by G. A. Henty
A week later the party journeyed down to Madras, where they stayed for a fortnight. Dick, on his arrival, called upon the governor, who congratulated him most heartily when he heard that he had succeeded in finding and releasing his father, and at once appointed him to one of the native cavalry regiments; and his parents had the satisfaction of seeing him in uniform before they started. Annie showed but little interest in the thought of going to England, and being restored to her parents, being at the time too much distressed at parting from Dick to give any thought to other matters. But at last the goodbyes were all said, and, as the anchor was weighed, Dick returned on shore in a surf boat, and next day joined his regiment.
Surajah had wanted to accompany him to Madras, and to enlist in any regiment to which he might be appointed; and the assurance that it might be a long time before he became a native officer, as these were always chosen from the ranks, except in the case of raising new regiments, had little influence with him. The Rajah, however, had finally persuaded him to stay, by the argument that his father, who was now getting on in years, would sorely miss him; that the captain of the troop would also be retiring shortly; and that he should, as a reward for his faithful services to his nephew, appoint him to the command as soon as it was vacant. Ibrahim entered the Rajah’s service, preferring that to soldiering.
CHAPTER 21
Home
It was early in December, 1792, that Dick Holland joined his regiment, which was stationed at Madras. There were but five other officers, and Dick found, to his satisfaction, that the junior of them had had four years’ service. Consequently, he did not step over any one’s head, owing to his commission being dated nearly three years previously. As there were, in the garrison, many officers who had served on the general staff in the last war, Dick soon found some of his former acquaintances, and the story of his long search for his father, and its successful termination, soon spread, and gained for him a place in civil as well as military society.
The next year passed peacefully, and was an unusually quiet time in India. That Tippoo intended to renew the war, as soon as he was able, was well known to the government, and one of its chief objects of solicitude was the endeavour to counteract the secret negotiations that were constantly going on between him, the Nizam, and the Mahrattis.
Tippoo was known to have sent confidential messengers to all the great princes of India—even to the ruler of Afghanistan—inviting them to join the confederacy of the Mahrattis, the Nizam, and himself, to drive the English out of India altogether. Still greater cause for uneasiness was the alliance that Tippoo had endeavoured to make with the French, who, as he had learned, had gained great successes in Europe; and, believing from their account that their country was much stronger than England, he had sent envoys to the Mauritius, to propose an offensive and defensive alliance against England. The envoys had been politely received, and some of them had proceeded to France, where Tippoo’s proposal had been accepted. They committed France, indeed, to nothing, as she was already at war with England; but the French were extremely glad to embrace the proposal of Tippoo, as they overrated his power, and believed that he would prove a formidable opponent to the English, and would necessitate the employment of additional troops and ships there, and so weaken England’s power at home. To confirm the alliance, some sixty or seventy Frenchmen, mostly adventurers, were sent from the Mauritius as civil and military officers.
Tippoo’s council had been strongly opposed to this step on his part. They had pointed out to him that their alliance, with a power at war with the English, would render war between the English and him inevitable; and that France was not in a position to aid them in any way. The only benefit, indeed, that he could gain, was the possibility that the fourteen thousand French troops, in the service of the Nizam, might revolt and come over to him; but even this was doubtful, as these were not troops belonging to the French government, but an independent body, raised and officered by adventurers, who might not be willing to imperil their own position, and interests, by embarking on a hazardous war at the orders of a far-distant government.
These events happened soon after Dick’s return, but nothing was generally known of what was passing, although reports of Tippoo’s proceedings had reached the government of India. The party of Frenchmen arrived at Seringapatam and were, at first, well received by Tippoo. But they had soon disgusted him by their assumption of dictatorial powers; while they, on their part, were disappointed at not receiving the emoluments and salaries they had expected. Most of them very speedily left his service. Some of the military men were employed at Bangalore, and other towns, in drilling the troops, and a few remained at Seringapatam, neglected by Tippoo, whose eyes were now open to the character of these adventurers. But this in no way shook his belief that he would obtain great aid from France, as he had received letters from official personages there, encouraging him to combine with other native powers, to drive the English out of India, and promising large aid in troops and ships.
When the Earl of Mornington—afterwards the Marquis of Wellesley—arrived at Calcutta as Governor General of India, in May 1798, the situation had become so critical that, although war had not been absolutely declared on either side, Tippoo’s open alliance with the French rendered it certain that hostilities must commence ere long; and Lord Mornington lost no time in proceeding to make preparations for war. As Lord Cornwallis had done, he found the greatest difficulty in inducing the supine government of Madras to take any steps. They protested that, were they to make any show of activity, Tippoo would descend the ghauts, and at once ravage the whole country; and they declared that they had no force whatever that could withstand him. They continued in their cowardly inactivity until the governor general was forced to override their authority altogether, and take the matter into his own hands.
The first step was to curb the Nizam’s power, for everything pointed to the probability that he intended to join Mysore, being inclined so to do by Tippoo’s promises, and by the influence of the officers of the strong body of French troops in his service. Negotiations were therefore opened by Lord Mornington, who offered to guarantee the Nizam’s dominions if he would join the English against Tippoo, and promised that after the war he should obtain a large share of the territory taken from Mysore.
The Nizam’s position was a difficult one. On one side of him lay the dominions of his warlike and powerful neighbour, Tippoo. On the other he was exposed to the incursions of the Mahrattis, whose rising power was a constant threat to his safety. He had, moreover, to cope with a serious rebellion by his son, Ali Jah.
He was willing enough to obtain the guarantee of the English against aggressions by the Mahrattis, but he hesitated in complying with the preliminary demand that he should dispense with the French. The fighting powers of this body rendered them valuable auxiliaries, but he secretly feared them, and resented their pretensions; which pointed to the fact that, ere long, instead of being his servants, they might become his masters. When, therefore, the British government offered him a subsidiary force of six battalions, and to guarantee him against any further aggression by the Mahrattis, he accepted the proposal; but in a half-hearted way, that showed he could not be relied upon for any efficient assistance in disarming his French auxiliaries.
No time was lost, by the government, in marching the promised force to Hyderabad. The French, 14,000 strong, refused to disband, and were joined by the Nizam’s household force, which was in the French interest. The Nizam, terrified at the prospect of a contest, the success of which was doubtful, abandoned the capital and took refuge in a fortress, there to await the issue of events; but positively refused to issue orders to the French to disband. Two of the English battalions, which were on the other side of the river to that on which the French were encamped, opened a destructive fire upon them, and with red-hot shot set fire to their magazines and storehouses, while the other four battalions moved into position to make a direct attack.
The Nizam now saw that he had no
alternative but to declare openly for the French, or to dismiss them. He preferred the latter alternative. Peron, who commanded the French, saw that unless he surrendered, the position of his force was desperate. Accordingly, on receipt of the order, he and his officers expressed their readiness to accept their dismissal. Their men were, however, in a state of mutiny, and the officers were compelled to make their escape from the camp under cover of night. The next morning the camp was surrounded by the English and the troops of the Nizam, and the French then surrendered without a shot being fired.
While the Nizam was thus rendered powerless, negotiations had been going on with the Mahrattis; but owing to the quarrels and jealousies of their chiefs, nothing could be done with them. It was, however, apparent that, for the same reason, Tippoo would equally fail in his attempt to obtain their alliance against us, and that therefore it was with Mysore alone that we should have to deal.
In the meantime, though preparing for war, Lord Mornington was most anxious to avoid it. When Tippoo wrote to complain that some villages of his had been occupied by people from Coorg, the governor general ordered their immediate restoration to him. In November he sent the Sultan a friendly letter, pointing out that he could look for no efficient aid from France, and that any auxiliaries who might possibly join him would only introduce the principles of anarchy, and the hatred of all religion, that animated the whole French nation; that his alliance with them was really equivalent to a declaration of war against England; and, as he was unwilling to believe that Tippoo was actuated by unfriendly feelings, or desired to break the engagements of the treaty entered into with him, he offered to send an officer to Mysore to discuss any points upon which variance might have arisen, and to arrange a scheme that would be satisfactory to them both.
To this letter no answer was received for five weeks, by which time Lord Mornington had arrived at Madras. He then received a letter containing a tissue of the most palpable lies concerning Tippoo’s dealings with the French. Two or three more letters passed, but as Tippoo’s answers were all vague and evasive, the governor general issued a manifesto, on the 22nd of February, 1799, recapitulating all the grievances against Mysore, and declaring that, though the allies were prepared to repel any attack, they were equally anxious to effect an arrangement with him.
But Tippoo still believed that a large French army would speedily arrive. He had received letters from Buonaparte in person, written from Egypt, and saying that he had arrived on the borders of the Red Sea, “with an innumerable and invincible army, full of the desire to deliver you from the iron yoke of England.” Tippoo well knew, also, that although the governor general spoke for himself and his allies, the Nizam was powerless to render any assistance to the English, and that the Mahrattis were far more likely to join him than they were to assist his foes.
The manifesto of Lord Mornington was speedily followed by action, for at the end of January an army of nearly 37,000 men had been assembled at Vellore. Of these some 20,000 were the Madras force. With them were the Nizam’s army, nominally commanded by Meer Alum, but really by Colonel Wellesley—afterwards Duke of Wellington—who had with him his own regiment, the 33rd; 6,500 men under Colonel Dalrymple; 3,621 infantry, for the most part French troops who had re-enlisted under us; and 6000 regular and irregular horse.
Dick, who had now attained the rank of captain, had been introduced by one of Lord Cornwallis’s old staff officers to General Harris, who, as general of the Madras army, was in command of the whole. On hearing of the services Dick had rendered in the last war, and that his perfect acquaintance with the language, and with the ground over which the army would pass, would enable him to be equally efficient on the present occasion, General Harris at once detached him from service with the regiment, and appointed him to a post on his own staff.
Had it not been that Dick had seen, for the last two years, that hostilities must ere long be commenced with Tippoo; he would, before this, have left the army and returned home. He was heartily tired of the long inaction. When the regiment was stationed at Madras, life was very pleasant; but a considerable portion of his time was spent at out stations, where the duties were very light, and there was nothing to break the monotony of camp life. He received letters regularly from his mother, who gave him full details of their home life.
The first that he received merely announced their safe arrival in England. The second was longer and more interesting. They had had no difficulty in discovering the address of Annie’s father, and on writing to him, he had immediately come up to town. He had lost his wife, on his voyage home from India, and was overjoyed at the discovery of his daughter, and at her return to England.
“He is,” Dick’s mother wrote, “very much broken in health. Annie behaved very nicely. Poor child, it was only natural that, after what you did for her, and our being all that time with her, the thought of leaving us for her parent, of whom she had no recollection, was a great grief. However, I talked it over with her, many times, and pointed out to her that her first duty was to the father who had been so many years deprived of her, and that, although there was no reason why she should not manifest affection for us, she must not allow him to think, for a moment, that she was not as pleased to see him as he was to welcome her. She behaved beautifully when her father arrived, and when he had been in the house five minutes, and spoke of the death of his wife, his bitter regret that she had not lived to see Annie restored to them, the loneliness of his life and how it would be brightened now that she was again with him, his words so touched her that she threw herself into his arms, and sobbed out that she would do all she could to make his life happy. He had, of course, received the letter we had written to him from Tripataly, and quite pained me by the gratitude he showed for what he called my kindness to his daughter.
“He said that, by this post, he should write to endeavour to express some of his feelings to you. Annie went away with him the next day, to a place he has bought near Plymouth. He has promised to let us have her for a month, every year, and we have promised to go down for the same time, every summer, to stay with her. He asks numberless questions about you, which neither I nor Annie are ever tired of answering. Even with a mother’s natural partiality, I must own that her descriptions are almost too flattering, and he must think that you are one of the most admirable of men.
“Next as to the jewels. Your father took them to be valued by several diamond merchants, and accepted the highest offer, which was 16,000 pounds, of which he has already invested twelve, in your name, in shares in six ships. Four of these are Indiamen. The other two are privateers. He said that he did not think you would object to a quarter of the money being put into a speculative venture, and that they were both good craft, well armed and well commanded, with strong crews; and would, if successful, earn as much in a year as a merchantman would in ten.”
Since then the letters had been of a uniform character. The shares in the Indiamen were giving a good and steady return. The privateers had been very fortunate, and had captured some rich prizes. Annie had been up, or they had been down at Plymouth. The letters during the last three years had reported her as having grown into a young woman, and, as his mother declared, a very pretty one. After that the allusions to her were less frequent, but it was mentioned that she was as fond of them as ever, and that she was still unmarried.
“She always asks when you are coming home, Dick,” Mrs. Holland said, in the last letter he had received before accompanying General Harris to Vellore. “I told her, of course, that your last letter said that war was certain with Tippoo; that you hoped, this time, to see Seringapatam taken and the tyrant’s power broken; and that after it was over you would come home on leave and, perhaps, would not go out again.”
During the six years that he had been in the army, Dick had very frequently been at Tripataly, as there was little difficulty in getting leave for a fortnight. His cousins had now grown up into young men, Surajah commanded the troop, and his stays there were always extremely pleasant. Th
e troop now numbered two hundred, for with quiet times the population of the territory had largely increased, and the Rajah’s income grown in proportion. The troop was now dressed in uniform, and in arms and discipline resembled the irregular cavalry in the Company’s service, and when Dick arrived at Vellore he found his uncle and cousins there with their cavalry.
“I thought, Dick, of only sending the boys,” the Rajah said, “but when the time came for them to start, I felt that I must go myself. We have suffered enough at the hands of Mysore, and I do hope to see Tippoo’s capital taken, and his power of mischief put an end to, for good and all.”
“I am glad, indeed, that you are coming, Uncle. You may be sure that, whenever I can get away from my duties with the general, I shall spend most of my time in your camp, though I must occasionally drop in on my own regiment.”
The Rajah had already been down to Madras a month before, and with his sons had been introduced to General Harris, by the latter’s chief of the staff, as having been always, like his father before him, a faithful ally of the English, and as having accompanied Lord Cornwallis on the occasion of the last campaign in Mysore. The general had thanked him, heartily, for his offer to place his two hundred cavalry at the disposal of the government, and had expressed a hope that he, as well as his sons, would accompany it in the field.
On the 11th of February, 1799, the army moved from Vellore, but instead of ascending by the pass of Amboor, as had been expected, it moved southwest, ascended the pass of Paliode, and on the 9th of March was established, without opposition, in Tippoo’s territory, at a distance of eighty miles east of his capital. They then marched north, until they reached a village ten miles south of Bangalore. This route, although circuitous, was chosen, as the roads were better, the country more level, and cultivation much more general, affording far greater facilities for the collection of forage for the baggage animals.
