At the Point of the Bayonet
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G. A. Henty >> At the Point of the Bayonet
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"But they are a mere handful," Ramdass said. "How can they think of
invading a nation like ours?"
"Because they know, at least they believe, that Scindia, Holkar,
and the Peishwa are all so jealous of each other that they will
never act together. Then you see what they have done round Madras
and Bengal and, few as they are, they have won battles against the
great princes; and lastly, my mistress has told me that, although
there are but few here, there are many at home; and they could, if
they chose, send out twenty soldiers for every one there is here.
"Besides, it is not these alone who fight. The natives enlist under
them, and aid them in their conquests; and this shows, at least,
that they are well treated, and have confidence in the good faith
of the English."
"It is all very well, Soyera, to talk that way; but I would as
willingly believe that the stars will fall from the sky as that
these Englishmen, who simply live in Bombay because we suffer them
to do so, should ever conquer the Mahrattas, as they have subdued
other portions of India where, as everyone knows, the people are
not warlike, and have always been conquered without difficulty.
"Look at our power! At Delhi the emperor is a puppet in our hands,
and it is the same in all the districts on the plain of the great
river. The Rajpoots fear us, and even the Pindaries would not dare
carry their raids into our country. That a small body of merchants
and soldiers should threaten us seems, to me, altogether absurd."
"Well, brother, we will not argue about it. Time will show. As a
woman of the Mahrattas, I trust that day will never come; but as
one who knows the English, I have my fears. Of one thing I am sure,
that were they masters here, the cultivators would be vastly better
off than they are at present."
Ramdass laughed.
"What do you think of my sister's opinions, Anundee?"
"I do not know what to think," the young woman said; "but Soyera
has seen much, and is a wise woman, and what she says are no idle
words. To us it seems impossible, when we know that the Mahrattas
can place a hundred thousand horsemen in the field; but I own that,
from what we know of the English, it might be better for people
like us to have such masters."
"And now, Soyera," Ramdass said, when he returned from his work in
the evening, "tell us more about yourself. First, how did you learn
where I was living?"
"I learned it from the wife of our cousin Sufder."
"How did you fall in with him?"
"Well, I must tell you something. I had meant to keep it entirely
to myself, but I know that you and Anundee will keep my secret."
"Assuredly we will. I am not a man to talk of other people's
affairs and, as to Anundee, you can trust her with your life."
"Well, in the first place, I deceived you; or rather you deceived
yourself, when you said, 'I see that you have been married;' but
the children were here, and so I could not explain. The infant is
not mine. It is the son of my dear master and mistress, both of
whom were killed, three days ago, by bands--of which Sufder
commanded one--who attacked them suddenly, by night."
"What! Is the child white?" Ramdass asked, in a tone of alarm.
"It is not white, because I have stained the skin; but it is the
child of English parents. I will tell you how it happened."
And she related the instances of the attack upon the little camp,
the death of her master and mistress, another white officer, and
all their escort; told how she had hidden the child under the cover
of the tent, how Sufder had saved her life, and her subsequent
conversation with him regarding the child.
"Now, what do you intend to do with him, Soyera?"
"I intend to bring him up as my own. I shall keep his skin stained,
and no one can suspect that he is not mine."
"Then you do not think of restoring him to his people?"
"Not until he grows up. He has neither father nor mother, and to
whom could I hand him, now? Moreover if, as you say, our people
intend to drive the English from Bombay, his fate would be certain.
When I am by myself with him, I shall talk to him in English, as
soon as he is old enough to understand that he must not speak in
that language to others; then, when he joins his own people, he
will be able to converse with them. In the ten years I have spent
in English service I have come to speak their language well. Though
I cannot teach him the knowledge of the English, I can do much to
fit him to take his place as an Englishman, when the time comes."
"It is a risky business," her brother said, "but I do not say that
it cannot be carried out; at any rate, since you have so decided to
keep him, I can see no better plan."
Two days later, Sufder came in.
"So you got here safely, Soyera?"
"Yes, I had no trouble. But I did not expect you back so soon."
"The matter is all settled, though I think we were wrong to grant
any terms to the English. We had them in our power, and should have
finished the matter, straight off."
Delay and inactivity, the natural consequences of utter
incompetence and of divided councillors, had occurred. Colonel
Egerton, in consequence of sickness, had resigned the command; and
had been succeeded by Lieutenant Colonel Cockburn. On the 9th of
January they were within eighteen miles of Poona, and they had
still three weeks' provisions with them. Two or three skirmishes
had taken place, but without any result; yet Mr. Carnac, without
having suffered any reverse, and now within a day's march of the
capital, proposed that a retreat should be made, at once.
The proposal was combated by Captain Hartley, a gallant young
officer, and Mr. Holmes of the Civil Service. Cockburn, being
called upon for his opinion, said he had no doubt the army could
penetrate to Poona; but that it would be impossible for it to
protect its enormous baggage train. Mr. Carnac, however, persisted
in his opinion, in spite of the prayers of Rugoba and, at eleven
o'clock on the night of the 11th of January, the heavy guns were
thrown into a large pool, a quantity of stores burnt, and the force
began its retreat, in face of enemies estimated differently at from
fifty to a hundred thousand men.
Against such vigilant foes there was but little hope, indeed, that
the movement would be unnoticed and, at two o'clock in the morning,
a party of horse attacked the advance guard. Cockburn sent forward
two companies of Europeans to support them, but the Mahrattas had
succeeded in plundering part of the baggage.
In a very short time the rear was also attacked. This was covered
by some six companies of Sepoys, with two guns, commanded by
Captain Hartley. These received the charge of the enemy's horse and
foot with great steadiness and, several times, took the offensive
and drove their assailants back.
When morning broke, the little force found themselves altogether
surrounded by the whole army of the Mahrattas. Hartley's Sepoys
were now sorely pressed, but still maintained their position, and
were reinforced by five companies of Europeans and two more
companies of Sepoys. With this support, Hartley beat off every
attack. At ten o'clock he received orders from Colonel Cockburn to
retreat, but the officer who carried the message returned, begging
that he would allow Captain Hartley to await a more favourable
opportunity. Cockburn agreed to this, but sent Major Frederick to
take command of the rear, with orders to retire on the main body.
This movement he effected without serious loss, and joined the rest
of the force at the village of Wurgaom.
It was already crowded with camp followers, and the wildest
confusion reigned. The enemy's horse took advantage of this and
charged through the baggage, and the troops were unable to act with
effect, being mixed up with the crowd of fugitives. However, they
soon extricated themselves, drove off the enemy, and placed the
guns in commanding positions round the village. At four o'clock the
enemy retired.
Early the next morning the Mahratta artillery opened fire on the
village. Some of the Sepoy troops now became dispirited; but
Hartley's men stood firm, and the Mahrattas did not venture to
attack. The loss on the previous day was found to amount to three
hundred and fifty-two killed, wounded, or missing; including many
who had deserted during the night. Among the killed and wounded
were fifteen European officers, whose loss was a great misfortune
for, although the Sepoys fight well under their European officers,
they lose heart altogether if not so led.
Mr. Palmer, the secretary of the committee, was now sent to
negotiate with the enemy. The first demand made was the surrender
of Rugoba; which the committee would have agreed to, but Rugoba had
privately arranged to surrender to Scindia. The next demand was
that the committee should enter on a treaty, for the surrender of
the greater part of the territory of the Bombay Government,
together with the revenue of Broach and Surat. These terms were so
hard that even the craven committee, who were entirely responsible
for the disaster, hesitated to accept them.
Cockburn was asked whether a retreat was wholly impracticable, and
he declared that it was so. Captain Hartley protested against this
opinion, and showed how a retreat could be managed. His opinion was
altogether overruled, and Mr. Holmes was sent with powers to
conclude the treaty--which, however, the committee never intended
to observe.
Scindia took the principal part in arranging the details,
superseding the authority of Nana Furnuwees, the Peishwa's
minister. Scindia's favour was purchased by a private promise to
bestow upon him the English share of Broach, besides a sum of
forty-one thousand rupees as presents to his servants.
For their share in this miserable business Mr. Carnac, Colonel
Egerton, and Colonel Cockburn were dismissed from the Company's
service; and Captain Hartley was promoted to the rank of lieutenant
colonel. The Governor of Bombay refused to ratify the treaty, on
the ground that the officials with the expedition had no power
whatever to enter into any arrangement, without the matter being
previously submitted to, and approved by, the Government.
Fortunately, at this moment a force that had been despatched from
Bengal, under Colonel Goddard, to support Rugoba was nearing the
scene of action; and that officer, learning the danger to which
Bombay was exposed, took the responsibility and, marching from
Hoosingabad, avoided a body of twenty-two thousand horse, which had
been despatched from Poona to cut him off, and reached Surat
without encountering any opposition.
This welcome reinforcement materially altered the situation, and
Bombay lay no longer at the mercy of the Mahrattas. There was now
Goddard's force, and the army that had fallen back from Poona and,
what was still more important, Scindia had by his secret convention
deserted the confederacy; and it was morally certain that neither
the Peishwa nor Holkar would send his forces against Bombay,
leaving to Scindia the power of grasping the supreme authority in
the Deccan during their absence.
In 1779 General Goddard, who was now in command at Bombay, entered
into negotiations with Nana Furnuwees. These were carried on for
some months; but were brought to a conclusion by Nana declaring
that the surrender of Salsette, and the person of Rugoba, who was
again a fugitive in Bombay, were preliminaries to any treaty.
Bombay received a reinforcement of a European regiment, a battalion
of Sepoys, and a hundred artillerymen, from Madras; but before they
arrived Goddard's force had captured Dubhoy, and a treaty had been
effected.
The town of Ahmedabad was to be handed over to our ally, Futteh
Sing; but it declined to surrender, and was taken by assault, the
storming party being commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Hartley.
Scindia had as usual changed sides, and was now operating in
conjunction with Nana; and he and Holkar, with twenty thousand
horse, marched to Baroda. Goddard advanced to give battle; but
Scindia, to gain time, opened negotiations.
Goddard, however, was not to be duped. The negotiations were broken
off, and he advanced against the Mahrattas. Their horse, as usual,
charged; but were driven back by the artillery fire, and routed by
a regiment of Bengal cavalry. Scindia, however, encamped a short
distance off but, when Goddard again advanced to the attack,
retired.
Goddard, however, was not to be drawn into pursuit. He captured
some small forts, and sent Colonel Hartley to relieve Kallan, which
was being besieged by the Mahrattas. Hartley surprised their camp,
pursued them for some miles, and killed a great number; while
Lieutenant Welsh, who had been sent forward to relieve Surat--which
was threatened by a large Mahratta force--defeated these, killed
upwards of a hundred, and captured their guns; while one of
Scindia's detachments, on the banks of the Nerbuddah, was routed by
a detachment of Bengal Sepoys under Major Forbes.
On the other side of India, great successes had been gained by a
Bengal force under the command of Captain Popham; who attacked and
routed a body of plundering Mahrattas, captured by assault the
strong fort of Lahar, and not only carried by surprise the fortress
of Gwalior, regarded by the natives as impregnable, but took it
without the loss of a single man.
In December, General Goddard laid siege to Bassein. He and Hartley,
whose force was covering the siege, were attacked on the 11th of
that month by twenty thousand cavalry and infantry. These, however,
were defeated after making several desperate charges; and on the
following day another battle took place, in which the Mahrattas
were totally routed, and their general killed, after which Bassein
surrendered.
Chapter 2: A Strange Bringing Up.
The war went on during the following year, but in 1782 peace was
concluded. In 1784, the Mahrattas joined the Nizam and the British
in an alliance, having for its object the overthrow of Mysore;
which state, first under Hyder Ali, and afterwards under his son
Tippoo, was a source of danger to all the allies.
In the meantime Harry Lindsay, who was now called Puntojee, had
been living quietly on the farm of Ramdass; and no suspicion
whatever had been excited in the minds of the neighbours, or of any
of the people of Jooneer, that he was aught but what he seemed--the
son of Soyera. Once a week he was re-stained; and even his
playmates, the two sons of Ramdass, believed that he was, like
themselves, a young Mahratta. They knew that, sometimes, their aunt
talked to the child for hours in a strange language; but she led
them to believe it was the dialect of Bombay, which she thought it
might be useful for him to learn.
The child was shrewd and intelligent, and strictly obeyed Soyera's
instructions never, on any account, to talk in that language with
her except when they were alone; for she said that, if he did so,
some great misfortune would happen to him.
Thus, at six, he was able to speak English and Mahratta with equal
facility. As soon as his hair began to grow, it had also been dyed;
for its colour was fair, and would at once have excited attention.
He was a sturdy boy, and had never known a day's illness.
Four more years passed, and Soyera then revealed to him the fact
that she was not, as he supposed, his mother, but that he was of
English parents; and related to him the manner in which they had
come by their death, and how she had saved him.
"The language which you are speaking," she said, "is English. I
spoke truly, when I said it was the language in use in Bombay; for
it is the tongue of the white men there. Now you will understand
why I wanted you not to speak in it, to anyone but myself; and why
I have stained your skin, once a week. At present we are at peace
with the English; but there may be war again, at any time, and in
that case were it known that you are white, your life would not be
safe for a moment; or you might be thrown into some dungeon, where
you would perish miserably."
She then explained to him why she had not attempted to take him
down to Bombay, and restore him to his countrymen. She had always
hoped the time would come when she could do so but, until he grew
up to manhood, it was necessary that he should stay with her; for,
being without friends in Bombay he would, as a boy, be unable to
earn his living.
The boy was greatly affected at the news. There were things that he
had never been able to understand; especially why Soyera should
consider it necessary to wash him with dye so often, when neither
his cousins nor the other children of his acquaintance were so
treated--as far as he knew, for as he had been strictly charged
never to speak of the process, which he considered an infliction,
he had never asked questions of others. He had never, therefore,
for a moment suspected that he was not like those around him. He
knew that he was stronger than other boys of his own age; more fond
of exercise, and leader in all their games; but he had accepted
this as a natural accident. The fact that he belonged to the race
that were masters of southern India, and had conquered and slain
the Nabob of Bengal, was a gratification to him but, at present,
the thought that he might some day have to join them, and leave all
those he loved behind, far overpowered this feeling.
"I shall never become English, if you do not go with me," he said.
"You saved my life, and have been a mother to me. Why should I go
away from your side, to people that I know nothing of, whose ways
would be all strange to me?"
"It is right that you should do so, Puntojee--I will not call you
by your proper name, Harry Lindsay, lest it should slip out before
others. Your life should be spent among your own people; who, I
think, will some day rule over all India. They are a great people,
with learning of many things unknown here, from whom I always
received the greatest kindness. They are not, like the Mahrattas,
always quarrelling among themselves; they are not deceitful, and
they are honourable. You should be proud to belong to them, and I
have no doubt some day you will be so; though at present it is
natural that, knowing no place but this, you should not like the
thought of leaving."
Harry Lindsay, whose spirits had hitherto been almost
inexhaustible, and who had never been happy when sitting quiet, was
greatly impressed with what he had heard and, for some time, he
withdrew himself almost entirely from the sports of his friends,
hiding himself in the groves from their importunities, and thinking
over the strange position in which he was placed.
Soyera at last remonstrated with him.
"If I had thought you would take this matter to heart, Puntojee, I
should not have told you about it. I did so because I thought you
could scarcely be stained, much longer, without demanding the
reason for what must have seemed so strange a thing.
"I do not want you to withdraw yourself from your playmates, or to
cease from your games. Your doing so will, if it continues, excite
talk. Your friends will think that a spell has fallen upon you, and
will shun you. I want you to grow up such as your father
was--strong and brave, and skilful in arms--and to do this you must
be alert and active. It may well be that you should not join your
countrymen until you are able to play the part of a man, which will
not be for ten years yet; but you know that my cousin Sufder has
promised that, as soon as you are able to carry arms, he will
procure a post for you under Scindia.
"There you will learn much, and see something of the world whereas,
if you remain here, you would grow up like other cultivators, and
would make but a bad impression among your countrymen, when you
join them. Sufder himself has promised to teach you the use of arms
and, as all say he is very skilful, you could have no better
master.
"At any rate, I wish you to resume your former habits, to exercise
your body in every way, so that you may grow up so strong and
active that, when you join your countrymen, they will feel you are
well worthy of them. They think much of such things, and it is by
their love for exercise and sport that they so harden their frames
that, in battle, our bravest peoples cannot stand against them."
"But the Mahrattas are strong, mother?"
"Yes, they can stand great fatigues; living, as they do, so
constantly on horseback but, like all the people of India, they are
not fond of exercise, save when at war. That is the difference
between us and the English. These will get up at daybreak, go for
long rides, hunt the wild boar or the tigers in the jungles of the
Concan, or the bears among the Ghauts. Exercise to them is a
pleasure; and we in the service of the English have often wondered
at the way in which they willingly endure fatigues, when they might
pass their time sitting quietly in their verandahs. But I came to
understand that it was to this love of theirs, for outdoor
exercise, that they owed their strength and the firmness of their
courage. None can say that the Mahrattas are not brave but,
although they will charge gallantly, they soon disperse if the day
goes against them.
"So also with the soldiers of Tippoo. They overran Arcot and
threatened Madras; Tanjore and the Carnatic were all in their
hands; and yet the English never lost their firmness and, little by
little, drove Tippoo's troops from the lands they had conquered;
and it may be that, ere long, Tippoo will be a fugitive, and his
dominions divided among those whom he has provoked.
"Is it not wonderful that, while not very many years ago the Whites
were merely a handful, living on sufferance in Calcutta, Madras,
and Bombay, they are now masters of southern India and half of
Bengal; and even venture to engage a great empire like that of the
Mahrattas, stretching from the sea on the west to Delhi, and
holding the mastery over all central India? There must be something
extraordinary about these men. Why, you would scarce believe it,
but I have seen often, and wondered always; when they have an
entertainment, instead of sitting quietly 'and having dancing girls
to posture for their amusement, they dance themselves with their
women--not a mere movement of the body and hands, such as you see
among our dancers, but violent dancing, exhausting themselves till
the perspiration streams from their faces--and this both men and
women regard as amusement; so, Puntojee, if you are to take your
place among your countrymen again, you must accustom yourself to
fatigues, and strengthen your body in every way; or you will be
regarded with contempt as one who, although of their blood, has
grown degenerate and unworthy of them."
"I will do so," the boy said. "You shall not complain of me, again.
Hitherto I have played for amusement, and because I liked to
exercise my limbs, and to show the others that I could run faster
and was stronger than they were; but in future I shall have a
motive in doing so, and will strive to be worthy of my father."
From that time, Harry Lindsay devoted himself to exercises. He
learnt from Sufder, when he visited his native town, and from old
soldiers, when he was away, to use a sword and dagger, to hurl a
light spear accurately, to shoot straight with a musket, that
Sufder had picked up on the field of battle at Karlee, and also
with the pistol. He rose at daybreak, and walked for miles before
coming in to his morning meal; and exercised the muscles of his
arms, not only by the use of the sword, but by holding heavy stones
at arm's length.
Soyera, although still retaining her own religion, had carefully
instructed him in that of the English; with which she had, during
her service, become fully acquainted.
"I am only a servant, an ignorant woman, and it is not for me to
decide which religion is the best, and I have never thought of
giving up that of my people; but the religion of the Christians is
much simpler than ours. They believe in one God, only; and in his
Son who, like Buddha, was a great saint, and went about doing good.
I will tell you all I know of Him, for my mistress frequently spoke
to me of Him; and hoped, I think, that in time I should accept Him,
as she did. When you join your people, it is as necessary that you
should be of their religion, as of their race;" and so, in time,
Harry learned at least the elements of Christianity.
As usual he had been, at the age of six, marked, like Soyera, with
three perpendicular lines on the forehead--the sign of the
worshippers of Vishnu.
"You are twelve years old now, Harry," Soyera said to the boy, one
day. "Now I must do what I have concluded, after a talk with
Ramdass and Sufder, is the best thing for you. We have agreed that
it will be better that you should not join your countrymen, and
claim to be the son of Major Lindsay, until you are a man. I do not
know what they would do with you. They might send you back to
England, but I cannot say what would become of you there; but we
have agreed that, when you do join them, you must be like other
young English gentlemen, and not be looked down upon as one who,
though he has a white skin, is but a Mahratta peasant.
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