Читать книгу A Desert Bride - Hume Nisbet - Страница 13

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Mrs Bangles fluttered into that obscurity like a very small but active bird, making no more noise than a spectre is supposed to do as she crossed the courtyard, and, after a careful look round, darted along the garden pathway as close to the leafy side as she could creep, and then out by the still gaping doorway into the lane.

The side door she had left as the insurgents had left it—open, and hanging slantways from its single hinge, as were the other forced doors of the mansion. The straggling portions of the rabble would easily read what these broken-in doors meant, and be likely to look upon a second visit as wasted time, at least during this first night of slaughter and wanton destruction.

She was a brave woman, with nerves which had been tempered by so many years of exciting trials and troubles that they had become almost impervious to any sudden shock; and, therefore, on this night, as she paused for a single moment before taking the plunge from that sheltering lane into the crimsoned street, it was not exactly to still the beating of her heart that she paused, but rather to put a final touch of grease and umber upon her face and brow, where the perspiration had begun to start, and also to make her choice of which rushing and gesticulating mob she might join the most easily.

Most of the people were rushing in the direction of the fortress, after looting other portions of the town, some carrying heads of male and female Europeans upon their pikes, while others dragged the guns they had captured to help in the bombardment. Around them was an indiscriminate crowd, that rushed aimlessly to and fro, now going a little way with the forward companies, and then being attracted by the distant shouts which announced the discovery of another European hiding-place.

The object of Mrs Bangles was to get to the fortress as soon as possible; therefore she watched her chance, and dived forward into the outer ring of the first dense crowd which passed close to her, waving the knife she was holding wildly above her head, and shrieking as the others were doing,—"Death to the vile Feringhee."

She saw many a ghastly sight during that passage, but, with her actress instinct, and habit of working up to her part, she gnashed her teeth and rolled her eyes, simulating the fury which possessed the others until it felt almost natural, while it supported her through horrors which at another time might have made her grow sick and faint. But now having that female vent, her voice, to carry off the excitement, she shrieked savagely, as the rest were doing, until her voice grew hoarse and guttural, as she flung herself about as madly as any fanatic could have desired.

"Well done, youngster!" shouted a tall sepoy at her side; "have you wetted your little knife yet with Feringhee blood?"

"Not yet, brave one," gasped the disguised actress.

"Then stick to me, and I'll give you the second lunge at the first dog we fall in with."

It was a generous offer from one of the faithful, and, as a token of his admiration of her spirit, ought to have been appreciated, but at the first opportunity she had Mrs Bangles allowed him to slip from her side, and took as companion another less effusive.

Fortunately for Mrs Bangles' after peace as well as present safety, the rest of the crowd were too eager to get the honour of slaughtering a Christian, and when one or two were met, the fanatics fought over these victims as a pack of hungry wolves might over a stray sheep; so that, although she could not prevent the sacrifice, she was able, without difficulty, to keep out of it.

But the horrors of that night stamped themselves upon her mind for ever afterwards; the shrieks of the tortured victims rang within her brain, the awful sights from which she could not turn away her eyes, the demoniac faces, with their horrid, gurgling laughter, as they glutted their rabid passions and Oriental cruelty to the utmost limit, made the after danger of the jungle and town seem like a pleasant excursion.

Allahabad, on that first night of the uprising, surpassed all the other cities of India for ruthless cruelty and ferociousness, and what this brave little woman witnessed on that occasion cannot be put into words. She went through it with starting eyes and choking throat, nerving herself to appear callous for the sake of those she had vowed to save, if possible, while her heart lay frozen within her bosom.

As usual in these risings, the gaols had been broken into and the criminals released; also most of the guns and ammunition captured, and the banks looted; while all who had not succeeded in gaining the fort in time were being hunted for, or, when discovered, mutilated and tortured—although on this night the murderers were too furious to spend the time which they afterwards did over their victims. Therefore, in most cases, they were slaughtered quickly in the savage eagerness of the mob to get at fresh victims.

On they swarmed through the streets, with the ruddy flames from fired houses lighting them up with their ferocious expressions of murder-joy. They, who had been so long subdued and meek, woke up at last, and the result was raving madness. Each victim was lacerated and punctured with a hundred slashes and stabs before they were finally torn limb from limb, and tossed about from one to the other. The Mahommedans were the savage butchers in this raid, with the casteless pariahs and vile criminals, for the Hindoos, although no less furious, shrank from the sight and contact of blood.

Mrs Bangles soon found out the Hindoo portion, and kept with them, helping to haul at one of the guns which they were bringing along; and thus provided with an occupation, she was able to keep out of the carnage, although she could not shut her eyes upon the horrors.

They passed a portion of the river where some boats were moored—at the present time completely deserted—and at the sight of these boats the idea came to her that if she could only get her party that length, they might be able to cross the river and get within the walls from the other side of the Dooab, for a glance at the red walls on this side of the fort, already commanded, showed her that they had no chance of getting inside by the main gate.

Overhead the shot and shell spun amidst that horrid din, while the sky was dusky with the dense clouds of smoke as the defenders and the besiegers kept up the devilish concert without intermission. Yes, she could steal unperceived from the busy crowd, and try to get her party down to the river before daylight came. In an hour or so, at the rate the natives were crowding up to the fort, the streets would be comparatively empty, and they might get along by the lanes without mishap.

Braced up by this hope, she wormed her way through the masses, and retraced her steps as quickly as she could, getting, after many a rebuff, back to the lane and into the garden.

Quietness reigned still in the garden and about the half-dismantled mansion, that is, the comparative quietness between a distant din and the actual vicinity of pandemonium; but before she was half-way along this secluded side path, she saw and heard that what she had been dreading had come to pass.

A company of marauders had come to finish up what the first demolishers had left half done. Possibly it was the same party, and as she hastily ran forward and joined that yelling mob, she prayed fervently that it might be the first lot, for then they would be satisfied with a cursory examination.

"Hallo, youngster!" shouted out one of the leaders as she boldly flung herself in front of the torches. "Where have you come from, eh?"

"The big house there, sahib."

"Any of the accursed ones left alive, eh?"

"Nothing. I have been all over the place, and there isn't a groan left there."

"I thought not," chuckled the ruffian. "Nor is there where we've been since; but there is still enough left to make a blaze up there, and we want some more light in this quarter of the town. Come along, sons of the faithful, we'll teach this Bachna how to raise a fire. Children like fires; don't they, little one?"

"Yes, sahib," answered the disguised mother, shrinking back amongst the less bold followers of these ferocious incendiaries, her active mind busy with how to turn this new aspect of affairs to her own advantage.

Meanwhile, the rabble poured into the house and courtyard by the open door, spurning the dead victims that lay about, all intent for the present in seeking for inflammatory materials for the bonfire they had promised. To her relief, they stuck to the lower rooms, evidently satisfied with their previous overhauling of the upper regions.

Chairs, hammocks, tables, sideboards, pictures, and everything that was likely to burn were trailed into the front saloon and broken up by that busy crowd; then the cooking and lamp oils were brought from the kitchen region and poured over the raised pyre, after which it was fired at different points, while they retired outside to watch the effect.

"If any stray rats have found a refuge in the upper parts of the house, this ought to make them show their noses," said the leader, as he stood on the terrace and watched the upper windows, his musket ready to pot any head that might appear.

Mrs Bangles watched also, with palpitating heart and whirling brains, the lurid flickering of the flames as they licked their way round the base of that pyre and into its oil-drenched centre, her main desire being to get through the yet unnoticed little courtyard and up those narrow stairs, a horrible fear upon her lest those above should let their presence be known before she could get up to warn them.

She was waiting for the smoke to come, which would hide the outside stairs from the watchful, remorseless eyes, and praying with all her soul that she might be with her friends before the upcurling volumes could alarm them.

Slowly, as she watched, with her head turned behind those windows, she crept backwards from the crowd towards that open door in the wall.

No one noticed her leaving at first, for they were too intent upon the growing fire, and then like a shadow she stole through the yard, and placing her hands on the rails, waited for the first cloud to hide her upward course.

She knew well that the watchful eyes of Jack had already seen that crowd, and that a bullet was waiting for the first who attempted to mount those stairs; and there was no chance of letting him know that she was there except by a call, which would at the same time bring the enemy upon those she signalled to; therefore that veil of smoke was her only prospect of getting up unseen.

Five minutes passed like years as she crouched at the foot of the stairs, listening to the crackling inside and the hoarse yells outside; then she saw the smoke forcing its way through every crevice of that filled house, and curling gauze-like round where she waited.

Another moment and the heated windows burst with the sound of exploding guns, and then the stairs were swallowed in the dense cloud while she sprang up them like a bird on the wing.

"Jack!"

It was just in time that gasp came from her choking throat, for Jack had grasped her fiercely by the arm with one hand, while the other had raised his dagger to plunge into her breast. At the whisper, however, his hand dropped, while he drew her on to the platform and pushed her inside.

"They have fired the house from the basement, but they have no suspicion that anyone is here, so we must wait until they go," said Mrs Bangles, as soon as she was in.

"How many are there?" asked the chaplain.

"Over three hundred."

"But we shall be burnt if we stay."

"No; they will go off as soon as they see the place properly lighted, if we keep under cover. Ah! what is that now, Jack?"

"Only Falko, mother, who has betrayed us," answered Jack, pointing to where the monkey was now jumping about on the platform in a mad state of excitement, full in the light of the now blazing house, while a volley of bullets, wildly directed, rattled against the walls of the tower from the rabble who had seen that figure moving on the platform, and were now rushing pell-mell to get to the staircase.

"We must go down now," muttered the clergyman with set teeth, as he gripped his musket firmly with the bayonet fixed to it, while the women screamed their affright at the sound of the bullets. "Fix bayonets, lads, and we will force a passage through the cowards yet."

"Stop a moment," cried Mrs Bangles; "can you guide us to the river?"

"Yes; when we get outside."

A couple of daring sepoys at this moment showed themselves on the platform, and without listening for more, the chaplain rushed outside with the others following him, and plunged their weapons into this advance guard, lifted them up and pitched them over the railing to the crowd below.

"Follow me, lads," shouted the chaplain; "and you, Mrs Bangles, bring down the women without a second's delay; we'll surround you when we reach terra firma."

He with the others were busy while he spoke, for the stairs were literally crammed with the insensate crowd, who forced each other up, regardless of their own danger, like a theatre gallery crowd at a popular piece.

The decided advantage lay with those coming down, who were provided with bayonets for the clearing of the way; so while the front rank used their arms digging in and pitching over the staircase, those behind occupied themselves with loading and firing amongst the crowd below.

Those strongest in the arms took the front ranks, and prevented a deadlock by that ever-repeated side heave over after the plunge, but it was heavy work for all that, and doubly so with this awful heat from the burning house and the early Indian summer night.