"There, Tim, it's no use standing talking any longer. Bring in the moonshee."
From that moment, the little man had his permanent post in a corner of the boys' room; and, when they were not on duty, they were constantly engaged in studying the language, writing down the names of every object they came across and getting it by heart, and learning every sentence, question, and answer which occurred to them as likely to be useful.
As for Tim, he quite lost patience at this devotion to study on the part of his master; who, he declared to his comrades, went on just as if he intended to become a nigger and a hathen himself.
"It's just awful to hear him, Corporal M'Bean, jabbering away in that foreign talk, with that little black monkey moonshine. The little cratur a-twisting his shrivelled fingers about, that looks as if the bones were coming through the skin. I wonder what the good father at Blarney, where I come from, you know, Corporal, would say to sich goings on. Faith, then, and if he were here, I'd buy a bottle of holy water, and sprinkle it over the little hathen. I suspict he'd fly straight up the chimney, when it touched him."
"My opinion of you, Tim Kelly," the corporal, who was a grave Scotchman, said; "is that you're just a fule. Your master is a brave young gentleman, and is a deal more sensible than most of them, who spend all their time in drinking wine and playing cards. A knowledge of the language is most useful. What would you do, yourself, if you were to marry a native woman, and couldn't speak to her afterwards."
"The saints defind us!" Tim exclaimed; "and what put such an idea in yer head, Corporal? It's nayther more nor less than an insult to suppose that I, a dacent boy, and brought up under the teaching of Father O'Shea, should marry a hathen black woman; and if you weren't my suparior officer, corporal, I'd tach ye better manners."
Fortunately, at this moment Charlie's voice was heard, shouting for his servant; and Tim was therefore saved from the breach of the peace, which his indignation showed that he meditated.
December passed quietly; and then, in January, 1752, an insurrection planned by Dupleix broke out. The governor of Pondicherry had been suffering keenly from disappointments; which, as time went on, and his entreaties and commands to Law to attack Trichinopoli were answered only by excuses and reasons for delay, grew to despair; and he resolved upon making another effort to occupy the attention of the man in whom he already recognized a great rival, and to prevent his taking steps for the relief of Trichinopoli. Law had over and over again assured him that, in the course of a very few weeks, that place would be driven by famine to surrender; and, as soon as Clive arrived at Fort Saint David, Dupleix set about taking steps which would again necessitate his return to the north, and so give to Law the time which he asked for.
Supplies of money were sent to Riza Sahib, together with four hundred French soldiers. These marched suddenly upon Punemalli and captured it, seized again the fortified temple of Conjeveram, and from this point threatened both Madras and Arcot.
Had this force possessed an active and determined commander, it could undoubtedly have carried out Dupleix's instructions, captured Madras, and inflicted a terrible blow upon the English. Fortunately, it had no such head. It marched indeed against Madras, plundered and burnt the factories, levied contributions, and obtained possession of everything but the fort; where the civilians, and the few men who constituted the garrison, daily expected to be attacked, in which case the place must have fallen. This, however, the enemy never even attempted, contenting themselves with ravaging the place outside the walls of the fort.