Jones of the 64th: A Tale of the Battles of Assaye and Laswaree

CHAPTER XVII
Owen makes an Effort

Two days passed slowly for Owen in his prison, and during that time the tedious hours were broken only by the half-hour when he was marched to an adjoining room and ate his meal in the presence of the three other imprisoned officers. However, on the third afternoon after his arrival at Indore an event occurred which roused him from the lethargy which was beginning to come over him. All was still in the noonday heat, and the city of Indore seemed to be asleep. The clatter and hum of the populace had died down, for the people were following a custom in favour with the Spaniards and were indulging in a siesta. In the palace there was not a sound to be heard, while in the tower in which he was a prisoner nothing occurred to break the silence. Owen stood at the window listless and dispirited, and if the truth be told, almost asleep, when suddenly the faint sound of a distant footstep attracted his attention.

"The jailer," he thought; "but why is he coming now? It is his custom to bring me food and water just before the sun goes down. It is strange that he should be here now. Perhaps he is about to make a surprise visit, for he is creeping up the stairs."

He tiptoed across to the door of his cell and listened eagerly. He could hear the almost silent footfall as the man ascended the stairs, and presently the hollow noise given out by the corridor outside as people came along it.

"He is sneaking along by the wall. I don't like this visit," thought Owen. "I wonder what he wants?"

A minute later it was clear that the man outside was within a foot of his door, and as he listened Owen could hear his deep and hurried breathing, which made it appear as if he had come up the long flight of steps two at a time. Then there was a movement of a shoe, a hand went to the lock and tried it, and then the door was shaken ever so gently. Owen eased his sabre in its scabbard, for he had even now not been disarmed. Then he dropped on hands and knees and placed his ear close to the floor. Next second he leaped to his feet with a cry of joy, for a voice called to him.

"Sahib! Sahib! Is the sahib Cornet Jones there?"

"Here! I am here, Mulha!"

The breathing was even deeper and quicker outside, and Owen heard a sigh of relief. Then the voice came even more distinctly, for Mulha, his faithful servant, had placed his lips close to the crack where the door closed.

"Master, master," he said in eager, trembling tones, "they have brought the troopers together again. They and their horses are quartered just outside the courtyard, and they have orders to move to-morrow. Yes, on the morrow they are to ride back to the General. I have seen the message which they are to carry. Holkar will make war with the British, and will kill you first so that there shall be good cause. I have seen it, sahib, I say."

The poor fellow could hardly continue, for the very mention of such a fact unmanned him. His voice trembled even more, and Owen heard a sound as of a man who has only just succeeded in choking down a sob.

"Hush!" he whispered through the narrow crevice. "I'm still alive, and will give some trouble before I am killed, Mulha. Tell me more, and look carefully at the bolts. Can you loosen them?"

"Alas! sahib, there are two locks, and I have no implements. More than that, the approach to the tower is so carefully watched that I have obtained admission by the merest chance. The man on duty fell asleep as he watched, and I slipped past him. But I will try later as the evening comes, though there is little hope. Sahib, what can we do?"

"Nothing. You cannot help me. I must escape by my own efforts, and I will do so. Tell me, Mulha, where are you quartered, so that I can find you if I manage to break out?"

"I am with the troopers, minding your horse and mine," came the answer. "It is a long, low building to the right, just outside the courtyard. Sahib, the door is double-locked, and how can you escape? To-night they will murder you. I have made sure of that. These miscreants will kill you, and so make cause for war."

At that the poor fellow who was so attached to Owen broke down, and the prisoner could hear his sobs. He tapped on the door to arrest the noise, and whispered again.

"Tell the men to be ready at any time," he said quietly. "If it is possible I will escape. Let them wait and be ready. Where are the guards stationed?"

"At the foot of the stairs, sahib, at the main entrance and at the exit from the courtyard. As for the troopers, they are free to move about in their quarters, but they are watched. We have seen men hovering about. This white officer too," – Owen heard his servant grind his teeth as he spoke of the French colonel, – "sahib, I tell you that he watches every movement and every one of the guards. I have seen him in the courtyard, and I have heard him threaten death to any who allowed his prisoner to escape. Beware, sahib! This man bears you but evil friendship, and would slay you. Who knows, it may be his doing that these orders have been given to the troopers, for here in Indore he commands. Holkar is beneath his thumb, and an order from this white fiend is obeyed as if he were an emperor indeed. Hush! I hear some one moving. We will wait, sahib!"

Even Owen behind his prison door could hear the far-off sound of a step, and therefore could not feel surprise when the sounds outside told him that Mulha had moved away. However, in a moment or two he was back, and his voice was heard again.

"Farewell, sahib," he whispered. "We will wait. I believe that you will escape. If not, rest assured, we will avenge you."

He was gone. Owen could hear his faint footfall as he slipped down the stairs. Then followed silence, complete silence, broken after a little while by the awakening noises from the city outside.

"Forewarned!" said Owen as calmly as he could, though his heart beat more forcibly now that he had heard Mulha's news. "So they will murder me, and make that a cause for war, as if there was not enough already! Ah! I know whom I have to thank for this! It is the Frenchman; but why? Why?"

Why indeed? Had our hero devoted himself to elucidating the reason for such display of malice for a week or even more he would have been no nearer the answer. The fact remained that Colonel Le Pourton had taken a sudden and none too friendly interest in him, and, moreover, appeared to be in some manner connected with his earlier history. What was there which could possibly make this English youth – a poorhouse boy, a beggar almost till friends came forward to help him – an enemy to be feared by one in such high command as this French colonel? And yet —

"He fears me, and he knows something of my earlier history. His conscience hurts him perhaps. Who knows, he may have been the very one who arranged for my abduction, for I was certainly stolen when I was a child. But a Frenchman! It seems impossible."

Owen looked at the matter from all sides, and could not fail to see the unlikelihood of this man having had anything to do with him in former days; for, as he had just said, Colonel Le Pourton was a Frenchman, and we had been at war with his country for a long while. True, there had been a truce every now and again, even in India, where the two nations had been struggling the one against the other. English possessions had been captured and handed back again at the end of hostilities, and the same could be said of Pondicherry and other French holdings. It was possible that this Frenchman had known, in times of peace, some of the British officers, and then —

"What is the good of worrying about the matter?" thought Owen peevishly. "My life is of far more value to me than is this matter, and I will leave it. Now, how to escape? I will get away if it is possible. But how?"

He went over to the window again and stood there, leaning against the wall and staring down at the streets beneath. And as he did so he noted the surroundings of the palace, the courtyard below with its outer gates, the sentries stationed there, magnificent men of Holkar's bodyguard. And outside the very building to which Mulha had alluded. Yes, and as he looked there was the figure of the faithful servant entering the quarters allotted to his comrades. Owen waved his hand to him, and Mulha, happening to look up at his window, as he had done many a time in the last few hours without doubt, wondering behind which his master lay a prisoner, saw the signal and answered it. Then he disappeared, and our hero saw no more of him. He followed the courtyard round to its limits, and then traced the walls which surrounded the palace. They were evidently part of the defences of the town, and were armed with heavy guns, some of brass and some of iron, and all of large proportions.

"That is certainly the largest I have ever seen in my life," thought Owen as his eye lit on one piece of gigantic size which towered over the others. "Its muzzle must be a couple of feet across."

This, in fact, was the case, and the gun in question almost rivalled in size another which was captured later in this campaign in Agra – a gun so huge that a man could easily slide into the barrel. But Owen's attention was soon taken up by other matters, and for a long while he stood there, unmindful of what he saw, planning an escape. The sun sank, the last which he was to see if Colonel Le Pourton could have his way, and the short twilight lit up the city of Indore, its palace, its minarets, and its squalid hovels. The sounds in its streets died down, while close to the gates the gathering throng showed that the country-folk were about to return to their homes. They were filing through the massive entrance to Indore, and he could see a thin stream of carts and pedestrians moving away into the distance. And gradually the gloom deepened, the light disappeared, and night fell with characteristic suddenness – perhaps Owen's last. The hour approached for his assassination, and at the thought he shuddered. Then his courage revived, and the very imminence of his danger spurred him on and made him reckless of danger and difficulty, willing to attempt anything.

"We shall see," he said, as his teeth closed together. "This Holkar and his French friend shall see. They have not killed me yet, and – "

He broke off suddenly and once more tiptoed across to the door, for away down below came the slither of a sandal and the well-known step of the jailer. He was coming up the stairs, and very soon he was close to the prisoner's door. He stopped, and Owen heard the clink of the platter which carried his evening meal against the stone chatti containing his allowance of water.

"My evening meal," he thought. "He will come in and place the things on the floor, and then leave at once without a word, and with only a shake of his ugly head and an oath if I ask a question. A pleasant fellow indeed, and just the one to carry out this assassination of which I have been warned. He'll go, and that is the last time I shall be disturbed till he or others come on behalf of the Frenchman."

Suddenly his breath came faster and deeper, for a thought had struck him, and he realised that, since to break out of his prison was impossible, then the only way now was to throw himself upon his keeper; and that individual was now about to pay his last evening visit. It was now or never, and in an instant his determination was taken. He changed his position slightly, and stood so that when the door opened he would be behind it. The locks grated; he heard the man swear as he struggled with the key, for one hand was filled. But in a moment the fastening was undone and the door swung open, while the jailer, taking the platter in one hand and bearing the chatti in the other, stepped into the cell. A cry escaped him, for up to now Owen had always stationed himself at the window.

"What! Gone! Escaped!"

The man's jaws opened in his consternation, while the chatti dropped from his hand and crashed to the floor, splintering there and scattering the contents. Then his wits returned, and he suddenly remembered to look behind the door. In an instant his mouth opened wide to give vent to a shout of rage and astonishment, for the prisoner stood there with drawn sabre in his hand. But the sound never left his lips, for as his eye fell upon the figure of the prisoner Owen leaped forward and, putting all his force into the blow, struck the man full in the face with the hilt of his weapon. There was a sickening crash, and then the clatter of the plate as it smashed on the floor. As for the Mahratta guard, he fell like an ox struck true and sure with a pole-axe, and lay stunned and helpless on the floor.

"The first step towards liberty," said Owen grimly, sheathing his sabre. "And now to get away. I must not delay, and yet I must not spoil all by undue hurry. Of course the only sensible thing to do is to take this fellow's clothes."

That such a course was advisable could not be gainsaid, and he set to work to carry out the change without delay or hesitation. And presently he was a Mahratta in appearance and dress, save that his skin was too light. However, a handful of dust from the floor remedied that defect, and with his sabre hooked to his belt and his pistol beneath his quilted jacket he was ready. He stooped and looked carefully at the jailer.

"A broken nose at any rate," he said, as he observed the man's injuries, "and for my part I have no hesitation in saying that he richly deserves it. He is stunned, and I fancy will lie insensible for some little while. I'll lash his hands behind him and make him fast to that ring in the wall."

He set to work on a portion of the jailer's waist-cloth, and tore it into long shreds which he knotted together. When he had a piece of sufficient length he turned the man on his face and lashed his hands firmly, afterwards dragging him to the ring and making the tail end of the improvised rope fast there. He had now done all that was possible, and therefore, taking the bunch of keys which the Mahratta carried at his belt when he entered, Owen coolly left the cell, carefully shut and bolted the door after him, and having shot the locks stood in the passage thinking and listening.

"What of the other prisoners?" he said to himself. "They are somewhere in this tower, though I believe on another story. No. They say that they are in no immediate danger, while their imprisonment is no affair of mine. Had they been taken with me it would have been a different matter. I must leave them, for to attempt their rescue would be to throw away all chance of escape. Here goes!"

Never before had he been in disguise, but he was a lad who took the trouble to observe, and whose interest in life and people was so great that he was not content to think of himself and his own appearance alone, as is the case with some smaller minds, but noted the ways and appearance of all strangers, seeing the difference between their actions, their walk, their manner of sitting, and a thousand and one other matters which might have escaped the eye of one less wide awake. And now, thanks to that very power of observation, he fell into the characteristic light step of a Mahratta unconsciously, holding himself proudly erect as was the wont of the soldiers and servants of the mighty Holkar. He jingled the keys in his hand, and since it was useless to stand there at the top of the stairs, he descended, two steps at a time, as his jailer was accustomed to do. And very soon he was at the foot, in the big hall which gave access to the courtyard, and at his elbow was the sentry, a tall fellow wearing a steel head-piece. In the distance, suspended from the roof, was a lamp of Eastern manufacture, which shed a faint light over the place, and for an instant fear of recognition caused Owen to hesitate. But it happened that a strong night breeze had got up, and this playing into the hall and upon the lamp caused the flame to flicker and cast fitful shadows on the walls. The sentry turned to face Owen, stared at him intently, and then shouldered his pike, giving a nod of recognition.

"You will be making another journey, brother," he said in low tones, for it was well for Holkar's guards to refrain from disturbing him. "I heard the chatti and the platter fall to the ground, and I suppose you will be returning. It is the last meal which he will ever take. He is well, I hope; but did you strike him? I thought I heard the sound of a blow also."

Owen stamped his foot as the man spoke, and swore in Mahratti. Turning his head, he placed his hand to his ear and growled out a reply.

"Speak not to me of the dog," he said angrily. "The fellow commanded me to set him free, and struck me to make me let him pass. That was the cause of the breakage. But he will be careful next time. I dealt him a blow in return which will keep him silent till – "

"Till his hour comes, comrade. Hah! hah! These Feringhee dogs will all pay the price for their arrogance. But, hus-s-sh! Holkar is within."

"Then I will go. Heed not the noise upstairs should the prisoner call. Let the dog lie and hunger till to-night."

Owen went across the hall holding his hand to his ear, and boldly stepped down into the courtyard. It was empty save for the sentry standing erect and alert at the gate, and Owen was in the very act of crossing to him to bid him open when a thought struck him.

"If this fellow, the French colonel, is so anxious about my safety in the cell it is just possible that he has given orders that none are to leave the palace," he thought. "This man might then suspect, for as the jailer I ought to know all about the order. Hm! That is an unpleasant thought."

While he pondered on the matter he wandered away across the courtyard, and presently found himself on the wide ledge which ran along behind the wall defending the palace. It was in semi-darkness, for though a small crescent of the moon was up, clouds filled the sky and obscured the light. And here he remained for some minutes, thinking deeply and starting nervously at every sound. Suddenly a door opened at the side of the palace, some thirty yards behind him, and a flood of light poured out, illuminating a portion of one of Holkar's gardens. Owen crouched beneath one of the brass cannon beside which he happened to have been standing, and then lay flat on his face, for the figure which emerged was that of Colonel Le Pourton. He stood silhouetted against the brightly illuminated archway of the door for some few seconds, and then he strode across to the courtyard with the step of a man who has a matter of some importance to carry out. Owen followed carefully, his body close to the wall, shrouded in the dense darkness which existed there. And very fortunate for him was it that he did so; for as the Colonel came to the main entrance of the palace Owen heard him call to the sentry.

"It is time the jailer took food to the prisoner," he cried. "Bid him come to me ere he does so, for I desire to go to the cell and speak with the white man. I will return to my quarters now. Bid him come there to summon me."

And faintly the answer came back, "My lord, the prisoner is fed, and the man you ask for gone some little time. He went into the courtyard, and I have not seen him since."

The Frenchman growled out at the reply, and swinging round went to the man stationed at the outer gate, of whom he demanded whether he had seen the jailer.

"I did, some little while ago now, my lord," came the answer, while the courtyard rang with the sound of the man's pike as he grounded it on the flags. "He went across this place and on to the wall yonder, where he is now without doubt, for there is no way out and he has not returned. Unless he slipped past against the far wall, when the sentry within will have seen him."

Once more the Colonel swung round, and Owen realised with a sickening feeling of dread that he was coming across to the spot where he was in hiding. Terror of discovery and what would follow almost rooted him to the spot, and it was fortunate for him that his enemy, happening to think of some other matter, returned to question the sentry again. Owen took full advantage of the respite. Darting along the wall, he did not halt till he came to the farther end, where a flanking tower was erected preventing farther progress. There he halted, looking about him like a hunted animal, while his ears caught the approaching step of the Colonel in the distance. His danger was imminent, and discovery seemed more than certain. He drew his sabre, and then thrust it back with a sharp cry of delight. For danger sharpens men's wits at times, and Owen's mind had suddenly returned to what he had seen that day. He ran towards the approaching step, tiptoeing over the grass which bordered the wall, and halted beside the big gun which had caught his eye. There was not an instant to be lost, and therefore without hesitation he unhooked his sabre and thrust it into the muzzle, lest it should strike later and attract attention. Then he sprang on to the wall, and thrust one leg into the gun. Leaning all his weight on his hands, he did the same with the other, and in less time than it takes to tell he was out of sight, swallowed by the gigantic weapon.

What if it were loaded! What if this Colonel discovered him, and taking advantage of his position fired the gun!

"It would come to the same in the end," thought Owen. "Anyhow, I am sure that I could not have found a finer hiding-place, while as for room, in here there is heaps. It is as I thought. The calibre is very much greater than one usually comes across, and the muzzle must measure quite two feet – ample room for a youngster like me. Hark! There he comes."

He held his breath, for the sound of a footstep near at hand came distinctly to his ears. He heard the Colonel move along past the gun to the wall of the flanking tower, and then his steps as he returned. Evidently he was a little uncertain of the sentry's tale, for he stepped to the wall, and leaning his hand on the muzzle of the giant gun within which his prisoner lay he leaned over and peered into the darkness of the street below.

"Not there. It is a good jump, and the fellow knows that I have given strict orders that none are to leave the palace," Owen heard him say. Then he raised his voice and called angrily to the sentry.

"Over there!" he shouted; "the jailer is not here, and doubtless you have never seen him. Pass the word in that he is to be found and is to come to me without delay. See that the order is given."

He leaped to the ground and went off in the darkness, while Owen, waiting till his steps had ceased to reach his ears, dragged himself to the edge of the muzzle, and craning his head over it stared after him. The figure of the French colonel had disappeared in the gathering darkness, but within a minute it appeared again at the entrance to his quarters, where his tall frame was again silhouetted against the light within. Then he was gone again, and there was only the light, streaming out from the opening.

"He wants the jailer, and the orders are that none leave the palace," said Owen. "Very well. He shall be obeyed. I will go to him."

He swung himself out of the gun, hitched on his sabre, and crossed to the opening. A minute later he disappeared within, bent on interviewing his enemy.