With that he went off. About the same time an order arrived for our removal, and we were carried away to another part of the fort.
Whether in consequence of my cousin’s representations or of Meer Jaffier’s, as is more probable, Surajah Dowlah suddenly decided to release all his English prisoners, except three or four of the principal ones, including Mr. Holwell. This intelligence was brought us about supper time, and an officer shortly after attended, to make the selection of those who were to be continued in captivity.
Not apprehending that any importance could be attached to me, I rose joyfully to go out with those who were being dismissed, when, to my surprise, the officer told me in their language, very sharply, to keep my place.
“But why do you seek to detain this young man?” inquired Mr. Holwell. “He is not a person of any consequence among us.”
The Moor shook his head.
“This youth is to be kept in the Nabob’s hands because he is a friend of Sabat Jung’s,” he answered.
It may be imagined how mortified I was to find my boasting of the friendship of Colonel Clive thus turned against me. There was no help for it, however. With a heavy heart we saw our fellow-prisoners depart, some of them to examine their houses in Calcutta, others to take refuge with the English fleet, which about this time dropped down the river to Fulta, where it lay.
I heard afterwards that when the refugees arrived on board, and told the woeful tale of what had followed on the capture of Fort William, Mr. Drake and those with him bitterly repented of their cowardice and desertion. Messengers, that is to say, Indian spies, had already been despatched by land to Madras, the voyage thither being impossible at this time on account of the prevalent monsoon. Others were now sent after them, with letters recounting the whole of these transactions, and urgently entreating the Madras council to despatch succour at the earliest possible moment.
In the meanwhile, to pass over the next few days, Surajah Dowlah, finding no further mischief to execute in Calcutta, after he had plundered all the principal merchants, placed a force there under the command of an officer named Monichund, and marched back to Moorshedabad, carrying me in his train. My fellow prisoners, consisting of Mr. Holwell and two other gentlemen, named Walcot and Court (for poor Mr. Byng had been among those who perished in that cell of death), were despatched separately in irons, by a boat up the river.
If I had been traversing this strange, and in many parts beautiful, country under other circumstances I might have found much to interest me. But being, as I was, still weak and wretched from the effects of the night passed in the Black Hole, and, moreover, very anxious and troubled in mind about the fate of Marian (besides my own), I heeded little of it. The country was extremely flat, and much overgrown with trees, particularly mangoes, which tree hath a most delicious fruit, very grateful after toiling along the barren roads in the intolerable heat of this climate. Travelling in company with an army, we were not able to see much of the country people, who feared the Nabob’s character, and for the most part deserted their villages and retired into the woods while we passed. One day we lay without the walls of Chander Nugger, the French settlement in Bengal. These Frenchmen had managed to propitiate Surajah by aiding him with a supply of ammunition when he was on his march against Calcutta. To this they now added a large sum of money, and by this means prevailed on him to pass on without entering their town. They no doubt rejoiced, like true Frenchmen, at the misfortunes which had overtaken the English, not foreseeing at this time the happy revolution in our affairs which was to make them sing to another tune.