The G.A. Henty

by G. A. Henty

  “At present I am supposed to be a trader; but I have with me the dress of a peasant, or small cultivator, which I used when I went into Scindia’s camp. I have also the dress of a Brahmin—one of the better class—which I thought, if necessary, would enable me to enter the house of Nana, or other leaders, without exciting surprise. I also have my uniform with me.

  “I am staying, at present, in the street that faces the market, at the house of a man named Naroo. I myself am Bhaskur. I have a soldier servant with me, on whom I can confidently rely; and I will send him, with a chit, when I have any news to give you, and you can send me word at what hour I had better call.

  “Now, Colonel, I am at your orders and, if you will indicate to me the nature of the news which you wish to gain, or the person whom you want watched, I will do the best I can. At present, I know nothing of any changes that have taken place, since I left here.”

  “The only event that is publicly known is that, while the Peishwa has carried out his engagement with Scindia and with the Rajah of Berar, he refused to ratify any treaty with the Nizam; and the consequence is that the latter’s general quitted Poona, without taking leave of Bajee Rao, and returned in great indignation to Hyderabad. This matter might have been smoothed over, if Scindia had intervened, or if the Peishwa had made suitable advances to the Nizam; but he has not done so. There is no doubt that he thoroughly dislikes Nana Furnuwees and, instead of being grateful to him for having placed him on the throne, he would gladly weaken his power. At any rate, it was Nana who formed the confederacy; and I know that his greatest wish is to keep it intact, and to secure peace to the country.

  “Moreover, matters have been further complicated by the death of Holkar. He left two sons behind him, Khassee and Mulhar. Unfortunately, Khassee is next door to an imbecile; while Mulhar was a bold and able prince. The brothers quarrelled: two half brothers took the part of Mulhar, who left his brother’s camp, with a small body of troops, and took up his abode at a village just outside the city—and was, I believe, favoured by Nana, whose interest naturally was to have an active and able prince, as ruler of Holkar’s dominions. Scindia—who was, I suspect, delighted at this quarrel in Holkar’s camp—supported Khassee, and sent a body of troops to arrest Mulhar, who, refusing to surrender, maintained a desperate defence, until he was killed. Jeswunt went to Nagpore and Wittoojee fled to Kolapoore, but they were almost the only adherents of Mulhar who effected their escape.

  “So matters stand, at present. The fact that the imbecile Khassee owes his elevation to Scindia will, naturally, give the latter a predominating influence over him. Thus, you see, the confederacy has gone completely to pieces. The Nizam is estranged; the Rajah of Berar has gone home to Nagpore; Holkar’s power is, for the time, subservient to Scindia; and Nana Furnuwees is, therefore, deprived of all those who aided to bring him back to power.

  “You are well known to Nana, are you not?”

  “Yes, Colonel, he was kind enough to place a good deal of confidence in me.”

  “Then I think you cannot do better than see him, to begin with, and gather his views on the matter. I myself have heard nothing from him, for some time. He knows that the Company are well disposed towards him; but he also knows that they can give him no assistance, in a sudden crisis.”

  “But surely, Colonel, Bajee Rao, who owes everything to him, will not desert him?”

  “My opinion of the Peishwa is that he is a man without a spark of good feeling; that he has neither conscience nor gratitude, and would betray his own brother, if he thought that he would obtain any advantage by so doing. He is a born schemer, and his sole idea of politics is to play off one faction against another. I would rather take the word of a man of the lowest class, than the oath of Bajee Rao.”

  “I am sorry to hear it, sir. He seemed to me to be a fine fellow, with many accomplishments. His handsome face and figure, and winning manner—”

  “His manner is part of his stock in trade,” the colonel said, angrily. “He is a born actor; and can deceive, for a time, even those who are perfectly aware of his unscrupulous character.

  “Remember one thing, Mr. Lindsay: that if you are in any difficulty, or if a tumult breaks out in the city, you had best make your way here, at once. A trooper of my escort was thrown from his horse, and killed, the other day; and if you attire yourself in his uniform, you will pass for one of them. Whatever happens, they are not likely to be touched. Both parties wish to stand well with me and, even were it found out that you are an Englishman, you would be safely sheltered here; for I should claim you as my assistant, and an officer in our army, and declare truthfully that you had only assumed this guise in order to ascertain, for me, the feelings of the populace.”

  “Thank you, sir. I will certainly come here, as soon as any serious trouble begins.”

  That evening, after rubbing off the caste marks and assuming those of a Brahmin, and putting on the dress suitable for it—padding it largely, to give him the appearance of a stout and bulky man—he went to Nana’s house.

  “Will you tell the minister,” he said to the doorkeeper, “that Kawerseen, a Brahmin of the Kshittree caste, desires to speak to him?”

  The man gave the message to one of the attendants who, in two or three minutes, returned and asked Harry to follow him. The minister was alone.

  “What have you to say to me, holy man?” he enquired; and then, looking more fixedly at his visitor, he exclaimed:

  “Why, it is Puntojee!”

  “You are right, Nana. I am sent here to ascertain, if possible, what is going on, and how things are likely to tend. But first, I must tell you that I am now here as Colonel Palmer’s assistant.”

  “I will take you entirely into my confidence,” Nana said. “Until you told me that you were an Englishman, when you took leave of me two years ago, I could not quite understand why it was that I felt I could confide in you, more than in the older men around me. I esteem the English highly, and especially admire them for their honesty and truthfulness. You at once impressed me as one possessing such qualities and, now that I know you are English, I can understand the feeling that you inspired.

  “I am glad you have come. No doubt your Government are well informed, as to the state of affairs here. I feel the power slipping from my hands, without seeing any way by which I can recover my lost ground. Scindia is solely under the domination of Ghatgay, whose daughter he will shortly marry. I have, of course, made it my business to enquire as to the antecedents of this man. I find that he has the reputation of being a brutal ruffian, remarkable alike for his greed and his cruelty—a worse adviser Scindia could not have. Holkar was but a poor reed to lean upon, for he was as weak in mind, as in body. But at any rate, he was a true friend of mine and, now that he has been succeeded by one even more imbecile than himself—and who is but a puppet in the hands of Scindia, to whose troops he owes his accession—his power and his dominions are practically Scindia’s.

  “There can be no doubt, whatever, that Bajee Rao is acting secretly with Scindia; that is to say, he is pretending so to act, for he is a master of duplicity and, even where his own interests are concerned, seems to be unable to carry out, honestly, any agreement that he has made.

  “I am an old man, Mr. Lindsay, and can no longer struggle as I did, two years ago, against fate; nor indeed do I see any means of contending against such powerful enemies. The Rajah of Berar, although well disposed towards me, could not venture, alone, to support me against the united power of Scindia and Holkar, backed by that of the Peishwa.

  “There is but one direction in which I could seek for help—namely, from the Government of Bombay—but even this, were it given, would scarcely avail much against the power of my enemies. And even were I sure that it could do so, I would not call it in. My aim, through life, has been to uphold the power of the Peishwa, and to lessen that of Scindia and Holkar and, by playing one against the other, to avert the horrors of civil war. Were I to call in the aid of the English, I should be acting
in contradiction to the principles that I have ever held.

  “The arrival of a force of English, here, would at once unite the whole of the Mahrattas against them, as it did when last they ascended the Ghauts; and believing as I do in their great valour and discipline, which has been amply shown by the conduct of Scindia’s infantry, which are mainly officered by Europeans, it is beyond belief that they can withstand the whole power of the Mahratta empire. But granting that they might do so, what would be the result? I should see my country shaken to the centre, the capital in the hands of strangers, and to what end? Simply that I, an old and worn-out man should, for a very few years, remain in power here. It would be necessary for those who placed me there to remain as my guardians, and I should be a mere cypher in their hands. Nothing, therefore, would persuade me to seek English aid to retain me in power.”

  “But the English would doubtless act in alliance with the Nizam, and probably with the Rajahs of Berar and Kolapoore.”

  “Possibly they might do so, but what would be the result? Each of these leaders would, in return for his aid, bargain for increased territory, at the expense of the Peishwa; and I, who believe that I am trusted by the great mass of the people here, should become an object of execration at having brought the invaders into our country.

  “No, Mr. Lindsay; my enemies can, and I believe will, capture me and throw me into prison. They will scarcely take my life, for to do so would excite a storm of indignation; but I always carry poison about with me and, if they applied torture as a preliminary to death, I have the power of releasing myself from their hands.

  “Are you established at the Residency?”

  “No, sir; I am living in disguises, of which I have several, in the town. In that way, I can better discover what is going on than if I were in uniform, as assistant to Colonel Palmer. Should there be a tumult in the city, or if I find that my disguise has been detected, I can make for the Residency; and either put on my uniform and declare my true character, or attire myself as one of the Resident’s escort.”

  “Come here as often as you can,” Nana said. “I shall always be glad to see you. It is a relief to speak to one of whose friendship I feel secure. As a Brahmin, you can pass in and out without suspicion; and I will always tell you how matters stand.”

  “I have not yet spoken, Nana, of my work as your agent in Bombay. I have sent you reports, from time to time; but there was nothing in them that could be of any value to you. At present, the attentions of the authorities of Bombay, Madras, and Calcutta are centred upon the probability of war with Mysore. Tippoo has continually broken the conditions under which he made peace with us, six years ago; and it is known that he is preparing for war. He has received with honour many Frenchmen, and is in communication with the French Government; and believes that he will be supported by an army, under General Bonaparte and, as it is certain that, when the war breaks out again, it will need the fighting strength of the three towns to make head against the army of Mysore, as far as I have been able to learn they have given but little attention to the state of affairs in the Deccan. I have therefore been able to furnish you with no useful information, beyond telling you that the sympathies of the Governor and Council are wholly with you, and that they consider that the fact of your being in power here secures them from any trouble with the Mahrattas.

  “Therefore, sir, I have put aside the allowance you have given me, considering that I have in no way earned it; and have written this order upon the bankers with whom I have placed it, authorizing them to pay the money to anyone you may depute to receive it;” and he handed the letter to the Nana.

  The latter took it and, without opening it, tore it up.

  “Your offer does you honour, Mr. Lindsay, but it is impossible for me to accept it. Your information has not been without advantages. I have foreseen that the Nizam would probably enter into an alliance with your people; and that the very large increase that he has made in his battalions, under foreign officers, was intended to make his alliance more valuable. I, however, have not deemed it necessary to imitate his example, and that of Scindia, by raising a similar force. Your communications, therefore, have been of real value, and have saved a large outlay here; but even had it not been so, there can be no question of your returning your pay. You undertook certain work, and you have to the best of your powers carried it out; and it is not because you consider that the information you sent me is not sufficiently valuable that you have, in any way, failed to carry out your part of the contract.

  “I consider it of very great value. In the first place because, as I have said, it relieved me from anxiety as to the Nizam’s intentions of increasing his army; and in the second place, it eased my mind by showing that neither Scindia nor Holkar was intriguing with Bombay, which knowledge is worth a crore of rupees to me.

  “It is the first time, sir, since I have taken part in politics, that anyone has offered to return money he has received on the ground that he had not sufficiently earned it; or indeed, upon any other ground, whatever. Your doing so has confirmed my opinion of the honesty of your people, and I would that such a feeling were common among my countrymen, here. No negotiations can be carried on, no alliance can be formed, without a demand for a large sum of money, or for an addition of territory. All our petty wars are waged, not on a question of principle, but entirely from greed.

  “Let us say no more about it. I am, as of course you have heard, a very wealthy man; and have so distributed my money among the shroffs of all India that, whatever may happen here, I shall lose comparatively little; and I am glad to know that some very small portion of it goes to one whom I regard as a genuine friend, and who does not draw a tenth part of what many of those around me accept, without any consideration given for it.”

  “Thank you, sir, but—at any rate while I am stationed here, as Assistant Resident—I cannot continue to receive pay from you. I should regard it as a disgraceful action, and absolutely incompatible with my duty.”

  “Well, so far I will humour you, Mr. Lindsay; though from what I hear, in the Carnatic and Bengal the British officers, civil and military, do not hesitate to accept large sums from native princes.”

  Harry was well aware that this was so, and that many British officials had amassed considerable fortunes, by gifts from native sources. He only replied:

  “That is a matter for their own consciences, sir. They may be rewards for services rendered, just as I did not hesitate to accept the sum that you so generously bestowed upon me. It is not for me to judge other men, but I cannot but think that the custom of officials accepting presents is a bad one.”

  “Where can I find you,” Nana said, changing the subject, “if I should need to communicate with you, before you call again?”

  Harry gave his address.

  “Your messenger must enquire for Bhaskur, a trader from Ahmedabad, who is lodging there.”

  He chatted for some time longer with Nana, and then took his leave and returned to his lodging.

  AT THE POINT OF THE BAYONET (Part 2)

  Chapter 7

  An Act Of Treachery

  Some months passed quietly. Scindia more openly assumed supreme power, imprisoned several leading men, and transferred their jagheers to his own relations. Colonel Palmer had gone down to Bombay on leave, his place being filled temporarily by Mr. Uhtoff.

  Bajee was, as usual, playing a deep game. He desired to become independent both of Scindia and Nana Furnuwees. The former, he believed, must sooner or later return to his own dominions, and he desired his aid to get rid of Nana; therefore it was against the latter that his intrigues were, at present, directed. The minister was still an object of affection to his people; who believed, as before, in his goodness of character, and who put down every act of oppression as being the work of Scindia.

  Harry saw Nana frequently. There being no change in the position, there was little talk of politics; and the minister generally turned the conversation upon England, its power relatively to that of France
, the extent of its resources, the modes of life among the population, and its methods of government.

  “It all differs widely from ours,” Nana said, after one of these conversations, “and in most respects is better. The changes there are made not by force, but by the will of the representatives of the people, in their assembly. A minister defeated there retires at once, and his chief opponent succeeds him. The army has no determining voice in the conduct of affairs, but is wholly under the orders of the minister who may happen to be in power. All this seems strange to us but, undoubtedly, the system is far better for the population. There is no bloodshed, no burning of villages, no plundering, no confiscation of estates. It is a change in the personnel of the government, but no change in the general course of affairs.

  “It is strange that your soldiers fight so well when, as you tell me, they never carry arms until they enter the army; while ours are trained from childhood in the use of weapons. And your enemies, the French, is it the same with them?”

  “It is the same, Nana, so far as their civil life is concerned; for none carry weapons or are trained in their use. There is one wide point of difference. The French have to go as soldiers when they reach a certain age, however much they may dislike it; while with us there is no compulsion, whatever, and men enlist in the army just as they might take up any other trade. There is, however, a body called the militia. This, like the army, consists of volunteers; but is not liable for service abroad, and only goes out for a short period of training, annually. However, by law, should the supply of volunteers fall short, battalions can be kept at their full strength by men chosen by ballot from the population. But this is practically a dead letter, and I am told that the ballot is never resorted to; though doubtless it would be, in the case of a national emergency.”