With Clive in India; Or, The Beginnings of an Empire

by G. A. Henty

"I feel mighty quare," Tim exclaimed; "and it seems to me downright ondacent, to be walking about with my naked legs."

Charlie laughed.

"Why, Tim, you are accustomed to see thousands of men, every day, with nothing on but a loincloth."

"Yes, yer honor, but then they're hathens, and it seems natural for them to do so; but for a dacent boy to go walking about in the streets, with a thing on which covers no more than his shirt, is onnatural altogether. Mother of Moses, what a shindy there would be, in the streets of Cork, if I were to show myself in such a state!"

Charlie now lay down for a sleep till morning; while Tim, who had had three hours' repose, settled himself for a comfortable chat with Hossein, to whom sleep appeared altogether unnecessary.

Between Hossein and Tim there was a sort of brotherly attachment, arising from their mutual love of their master. During the two years which Tim had spent apart from all Europeans, save Charlie, he had contrived to pick up enough of the language to make himself fairly intelligible; and, since the day when Hossein had saved Charlie's life at Ambur, the warmest friendship had sprung up between the good-humoured and warm-hearted Irishman, and the silent and devoted Mohammedan.

Tim's friendship even extended so far as to induce a toleration of Hossein's religion. He had come to the conclusion that a man who, at stated times in the day, would leave his employment, whatever it might be, spread his carpet, and be for some minutes lost in prayer, could not be altogether a hathen; especially when he learned, from Charlie, that the Mohammedans, like ourselves, worship one God. For the sake of his friend, then, he now generally excluded the Mohammedans from the general designation of heathen, which he still applied to the Hindoos.

He learned from Hossein that the latter, having observed from a distance the Europeans driven into the cell at Calcutta, perceived at once how fatal the consequences would be. He had, an hour or two after they were confined there, approached with some water, but the officer on guard had refused to let him give it. He had then gone into the native town, but being unable to find any fruit there, had walked out to the gardens, and had picked a large basketful. This he had brought as an offering to the officer, and the latter had then consented to his giving one bowl of water to the prisoners, among whom, as he had told him, was his master. For bringing a second bowl, contrary to his orders, Hossein had, as Tim saw, been struck down; but had the satisfaction of believing that his master, and Tim, had derived some benefit from his effort.

On the following morning, to his delight, he saw them issue among the few survivors from the dungeon; and had, when they were taken up the country, followed close behind them, arriving at the town on the same day as themselves. He had, ever since, been wandering round the prison. He had taken a house, so close to it that he could keep a watch on all the windows facing the town; and had, day after day, kept his eyes fixed upon these without success. He had, at last, found out from one of the soldiers that the white prisoners were confined on the other side of the prison; but until he saw Charlie's cap, he had been unable to discover the room in which they were confined.

In the morning, they started for the town. Groups of peasants were already making their way towards the gate, with fruit and grain; and, keeping near one of these parties, while sufficiently distant to prevent the chance of their being addressed, Charlie and Tim made their way to the gate; the latter suffering acutely, in his mind, from the impropriety of his attire.