The Dilemma/Chapter XXII
CHAPTER XXII.
Still no news of succour or from distant stations; and the preparations for defence were pushed forward earnestly under the influence of a growing belief that they would be needed. And, in the afternoon, came tidings of a disturbance in the city. The nawab's brother had raised the flag of rebellion, all the so-called troops in the nawab's pay had joined, the minister had been assassinated, and the nawab was a prisoner in his own palace. Falkland rode out again with some dozen of the officers, but nothing could be done. The police had disappeared or fraternized with the rebellion, and as they rode into the main street, the party was greeted with a straggling fire from the end and the houses on both sides, due apparently in part to the new levy, which had gone over with its arms. "Not a single loyal man among them," said Falkland, bitterly, as he gave the order to retire, himself slowly bringing up the rear; "not one honest man except the nawab himself; and it would be hardly wonderful if the poor little man were to go with the tide too, and purchase his liberty by proclaiming himself independent. He can hardly be very sorry to see the English down on their luck; their friendship for him has not conduced much to his prosperity."
"I believe the nawab is at the bottom of this himself," said Sparrow to the officer next to him, as he pushed along at speed out of the town, at the head of the little cavalcade, "for all his pretences about coercion. I do believe he means to assert his independence again, and to take advantage of the mutiny to try and get back his country again. These native princes are capable of any villany."
They got back safely to the residency, but it seemed to the members of the baffled party as if, notwithstanding the dangers so many of them had gone through already, they had not realized till now the full crisis of the situation. So long as the city was open, there was at least the semblance of British power remaining; but now Falkland's authority was limited to his own house and grounds, and as if to mark the current of native opinion, several of his numerous servants were now missing. Almost the last message sent to him by the murdered minister was to inform him that the three regiments of mutineers had halted on their way to Delhi, and were in communication with the nawab's brother, who was urging them to return, and stamp out the last remnant of English government left in this part of the country; if they should take this course, instead of marching on to join the other mutineers, they might be expected by morning, and only a few hours remained for final preparation.
"Is there not still time to escape?" asked Brigadier Polwheedle, lying on a sofa in one of the side rooms, as Falkland explained to him the state of things. "The road is yet open to the eastward; could we not still make our way to the hills, the ladies and myself in carriages, and the rest on horseback, before the sepoys return." We shall only be murdered if we stop; what can a handful of men like us do against three or four thousand? Besides, resistance will only infuriate the sepoys against us."
"I do not see why we should not keep off fifty thousand, for the matter of that," replied the other, "so long as food and ammunition hold out. The place is perfectly musket-proof; the rebels have got no guns, and they will never dare to come at us across the open. We are good for a week at least, and by that time there ought to be relief."
"You must go without me, brigadier, if you do go," said Mrs. Polwheedle, who had entered the room through the open door while this conversation was going on; "for nothing on earth shall induce me to trust myself a single yard out of the place, and among these treacherous natives, now we are here." And Brigadier Polwheedle did not pursue his proposition for a retreat. But after the commissioner had left the room to give some orders he said, "I think, my dear, I had better go on the sick list, and let Falkland take the command regularly."
"Give up the command!" cried the lady, as she stood beside the couch on which he was reclining; "why should you be such a fool as to do that? Why, it's the very thing you have always been declaring you wanted to have, a command on service. Why, if you go on the sick list, you will be of no more account than that missionary fellow, and me not much more neither. No, brigadier, don't you talk of such nonsense, for I won't hear of such a thing."
"Well, but, my dear, you see I can't get about, or be of much use ——"
"And who wants you to be of much use?" interrupted the lady; "you don't want to walk about here — and for the matter of that, there isn't any place to walk to, unless it's into the drawing-room. You can give your orders just as well lying here as if you had nothing at all the matter with your leg."
"But I don't feel fit to give any orders; what with the heat, and all the excitement and responsibility, my head feels quite giddy and confused; and then my eyes, too, are so inflamed," — and as he said this, the poor old gentleman again dipped a cloth into the basin of water beside the sofa, and applied it to his forehead.
"Never mind, old man," said his wife kindly, stooping down and patting him on the shoulder; "you will be better in a day or two, I daresay. You just lie quietly here and agree to what Falkland proposes, and he will look after everything. You can give advice, too, you know, if you like; but don't you give up commanding, whatever you do. Why, the government will make ever so much of you when the reinforcements arrive."
Meanwhile Falkland was assembling the little garrison, for such it might now be styled, outside the building. To the officers he explained the circumstances of the case; that the return of the three sepoy regiments was now imminent, and that the place must be defended till relief arrived, which might be expected in about a week, for which time there was sufficient store of ammunition and food. Then turning to the small detachment of faithful sepoys, he gave the same explanation in Hindustani, and praising them for their fidelity and stanchness under the great temptation they had undergone, he now gave them — under the brigadier's authority, he said — permission to withdraw before the blockade should begin. Any man who liked to go was free to return to his home, and should take a certificate of his good conduct and promise of promotion, to be produced hereafter when the country was resettled.
There was silence for a brief space after this harangue, while the group of officers behind Falkland surveyed anxiously the faces of the little line of sepoys confronting him, stolid and unmoved under this harangue. Then the corporal stepped out with his musket at the "advance," and rapping it with his left hand after the mode of saluting in those days, said simply, "We will stay here, sahib," and then stepped back again to his place.
Many of the officers would have liked to shake hands with the gallant fellows, but anything like demonstration was withheld, from a feeling that to treat them more familiarly than usual would look as if bidding unfairly for their services. Falkland merely said, "Well done, sepoys! I did not expect any other reply," — and dismissed the detachment.
Then he assembled his servants, or rather the remnant of them, about a dozen, told them what was coming, and that those who wanted to go were at liberty to take themselves off, and were invited to do so openly. Those who elected to stay should receive double wages, and the families of any who might be killed a pension. They, too, all declared their willingness to stand by their master; but some of them spoke in a sulky, hesitating way, as if they did not mean it.
Only a short time now remained for final preparations. The fortification of the house was now as complete as it could be made; the last thing to be done was to demolish the servants' houses, a long range of sheds extending along the north-east side of the park. The roofs, of wood covered with thatch, were set on fire, and the walls partially pulled down; but the tenacious mud bricks resisted the efforts of the small working party, and the demolition was incomplete. The stables were treated in the same way. The horses, a large number of which were now collected in the place, were sent away with their grooms in charge of the jemadar's brother, to be kept at his home in a village about thirty miles off, three only being retained, Falkland's Irish mare, his wife's Arab, and Yorke's gallant grey, which were brought under the portico and picketed there. "Another sacrifice to appearances," said Falkland to Yorke, looking on at the demolition; "if I had done my duty, these stables should have been razed to the ground a week ago. They will give the enemy cover, if we really are to be besieged."
"It must be nearly three hundred yards from the house, sir," replied the young man; "Pandy won't do much execution at that distance. Sparrow's house is in more dangerous proximity; I wish we were going to occupy that as an advanced post."
"Had we known that the garrison would be reinforced in this way by your gallant sepoys, the thing might have been done; but there is not time now to store it, and after all we shall not be too many to hold the main building properly."
That evening all of the party who were not on picket-duty assembled for supper in the large dining-room, where the table was laid with a semblance of order, the grey-bearded old butler standing behind the chair at the end of it, dressed in white as usual; and a person in ignorance of what had happened, looking on the scene, would have been puzzled to account for what was fantastic about it. The room was dimly lighted, and the fare was frugal in kind and limited in quantity, for the supply of food must be husbanded; but champagne-bottles were on the table, for Falkland said that the stock of that wine had better be drunk first; and although the garb of the officers was peculiar, most of them being in any garments they could borrow, and all wearing swords and pistols or revolvers in their belts, the ladies were dressed in the ordinary way — Mrs. Falkland in a robe of white, which seemed as fresh as if just put on, while the folds of her rich brown hair were as neat as ever. Nor was conversation wanting. The certainty of coming dangers was felt to be a relief from the suspense of the last few days. To those who had been fugitives, their present position, after the perils they had escaped, seemed comparatively one of security. They were rested, and their appetite appeased, and the spirit of youth asserted itself. To all, the sense of numbers and the firmness of purpose imparted by Falkland's bearing gave courage, and good-natured jests at the situation freely circulated. The party were in fact quite merry.
Yorke sat next to Olivia. The latter had been about to take her usual place at the head of the table when stopped by Mrs. Polwheedle. "I suppose we must consider this a garrison mess, now, my dear. I brought a lot of things with me in the carriage when we came — your butler has got the most of them; and so, I believe, did Buxey. We must all contribute what we can, without ceremony; I am sure I for one could not think of letting the commissioner provide everything. The brigadier ought to be at the head of the table, of course, if he could come, but perhaps in his absence it would be better if I took his place — don't you think so?" and so saying, the lady sat down in the chair, and Mrs. Falkland, with a gentle smile, moved aside and took a place at the side, next to Yorke as it happened, who hastened to place a chair for her, feeling for the time as if even the mutiny were cheaply undergone, since it procured him such favour. During the last two days they had scarcely exchanged a word, but Olivia had greeted him with such kindly smiles, whenever his duties had brought him into her presence, as the youngster felt to be more than a recompense for anything he had done. He hoped nothing, and expected nothing; but to be received by her on the footing of a trusted friend, as he felt himself now to be, seemed sufficient happiness for such a one as him.
"You are eating nothing, Mrs. Falkland," he said. "You ought to take something; this may be our last quiet meal before — before business begins."
"No, thank you. Eating seems impossible just now;" and then correcting herself, as she noticed that her neighbours were busily disproving the assertion, she added, "but then I have not earned any supper. I feel terribly useless here — simply an additional source of anxiety to all of you."
"Don't say that, pray," said the young man, eagerly, "The feeling that we have to defend you will give the best stimulus to the defence. But I wish you were a thousand miles off," he added, "for all that. What a pity Colonel Falkland did not insist on your going away while there was a chance! However, it is too late for regret now."
"Is that a kind wish, to wish I should be from my husband, and leave him to go through this peril alone? It is selfish to wish to be here, I know, for we add to your troubles and anxieties, and of course you would rather that we were out of the way."
"Don't say that!" cried the young man with fervour; "and yet I don't mean it. Of course we should like you to be saved from this peril and discomfort, and all that; but I feel as if I could fight with tenfold vigour when I know that I am trying to defend you from harm."
"Thank you," she said, simply; "I think I must try and find my husband, and get him to have something to eat: he allows himself neither rest nor food;" and so saying, Olivia rose, while Yorke felt ashamed of himself for having talked like a braggart. It would be time enough to speak about what he could do when he had the opportunity of actually showing: himself a soldier. And for a few moments the young man sat oblivious of the scene, almost of the fact that his late companion was no longer a maiden, repeating, as he had been wont to do, each word of his scanty conversation with her, when recalled to the reality of life by the voice of Mrs. Polwheedle saying to her next neighbour, "Just ask young Yorke to pass that stew that is before him." That lady apparently considered that a state of siege did away with the need for using prefixes to surnames.