"Do you think he will keep his word?--I mean, to do the prisoners no harm."
"I think so. He has done no harm to Mr. Watts, whom he brought with him from Cossimbazar; and our people will be more valuable to him alive than dead. Yes; by this time to-morrow I trust Mr. Holwell and the others will be safe on board the ships, and I do not envy Mr. Drake his bitter experience when the men he has deserted confront him."
While Mr. Merriman was telling his story, the Hormuzzeer was slowly drifting down the river. At Surman's garden, about five miles south of Calcutta, it joined the other vessels belonging to British owners, and dropped anchor. Several gentlemen came on board, eager to learn what had been the last scene in the tragic drama. Mr. Merriman told them all he knew, and every one drew a long breath of relief when they learnt that, though prisoners, Mr. Holwell and the gallant few who had stuck to their posts had been assured of good treatment. During the day the vessel dropped still lower down the river to Budge Budge, running the gauntlet of a brisk but ineffective fire from Tanna Fort, now in the hands of the Nawab's troops.
When the Hormuzzeer lay at anchor at Budge Budge, Mr. Merriman explained to Desmond the plans he had formed for him. The vessel now had her full cargo, and would sail immediately for Penang. Mr. Merriman proposed that Desmond should make the voyage. In his weak state the climate of Fulta, where the Europeans intended to stay until help reached them from Madras, might prove fatal to him; while the sea air would complete his cure.
His share of the sale-price of the Tremukji, together with the Gheria prize-money, amounted to more than a thousand pounds, and this had been invested for him by his friend.
"For myself," added Merriman, "I shall remain. My wounds are not severe; I am accustomed to the climate; and though India is now odious to me, I shall not leave Indian soil until I find traces of my dear wife and daughter. God grant that by the time you return I shall have some news of them."
Desmond would have liked to remain with the merchant, but he knew that in his weakness he could have done him no service, and he acquiesced in the arrangement.
That same evening the fugitives received news that made their blood run cold. Two Englishmen, Messrs. Cooke and Lushington, who had remained staunchly by Mr. Holwell's side, came from the shore in a small boat and boarded the Dodalay. Their appearance struck every one with amazement and horror. Mr. Cooke was a merchant, aged thirty-one; Mr. Lushington a writer in the Company's service, his age eighteen; but the events of one night had altered them almost beyond recognition. They said that when the order had been given to confine them in the barracks, the prisoners had all expected to pass the night in comparative comfort. What was their amazement when they were escorted to the Black Hole, a little chamber no more than eighteen feet square, which was only used as a rule for the confinement of one or two unruly prisoners. In vain they protested; their brutal guards forced them, a hundred and forty-six in number, into the narrow space, and locked the door upon them. It was one of the hottest nights of the year; there was but one small opening in the wall, and before long the want of air and the intense heat drove the poor people to fury. They trampled each other down in their mad attempts to get near the opening for air and the water which one of their jailers, less brutal than the rest, handed in to them. The horror of the scenes that passed in that small room baffles description. In the agonies of thirst and suffocation the prisoners fought like tigers. Many prayed their guards to shoot them and end their sufferings, only to meet with jeers and laughter. Some of the native officers took pity on them and would have opened the door; but none durst move without the Nawab's permission, or brave his fury if they roused him from his sleep. From seven in the evening till six in the morning the agony continued, and when at length the order came for their release, only twenty-three of the hundred and forty-six tottered forth, the ghastliest wrecks of human beings. Mr. Holwell and three others were then conveyed as prisoners in a bullock-cart to Omichand's garden, and thence to Murshidabad; the rest were bidden to go where they pleased.
The news was kept from Desmond. It was not till weeks after that he heard of the terrible tragedy. Then, with the horror and pity he felt, there was mingled a fear that Bulger had been among those who perished. The seaman, he knew, had taken a stout part in the defence of the Fort; Mr. Merriman had not mentioned him as being among the prisoners; it was possible that he had escaped; but the thought that the brave fellow had perhaps died in that awful hole made Desmond sick at heart.
Though the season was now at its hottest, the fresh sea air proved a wonderful tonic to him, and he rapidly regained his strength. The voyage was slow. The Hormuzzeer beat down the Bay of Bengal against the monsoon now beginning, and it was nearly two months before she made Penang. She unloaded there: her cargo was sold at great profit, she being the only vessel that had for some time left the Hugli; and Desmond found his capital increased by nearly a hundred per cent. She then took on a cargo for Madras, where she arrived in the first week of September.