Part 24 (1/2)
I hesitated. He evidently expected that I should name some large sum in rupees, such as was promised by the terms of the treaty to Mr.
Watts and others of those privy to it.
”What I ask for is neither money nor jewels,” I said, ”but the lives of the two persons who, I believe, are now kept somewhere concealed in the palace of the Nabob.”
Meer Jaffier understood me.
”You mean the Englishwoman who was brought here from Calcutta, and the Englishman who was formerly a spy in Surajah Dowlah's service?”
I nodded my head.
”It may be that the woman is, as you say, still in the Nabob's harem.
But I cannot think that the man is alive. He has most probably been secretly put to death for his offence in breaking into the garden of the seraglio.”
”I took part in that offence, and yet I am alive still,” I answered.
”Well, what is it you ask of me?”
”I ask your promise that the moment Surajah Dowlah is overthrown, and the power has pa.s.sed into your hands, you will aid me to ransack the palace of Moorshedabad in search of that woman and that man.”
Meer Jaffier bowed his head.
”You shall do so. Nay, more, to convince you that I am in earnest I will write you an authority now, before you leave me, which will become of effect as soon as Colonel Clive has driven my nephew from the musnud.”
A few minutes afterwards I had re-entered the palanquin, and was being conveyed back to Mr. Watts's house.
The next day, rising early, I pretended some business with Mr. Watts, and followed after him on horseback to Cossimbuzar. Here I was met by some of his native servants, who told me that he had gone hunting the evening before, and had not returned. Desiring them to show me the way he had gone, I went on till I was out of sight, and then, striking into a gallop, rode southward for my life towards the English lines.
The sun was low down in the western sky, as, riding slowly on my exhausted beast, I drew near the village of Cutwah, and espied the uniforms of the English sentries gleaming through the trees. The first men who I came up to stood in a little group together, their muskets resting on the ground, while they talked together in low tones. They looked up as I approached, and seeing the Company's uniform, saluted me, while I stopped to show them the pa.s.s which I carried. But they said nothing, and as I pa.s.sed on further into the camp I was struck by the silence that prevailed. All round me I saw the men cooking their suppers, or pa.s.sing to and fro with water vessels, but their heads hung down, and I heard none of the cheering and singing which generally prevailed when Colonel Clive had his troops upon the march against an enemy.
Pressing forward to the headquarters, I found the same evidences of dejection increased on all sides, till at last I met Major Coote walking with two other officers away from the commander's tent. The Major at once stopped me, and asked me how I did, but in so dull a fas.h.i.+on that I could see he was as dispirited as the rest.
”I am quite well, I thank you, sir,” I answered him, ”but a little surprised at the state of the camp. I am but this moment arrived from Moorshedabad. Can you tell me if anything untoward has taken place?”
Major Coote turned to the two young officers, and signed to them to withdraw. As soon as they were out of earshot he stepped up to the side of my horse, and laying his hand on the saddle addressed me in a low tone--
”Harkye, Ford, I know you to be a discreet youngster, and so I'll tell you my mind plainly. I don't know what news you bring from Moorshedabad, and I don't ask, but we've had such accounts from that cursed place lately that Colonel Clive has begun to believe that not a single man of them all is to be trusted, from Meer Jaffier down. He doesn't think them worth fighting for, and what's more, he doesn't think they mean to join him as they have promised. The long and short of it is, he has just called a council of war of all his officers--you would have been there if you had arrived an hour sooner, and therefore it's no breach of confidence to tell you--he called the council to decide whether we should go forward and fight, or give it up and go back. And he gave his own voice for going back, and the d--d council, two-thirds of 'em, followed suit; and the upshot of it is we're to put our tails between our legs and _go_ back--and that's why you see the whole army ready to throw down their arms like so many children!”
I was aghast at this intelligence, hardly believing it possible that the courage of Colonel Clive should have failed him, though I was better able than most to estimate the worries and cares thrust upon his shoulders by the mingled folly and malice of those who should have given him their best support.
”Where is the Colonel?” I exclaimed. ”I must see him at once! I have news that may induce him to change his mind. At all events, I'll take the liberty to persuade him.”
”He wandered off by himself,” Major Coote answered, brisking up a little. ”He went into that grove of trees across there, as soon as the council was dismissed, and he has been there ever since.”
I turned and looked at the grove. As I did so I saw some bushes parted, and the figure of my beloved chief emerged, walking with a swift, firm tread.
Instantly I flung myself from my horse, and rushed towards him. But he advanced of his own accord to where Major Coote stood watching us.
”I have altered my mind,” he said briefly, with the martial ring in his voice that I had heard first on the morning of Monichund's attempted surprise before Budge-Budge. ”I have come round to your opinion, Coote. To-morrow morning we march forward, and engage the enemy wherever we find him.”