totalk of what ought to have been done; we must talk of what there is todo.--But are you hurt?"

  "He sent his knife through my jacket, sir," I said, "but it's only ascratch on the skin;" and fortunately that's what it proved to be, forwe had no room for wounded men.