by G. A. Henty
E-text prepared by Martin Robb
WITH CLIVE IN INDIA:
Or, The Beginnings of an Empire
by
G. A. HENTY
Preface.Chapter 1: Leaving Home.Chapter 2: The Young Writer.Chapter 3: A Brush With Privateers.Chapter 4: The Pirates Of The Pacific.Chapter 5: Madras.Chapter 6: The Arrival Of Clive.Chapter 7: The Siege Of Arcot.Chapter 8: The Grand Assault.Chapter 9: The Battle Of Kavaripak.Chapter 10: The Fall Of Seringam.Chapter 11: An Important Mission.Chapter 12: A Murderous Attempt.Chapter 13: An Attempt At Murder.Chapter 14: The Siege Of Ambur.Chapter 15: The Pirates' Hold.Chapter 16: A Tiger Hunt.Chapter 17: The Capture Of Gheriah.Chapter 18: The "Black Hole" Of Calcutta.Chapter 19: A Daring Escape.Chapter 20: The Rescue Of The White Captive.Chapter 21: The Battle Outside Calcutta.Chapter 22: Plassey.Chapter 23: Plassey.Chapter 24: Mounted Infantry.Chapter 25: Besieged In A Pagoda.Chapter 26: The Siege Of Madras.Chapter 27: Masulipatam.Chapter 28: The Defeat Of Lally.Chapter 29: The Siege Of Pondicherry.Chapter 30: Home.
Preface.
In the following pages I have endeavoured to give a vivid picture ofthe wonderful events of the ten years, which at their commencement sawMadras in the hands of the French--Calcutta at the mercy of the Nabobof Bengal--and English influence apparently at the point of extinctionin India--and which ended in the final triumph of the English, both inBengal and Madras. There were yet great battles to be fought, greatefforts to be made, before the vast Empire of India fell altogetherinto British hands; but these were but the sequel of the events I havedescribed.
The historical details are, throughout the story, strictly accurate,and for them I am indebted to the history of these events written byMr. Orme, who lived at that time, to the "Life of Lord Clive,"recently published by Lieutenant Colonel Malleson, and to otherstandard authorities. In this book I have devoted a somewhat smallerspace to the personal adventures of my hero than in my otherhistorical tales, but the events themselves were of such a thrillingand exciting nature that no fiction could surpass them.
A word as to the orthography of the names and places. An entirely newmethod of spelling Indian words has lately been invented by the Indianauthorities. This is no doubt more correct than the rough-and-readyorthography of the early traders, and I have therefore adopted it forall little-known places. But there are Indian names which have becomehousehold words in England, and should never be changed; and as itwould be considered a gross piece of pedantry and affectation on thepart of a tourist on the Continent, who should, on his return, say hehad been to Genova, Firenze, and Wien, instead of Genoa, Florence, andVienna; it is, I consider, an even worse offence to transform Arcot,Cawnpoor, and Lucknow, into Arkat, Kahnpur, and Laknao. I have tried,therefore, so far as possible, to give the names of well-knownpersonages and places in the spelling familiar to Englishmen, whilethe new orthography has been elsewhere adopted.
G. A. Henty.
Chapter 1: Leaving Home.
A lady in deep mourning was sitting, crying bitterly, by a fire insmall lodgings in the town of Yarmouth. Beside her stood a tall lad ofsixteen. He was slight in build, but his schoolfellows knew thatCharlie Marryat's muscles were as firm and hard as those of any boy inthe school. In all sports requiring activity and endurance, ratherthan weight and strength, he was always conspicuous. Not one in theschool could compete with him in long-distance running, and when hewas one of the hares there was but little chance for the hounds. Hewas a capital swimmer, and one of the best boxers in the school. Hehad a reputation for being a leader in every mischievous prank; but hewas honorable and manly, would scorn to shelter himself under thesemblance of a lie, and was a prime favourite with his masters, aswell as his schoolfellows. His mother bewailed the frequency withwhich he returned home with blackened eyes and bruised face; forbetween Dr. Willet's school and the fisher lads of Yarmouth there wasa standing feud, whose origin dated so far back that none of those nowat school could trace it. Consequently, fierce fights often took placein the narrow rows, and sometimes the fisher boys would be driven backon to the broad quay shaded by trees, by the river, and there beingreinforced from the craft along the side, would reassume the offensiveand drive their opponents back into the main street.
It was but six months since Charlie had lost his father, who was theofficer in command at the coast guard station, and his scanty pensionwas now all that remained for the support of his widow and children.His mother had talked his future prospects over, many times, withCharlie. The latter was willing to do anything, but could suggestnothing. His father had but little naval interest, and had for yearsbeen employed on coast guard service. Charlie agreed that, although heshould have liked of all things to go to sea, it was useless to thinkof it now, for he was past the age at which he could have entered as amidshipman.
The matter had been talked over four years before, with his father;but the latter had pointed out that a life in the navy, withoutinterest, is in most cases a very hard one. If a chance ofdistinguishing himself happened, promotion would follow; but if not,he might be for years on shore, starving on half pay and waiting invain for an appointment, while officers with more luck and betterinterest went over his head.
Other professions had been discussed, but nothing determined upon,when Lieutenant Marryat suddenly died. Charlie, although an only son,was not an only child, as he had two sisters both younger thanhimself. After a few months of effort, Mrs. Marryat found that theutmost she could hope to do, with her scanty income, was to maintainherself and daughters, and to educate them until they should reach anage when they could earn their own living as governesses; but thatCharlie's keep and education were beyond her resources. She had,therefore, very reluctantly written to an uncle, whom she had not seenfor many years, her family having objected very strongly to hermarriage with a penniless lieutenant in the navy. She informed him ofthe loss of her husband, and that, although her income was sufficientto maintain herself and her daughters, she was most anxious to starther son, who was now sixteen, in life; and therefore begged him to usehis influence to obtain for him a situation of some sort. The letterwhich she now held in her hand was the answer to the appeal.
"My dear Niece," it began, "Since you, by your own foolish conduct andopposition to all our wishes, separated yourself from your family, andwent your own way in life, I have heard little of you, as the death ofyour parents so shortly afterwards deprived me of all sources ofinformation. I regret to hear of the loss which you have suffered. Ihave already taken the necessary steps to carry out your wishes. Iyesterday dined with a friend, who is one of the directors of theHonorable East India Company, and at my request he has kindly placed awritership in the Company at your son's service. He will have to comeup to London to see the board, next week, and will probably have toembark for India a fortnight later. I shall be glad if he will take uphis abode with me, during the intervening time. I shall be glad alsoif you will favour me with a statement of your income and expenses,with such details as you may think necessary. I inclose fourfive-pound bank notes, in order that your son may obtain such garmentsas may be immediately needful for his appearance before the board ofdirectors, and for his journey to London. I remain, my dear niece,yours sincerely,
"Joshua Tufton."
"It is cruel," Mrs. Marryat sobbed, "cruel to take you away from us,and send you to India, where you will most likely die of fever, or bekilled by a tiger, or stabbed by one of those horrid natives, in afortnight."
"Not so bad as that, Mother, I hope," Charlie said sympathizingly,although he could not repress a smile; "other people have managed tolive out there, and have come back safe."
"Yes,"
Mrs. Marryat said, sobbing; "I know how you will come back. Alittle, yellow, shrivelled up old man with no liver, and a dreadfultemper, and a black servant. I know what it will be."
This time Charlie could not help laughing.
"That's looking too far ahead altogether, Mother. You take the twoextremes. If I don't die in a fortnight, I am to live to be ashrivelled old man. I'd rather take a happy medium, and look forwardto coming back before my liver is all gone, or my temper alldestroyed, with lots of money to make you and the girls comfortable.
"There is only one thing. I wish it had been a cadetship, instead of awritership."
"That is my only comfort," Mrs. Marryat said. "If it had been acadetship, I should have written to say that I would not let you go.It is bad enough as it is; but if you had had to fight, I could nothave borne it."
Charlie did his best to console his mother, by telling her howeveryone who went to India made fortunes, and how he should be sure tocome back with plenty of money; and that, when the girls grew up, heshould be able to find rich husbands for them; and at last hesucceeded in getting her to look at matters in a less gloomy light.
"And I'm sure, Mother," he said, "Uncle means most kindly. He sendstwenty pounds, you see, and says that that is for immediatenecessities; so I have no doubt he means to help to get my outfit, orat any rate to advance money, which I can repay him out of my salary.The letter is rather stiff and businesslike, of course, but I supposethat's his way; and you see he asks about your income, so perhaps hemeans to help for the girls' education. I should go away very happy,if I knew that you would be able to get on comfortably. Of course it'sa long way off, Mother, and I should have liked to stay at home, to bea help to you and the girls; but one can't have all one wishes. As faras I am concerned, myself, I would rather go out as a writer there,where I shall see strange sights and a strange country, than be stuckall my life at a desk in London.
"What is Uncle like?"
"He is a short man, my dear, rather stiff and pompous, with a verystiff cravat. He used to give me his finger to shake, when I was achild, and I was always afraid of him. He married a most disagreeablewoman, only a year or two before I married, myself. But I heard shedied not very long afterwards;" and so Mrs. Marryat got talking of herearly days and relations, and was quite in good spirits again, by thetime her daughters returned from school; and she told them what shewas now coming to regard as the good fortune which had befallen theirbrother.
The girls were greatly affected. They adored their brother, and thethought that he was going away for years was terrible to them. Nothingthat could be said pacified them in the slightest degree, and they didnothing but cry, until they retired to bed. Charlie was much affectedby their sorrow; but when they had retired, he took his hat and wentout to tell the news of his approaching departure to some of hischums.
The next day, Mrs. Marryat wrote thanking her uncle for his kindness,and saying that Charlie would go round to London by the packet whichsailed on the following Monday; and would, if the wind were fair andall went well, reach London on the Wednesday.
School was, of course, at once given up, and the girls also had aholiday till their brother's departure. When the necessary clotheswere ordered, there was little more to do; and Charlie spent the time,when his boy friends were in school, in walking with the girls alongthe shore, talking to them of the future, of the presents he wouldsend them home, and of the life he should lead in India; while atother times he went out with his favourite schoolfellows, and joinedin one last grand battle with the smack boys.
On Monday morning, after a sad farewell to his family, Charlieembarked on board the Yarmouth Belle, a packet which performed thejourney to and from London once a fortnight. She was a roomy lugger,built for stowage rather than speed, and her hold was crammed and herdeck piled with packages of salted fish. There were five or six otherpersons also bound for London, the journey to which was, in thosedays, regarded as an arduous undertaking.
As soon as the Yarmouth Belle issued from the mouth of the river, shebegan to pitch heavily; and Charlie, who from frequently going outwith his father in the revenue cutter, was a good sailor, busiedhimself in doing his best for his afflicted fellow passengers. Towardsevening the wind got up, and shifting ahead, the captain droppedanchor off Lowestoft. The next morning was finer, and the YarmouthBelle continued her way. It was not, however, till Thursday afternoonthat she dropped anchor in the Pool.
Charlie was soon on shore, and giving his trunk to a porter, desiredhim to lead the way to Bread Street, in which his uncle resided; forin the last century, such things as country villas were almostunknown, and the merchants of London for the most part resided in thehouses where they carried on their business. Keeping close to theporter, to see that he did not make off with his trunk, for Charliehad received many warnings as to the extreme wickedness of London, hefollowed him through the busy streets, and arrived safely at hisuncle's door.
It was now dusk, and Charlie, on giving his name, was shown upstairsto a large room, which was lighted by a fire blazing in the hearth.Standing with his back to this was a gentleman whom he at oncerecognized, from his mother's description, as her uncle, although hewas a good deal more portly than when she had seen him last.
"So you are my grandnephew," he said, holding out what Charlieconsidered to be a very limp and flabby hand towards him.
"Yes, Uncle," Charlie said cheerfully; "and we are very much obligedto you, Mamma and I, for your kindness."
"Humph!" the old gentleman grunted.
"And how is it," he asked severely, "that you were not here yesterday?My niece's letter led me to expect that you would arrive yesterday."
"We came as fast as we could, Uncle," Charlie laughed; "but of coursethe time depends upon the wind. The captain tells me that he has beenas much as three weeks coming round."
Mr. Tufton grunted again as if to signify that such unpunctuality wasaltogether displeasing to him.
"You are tall," he said, looking up at Charlie, who stood half a headabove him, "and thin, very thin. You have a loose way of standing,which I don't approve of."
"I'm sorry I'm loose, sir," Charlie said gravely, "if you do notapprove of it; but you see, running about and playing games make onelissome. I suppose, now that's all over and I am going to spend mytime in writing, I shall get stiffer."
"I hope so, I hope so," Mr. Tufton said encouragingly, and as ifstiffness were one of the most desirable things in life. "I like tosee young men with a sedate bearing.
"And you left my niece and grandnieces well, I hope?"
"Quite well, thank you, sir," Charlie said; "but, of course, a gooddeal upset with parting from me."
"Yes," Mr. Tufton said; "I suppose so. Women are so emotional. Nowthere's nothing I object to more than emotion."
As Charlie thought that this was probably the case, he was silent,although the idea vaguely occurred to him that he should like toexcite a little emotion in his uncle, by the sudden insertion of apin, or some other such means. The silence continued for some littletime, and then Mr. Tufton said:
"I always dine at two o'clock; but as probably you are hungry--I haveobserved that boys always are hungry--some food will be served you inthe next room. I had already given my housekeeper orders. No doubt youwill find it prepared. After that, you may like to take a walk in thestreets. I have supper at nine, by which hour you will, of course,have returned."
Charlie, as he ate his meal, thought to himself that his uncle was apompous old gentleman, and that it would be very hard work getting onwith him, for the next three weeks. However, he consoled himself bythe thought:
"Kind is as kind does after all, and I expect the old gentleman is notas crusty as he looks."
Charlie had handed to Mr. Tufton a letter which his mother had givenhim, and when he returned from a ramble through the streets, he foundthat gentleman sitting by the fire, with lights upon a small tablebeside him. Upon this Mrs. Marryat's letter lay open.
"So you have soon become tired of the s
treets of London, Grandnephew!"he said.
"There is not much to see, sir. The lamps do not burn very brightly,and the fog is coming on. I thought that, if it grew thicker, I mightlose my way, and in that case I might not have been in at the hour younamed for supper."
"Humph!" the other gentleman grunted. "So your mother has taught youto be punctual to meals. But, no; boys' appetites teach them to bepunctual then, if never at any other time.
"And why, sir?" he asked severely, "Did my niece not write to mebefore?"
"I don't know, sir," Charlie said. "I suppose she did not like--thatis, she didn't think--that is--"
"Think, sir! Like, sir!" said his uncle. "What right had she either tothink or to like? Her duty clearly was to have made me acquainted, atonce, with all the circumstances. I suppose I had a right to saywhether I approved of my grandnieces going tramping about the world asgovernesses, or not. It isn't because a woman chooses, by her folly,to separate herself from her family, that they are to be deprived oftheir rights in a matter of this kind. Eh, sir, what do you say tothat?" and Mr. Tufton looked very angry, indeed.
"I don't know, sir," Charlie said. "I have never thought the matterover."
"Why, sir, suppose she had made you a tinker, sir, and you turned outa thief, as likely as not you would have done, and you'd been hung,sir, what then? Am I to have such discredit as this brought upon me,without my having any option in the matter?"
"I suppose not, sir," Charlie said. "I hope I shouldn't have turnedout a thief, even if I'd been a tinker; but perhaps it was because mymother feared that this might be the case, that she did give you theoption."
His uncle looked at him keenly; but Charlie, though with somedifficulty, maintained the gravest face.
"It is well she did so," Mr. Tufton said; "very well. If she had notdone so, I should have known the reason why. And you, sir, do you likethe thought of going to India?"
"Yes, Uncle, I like the thought very much, though I would rather, if Imay say so, have gone as a cadet."
"I thought so," Mr. Tufton said, sarcastically. "I was sure of it. Youwanted to wear a red coat and a sword, and to swagger about thestreets of Calcutta, instead of making an honorable living andacquiring a fortune."
"I don't think, sir," Charlie said, "that the idea of the red coat andsword entered into my mind; but it seemed to me the choice of a lifeof activity and adventure, against one as a mere clerk."
"Had you entered the military service of the Company, even if youdidn't get shot, you could only hope to rise to the command of aregiment, ranking with a civilian very low down on the list. Thestupidity of boys is unaccountable. It's a splendid career, sir, thatI have opened to you; but if I'd known that you had no ambition, Iwould have put you into my own counting house; though there, thatwouldn't have done either, for I know you would have blotted theledger, and turned all the accounts topsy-turvy.
"And now, sir, supper is ready;" and the old gentleman led the wayinto the next room.
Upon the following day Charlie was introduced, by his uncle, to thedirector who had given him his nomination, and was told by him thatthe board would sit upon the following day, and that he must call atthe India House, at eleven o'clock. The ordeal was not a formidableone. He was shown into a room where eight or ten elderly gentlemenwere sitting round a large table. Among these was his friend of theday before. He was asked a question or two about his age, his father'sprofession, and his place of education. Then the gentleman at the headof the table nodded to him, and said he could go, and instructionswould be sent to him, and that he was to prepare to sail in the LizzieAnderson, which would leave the docks in ten days' time, and that hewould be, for the present, stationed at Madras.
Much delighted at having got through the ordeal so easily, Charliereturned to his uncle's. He did not venture to penetrate into thelatter's counting house, but awaited his coming upstairs to dinner, totell him the news.
"Humph!" said his uncle; "it is lucky they did not find out what afool you were, at once. I was rather afraid that even the two minuteswould do it. After dinner, I will send my clerk round with you, to getthe few things which are necessary for your voyage.
"I suppose you will want to, what you call amuse yourself, to see thebeasts at Exeter Change, and the playhouses. Here are two sovereigns.Don't get into loose company, and don't get drinking, sir, or out ofthe house you go."
Charlie attempted to express his thanks, but his uncle stopped himabruptly.
"Hold your tongue, sir. I am doing what is right; a thing, sir, JoshuaTufton always has done, and doesn't expect to be thanked for it. All Iask you is, that if you rob the Company's till and are hung, don'tmention that you are related to me."
After dinner was over, Charlie went out under the charge of an oldclerk, and visited tailors' and outfitters' shops, and found that hisuncle's idea of the few necessaries for a voyage differed very widelyfrom his own. The clerk, in each case, inquired from the tradesmenwhat was the outfit which gentlemen going to India generally took withthem, and Charlie was absolutely appalled at the magnitude of theorders. Four dozen shirts, ten dozen pairs of stockings, two dozensuits of white cotton cloth, and everything else in proportion.Charlie in vain remonstrated, and even implored the clerk to abstainfrom ordering what appeared to him such a fabulous amount of things;and begged him, at any rate, to wait until he had spoken to his uncle.The clerk, however, replied that he had received instructions that thefull usual outfit was to be obtained, and that Mr. Tufton neverpermitted his orders to be questioned. Charlie was forced to submit,but he was absolutely oppressed with the magnitude of his outfit, tocarry which six huge trunks were required.
"It is awful," Charlie said to himself, "positively awful. How much itwill all come to, goodness only knows; three or four hundred pounds,at least."
In those days, before steam was thought of, and the journey to Indiawas often of six months' duration, men never came home more than oncein seven years, and often remained in India from the day of theirarrival until they finally retired, without once revisiting England.The outfits taken out were, therefore, necessarily much larger than atthe present time, when a run home to England can be accomplished inthree weeks, and there are plenty of shops, in every town in India,where all European articles of necessity or luxury can be purchased.
After separating from the clerk, Charlie felt altogether unable tostart out in search of amusement. He wandered about vaguely tillsupper time, and then attempted to address his uncle on the subject.
"My dear Uncle," he began, "you've been so awfully kind to me, that Ireally do not like to trespass upon you. I am positively frightened atthe outfit your clerk has ordered. It is enormous. I'm sure I can'twant so many things, possibly, and I would really rather take a muchsmaller outfit; and then, as I want them, I can have more things outfrom England, and pay for them myself."
"You don't suppose," Mr. Tufton said sternly, "that I'm going to havemy nephew go out to India with the outfit of a cabin boy. I orderedthat you were to have the proper outfit of a gentleman, and Irequested my clerk to order a considerable portion of the things to bemade of a size which will allow for your growing, for you look to meas if you were likely enough to run up into a lanky giant, of six feethigh. I suppose he has done as I ordered him. Don't let me hearanother word on the subject."
