The Jungle Girl

  CHAPTER V

  SENTENCE OF EXILE

  At the words of the telegram Raymond started and Frank stared inbewilderment at the Colonel.

  "But I never asked for the Military Police, sir," he exclaimed. "I----"

  The Colonel licked his dry lips and, working himself up into a passion,shouted:

  "No, you didn't. But I did. I applied for you to be sent to it. I askedfor you to be transferred from this station. You can ask yourself thereason why. I will not tolerate conduct such as yours, sir. I will nothave an officer like you under my command."

  Frank flushed deeply.

  "I beg your pardon, sir. I don't understand. I really don't know whatI've done. I should----"

  But the Colonel burst in furiously:

  "He says he doesn't know what he's done, Major Hepburn. Listen to that!He does not know what he's done"; and the speaker pounded on the deskwith his clenched fist, working himself up into a rage, as a weak manwill do when he has to carry out an unpleasant task.

  "But, sir, surely I have a right----," began Wargrave, clenching hishands until the nails were almost driven into his palms in an effort tokeep his temper.

  "I cannot argue the question with you, Wargrave," said the Colonelloftily. "You have got your orders. Headquarters approve of my action. Ihave discussed the matter with my Second in Command, and he agrees withme. You can go. Raymond, make out the necessary warrants for Mr.Wargrave's journey and give him an advance of a month's pay. He willleave to-morrow. Tell the Quartermaster to make the necessaryarrangements."

  Frank bit his lip. His years of discipline and the respect for authorityengrained in him since his entrance to Sandhurst kept the mutinous wordsback. He saluted punctiliously and, turning about smartly walked out ofthe Orderly Room. In the glaring sunshine he strode out of the compoundand down the white, dusty road to his bungalow, his brain in a whirl,blind to everything, seeing neither the sepoys saluting him nor his_syce_ hurrying after him and dragging the pony by the bridle.

  When he reached his house he entered the sitting-room and dropped into achair. His "boy" approached salaaming and asked if he should go to theMess to order the Sahib's breakfast to be got ready. Wargrave waved himaway impatiently.

  He sat staring unseeingly at the wall. He could not think coherently. Hefelt dazed. His bewildered brain seemed to be revolving endlessly roundthe thought of the telegram from Headquarters and the Colonel's words "Iwill not have an officer like you under my command." What was themeaning of it all? What had he done? A pang shot through him at thesudden remembrance of Colonel Trevor's assertion that Major Hepburnagreed with him. Frank held the Second in Command in high respect, forhe knew him to be an exceptionally good soldier and a gentleman in everysense of the word. Had he so disgraced himself then that Hepburnconsidered the Colonel's action justified? But how?

  He shifted uneasily in his chair and his eyes fell on Mrs. Norton'sportrait. At the sight of it his Company Commander's advice to him abouther and Mrs. Trevor's spiteful remarks flashed across his mind. CouldViolet be mixed up in all this? Was his friendship with her perhaps thecause of the trouble? He dismissed the idea at once. There was nothingto be ashamed of in their relations.

  A figure darkened the doorway. It was Raymond. Wargrave sprang up andrushed to him.

  "What in Heaven's name is it all about, Ray?" he cried. "Is the Colonelmad?"

  The adjutant took off his helmet and flung it on the table.

  "Well, tell me. What the devil have I done?" said his friendimpatiently.

  Raymond tried to speak but failed.

  "Go on, man. What is it?" cried Wargrave, seizing his arm.

  The adjutant burst out:

  "It's a damned shame, old man. I'm sorry."

  "But what is it? What is it, I say?" cried Wargrave, shaking him.

  The adjutant nodded his head towards the big photograph on thewriting-table.

  "It's Mrs. Norton," he said.

  "Mrs. Norton?" echoed his friend. "What the--what's she got to do withit?"

  Raymond threw himself into a chair.

  "Someone's been making mischief. The C.O.'s been told that there mightbe a scandal so he's got scared lest trouble should come to him."

  Frank stared blankly at the speaker, then suddenly turned and walked outof the bungalow. The pony was standing huddled into the patch of shadeat the side of the house, the _syce_ squatting on the ground at its headand holding the reins. Wargrave sprang into the saddle and galloped outof the compound. Raymond ran to the verandah and saw him thundering downthe sandy road that led to the residency.

  Arrived at the big white building Frank pulled up his panting pony onits haunches and dismounting threw the reins over its head and left itunattended.

  Walking to the hall door he cried:

  "_Koi hai_?"

  A drowsy _chuprassi_ at the back of the hall sprang up and hurried toreceive him.

  "_Memsahib hai_? (Is the mistress in?)"

  "_Hai, sahib_. (Yes, sir)" said the servant salaaming.

  Wargrave was free of the house and, taking off his hat, went into thecool hall and walked up the great staircase. He entered thedrawing-room. After the blinding glare outside the closely-shutteredapartment seemed so dark that at first it was difficult for him to seeif it were tenanted or not. But it was empty; and he paced the floorimpatiently, frowning in chaotic thought.

  "Good morning, Frank. You are early to-day. And what a bad temper youseem to be in!" exclaimed a laughing voice; and Mrs. Norton, lookingradiant and delightfully cool in a thin white Madras muslin dress,entered the room.

  He went to her.

  "They're sending me away, Violet," he said.

  "Sending you away?" she repeated in an astonished tone. "Sending youwhere?"

  "To hell, I think," he cried. "Oh, I beg your pardon. I mean--yes,they're sending me away from Rohar, from you. Sending me to the otherside of India."

  The blood slowly left her face as she stared uncomprehendingly at him.

  "Sending you away? Why?" she asked.

  "Because--because we're friends, little girl."

  "Because we're friends," she echoed. "What do you mean? But you mustn'tgo."

  "I must. I can't help it. I've got to go."

  Pale as death Violet stared at him.

  "Got to go? To leave me?"

  Then with a choking cry she threw her arms about his neck and sobbed.

  "You mustn't. You mustn't leave me. I can't live without you. I loveyou. I love you. I'll die if you go from me."

  Frank started and tried to hold her at arm's length to look into herface. But the woman clung frenziedly to him, while convulsive sobs shookher body. His arms went round her instinctively and, holding her to hisbreast, he stared blankly over the beautiful bowed head. It was true,then. She loved him. Without meaning it he had won her heart. He whoseearnest wish it had been to save her from pain, to console her, tobrighten her lonely life, had brought this fresh sorrow on her. To themisery of a loveless marriage he had added a heavier cross, an unhappy,a misplaced affection. No exultant vanity within him rejoiced at theknowledge that, unsought, she had learned to care for him. Only regret,pity for her, stirred in him. He was aware now as always that hisfeeling for her was not love. But she must not realise it. He must saveher from the bitter mortification of learning that she had given herheart unasked. His must have been the fault; he it must be to bear thepunishment. She should never know the truth. He bent down andreverently, tenderly, kissed the tear-stained face--it was the firsttime that his lips had touched her.

  "Dearest, we will go together. You must come with me," he said.

  Violet started and looked wildly up at him.

  "Go with you? What do you mean? How can I?"

  "I mean that you must come away with me to begin a new life--a happierone--together. I cannot leave you here with a man who neglects you, whodoes not appreciate you, who cannot understand you."

  "Do you mean--run away with you?" she asked.

  "Yes; it is
the only thing to do."

  She slowly loosed her clasp of him and released herself from his arms.

  "But I don't understand at all. Why are you going? And where?"

  He briefly told her what had happened. His face flushed darkly as herepeated the Colonel's words.

  "'He wouldn't have an officer like me under his command,' he said. Hetreated me like a criminal. I don't value his opinion much. But MajorHepburn agrees with him. That hurts. I respect him."

  "But where is this place they're sending you to?" she asked.

  "Ranga Duar? I don't know. Eastern Bengal, I believe."

  "Bengal. What? Anywhere near Calcutta?"

  "No; it must be somewhere up on the frontier. Otherwise they wouldn'tsend Military Police to garrison it."

  "But what is it like? Is it a big station?" she persisted.

  "I can't tell you. But it's sure not to be. No; it must be a small placeup in the hills or in the jungle. There's only a detachment there."

  "But what have I got to do with your being sent there?" she asked inperplexity.

  "Don't you understand? Someone's been making mischief," he replied."Those two vile-minded women have been talking scandal of us to theColonel."

  "What? Talking about you and me? Oh!" she exclaimed.

  His words brought home to her the fact that these bitter-tongued womenwhom she despised had dared to assail her--her, the _Burra Mem_, theGreat Lady of their little world. Had dared to? She could not silencethem. And what would they say of her, how their tongues would wag, ifshe ran away from her husband! And they would have a right to talkscandal of her then. The thought made her pause.

  "But how could I go with you to this place in Bengal? Where could Ilive?" she asked.

  "You'd live with me."

  "Oh! In your bungalow? How could I? And how would I get there?" shecontinued. "I haven't any money. I don't suppose I've got a ten-rupeenote. And I couldn't ask my husband."

  "Of course not. I would----" He paused. "By Jove! I never thought ofthat." It had not occurred to him that elopements must be carried out ona cash basis. He had forgotten that money was necessary. And he hadnone. He was heavily in debt. The local _shroffs_--the nativemoney-lenders--would give him no more credit when they knew that he wasgoing away. All that he would have would be the one month's advance ofpay--probably not enough for Violet's fare and expenses acrossIndia--the Government provided his--and certainly not enough to supportthem for long. He frowned in perplexity. Running away with another man'swife did not seem so easy after all.

  Violet was the first to recover her normal calm.

  "Sit down and let us talk quietly," she said. "One of the servants maycome in. Or my husband--if people are talking scandal of us."

  She touched the switch of an overhead electric fan--the Government ofIndia housed its Political Officer in Rohar much more luxuriously thanthe military ones--and sat down under it. Wargrave began to pace theroom impatiently.

  "Come, Frank, stop walking about like a tiger in a cage and let'sdiscuss things properly."

  With an effort he pulled himself together and took a chair near her. Thewoman was the more self-possessed of the two. The shock of suddenlyfinding herself up against the logical outcome of her desires hadsobered her; and, faced with the prospect of an immediate flightinvolving the abdication of her assured social position and thesurrender of a home, she was able to visualise the consequences of heractions. The most sobering reflection was the thought that by so doingshe would be casting herself to the female wolves of her world--and sheknew the extent of their mercy. There were others of her acquaintancebesides Mrs. Trevor who would howl loud with triumph over her downfall.The thought has saved many a woman from social ruin.

  Thinking only of what she had so often told him of the misery of livingwith a man as unsympathetic as her husband, Frank pleaded desperatelywith a conviction that he was far from feeling. The hard fact of thelack of sufficient money to pay for her travelling expenses, thedifficulty of getting off together from this out-of-the-way station,were not to be got over. Then the impossibility of knowing whether shecould remain with him when he was on frontier duty and of supporting heraway from him, the realisation of the fact that they would have to facethe Divorce Court with its heavy costs and probably crushing damages,all made the situation seem hopeless. In despair he sprang up andresumed his nervous pacing of the room.

  At last Violet said:

  "All I can see, dearest, is that we must wait. It will be harder for methan for you. You at least will not have to live with anyone uncongenialto you. But I must. Yet I can bear it for your sake."

  He stopped before her and looked at her in admiration of her courageousand self-sacrificing spirit. Then he bent down and kissed her tenderly.Sitting beside her he discussed the situation more calmly than he hadhitherto done. It was finally agreed that he was to go alone to his newstation, save all that he could to pay off his debts--he would receive ahigher salary in the Military Police and his expenses would be less--andwhen he was free and had made a home for her Violet would sacrificeeverything for love and come to him. With almost tears in his eyes as hethought of her nobility he strained her to his heart. When the time camefor parting the woman broke down completely and wept bitterly as sheclung to him. He kissed her passionately, then with an effort put herfrom him and almost ran from the room, while she flung herself on alounge and sobbed convulsively.

  One of the Residency _syces_ had taken charge of the pony; and Wargrave,mounting it, galloped madly back to his bungalow, his heart torn withanguish for the unhappiness of the broken-hearted woman that he wasleaving behind.

  When he arrived home he found that Raymond and his own "boy" andsword-orderly (his native soldier-servant) had begun his packing forhim, for his heavy baggage had to be despatched that afternoon. Thebungalow was crowded with his brother-officers waiting to see him. Hehad intended to avoid them, for he felt disgraced by the Colonel'scensure which it was evident the Commanding Officer had not kept secret,though the whole matter should have been treated as confidential. Butthey made light of his scruples and showed him that he had theirsympathy. He had meant to dine alone in his room that night; but hiscomrades insisted on his coming to the Mess, where they were to give himan informal farewell dinner. They would take no refusal.

  Daly, who was the Acting Quartermaster of the battalion, told him thatthe arrangements for his journey had been made. He was to leave at dawnand drive sixty miles in a _tonga_--a two-wheeled native conveyancedrawn by a pair of ponies--to a village called Basedi on the shores of anarrow gulf or deep inlet of the sea which formed the eastern boundaryof the State of Mandha. Here he would have to spend the night in adak-bungalow--or rest-house--and cross the water in a steam-launch nextmorning. After that, five days more of travel by various routes andmeans awaited him.

  Before dinner that night a few minutes apart with Hepburn made Frankhappier than he had been all day. For his Company Commander told himthat he had only agreed with the Colonel's action because he believedthat it would be for the subaltern's own good, not because he consideredthat the latter had done anything to disgrace him. Hepburn added that ifhe was given command of the regiment in two years' time--as shouldhappen in the ordinary course of events--he would be glad to haveWargrave back again in the battalion then. Frank, with a guilty feelingwhen he remembered his compact with Violet, thanked him gratefully, andwith a lightened heart went to the very festive meal that was to be hislast for some long time, at least with his old corps.

  The Colonel had refused to agree to his being invited formally to be theguest of the regiment; and neither he nor the other married man, theDoctor, were present. If they slept that night they were the only twoofficers in the Cantonment that did; for none of the others, not evensenior major, Hepburn, left the Mess until it was time to escort theirdeparting comrade to his bungalow to change for the journey. And, as the_tonga_-ponies rattled down the road and bore him away, Frank's lastsight of his old comrades was the group of white-clad figures in t
hedawn waving frantically and cheering vociferously from the gateway ofhis bungalow.

  The memory of it rejoiced him throughout the terrible hours of the longjourney in the baking heat and blinding glare of the Hot Weather day.The worse moments were the stops every ten miles to change ponies, whenhe had to wait in the blazing sunshine. His "boy," who sat on the frontseat of the vehicle beside the driver, produced from a basket packedwith wet straw cooled bottles of soda-water, without which Wargrave feltthat he would have died of sunstroke.

  Then on after each halt; and the endless strip of white road againunrolled before him, while the never-ceasing clank of the iron-shod barcoupling the ponies maddened his aching head with its monotonous rhythm.

  As the weary miles slid past him his thoughts were with Violet, sobeautiful, so patient and brave in her self-denying endurance. And hecursed himself for having added to her pain, and inwardly vowed thatsome day he would atone to her for it.

  At last the _tonga_ rattled into the bare compound of the Basedidak-bungalow standing on a high stone plinth. The untidy_khansamah_--the custodian of the rest-home--hurried on to the verandahto greet the unexpected visitor and show his "boy" where to put thesahib's bedding and baggage in a bleak room with a cane-bottomed woodenbed hung with torn mosquito-curtains.

  From a glass case in the sitting-room containing a scanty store ofcanned provisions the _khansamah_ provided a meal with such ill-assortedingredients as Somebody's desiccated soup lukewarm, a tin of sardinesand sweet biscuits to eat with them, and a bottle of beer to wash itdown with. Wargrave was too choked with dust, too sickened with the heatand glare, to have any appetite. After a smoke he dragged his weary bodyto bed and in spite of the mosquitoes that flocked joyously through theholes in the gauze curtains to feast on him slept the profound sleep ofutter exhaustion.

  He was up at daybreak; for the tide served in the early morning and onlyat its height could the launch approach the shore, which at low waterwas bordered with the filthy slime of mangrove swamps.

  Landed at the other side of the gulf he had even a worse experience oftravel before him than on the previous day. For the next stage of thejourney was forty miles across a salt desert in a tram drawn by a camel.The car was open on all sides and covered by a cardboard roof; and itswooden seats were uncomfortably hard for long hours of sitting. The heatwas appalling. It struck up from the baked ground and seemed to scorchthe body through the clothes. The glare from the white sand and evenwhiter patches of salt was blinding and penetrated through the closedeyelids. A hot wind blew over the hazy, shimmering desert, setting thewhirling dust-devils dancing and striking the face like the touch of aheated iron. Wargrave's small store of ice and mineral water wasexhausted, and he felt that he was likely to die of thirst. For in thevillages where they changed camels cholera was raging; and he dared notdrink the water from their wells.

  The tram slid easily along the shining rails that stretched away out ofsight over the monotonous plain, the camel loping lazily along, itssoft, sprawling feet falling noiselessly on the sand. The last ten milesof the way lay through less sterile country; and the tram passed herdsof black buck--the pretty, spiral-horned antelope. Used to its dailypassage, the graceful animals, which were protected by the game-laws ofthe native State through which the line ran, barely troubled to move outof its way. They stood about in hundreds, staring lazily at it, some notten yards off, the bucks turning their heads away to scratch their sideswith the points of their horns or rubbing their noses with dainty hoofs.

  That night Wargrave slept at a dak-bungalow near the terminus in alittle native town with a small branch-railway connecting it with a mainline. Then for four days he travelled across the scorching plains ofIndia, shut up in stuffy carriages with violet-hued glass windows andVenetian wooden shutters meant to exclude the heat and glare. Over bareplains broken by sudden flat-topped rocky hills, throughclosely-cultivated fields and stretches of scrub-jungle, by mud-walledvillages, he journeyed day and night. The train crossed countless wideriver-beds in which the streams had shrunk to mean rivulets; but when itclattered over the Ganges at Allahabad the sacred flood rolled a broadand sluggish current under the bridge on its way to the far-distant Bayof Bengal.

  On the fourth night Wargrave slept on a bench in the waiting-room of asmall junction, Niralda, from which a narrow-gauge railway branched offto the north from the main line through Eastern Bengal. At an early hournext morning he took his seat in the one first-class carriage of the toytrain, which journeyed through typical Bengal scenery by mud-bankedrice-fields, groves of tall, feathery bamboos and hamlets of prettypalm-thatched huts, their roofs hidden by the broad green leaves ofsprawling creepers. Soon across the sky to the north a dark, blurredline rose, stretching out of sight east and west. It grew clearer as thetrain sped on, more distinct. It was the great northern rampart ofIndia, the Himalayas. Then, seeming to float in air high above thehighest of the dark mountain peaks and utterly detached from them, thewhite crests of the Eternal Snows shone fairy-like against the blue sky.

  As Wargrave gazed enraptured, suddenly hills and plain were shut outfrom his sight as the train plunged from the dazzling sunlight into thedeep shadows of a tropical forest. And the subaltern recognised with athrill of delight that he was entering the wonderful Terai Jungle, themarvelous belt of woodland that stretches for hundreds of miles alongthe foot of the Himalayas through Assam and Bengal to the far Siwalikrange, clothing their lower slopes or scaling their steep sides intoNepal and Bhutan. Deep in its recesses the rhinoceros, bison and buffalohide, herds of wild elephants roam, tigers prey on the countless deer,and the great mountain bears descend to prowl in it for food. Frank hadlearned on the way that Ranga Duar was practically situated in it; andthe knowledge almost consoled him for his exile in the promise of sportthat kings might envy.

  At a small wayside station in a clearing in the forest his railwayjourney ended. Beside the one small stone building two elephants werestanding, incessantly swinging their trunks, flapping their ears andshifting their weight restlessly from leg to leg. Frank, on getting outof his carriage, learned with pleasure from their salaaming _mahouts_(drivers) that these animals were to be his next means of transport, anovel one that harmonised with the surroundings. On the back of eachgreat beast was a massive, straw-filled pad secured by a rope passingsurcingle-wise around its body.

  Each _mahout_ carried a gun, one a heavy rifle, the other adouble-barrelled fowling-piece, which they offered to Wargrave.

  "_Huzoor_!" (the Presence--a polite mode of address in Hindustani), saidone man, "the _Burra_ Sahib (the Political Sahib) sends salaams andlends you these, as you might see something to shoot on the way."

  "Oh, the Political Officer. Very kind of him, I'm sure," remarked thesubaltern. "What is his name?"

  "Durro-Mut Sahib."

  "What a curious name!" thought Frank. For in the vernacular "_durromut_!" means, "Do not be afraid!" He concluded that it was a nickname.

  "Why is he called that?" he asked in Hindustani.

  "Because the Sahib is a very brave sahib," replied the man. "Where he isthere no one need fear."

  The other _mahout_ nodded assent, then said:

  "The Commanding Sahib has sent Your Honour from the Mess a basket withfood and drink. I have put it on the table in the _babu's_ (clerk's)office in the station."

  Frank blessed his new C.O. for his thoughtfulness and made a welcomemeal while he watched his baggage being loaded on to one of theelephants.

  "_Buth_!" (Lie down) cried the _mahout_; and the obedient animal slowlysank to its knees and stretched out its legs before and behind. Frank's"boy" mounted timorously when the luggage had been strapped on to thepad. When the subaltern was ready the second elephant was ordered tokneel down for him; and he clambered up awkwardly and clung on tightlywhen the _mahout_, getting astride of the great neck, made it rise.

  Along a broad road cut through the forest the huge beasts lumbered witha plunging, swaying stride that was very tiring to a novice. Holdingboth guns F
rank glanced continually ahead, aside and behind him with adelicious feeling of excited hope that at any moment some dangerous wildbeast might appear. On either hand the dense undergrowth of great,flower-covered bushes and curving fan-shaped palms, restricted the viewto a few yards. From its dense tangle rose the giant trunks of hugetrees, their leafy crowns striving to push through the thick canopy ofvegetation overhead into the life-giving air and sunshine.

  But no wild animal appeared to cheer Wargrave on the long way; and ashour after hour went by his whole body ached with the strain of sittingupright without a support to his back and being jolted violently atevery step of the elephant. At last they reached a clearing in theforest where stood the _mahout's_ huts and a tall, wooden building, the_peelkhana_, or elephant stables. It lay at the foot of the mountains;and from here the road wound upwards among the lower hills, under steepcliffs, by the brink of precipices and beside deep ravines down whichbrawling streams tumbled.

  As the party mounted higher and ever higher the big trees fell awaybehind them until Frank could look down on a sea of foliage stretchingaway out of sight east and west but bounded on the south by the Plainsof India seen vaguely through the shimmering heat-haze. Up, up theyclimbed, until far above him he caught glimpses of buildings dottedabout among jungle-clad knolls and spurs jutting out from the dark faceof the mountains. And at last as evening shadows began to lengthen theyreached a lovely recess in the hills, a deep horse-shoe; and in it anartificially-levelled parade-ground, a rifle-range running up a gully, afew bungalows dotted about among the trees and lines of single-storiedbarracks enclosed by a loopholed stone wall told Wargrave that he hadcome to his journey's end. This was his place of exile--this was RangaDuar.