The Dilemma/Chapter XX

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The Dilemma - Chapter XX
by George Tomkyns Chesney
1584388The Dilemma - Chapter XXGeorge Tomkyns Chesney

CHAPTER XX.

For Next day was a busy one. From before dawn a gang of coolies, working under orders of the commissioner's jemadar, were engaged in filling the bags brought from the adjacent treasury, with earth obtained from a shallow trench dug in the lawn, while water-carts were employed to loosen the hard-baked soil; another party were cutting down the shrubs and bushes in the garden, and an army of tailors from the bazaar were squatting on the veranda floor, sewing bags to supplement the supply already available. Soon the space between the veranda pillars began to be blocked up with the first courses of a strong barrier designed to be seven feet high, loop-holed, and bullet-proof. "You see, my friend," said Yorke, in Hindustani, to the native officer whom he had brought with him, nominally to superintend the operation — "if the roughs in the city rise, the court-house would be a difficult position to hold against a mob, even with my gallant sepoys. So we will retire with the treasure into this post until the regiments from cantonments march to our help." The old soobahdar raised his hand to his cap, and observed, gravely, that the European gentlemen were famous for their skill in military science; and Yorke did not care to pursue the conversation.

While they were thus engaged Falkland and Sparrow rode up, with half-a-dozen mounted orderlies behind them, returning from a ride through the city.

"We have been upholding British rule, you see, as long as it lasts," said Falkland, dismounting; "but the roughs are beginning to show their teeth, are they not, Sparrow? and, what is worse, there were some sepoys in the bazaar, out of uniform, whose manner was most insolent. However, I think we read them a lesson this once, if it was the last time — didn't we. Sparrow?" he added, smiling; and indeed, from the expression on that gentleman's countenance, it seemed as if the morning ride had certainly been exciting.

Yorke longed to ask some question about Olivia, when just then she appeared in the veranda, and invited them to come inside and take some tea. The room into which they followed her, now cut off from the outside air, was hot and stuffy, and filled with the dust thrown up by the work going on outside; the punkah-puller, dispossessed of his usual post in the veranda, was squatting in the room; the servants were moving the furniture, and, among the general disorder, Olivia, dressed in a light morning robe, seemed alone to retain the calm and orderly appearance of other days. Yorke noticed the expression of anxiety that overcame Falkland's face as he looked at his wife; but she seemed determined to express no fear, and, as they drank their tea, every one avoided the subject which was uppermost in their thoughts. As for Yorke, he felt quite angry with himself as he returned to his work, at finding how small a place was now occupied in his mind by the luxury of grief.

The commissioner made a show of doing business in the court-house in the afternoon — driving over as usual for form's sake in his carriage, although the distance was but a few yards. "I hear," said he, taking Yorke aside, before going into court, and after he had spoken a few words of exhortation to the native officers and the guard, "and the information seems reliable, that the regiment left behind in cantonments last night, the 80th, will certainly rise, although the time is not fixed: they are in communication with your regiment and the other one which has marched away. My police in the city are utterly rotten and ready to join. The nawab, who is behaving admirably, notwithstanding strong pressure put on him from the other side, may be able to keep the city quiet with his people; but I doubt it. I have about twenty men I can depend on altogether. But on the other hand, a note has just been brought by a runner, from across the river, to say that they are keeping things square over there, and that a Sikh regiment is under orders for this; it maybe here in a week. Meantime I hope we shall be able to hold the residency. Everything depends on whether the sepoys attack us or march off for Delhi."

Another weary day was passed by Yorke, in the court-house, marked only by heat and suspense, and which seemed as if it would never come to an end. Towards evening a residency servant came over with refreshments and ice sent by Olivia, and brought a note in pencil from Falkland. "The rising is fixed for tonight. I have this from two quarters. Be on your guard. Your men will certainly join. Do nothing to precipitate it; but whenever your men declare themselves, and you can do no good by stopping, make your way over here as fast as you can."

So then the supreme moment was come at last; was it to be his fate to be shot down unresisting, as so many others had been already? or might he have the bitter happiness of at least making a fight for it, and dying in defence of his idol, like a gallant soldier? "What a fool I was," he thought, "never to have bought a revolver while I had the chance!"

Thus musing, and in a state of highly-wrought expectancy, the young man sat in the waiting-room of the court-house, sipping his iced water to keep down the choking sensation in his throat, and making believe to eat the dinner which his servant had placed before him. Then, as it grew dark, he put on his sword, and mustered the men for evening roll-call, inspected the guard, and went the round of the sentries. There was nothing in the manner of the sepoys to indicate that any movement was intended; but he noticed that, on going off duty, they did not strip to their waist-cloths, as would have been usual, but dressed themselves in their light tunics, and that they wore turbans instead of their ordinary cotton skull-caps. This looked bad; but it seemed useless to say anything.

By-and-by Yorke lay down on his bed before the tent — this time, however, fully dressed — and as he looked around him, the unlovely baked-up landscape, lighted up by the young moon, seemed to have new charms. Was he looking on it for the last time?

With his head on the pillow, he could watch the men, and he observed that, although quite quiet, none of them lay down to sleep; nor did they appear to be smoking, but sat talking in little groups in a low tone.

But nature will assert itself, even when a man is expecting death; and while thus lying, and, as he thought, on the alert, Yorke fell into a doze, from which he was suddenly awoke by the sound of a cannon.

Was it the morning gun in cantonments, four miles off?

It was the cantonment gun, but not the morning gun; it was the gun at midnight — the signal for the outbreak.

Yorke started to his feet.

The sepoys, too, sprang to seize the muskets piled before their tents, and began to fall in. Yorke advanced towards them, for it was light enough to see what had happened, calling out in Hindustani, "What are you doing, sepoys? Are you mad, to behave like this?"

There was a stir among them, and several muskets were pointed at him; but while the old soobahdar stood irresolute, others ran forward and surrounded him. At first he thought they meant to kill him, but their movement was really to protect him from the rest.

"There will be no harm done you," said they; "but it is of no use to resist." And hardly understanding how it came about, Yorke found himself half led, half hustled, into the residency park, when the men suddenly left him standing alone, and returned to their fellows.

So then the crisis was over; and he had done his duty and yet got off with his life — thus far faring better than many a comrade in the like case.

Just then he was startled by a man coming up to him out of the darkness, who turned out to be one of the residency servants, who had been watching the affair, and told him he would find the commissioner at the house.

Falkland was standing on the steps of the portico, with Sparrow, Maxwell, the jemadar, and some half-dozen servants armed with muskets.

"So," said Falkland, grasping his hand warmly, as Yorke explained briefly what had happened, "my information has turned out true. The scoundrels have behaved well so far, in letting you off without injury, and it looks as if they meant to go away quietly."

"What is the next thing to be done?" asked Yorke.

"Nothing but to wait upon events. If the sepoys march upon the city and us, we have only too sell ourselves as dearly as possible; there are four of us behind a breastwork, and I think I can depend on these good fellows" — pointing to the servants who stood in the portico; "but if they go off, as I expect they will, we may yet be able to keep order in the city. The fugitives from cantonments will be here shortly, if they have succeeded in getting away. But do you go inside for a moment; you will find some one there very rejoiced to see you."

In the dining-room, dimly lighted by a single lamp, Yorke found Mrs. Falkland standing alone. "Oh, my friend!" she exclaimed, advancing and holding out both hands to greet him; "so you are safe. We have passed a dreadful time here, knowing the danger you were in, and so close to us all the time; but my husband said nothing could be done to help you, but that you must be left to face it alone. Oh! if only the others can be saved in the same way!" There was a smile on her face, pale and anxious though it looked; and to Yorke, returning to join the others outside, it seemed, as he felt that her greeting was warmer than would have been earned by a lifetime of ordinary neighbourhood, that even the mutiny was not without its compensations.

Everything was still and quiet within the park.

Falkland and Yorke went out to reconnoitre.

Advancing across the lawn, and looking over the park wall towards the court-house, they could hear men's voices in the still night.

"It is your men looting the treasury," said Falkland; "they evidently mean to go off with the money. So far good."

And indeed, in a few minutes the detachment marched past them, along the road outside the wall, so close that they could distinguish the old native officer marching at the head of the column. In the middle was a cart, laden no doubt with the plunder. They were evidently marching to join the mutineers in cantonments.

"If they take the road," whispered the colonel, "they will meet the fugitives from cantonments, and not let them off so cheaply as they did you. I have got some of the nawab's horsemen patrolling the road, but they are not to be depended on. Ride after them, Yorke; Kathleen is ready saddled in the stable hard by. See which way they go. If they go by the road you can head them and warn all the fugitives you meet to turn aside till they are past. But probably the rogues will take a short cut across the plain to the native lines."

Yorke did as he was bid, and rode after the sepoys, keeping a little way behind them, and off the hard road, so that they might not hear the horse's steps. In a short time he came back to the residency, whither Falkland had now returned, announcing that the men had turned off the road as he expected, and made straight for the native part of the cantonments. So far well; the fugitives coming up the road would not be molested.

Presently the night was lighted up by a bright glare, increasing every minute. The bungalows in cantonments and the deserted barracks were being fired. Soon it became almost as light as day, although the fires were four miles off, and from the roof of the house the blaze could be seen high above the trees, as one after another the great thatched buildings shot into flames.

Still everything remained quiet about the residency. One or two of the small party patrolled the building; the armed attendants sat on the portico steps; Olivia on the roof watched, awestruck, the conflagration. Then the stillness of the night was broken by the sound of wheels, and a carriage driven at full gallop entered through the gates, and came up the avenue to the outside of the portico, ingress underneath being prevented by the sand-bag barrier.

It was the brigadier's carriage; the old gentleman was helped out by Mrs. Polwheedle, and came limping up the steps. Sundry boxes also were handed up.

"Oh, Colonel Falkland!" gasped the lady, "the life we have been leading since the European troops went away. I don't think I could have stood another day of it; and the servants so impudent too. I'll pay them out, the rascals, if ever I get a chance. I thought we never should have escaped; and when the gun fired, the brigadier wanted to mount his horse and go down to the native lines, but I would not hear of it. It was his duty, he said, to go and see what he could do to stop the outbreak. He was on the sick list, and must obey my orders, I said. Duty, indeed! to go and get shot by those infernal blackguards, and with the carriage all ready too. So here we are. We were attacked on the road by a couple of horsemen; but I held out a pistol at them, and they sheered off, just as they were coming down on us."

"It is just as well you did not fire," said Falkland, "for I suspect they were some orderlies of mine sent out to patrol the road, and warn you if there was danger ahead."

Soon other fugitives arrived in haste and flurry; Captain Buxey in his buggy, Major and Mrs. Peart and their daughter in a carriage, the bazaar-sergeant's East-Indian wife with a couple of children, a Mustaphabad shopkeeper, and later on several officers of the 80th on horseback. There had been no regular attack on the European residents; on the signal-gun being fired, the sepoys of the 80th (the regiment left at Mustaphabad) had turned out and formed on parade, a few of them only leaving the ranks and opening a desultory fusilade towards their front into the darkness. The officers of the regiment, whose horses were ready saddled, had hastened down to the lines from their respective bungalows; but being received with threats and this dropping fire, had turned and ridden slowly off to the residency, whither the other residents had already, at the sound of the firing, made their way.

All the Europeans known to be at the station were now accounted for, except the colonel of the 80th and the bazaar-sergeant. Some of the officers thought they had seen the former in the darkness making for the parade, but had lost sight of him. The bazaar-sergeant, as his wife related, had sent her and the children off in his pony-carriage, and said he would go down and try to keep things straight in the bazaar.