The Second G.A. Henty

by G. A. Henty

  “Of course,” he went on, “if you are suddenly told that you are to be given to any one, you must slip out at once, and come here. You will find everything ready for you to disguise yourself, and you must do that at once, and wait here till one of us comes. Even if you are missed, it will be some time before any search is made, and it would be thought much more likely that you had gone down into the town, than that you were hiding in the Palace, so there would be no chance of their looking for you here before we return. Anyhow, we shall be able to have another talk before Tippoo comes back. We shall be here every morning until nine, and if you are able to get away again, come and see us.

  “It will be better, perhaps, for you not to wait any longer, now. I suppose you have been charged with some message or other, and it would not do for you to be too long gone.”

  The girl stood up at once.

  “I have to go down to the Pettah, to get some sewing silk to match this;” and she drew out a small fragment of yellow silk.

  “Very well, then. You had better go and do it, or they may think that you are too long away.

  “Goodbye, Annie. I hope that in another week, or ten days at the latest, I shall have you out of this;” and he held out his hand to her.

  She took it timidly, and would have raised it to her forehead, but Dick said, laughing:

  “That is not the way, Annie. English girls don’t treat their friends as if they were lords and masters. They just shake hands with them, as if it were two men, or two girls.”

  “I shall know better, in time,” she said, with a faint smile, though her eyes were full of tears. “I want to do something, though I don’t know what. You saved my life from the tiger, and now you are going to save me again. I should like to throw myself down, and kiss your feet.”

  “You would make me horribly uncomfortable, if you did anything of the sort, Annie. I can understand that you feel strange and out of your element, at present, but you will soon get over that, when you come to know me better.

  “There, goodbye, lassie. I hope to see you again, tomorrow or next day, and then you will be able to tell me more about yourself.

  “Is the coast clear, Surajah?”

  Surajah looked out through the curtains.

  “There is no one in sight,” he said, a moment later.

  The girl passed silently out, and went down the corridor. Surajah returned from his post by the door.

  “The poor girl is shy and awkward, as yet,” Dick said, “but I think she will be plucky enough, when the time comes. You heard what we said. The first thing will be to get her disguise ready for her. What do you think? Had we better take Ibrahim with us? I think he is to be trusted.”

  “I am sure he is,” Surajah agreed. “He is a Hindoo of Coorg, and was carried away as a slave, six years ago. In the first place, he will be delighted at the prospect of getting away; and in the next, I am sure that he is very fond of you. But there is no occasion to tell him that you are English.”

  “No, it will be time enough to do that when we get over the ghauts. It will be better that he should get the disguise. In the first place, he will know exactly what is wanted; and in the next, it would look rum for either of us to be buying such a thing. Of course, we could ask Pertaub to get it for us, but if we take Ibrahim with us he may as well buy it.

  “We shall want a couple more horses. These, of course, we can buy ourselves, and saddles and things. When we have got them, we had better leave them at some place on the other side of the river. Pertaub would help us, there. He is sure to know someone who will look after them for a few days. Then Ibrahim and the girl can start together, go over there and saddle them, so as to be in readiness to mount, directly we come along. We will stop at the wood and dig up the caskets. There is nothing like taking them away with us, when there is a chance, and it is not likely that we shall come back to Seringapatam again—it would be like putting our heads into a tiger’s den.”

  When Ibrahim brought in the dishes for their meal, Dick said:

  “Go down and get your own food, Ibrahim, and when you have done come back here again. I want to have a talk with you.”

  They had just finished their meal, when Ibrahim returned.

  “Ibrahim, would you be glad of a chance of getting away from here, and returning to your own country?”

  “I would have given anything to do so, my lord,” Ibrahim said, “before I was ordered to attend upon you. But I am happy now. You are kind to me, and I should not like to leave your service.”

  “But if I were going too, Ibrahim?”

  “Then, my lord, I would go with you anywhere, if you would take me.”

  “Well, Ibrahim, we feel sure that we can trust you, and so I may tell you that I think it likely we shall, very shortly, go away. You know what the sultan is. One day he gives you honours and rewards, the next he disgraces you, and perhaps sends you into the ranks of the army, perhaps has you thrown to the tigers. We do not care to live under such conditions, and we mean, in a few days, to slip away and go to our friends down the ghauts. You can come with us, if you like.”

  “I would go with you to the end of the world, my lord,” Ibrahim exclaimed earnestly. “To go with you and be a free man, and not a slave, would be almost too great happiness.”

  “Very well, then, that is settled. Now, Ibrahim, we are not going alone. We are going to take with us a young white slave in the harem, and restore her to her friends. I want you to get a disguise for her. Let it be a dress like your own—long white trousers to the ankle, a shirt and tunic with waist belt, also the stuff for a turban. That you must wind in proper folds, as she would not be able to do it herself. I also want a bottle of stain for the skin.”

  “I will get them, my lord. How tall is she?”

  “About half a head shorter than you are. She is about the size of an average Hindoo woman.”

  “Shall I get the things at once, my lord?”

  “Yes, you had better get them today. We may leave at any time, and it is as well to have them in readiness. We shall buy two horses, one for each of you, and have them taken across the river. You can ride, I suppose?”

  “Yes; I used to ride when I was a boy, before Tippoo came down and killed my father and mother, and brought me up here. Will my lord want me to take the horses across?”

  “I will tell you that in the morning, Ibrahim. We are going down into the town, now, to inquire about them, but we shall not buy any until tomorrow, as we shall have to make arrangements for them to be kept for us, until we want them.”

  They did not go out until it was dark, and then took their way to Pertaub’s house. The old Hindoo was in.

  “I am glad to see you, Sahibs,” he said to Dick, as they entered. “I have always fears that ill may, in some way, befall you.”

  “We are going to leave, Pertaub. Surajah had, two days ago, to go up to see four English prisoners put to death at one of the hill forts. Next time I may be ordered on such a duty. I could not carry it out, and you know that refusal would probably mean death. Moreover, we are convinced that we have no means, here, of finding out what captives may still be in Tippoo’s hands, and have therefore determined to leave. We are going to take with us our servant, Ibrahim, who is a slave from Coorg; and will, we know, be faithful to us; and also a young English girl who has, for eight years, been a slave in Tippoo’s harem. She will go with us in the disguise of a boy. This Ibrahim is getting for us. We are going to buy a couple of horses for them, and shall make straight down the ghauts, where I shall leave the girl in my mother’s care.”

  “It is a good action,” the Hindoo said gravely.

  “Now, in the first place, Pertaub, would you like to go with us? Riding as we shall do, as two of the officers of the Palace, it is not likely that any questions whatever will be asked, and certainly we shall have no difficulty until it comes to crossing the frontier.”

  “No, Sahib. I thank you, but I am too old, now, for any fresh change. I have friends here, and have none below t
he ghauts. Nothing save the rescue of my daughter from the harem would induce me to move now, and of that there is little chance. She will, by this time, have become reconciled to her fate, and would probably not care to escape, were an opportunity offered to her. Besides, with only me to protect her, what would she do elsewhere? A few months, and she might be left alone in the world.”

  “As to that,” Dick said, “I could promise her the protection of my aunt, the wife of the Rajah of Tripataly. After the kindness that you have shown to us she would, I am sure, gladly take her into her service. And there would be no difficulty about a dowry for her. I would see to that.”

  The old man shook his head.

  “There could be no question of marriage,” he said; “but should I ever hear from her that she is unhappy, and I can arrange to fly with her, I will assuredly avail myself of your offer, and take her to Tripataly; rejoiced indeed that, at my death, there will be a shelter open to her.

  “And now, can I aid you in any way, Sahib? One of my friends, a merchant, could get the horses for you without difficulty. He has often occasion to buy them, for the purposes of his trade.”

  “Thank you, Pertaub. I had intended to buy them myself, but doubtless it will be safer for somebody else to do so. What I was going to ask you was to let me know of some place, on the other side of the river, where the horses could be kept until I want them.”

  “That I can do, Sahib. I have a friend, a cultivator. His house stands by itself on this side of the first village—the one half a mile beyond the ford. It is the only house this side of the village, so you cannot mistake it. It lies about a hundred yards back from the road. I will go over and arrange with him that, when two horses arrive, they shall be placed in his stalls, and remain there until one arrives who will say to him, after greeting, the word ‘Madras’. To him he is to deliver the horses at once, whether he comes by night or day.”

  “That would do admirably, Pertaub. Of course, I shall also want saddles and bridles. How much do you think it will come to, altogether? I do not want showy horses, but they must be animals capable of performing a long journey, and of travelling at a fair rate of speed—the faster the better. We are likely to get seven or eight hours start, at least; but must, of course, travel fast. As long as all goes well, I shall keep the main roads, but if there is a breakdown, or an unforeseen accident occurs, I may have to leave the road and take to bypaths.”

  “The cost of such horses would be about eighty rupees each; the saddles and bridles another fifteen or twenty.”

  “Then here are two hundred rupees, Pertaub.”

  “Have you given up all hope of finding your father, Sahib? I have felt so sure that you would be successful. It seemed to me that such brave efforts could not go unrewarded.”

  “No, Pertaub, I have not given it up, at all. I intend to stay at Tripataly for a fortnight, with my mother, and shall then come up the ghauts again.

  “That is another matter I want to speak to you about. Of course, we should not dare to return to Seringapatam, and I think that we had better settle to go to Bangalore. Could you forward our packs, with the merchandise, to someone in that town?”

  “There will be no difficulty in that, Sahib. There are many Hindoo merchants there, who have been forced to change their religion, and who have frequent dealings with traders here. One of my friends will, I am sure, forward your goods with the next consignment that he sends to Bangalore. That, also, I will arrange tomorrow, and when you come in the evening will give you the name of the trader there, together with a letter from the one here, telling him that you are the person to whom the goods are to be given up.”

  “Thank you, Pertaub. I don’t know what we should have done, without your assistance.”

  “It has been a pleasure, to me, to be of use to you, Sahib. I had thought my time of usefulness was over, and it has given a real pleasure to my life to have been able to aid you. You will let me know, Sahib, if ever you find your father?”

  “Certainly, Pertaub. I will, in any case, send word to you, either that I have found him, or that I have given up all hope and have abandoned my efforts.”

  The next morning a lad brought Dick a message, from Pertaub, that he had fulfilled all his commissions; and on the following morning, Annie Mansfield again came to Dick’s room.

  “Everything is going on well, Annie,” Dick said, as he shook hands with her. “The horses have been bought. There is your disguise in that corner, and we can start any moment, at a quarter of an hour’s notice.

  “Now, I want you to tell me how you came to be brought up here.”

  “I have not much to tell,” she said. “You see, I was only six years old. I can remember there was a great deal of firing of guns, and that lasted for a long time. Then the firing stopped. I suppose the place surrendered.”

  “Do you know what place it was, Annie?”

  She shook her head.

  “I do not know at all. I suppose I did know, then, but I do not remember ever to have heard the name. I remember quite well that there were soldiers, and Father and Mother, and servants, and many other people, and everyone was very miserable, and we all went together out of a gate, and on each side there were a great many natives with guns and swords, some on horse and some on foot; and there were elephants. I don’t think I had ever seen one before, for I noticed them particularly. We went on and on, and I know one of the soldiers carried me.

  “At night we stopped somewhere. I think it was in a wood, and there were fires, and we lay down to sleep on the ground. Then I woke up suddenly, and there was a great noise and firing of guns, and someone caught me up and threw something over my head, and I don’t remember anything more, for a long time. I know that presently I was on horseback, before a fierce-looking man. There were a good many of them, and when I cried for my father and mother, they said they would cut off my head if I were not quiet.

  “I do not know how long we were travelling, but after the first day there was only the man who carried me, and another. I was brought here, and there were many people, and I was very much frightened. Then I found myself only among women, and they took off my clothes and dressed me in their fashion. I think I was very happy, when I once got accustomed to it. The ladies made a sort of pet of me, and I was taught to dance and to sing little native songs. There were other white girls here, and they were all very kind to me, though they always seemed very sad, and I could not make out why they cried so often, especially when they were beaten for crying.

  “As I grew bigger, I was not so happy. I had ceased to be a plaything, and little by little I was set to work to sweep and dust, and then to sew, and then to do all sorts of work, like the other slave girls. The other white girls gradually went away, the oldest first. The last two, who were two or three years older than I was, went about three years ago.

  “At first, I used to wonder why they cried so when they went, and why the others all cried, too; but by the time the last two left, I had come to know all about it, and knew that they had been given by the sultan to his favourite officers.

  “There were many white men here, when I first came. When I went out with one of the slaves, into the town, I saw them often. Sometimes they would burst into tears when they saw me. Then I used to wonder why, but I know now that I must have reminded them of girls of their own, whom they would never see again. Then, till three years ago, there were about twenty white boys who had been taught to dance and sing, and who used to come sometimes, dressed up like women, to amuse the ladies of the harem; but I heard that they were all killed, when the sultan first thought that the English might come here. One of the slave girls told me that it was done because the sultan had often sworn, to the English, that there were no white captives here, and so he did not wish that any should be found, if they came.

  “I don’t think that I have anything else to tell you.”

  “Well, I hope that what you have told me will be enough to enable us, some day, to find out who you belong to. Evidently you wer
e in some place that was besieged, eight years ago, and had to surrender. The garrison were promised their lives and liberty to depart. They were attacked at night by an armed party, who may have been Hyder’s horsemen, but who were perhaps merely a party of mounted robbers, who thought that they might be able to take some loot. Most likely they were defeated, especially as you saw no other captives in the party, but in the confusion of the night attack, one of them probably came upon you, and carried you off, thinking you would be an acceptable present here, and that he would get a reward for you from the sultan.

  “Are you not noticed, when you go into the streets on errands?”

  “No; I always go veiled. Except the slaves who are old and ugly, all the others wear veils when they go outside the Palace, and we all wear a red scarf, which shows we are servants in the harem; and so, even when the town is full of rough soldiers, no one ventures to speak to us.

  “Now tell me, Dick—you see I have not forgotten—all about how you came to be here.”

  Dick told her, briefly, how he had come out with his mother; and how, finding war had broken out, he had joined the army; and how, at the end of the war, having been able to learn nothing about his father, he had come up with Surajah to search for him.

  “And then you saw that tiger break in,” the girl said, eagerly. “That was dreadful. I will tell you how it was the tiger came to seize me. I was standing behind a lady, and could not see anything. Suddenly they all began screaming, and ran, some to one side, some to the other, of the window; and I, who could not think what was the matter, remained where I was, when there was a great cry, and before I had time to move, or even to wonder, some great thing knocked me down. It was only from the screams of the ladies, and their cries of ‘Tiger!’ that I knew what had happened. I felt something heavy standing on me—so heavy that I could hardly breathe; and indeed, I did not try to breathe, for I knew many stories of tigers, and had heard that sometimes, when a man shams being dead, the tiger will walk away and kill someone else.

  “The tiger was keeping up an angry growl, and I felt that, unless it took its paw off me, I should soon die, when I heard a shot, and a fierce growl from the tiger, and then the weight was gone, and I think I fainted. When I came round, I was lying where I fell, for many of the ladies were insensible, and everyone was too busy with them to think anything of me.