Thus passed the day. The second night came, and he was still there, helpless as a babe. He thought that here his death-bed was made, and resigned himself with sullen courage to his fate. The cries of the jackal disturbed his slumbers, and continually reminded him that he was at the mercy of the prowling beast of the forest. The bright moon looked from her glorious temple of serene and delicate blue, illuminating the boundless expanse through which she marched to her zenith with the majesty and beauty of a thing of heaven, and poured the gentle stream of her light upon the wounded Mahratta, who slept in spite of bodily prostration and of mental suffering. The morning broke upon him bright and cloudless. He was relieved, and his limbs less stiff; for it is astonishing how rapidly the natives of eastern countries recover from the most desperate wounds, owing to their habits of excessive temperance. He quitted the jungle, and proceeded leisurely down the mountain. His progress was slow and difficult; and he was frequently obliged to seek the cool recesses of the forest in order to recruit his exhausted frame.
After a toilsome march of two days he reached the bottom of the Ghauts. He knew that a detachment of Aurungzebe’s army lay encamped in the plains. It was commanded by a general of reputation, and amounted to fifteen thousand men, prepared to attack Sevajee in his stronghold; but the difficulty was how to reach this through the numerous mountain ravines among which it was concealed and protected.
The wounded man crawled into the camp and desired to be conducted to the general’s tent. “I can lead you to the abode of Sevajee,” he cried. This was sufficient to remove all reluctance from the minds of the soldiers, who at first showed a disinclination to conduct the stranger to their general. They suspected him to be a spy; but the possibility of his being a traitor gave him a better claim to their courtesy, and they brought him to the tent of the Omrah, under whose command they acted.
“What is your motive, soldier,” inquired the general, “for entering an enemy’s camp.”
“Behold these wounds!” said the man. “They were inflicted by the tyrant who now holds sway over the Mahrattas. That is my sufficient answer why I appear in the Mogul camp.”
“Personal enmities are but a poor recommendation to confidence. He who would betray a friend would be little likely to serve a foe.”
“Where a person has his revenge to gratify, you have the strongest guarantee for confidence. Apart from all motives that raise man in the scale of moral dignity, that wrong which stimulates to vengeance will render him true to those who promote his deadly purposes; for vengeance is like the raging thirst of fever, never to be slaked till the cause is removed. Until mine is appeased, you may trust me; after that I make no pledges. Do you accept my services?”
“What do you undertake to perform?”
“For a sum of ten thousand rupees, to be paid after the terms of the contract have been fulfilled, I undertake to conduct you to the fortress in these mountains where Sevajee usually resides, and to put you in possession of it. I have a brother among the troops who compose the garrison. He will, I know, promote any scheme that shall bring retribution upon him by whom I have been so grievously wronged. Send a body of fifteen hundred men, when I am sufficiently recovered to march with them, and my life for the issue.”
This plan was concurred in, the man taken to a tent, and his wounds dressed. In three weeks he was in a condition to proceed against the stronghold of the Mahratta chief. Fifteen hundred men were selected for the enterprise; and these were followed at a short distance by another strong detachment, unknown to the Mahratta guide in case of treachery.