With Clive in India

by G. A. Henty

  Chapter 23

  : Plassey.

  Scarcely had the soldiers taken off their packs, when the sound of martial music was heard. Charlie was speaking, at the time, to Major Coote.

  "There are the enemy, sure enough," the latter said. "That old rascal, Meer Jaffier, must have been deceiving us when he said that the nabob had halted at Mankarah. I'm afraid he means to play us false."

  "I expect," Charlie remarked, "that he does not know what he means, himself. These Asiatics are at any time ready to turn traitors, and to join the strongest. At present, Jaffier does not know what is the stronger; and I think it likely enough that he will take as little share as he can in the battle, tomorrow, till he sees which way it is going. Then, if we are getting the best of it, the rascal will join us, for the sake of the advantages which he expects to gain. If the day is going against us, he will do his best to complete his master's victory; and should proofs of his intended treachery ever come to light, he will clear himself by saying that he intended to deceive us all along, and merely pretended to treat with us, in order to throw us off our guard, and so deliver us into the hands of his master."

  "Yes," Major Eyre Coote replied. "These Mohammedan chiefs are indeed crafty and treacherous rascals. The whole history of India shows that gratitude is a feeling altogether unknown to them; and that, whatever favours a master may have lavished upon them, they are always ready to betray him, if they think that by so doing they will better their position.

  "Now I shall lie down, and try to get a few hours' sleep before morning. I am wet to the skin, but fortunately in these sultry nights that matters little."

  "I must go my rounds," Charlie said, "and see that the sentries are on the alert. If the men were not so tired, I should have said that the best plan would have been to make a dash straight at the enemy's camp. It would take them quite unprepared, even if they know, as I daresay they do, that we are close at hand; and they would lose all the advantage of their artillery."

  "Yes, if we had arrived an hour before sunset, so as to be able to learn something of the nature of the ground, that would be our best course," Major Coote agreed. "But, even if the troops had been fresh, a night attack on an unknown position is a hazardous undertaking.

  "Good night. I must see Clive, and take his last orders."

  At daybreak the English were astir, and the position of the enemy became visible. He occupied strongly intrenched works, which the Rajah Dulab Ram had thrown up during his stay. The right of these works rested on the river; and extended inland, at a right angle to it, for about two hundred yards; and then swept round to the north, at an obtuse angle, for nearly three miles. At the angle was a redoubt, mounted with cannon. In advance of this was a mound, covered with jungle. Halfway between the intrenchments and the mango grove were two large tanks, near the river, surrounded by high mounds of earth. These tanks were about half a mile from the English position. On the river bank, a little in advance of the grove, was a hunting box belonging to the nabob, surrounded by a masonry wall. Clive took possession of this, immediately he heard the sound of the nabob's music, on his arrival.

  Soon after daylight, the nabob's troops moved out from their intrenchments, and it was evident that he was aware of the position of the English. The French, with their four field guns, took up their post on the mound of the tank nearest to the grove, and about half a mile distant from it; and in the narrow space between them and the river two heavy guns, under a native officer, were placed.

  Behind the French guns was the division of Mir Mudin Khan, the one faithful general of the nabob. It consisted of five thousand horse, and seven thousand foot. Extending, in the arc of a circle, towards the village of Plassey, were the troops of the three traitor generals Rajah Dulab Ram, Yar Lutf Khan, and Meer Jaffier. Thus, the English position was almost surrounded; and in advancing against the camp, they would have to expose themselves to an attack in rear by the troops of the conspirators. These generals had, between them, nearly thirty-eight thousand troops.

  From the roof of the hunting box, Clive watched the progress of the enemy's movements. He saw, at once, that the position which they had taken up was one which would entail the absolute destruction of his force, should he be defeated; and that this depended entirely upon the course taken by the conspirators. Against such a force as that opposed to him, if these remained faithful to their master, success could hardly be hoped for.

  However, it was now too late to retreat, and the only course was to show a bold front. Clive accordingly moved his troops out, from the mango trees, to a line with the hunting box. The Europeans were formed in the centre, with three field pieces on each side. The native troops were on either flank. Two field guns, and the two howitzers, were placed a little in advance of the hunting box, facing the French position on the mound.

  At eight o'clock in the morning, of the 23rd of June, a memorable day in the annals of India, the preparations on both sides were complete; and Saint Frais opened the battle, by the discharge of one of his guns at the English. At the signal, the whole of the artillery round the long curve opened their fire. The ten little guns replied to this overwhelming discharge, and for half an hour continued to play on the dense masses of the enemy. But, however well they might be handled, they could do little against the fire of the fifty pieces of cannon, concentrated upon them.

  Had these been all served by European artillerymen, the British force would have been speedily annihilated as they stood. The natives of India, however, were extremely clumsy gunners. They fired but slowly, and had the feeblest idea of elevation. Consequently their balls, for the most part, went far over the heads of the English; and the four field guns of Saint Frais did more execution than the fifty heavy pieces of the nabob. At the end of half an hour, however, Clive had lost thirty of his men, and determined to fall back to the mango grove.

  Leaving a party in the hunting box, and in the brick kilns in front of it, in which the guns had been posted, to harass Saint Frais' battery with their musketry fire, he withdrew the rest of his force into the grove. Here they were in shelter, for it was surrounded by a high and thick bank. Behind this the men sat down, while parties set to work, piercing holes through the banks as embrasures for the guns.

  The enemy, on the retreat of the British within the grove, advanced with loud shouts of triumph; and, bringing their guns closer, again opened fire. The British had, by this time, pierced the holes for their field pieces; and these opened so vigorously that several of the enemy's cannon were disabled, numbers of their gunners killed, and some ammunition waggons blown up. On the other hand the English, now in perfect shelter, did not suffer at all, although the tops of the trees were cut off, in all directions, by the storm of cannon balls which swept through them.

  Although the English fire was producing considerable loss among the enemy, this was as nothing in comparison to his enormous numbers; and, at eleven o'clock, Clive summoned his principal officers around him; and it was agreed that, as Meer Jaffier and his associates, of whose position in the field they were ignorant, showed no signs of drawing off, or of treachery to their master, it was impossible to risk an attack upon the front; since they would, as they pressed forward, be enveloped by the forces in the rear. It was determined, therefore, that unless any unexpected circumstance occurred, they should hold their present position till nightfall; and should, at midnight, attack the enemy's camp.

  A quarter of an hour later, a tremendous tropical shower commenced, and for an hour the rain came down in torrents. Gradually the enemy's fire slackened. The English had tarpaulins to cover their ammunition, which, therefore, suffered no injury. The natives had no such coverings, and their powder was soon completely wetted, by the deluge of rain. Mir Mudin Khan, knowing that his own guns had been rendered useless, believed that those of the English were in a similar condition; and, leading out his cavalry, made a splendid charge down upon the grove.

  The English were in readiness. As the cavalry swept up, a flash of fire ran from a
thousand muskets, from the top of the embankments; while each of the field guns sent its load of grapeshot, through the embrasures, into the throng of horsemen.

  The effect was decisive. The cavalry recoiled before the terrible fire, and rode back, with their brave leader mortally wounded. This blow was fatal to the fortunes of Suraja Dowlah. When the news of the death of his brave and faithful general reached him, he was struck with terror. He had long suspected Meer Jaffier of treachery, but he had now no one else to rely upon. Sending for that general he reminded him, in touching terms, of the benefits which he had received at the hands of his father; and conjured him to be faithful to him. Throwing his turban upon the ground, he said:

  "Jaffier, you must defend that turban."

  Jaffier responded with assurances of his loyalty and sincerity, and promised to defend his sovereign with his life. Then, riding off, he at once despatched a messenger to Clive, informing him of what had happened, and urging him to attack at once.

  As long as Mir Mudin Khan lived, it is probable that Meer Jaffier was still undecided as to the part he should play. While that general lived it was possible, even probable, that the English would be defeated, even should the traitors take no part against them. His death, however, left the whole management of affairs in the hands of the three conspirators, and their course was now plain.

  Scarcely had Meer Jaffier left the nabob, than the unhappy young man, who was still under twenty years old, turned to Rajah Dulab Ram for counsel and advice. The traitor gave him counsel that led to his destruction. He told him that the English could not be attacked in their position; that his troops, exposed to the fire of their guns, were suffering heavily and losing heart; and he advised him, at once, to issue orders for them to fall back within their intrenchments. He also advised him to leave the field himself, and to retire to Moorshedabad, leaving it to his generals to annihilate the English, should they venture to attack them.

  Suraja Dowlah, at no time capable of thinking for himself, and now bewildered by the death of the general he knew to be faithful to him, and by his doubts as to the fidelity of the others, fell into the snare. He at once issued orders for the troops to retire within their intrenchments; and then, mounting a swift camel, and accompanied by two thousand horsemen, he left the field, and rode off to Moorshedabad.

  The movement of retirement at once commenced. The three traitor generals drew off their troops, and those of Mir Mudin Khan also obeyed orders, and fell back. Saint Frais, however, refused to obey. He saw the ruin which would follow upon the retreat, and he pluckily continued his fire.

  Clive, after the council had decided that nothing should be done till nightfall, had lain down in the hunting box to snatch a little repose, his thoughts having kept him awake all night. Major Kilpatrick, seeing the retirement of the enemy; and that the French artillerymen remained, unsupported, on the mound; at once advanced, with two hundred and fifty Europeans, and two guns, against it; sending word to Clive what he was doing. Clive, angry that any officer should have taken so important a step, without consulting him, at once ran after the detachment, and severely reprimanded Major Kilpatrick, for moving from the grove without orders. Immediately, however, that he comprehended the whole position, he recognized the wisdom of the course Kilpatrick had taken, and sent him back to the grove, to order the whole force to advance.

  Saint Frais, seeing that he was entirely unsupported, fired a last shot; and then, limbering up, fell back in perfect order to the redoubt at the corner of the intrenchment, where he again posted his field pieces, in readiness for action.

  Looking round the field, Clive saw that two of the divisions which formed the arc of the circle were marching back towards the intrenchments; but that the third, that on the left of their line, had wheeled round and was marching towards the rear of the grove. Not having received the letter which Meer Jaffier had written to him, he supposed that this movement indicated an intention to attack his baggage; and he therefore detached some European troops, with a field gun, to check the advance. Upon the gun opening fire, the enemy's division halted. It ceased its advance, but continued apart from the rest of the enemy. In the meantime, Clive had arrived upon the mound which Saint Frais had left; and, planting his guns there, opened fire upon the enemy within their intrenchments.

  The Indian soldiers and inferior officers, knowing nothing of the treachery of their chiefs, were indignant at being thus cannonaded in their intrenchments by a foe so inferior in strength; and horse, foot, and artillery poured out again from the intrenchments, and attacked the British.

  The battle now raged in earnest. Clive posted half his infantry and artillery on the mound of the tank nearest to the enemy's intrenchments, and the greater part of the rest on rising ground, two hundred yards to the left of it; while he placed a hundred and sixty picked shots, Europeans and natives, behind the tank close to the intrenchments, with orders to keep up a continuous musketry fire upon the enemy, as they sallied out.

  The enemy fought bravely. Saint Frais worked his guns unflinchingly at the redoubt, the infantry poured in volley after volley, the cavalry made desperate charges right up to the British lines. But they had no leader, and were fighting against men well commanded, and confident in themselves. Clive observed that the division on the enemy's extreme left remained inactive, and detached from the army; and it, for the first time, struck him that this was the division of Meer Jaffier. Relieved for the safety of his baggage, and from the attack which had hitherto threatened in his rear, he at once determined to carry the hill in advance of Saint Frais's battery, and the redoubt occupied by the French leader.

  Strong columns were sent against each position. The hill was carried without opposition, and then so heavy and searching a fire was poured into the intrenched camp that the enemy began to fall back, in utter confusion. Saint Frais, finding himself isolated and alone in the redoubt, as he had before been on the mound, was forced to retire.

  At five o'clock the battle was over, and the camp of the Nabob of Bengal in the possession of the English. The British loss was trifling. Seven European and sixteen native soldiers were killed, thirteen Europeans and thirty-six natives wounded. It was one of the decisive battles of the world, for the fate of India hung in the balance. Had Clive been defeated, and his force annihilated, as it must have been if beaten, the English would have been swept out of Bengal. The loss of that presidency would have had a decided effect on the struggle in Madras, where the British were, with the greatest difficulty, maintaining themselves against the French.

  Henceforth Bengal, the richest province in India, belonged to the English; for although, for a time, they were content to recognize Meer Jaffier and his successors as its nominal rulers, these were but puppets in their hands, and they were virtual masters of the province.

  After the battle, Meer Jaffier arrived. Conscious of his own double-dealing, he by no means felt sure of the reception he should meet with. It suited Clive, however, to ignore the doubtful part he had played, and he was saluted as Nabob of Bengal.

  It would have been far better for him, had he remained one of the great chiefs of Bengal. The enormous debt, with which Clive and his colleagues had saddled him, crushed him. The sum was so vast that it was only by imposing the most onerous taxation upon his people that he was enabled to pay it, and the discontent excited proved his destruction.

  Omichund had no greater reason for satisfaction, at the part which he had played in the ruin of his country. The fact that he had been deceived, by the forged treaty, was abruptly and brutally communicated to him; and the blow broke his heart. He shortly afterwards became insane, and died before eighteen months were over.

  Suraja Dowlah fled to Moorshedabad, where the remnants of his army followed him. At first, the nabob endeavoured to secure their fidelity by issuing a considerable amount of pay. Then, overpowered by his fears of treachery, he sent off the ladies of the zenana, and all his treasures, on elephants; and, a few hours afterwards, he himself, accompanied by his favouri
te wife, and a slave with a casket of his most valuable jewels, fled in disguise.

  A boat had been prepared, and lay in readiness at the wharf of the palace. Rowing day and night against the stream, the boat reached Rajmahal, ninety miles distant, on the night of the fourth day following his flight. Here the rowers were so knocked up, by their exertions, that it was impossible to proceed further; and they took refuge in a deserted hut, by the bank.

  The following morning, however, they were seen by a fakir, whose ears the young tyrant had had cut off, thirteen months previously; and this man, recognizing the nabob even in his disguise, at once took the news to Meer Jaffier's brother, who happened to reside in the town. The latter immediately sent a party of his retainers, who captured the nabob without difficulty. He was again placed in the boat, and taken back to Moorshedabad, where he was led into the presence of Meer Jaffier.

  The wretched young man implored the mercy of his triumphant successor, the man who owed station and rank and wealth to his grandfather; and who had, nevertheless, betrayed him to the English. His entreaties so far moved Meer Jaffier that he was irresolute, for a time, as to the course he should pursue. His son, however, Mirav, a youth of about the same age as the deposed nabob, insisted that it was folly to show mercy; as Meer Jaffier would never be safe, so long as Suraja Dowlah remained alive; and his father, at last, assigned the captive to his keeping, knowing well what the result would be.

  In the night, Suraja Dowlah was murdered. His mangled remains were, in the morning, placed on an elephant, and exposed to the gaze of the populace and soldiery.

  Suraja Dowlah was undoubtedly a profligate and rapacious tyrant. In the course of a few months, he alienated his people, and offended a great number of his most powerful chiefs. The war which he undertook against the English, although at the moment unprovoked, must still be regarded as a patriotic one; and, had he not soiled his victory by the massacre of the prisoners, which he first permitted and then approved, the English would have had no just cause of complaint against him.