The Rajah's Heir / A Novel in 3 volumes

by C. Despard

He had, as it happened, no distinct command. What his personal influence might have effected if he had been at Meerut when the storm broke it is impossible to say. He might have shamed the authorities into action, and saved the honour of the English name. But he was absent, in pursuance of the mission that had been entrusted to him. As an old regimental and brigade officer, supposed to be well versed in the native character, he had been deputed, on the first rumour of discontent in the army, to travel through the North-West Provinces and the Central Indian Agency, examining into grievances, and reporting on the general condition of the troops.

On the terrible Sunday afternoon when the storm broke he was at Jhansi, enjoying the hospitality of the Ranee, and conferring with her on the curious portents of the time. They were actually together when the news came, and the General, who prided himself on his knowledge of character, was more than satisfied by her surprise and indignation.

Alarmed for his safety, she entreated him to remain at Jhansi until he could obtain more certain news, but the General, while touched by her solicitude, would not hear of delay. He took horse at once, and, surrounded by the small body of English soldiers with whom he had been travelling, set out on a forced march to Meerut.

A tremendous march it was, and fuller of peril, than any one of the little band imagined! Their audacity served them for strength. Those who plotted their destruction hesitated to strike, for some at least must fall victims to these watchful and resolute men. Besides, who could say that an army was not marching at their heels? As, in their dress of scarlet and gold with their sabres flashing in the sun, the General and his guard rode through the country, every one made way for them. From the villages, hostile as many of them were, and infested with budmashes and disbanded soldiers, they had no difficulty in obtaining supplies. To many of the workers of mischief, the gallant old soldier, with his hard face, keen sight and short sharp words of command, came as the first of the avengers, while those amongst ourselves who saw him ride by were inspired with fresh confidence.

I was one of these. I was exercising the sullen-looking handful of troops for which I was responsible, on the parade-ground outside our station, when the General passed. He halted for a few moments and watched us. I and my men saluted, and it seemed to me that they drew themselves together and stepped out more briskly.

I looked at him—a small man, muscles tense, face stern, lips set firmly together, blue eyes, full of fire and energy, looking out steadily. He was in full-dress uniform, all his accoutrements as spotless as if he were on court parade at home. He rode a little Arab horse, well-fed and groomed, and as highly bred as himself. 'Game to the very finger-tips,' so I said to myself, as I looked at him. While England had such men as the General in reserve, our raj would not pass away. The General rode on. In spite of the fearful anxiety which, as we all knew, was consuming him, he did his duty gallantly. He called at the most important stations on the route, at Gwalior, Agra, Mynpoorie and Secunderabad, doing what he could to encourage the loyal and to awe the discontented. But to Delhi, the most important of them all, he was obliged to give a wide berth, for he knew that the rebels were congregating there in force.

It was nearing the end of the month before he reached the neighbourhood of Meerut. He had not, in the meantime, met any of the English force. He had not so much as heard of it; and he grew more and more troubled and perplexed. Was, then, the awful tale which he had heard true? Were his countrymen taken so completely by surprise that not one of them was left alive to fight for the honour of his country? A thousand soldiers, Englishmen all of them! It was impossible. And there was one native regiment at Meerut which he had made up his mind would be faithful. He had commanded it himself for years. Its native officers were veterans, men of high birth and fine breeding, who had fought by his side in many a frontier war. One of them had saved his life at the imminent risk of his own, and to the General he had long been as a personal friend. He would almost as readily have believed in his own failure from duty as in Sufder Jung's. As for the men, he had called them his children. Big children and little children, the old men, who were recruits when he took up the command, and who had learned under him the warrior's art, and the young men, only lately enrolled, who were learning it from others, he loved them all. Riding through the desolate plain, with the fierce rays of an Indian sun beating upon him, and this awful thing at his heart, the old man felt a curious moisture bedewing his eyes. Only a few weeks before he had held a review of all arms at Meerut, and his pet regiment had distinguished itself beyond all the others. Like a picture it flashed before him, the noble stature, proud carriage, flashing eyes and perfect accoutrement, and again, sweeter than the incense of flattery, there fell upon his ears the shouts of applause which broke forth on every side, as, at a double-quick march, but moving with the precision of a machine, his children swept by the saluting point. 'Efficiency could not be carried further,' he had said, shaking hands warmly with the colonel of the regiment. 'I congratulate you.' And now to hear it said that these men were disloyal, that then, when they were responding with joyful shouts to the shouts of their English comrades, they were actually plotting to betray them! It could not, it should not be.

With stern face the General rode on. No one molested them; but, in the deserted huts and silent villages, in the procession along the road of trains of frightened peasants, men and women, with all their household utensils about them, and in the occasional presence of bands of ragged, fierce-looking men, armed with clubs and ancient rifles, he saw ominous signs of disorder and panic.

They came at last to within five miles of Meerut. No one came out to meet them, although the General had sent forward native scouts, nor could they hear anything of the English troops. It was now the hottest hour of the afternoon, and the men, who had been in the saddle since early morning, were dead beat. Not knowing what they might have to meet at Meerut, the General, desperately anxious as he was to be at his goal, determined to call a halt. There was a little grove of mango and neem trees a few yards from the road. He led his men thither, and while some were set to watch, the others, exhausted by their long ride under the burning sun, emptied their drinking-flasks and flung themselves down for an hour's rest.

The General was amongst the watchers. He would not even unsaddle. He stood by his horse, his left arm flung over its neck, and his right grasping a loaded revolver, while his wide-open, sleepless eyes were piercing the recesses of the wood. For an hour he watched. There was no disturbance, nothing to break the deep silence of the camping-ground. Then his men changed guard. One of them, his personal servant, came up to him and entreated that he also would rest for an hour. But the General refused, and again there was silence.