Читать книгу Tippoo Sultaun: A tale of the Mysore war - Taylor Meadows - Страница 8

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They rested in the town of Bellary the next day; and as there was an alarm of parties of Mahratta horse being abroad, though they could hear of no one having suffered from them, the Khan on account of the baggage he had with him, determined on travelling the eastern road by Nundidroog; from thence he could reach the city, either by Bangalore, or the western road, as best suited him. But no enemy appeared, though several alarms were given by the people.

At one place, however, after some days’ travel, they heard that a party of horse had passed the day before; and at the stage after, they kept a watch all night—with some need in fact, for a marauding party of great strength were undoubtedly in their vicinity, as was plainly to be seen by the conflagration of a small village at some coss distant, which could easily be distinguished from the town wherein they rested for the night.

‘This looks like danger,’ said the Khan, as from the tower in the middle of the village he and Kasim looked forth over the wide plain;—‘the rascals yonder are at their old work. Strange that there are none of our horse hereabouts to check them, and indeed I marvel that the rogues dare venture so far into Tippoo’s country.’ ‘If it were day we could see their number,’ replied Kasim; ‘as it is, we must take heart—Inshalla! our destiny is not so bad as to cause us to eat dirt at the hands of those thieves.’

‘If I were alone, Kasim, I tell thee I would now put myself at the head of ye all, and we would reconnoitre that village; perhaps it may only have been a chance fire after all.’

But soon after, one or two persons mounted on ponies arrived, bringing the news that their village had been attacked in the evening; and that, after the robbers had taken all they could, they had set fire to several houses and gone off in a southerly direction—it was supposed towards Gootee.

‘Our very road!’ said the Khan; ‘but let us not fear: we had better travel on slowly, for it is probable that they have hastened on, and long ere this are beyond the pass. In that case there is but little fear of our overtaking them.’

‘I will stand by you and the Khanum to the death,’ said Kasim, ‘and that thou well knowest. They said there were not more than fifty fellows, and I dare say their fears exaggerated them one-half at least. But if I might suggest anything, I would bring to your consideration the propriety of hiring a few young fellows from this village; they will be able to protect the baggage, and at least assist us should there be any danger.’

‘A good thought, Kasim; see thou to it when the dawn breaks—nay now, if thou canst find any. I will remain here and watch.’

Kasim descended the tower, and at the foot found some of the very men he wanted; they were half-naked figures, sitting around the fire they had kindled; their heavy matchlocks leaned against the wall, and their waists were girded round with powder-horns, small pouches filled with balls, and other matters necessary for their use. There were two or three armed with swords and shields, and the whole group had a wild and picturesque appearance, as the fire, upon which they had thrown some straw at the young man’s approach, blazed up, illuminating the foot of the tower and the house near it, and causing the shadows of the men to dance about in distorted figures. Two or three were sitting upon their hams, between whom a coarse hooka went its round, and was every now and then replenished; whilst the rest stood warming themselves over the blaze, or lounged about at no great distance.

‘Salaam Aliekoom!’ said Kasim, as he approached them; ‘say which among you is the chief?’

‘Aliekoom salaam!’ returned one, advancing. ‘I am the Naik of these worthy men. Say what you want; command us—we are your servants. What see ye from the tower?’

‘Nothing but the blazing village,’ said Kasim.

‘The fellows have not left a roof-tree standing, they say,’ rejoined the Naik; ‘but the place was not defended, for the young men were all absent; and it is supposed the Mahrattas had news of this before they attacked it—they are arrant cowards.’

‘You have found them so, then?’

‘We have; we have twice beaten them off during the last few days, and killed one or two of them.’

‘Mashalla! thou art a sharp fellow; what do they call thee?’

‘Nursingha is my name; I am the nephew of the Patél.’

‘Good! Then what sayest thou, Nursingha, to accompanying our party for a few days, until we are well past the hills, or indeed to Balapoor; thou shalt have a rupee a-day and thy food, and six of thy men half, if thou wilt.’

‘What say you, brothers?’ cried Nursingha to the rest; ‘what say you to the stranger’s offer? They seem men of substance, and they are the Government servants—we can hardly refuse.’

‘What are we to do?’ asked one.

‘Fight, if there is necessity,’ said Kasim; ‘canst thou do that?’

‘There is not a better shot in the Carnatic that Lingoo yonder,’ said the Naik.

‘He may shoot well and not fight well,’ returned Kasim.

‘I never feared Moosulman or Mahratta yet!’ said Lingoo.

‘Crowed like a good cock!’ cried Kasim; ‘but thou art on thine own dunghill.’

‘I have fought with Hyder Ali many a time; and he who has done that may call himself a soldier,’ retorted Lingoo.

‘Well, so much the better; but say, what will ye do? here are ten or twelve; half that number is enough to protect the village, especially as the Mahrattas are gone on; will ye come?’

‘Pay us half our due here first,’ said the man, ‘and we are ready—six of us. Have I said well, brethren?’

‘Ay, that is it,’ cried several. ‘How know we that the gentlemen would not take us on, and send us back empty-handed, as the last did?’

‘By Alla, that was shameful!’ cried Kasim; ‘fear not, ye shall have half your money.’

‘Kasim, O Kasim Ali!’ cried a voice from the top of the tower, interrupting him—it was the Khan’s, and he spoke hurriedly—‘Kasim, come up quickly!’

‘Holy Prophet, what can it be?’ said Kasim, turning to the tower, followed by several of the men. They were soon at the summit.

‘What see you yonder?’ asked the Khan, pointing to a light which was apparently not very far off.

‘It is only a watchfire in the fields of the next village,’ said the Naik. But as he spoke there broke forth a blaze of brilliant light, which at once shot up to the heavens, illuminating a few clouds that were floating gently along, apparently near the earth.

‘That is no watchfire,’ cried Kasim, as it increased in volume every moment; ‘it is either a house which has accidentally caught fire, or the Mahrattas are there. Watch, all of ye; if there are horsemen, the light will soon show them.’

‘There again!’ exclaimed several at once, as a bright flame burst out from another corner of the village, and was followed by others, in various directions. ‘It must be the Mahrattas and yet none are seen!’

‘They are among the houses,’ said the Khan; ‘they will not come out till they are obliged.’

He was right; for while all were watching anxiously the progress of the flames, which they could see spreading from house to house, there rushed forth in a tumultuous manner from the opposite side a body of perhaps twenty horsemen, whose long spears, the points of which every instant flashed through the gloom, proved them to be the Mahratta party.

‘Base sons of dogs!’ cried the Khan; ‘cowards, and sons of impure mothers!—to attack defenceless people in that way!—to burn their houses over their heads at night! Oh for a score of my own risala—ay, for as many more as we are now, and those rogues should pay dearly for this!’

‘Who will follow Kasim Ali?’ cried the young man. ‘By the soul of the Prophet, we are no thieves, and our hearts are strong. I say one of us is a match for two of those cowards: who will follow me?’

‘I!’—‘and I!’—‘and I!’ cried several; and turned to follow the young man, who had his foot on the steps ready to descend.

‘Stop, I command you!’ cried the Khan; ‘this is no time to risk anything: look yonder—you thought there were but twenty; if there is one, there are more than fifty.’

They looked again, and beheld a fearful sight. The now blazing village was upon a gentle slope, hardly a mile from them; the light caused the gloom of night to appear absolute darkness. In the midst of this there was one glowing spot, upon which every eye rested in intense anxiety. Around the ill-fated village was an open space, upon which bright ground were the dark figures of the Mahratta horsemen in constant motion; while the black forms of persons on foot—evidently the miserable inhabitants, in vain striving to escape—became, as they severally appeared, objects of fearful interest. Now many would rush from among the houses, pursued by the horsemen; several would disappear in the gloom, and they supposed had escaped; whilst others but too plainly fell, either by the spear-thrusts or under the sword-cuts of the horsemen. They could even see the flash of the sword when the weapon descended; and sometimes a faint shriek, which was heard at an interval of time after a thrust or blow had been seen, plainly proved that it had been successful.

‘By Alla, this is hard to bear!’ exclaimed Kasim; ‘to see those poor creatures butchered in cold blood, and yet have no means of striking a blow in their defence!’

‘It would be impossible for us to do any good,’ said the Khan; ‘suppose they were to come on here after they had finished yonder. I see nothing to prevent them.’

‘Inshalla! Khan, they will come; but what thinkest thou, Nursingha?’

‘They owe us a grudge, and may make the attempt. Nay, it is more than probable, for they are stronger than ever, and they cannot reckon on your being here.’

‘We had as well be fully prepared,’ said the Khan; ‘have ye any jinjalls?’^[19]

19. Heavy wall-pieces on swivels.

‘The Patél has two,’ said the man.

‘Run then and bring them here—also what powder ye can find; bring the Patél himself too, and alarm the village. Kasim,’ he continued, ‘wait thou here; there is an apartment in the tower—thither I will bring the Khanum, and what valuables we have with us. I do not fear danger, but we had better be prepared.’

In a short time the Khan returned, conducting his wife; she was veiled from head to foot, and Kasim heard them distinctly speaking as they were coming up the stairs.

‘Not there, not there!’ said the lady; ‘alone, and in that dark place, I should give way to fears; let me ascend, I pray thee—I am a soldier’s daughter, and can bear to look on what men and soldiers can do.’

‘No, no, my life, my soul!’ returned the Khan, ‘it is not fit for thee; if they should fire upon us, there will be danger; besides there are many men—thou wouldst not like it; remember too I am near thee, and once the village is alarmed thou wilt have many companions.’

‘I am not afraid,’ she said; ‘I had rather be with men than women at such a time.’

‘Well, well, Ameena, rest thou here now at all events; should there be need thou canst join us hereafter.’

The Khan a moment afterwards was on the top of the tower.

‘Seest thou aught more, Kasim?’ he asked.

‘Nothing—the village continues to burn, and the men are there; but either the people have escaped, or they are dead, for none come out now.’

‘Sound the alarm!’ cried the Khan to some men below, who, bearing a large tambourine drum and a brass horn, had assembled ready for the signal. ‘If the horsemen hear it, it will tell them we are on the alert.’

The deep tone of the drum and the shrill and wild quivering notes of the horn soon aroused the villagers from their sleep, and numbers were seen flying to the tower for refuge, believing the Mahrattas were truly upon the skirts of the village. The Patél was among the rest, accompanied by his family. He was soon upon the tower, and was roughly saluted by the Khan.

‘Thou art a worthy man for a Patél!’ cried he; ‘but for me, thy village might have shared the fate of that one yonder. Look, base-born! shouldest thou like to see it burning as that is? Why wert thou not here to watch, O unfortunate?’

‘I—I did not know—’ stammered the Patél.

‘Not know! well at any rate thou knowest now; but as thou art here, do something for thyself, in Alla’s name. Where is thy gun, thy sword?’

‘I can only use a gun, noble sir; and that perhaps to some purpose. Run, Paproo,’ he said to a man near him; ‘bring my gun hither. Now we are awake, the Khan shall see, if there is occasion, that we can fight as well as sleep.’

‘ had as well go down,’ said Kasim, ‘and prepare the men below: the women and children can get into the tower; those whom it will not contain must remain at the foot in these houses. It will be hard if any harm reaches them there.’

In a short time all was arranged: the women and children, whose cries had been distracting, were in places of safety, and as quiet as the neighbourhood of the Mahratta horse, the sudden alarm, and the natural discordance of their own language (the Canarese) would allow them; and on the summit of the tower about twenty men, for whom there was ample room, were posted, all well armed with matchlocks. The two jinjalls were loaded, a good many men were stationed around the foot of the tower, and all were ready to give whatever should come a very warm reception.

The fire of the village burned lower and lower, and at last became only a dull red glow, with occasionally a burst of sparks. While they speculated upon the route of the horsemen, who had disappeared, a few of the wretched inhabitants of the village which had been destroyed came running to the foot of the tower.

‘Defend yourselves! defend yourselves!’ they cried with loud voices; ‘the Mahrattas are upon you—they will be here immediately!’

‘Admit one of them,’ said the Khan; ‘let us question him.’

The man said he had passed the horsemen, who were trying to get across a small rivulet, the bed of which was deep mud; they had not been able to find the ford, and were searching for it; but they knew of the village, were elated with success, and determined to attack it.

‘They shall have something for their trouble then,’ said the Khan; ‘they know not that Abdool Rhyman Khan is here, and they will buy a lesson: let them come, in the name of the Most Merciful!’

‘Away, some of ye!’ cried the Patél to those below; ‘watch at the outskirts! and, hark ye, they will come by the north side—there is an old house there, close to the gate—when they are near, fire the thatch; as it burns, we shall be able to see and mark them.’

‘I thank thee for that,’ said Kasim; ‘now let all be as silent as possible. Listen for every sound—we shall hear their horses’ feet.’

There was not a word spoken. Even the women were still, and the children; now and then only the wail of an infant would be heard from below. All looked with straining eyes towards the north side, and the best marksmen were placed there under the direction of Kasim.

‘Thou art pretty sure of one,’ said the Khan to him; ‘I wish I could shoot as well as thou.’

‘A steady hand and aim, Khan Sahib;—do not hurry; if not the man, at least thou canst hit the horse. Inshalla! we shall have some sport.’

‘I had better take one of the jinjalls; the Feringhees (may they be accursed!) have sorely plagued us often by firing a cannon full of balls at us; so give me a few, I pray. I will ram them down into the piece, and it will be less liable to miss than a single bullet.’

‘Mashalla! a wise thought,’ said Kasim, handing him some balls; and a scattered fire of praises ran from mouth to mouth at the Khan’s ingenuity: ‘we shall now see whether we are to eat dirt or not.’

They were now all silent for awhile.

‘Hark!’ said Kasim at length; ‘what is that?’

They all listened more attentively; the village dogs—first one, then all—barked and howled fearfully.

‘They come!’ cried the Khan; ‘I have been too long with bodies of horse not to know the tramp.’

‘Now every man look to his aim!’ cried Kasim cheerfully; ‘half of ye only fire. And you below, fire if you see them.’

Almost as he spoke, they saw the light; at first they were uncertain whether the spies had fired the old house or not—it burned so gently; but by degrees the flame crept along the outside and round the edges; then it disappeared under the thatch, and again blazed up a little. The noise increased, though they could see no one in the gloom, but they could hear very distinctly.

‘If one of those owls would but pull away a little of the old roof, it would blaze up,’ said the Patél. ‘By Crishna, look! they have even guessed my thoughts. Look, noble Khan!’

They saw one of the scouts advance from under the cover of some of the houses, and pull violently at one of the projecting rude rafters; and instantly the flame appear beneath.

‘Another pull, good fellow, and thou hast earned five rupees!’ cried the Khan in an ecstasy, as he held the butt of the wall-piece; ‘another pull, and we shall have a blaze like day.’

It seemed as if the fellow had heard the Khan’s exclamation, for he tugged in very desperation; they heard the roof crack; at last it fell in; and the sudden blaze, illuminating all around vividly, fell on the wild yet picturesque group which was rapidly advancing over the open space before the village.