‘Can these be the men,’ he thought, ‘to whom the Sultaun trusts, instead of to the brave hearts and sturdy arms of the men of Islam? but so I am told, and I am to see more at the capital. Well, it is strange that they should have the talents for such contrivances in war, as never enter into our hearts: our only defence is a strong arm and a good sword and shield; and if we had not to fight against the English kafirs, we should not require these French, who after all are only infidels too. But here come the prisoners, I suppose,’ he added, as a few soldiers, horse and foot, with drawn swords, advanced from behind an adjacent wall; ‘the brave kafirs, as all call them, and hate them because they are so brave; I confess I do not, and only because they are the Sultaun’s enemies, and infidels into the bargain.’
His curiosity was raised to the highest pitch to see these unhappy men, who, in defiance of the treaty of 1784, were kept in the fortresses of the country without a hope of deliverance, and cut off from any chance of communication with their countrymen on the coast. Among the few with whom Kasim had associated, ‘the English’ were the continued subject of conversation; their religion, their manners, and their persons were ridiculed and held up to scorn by all, but their bravery none could deny; and that man held himself far exalted above his fellows who had entered into personal combat with or slain one of them. Many were the tales then in circulation,—some exaggerations of reality, others stern scenes of hard fighting,—which even figurative language failed to exalt above their due estimation.
In company with the Khan, with Dilawur Ali and with others, Kasim had heard many of these relations; and indeed, whenever he listened in the camp, either to itinerant story-tellers, or to those gathered around a watchfire, the English were alike the theme of execration for their religion and their falsehood, or on rare occasions praised for their devoted bravery. No wonder then was it that he watched for their coming with very eager anxiety: figuring to himself what they might be, he thought to have seen them a martial-looking people, and that in their persons he should realise his own ideas of what a warrior ought to be,—tall and finely formed, haughty in appearance, with an eye of fire and an arm of iron.
One by one the prisoners came before him, and some of them heavily chained, others free; but all men on whose faces the rigour of captivity had set its seal. Melancholy and pale, many of them wasted by sickness, and by mental and bodily sufferings, they were shadows of what they had been; their clothes hung in rags about them, and, though not dirty, they were of a colour which proved that they themselves had washed them from time to time; a few of them had worn-out uniform coats upon them, whose stained and discoloured appearance fitted well with the wretched condition of their wearers. Their step was slow and weak, and those who wore fetters with difficulty moved at all; none of them spoke, but many of them gazed around upon the walls, and looked up into the bright heavens, and smiled, as though they were glad that motion and air were once more allowed to refresh their cramped and emaciated limbs and weary spirits.
In spite of his previous determination to hate them with the same spirit as that of his companions, Kasim felt he could not; there would, in spite of his efforts to repress it, arise a feeling of pity, that men whom he doubted not were as brave as the race was represented to be, should exhibit so sorrowful an appearance,—one which told a forcible tale of unalleviated misery. Following those on foot were several in small doolies, whose emaciated and ghastly looks told of their sickness and unfitness for removal.
He had expected a feeling of triumph to arise in his heart as he should behold the infidel English captives; but there was something so touching in the appearance of the melancholy procession, that he felt none; he could much rather have wept as he looked on it, than joined in any expression of ill-will towards the prisoners.
As they advanced, a few boys who were near hooted the captives, and abused them in obscene language. This they did not appear to deign to notice; at last one boy, more bold than the rest, took up a stone, and accompanying it with a savage oath, flung it against the prisoner nearest to him, and, having struck him, was greeted with a loud shout of joy by his companions.
Almost ere he was aware of his own intention, and impelled by the wanton insult upon one so helpless, Kasim violently urged his horse across the open space up to the boy—who, having been successful in his first fling, had picked up another stone with a similar intention—and struck him severely several times with the whip he had in his hand. Screaming with pain, the boy ran off to a distance; and his associates, terrified at the punishment their companion had received, dispersed at once.
Kasim could not resist speaking to the prisoner on whose behalf he had acted; and riding up to him, he hoped, not knowing whether he should be understood, that he was not hurt, adding, that he had punished the young miscreant who had thrown the stone.
The voice was one of kindness, and it was long since one like it had sounded in the young Englishman’s ears.