Mathews had perished by poison almost before his eyes; he had been accused of having buried treasure, and persisting in the denial of this, he had been tortured by confinement in irons, denied food, subjected to privations of all kinds, which failing in their effect to force a confession of what had not taken place, he had been poisoned by the Sultaun’s order. Numbers had been destroyed; numbers had died of hopelessness, of the climate, of disease engendered by inaction; many had been released at the peace of 1784, but still Herbert and a few of his comrades and fellow-prisoners remained, and had lingered on their wretched existence in the various prisons and forts of the country; for Tippoo hoped that long captivity and hardships at one time, and again indulgence and relaxation, would induce them to accede to his terms of service, which were offered from time to time, with alternate threats of death and promises of immense rewards.
Herbert’s situation near the person of the General, and the plans of fortifications, books on the same, works on mathematics, on engineering, and his many drawings, all of which had been seized with him, had early marked him as an officer of superior attainment, and one whose services would be highly valuable. The others who were confined with him were for the most part men of the artillery, of whose experience and excellent skill as marksmen Tippoo had too often seen the fatal results to his own army not to be very anxious to get them to join him.
A few of the captives, from time to time, dazzled by promises which were never fulfilled and weary of imprisonment, had voluntarily become renegades, and others had been violently converted to Mahomedanism; these served in the army, and, though dissolute in their habits, were yet useful and brave when occasion needed; and the value of their services only made Tippoo more anxious to secure those of a higher grade and more extensive acquirements and education. With Herbert, and those who accompanied him, his many attempts had been vain; and while his desire to accomplish his ends became the more violent from their continued opposition, there now existed a necessity for urging their compliance, which will presently be made manifest. But we have digressed.
‘Peace!’ cried the Sultaun, ‘we have not sent for thee, O Feringhee, to hear thy bold speech, but to advise thee as one who is a friend to thee, and has a true interest in thy welfare.’
‘Dost thou understand the condescending speech of the Sultaun, or shall one of the Franceese interpret it for thee?’ asked one of the Moonshees officiously.
‘Peace!’ again cried the Sultaun, ‘he understands me well enough; if he does not, he will say so; and now, Captain Compton, since thus it is written is thy name, we have sent for thee from the Fort, not as a common criminal and one whose end is perdition, but with honour; we had thee seated on an elephant, lodged in a good tent, supplied with excellent food, and now thou art admitted into the presence, thou shouldest bow in acknowledgment of the condescension shown thee; nay, thou wouldst have done so, we are persuaded, but thy manners are not formed upon the model of those of the true believers. Now our good friend the Killadar writes to us that, weary of confinement, and induced by a sense of the obligations thou and thy companions are under to me, thou art in a frame of mind to accept our munificent offers of entertaining thee in our service, of raising thee to rank, of admitting thee to share—’
‘Stop!’ cried Herbert suddenly, while, as he spoke, the Sultaun fairly started at the suddenness of the interruption to his harangue and the boldness of the tone. ‘Stop! when we are on equal terms thou canst offer me service; it is a mockery to tempt me with promises thou wouldst not fulfil.’
‘By the gracious Alla and his Prophet, I would,’ cried the Sultaun eagerly: ‘say then, wilt thou serve me? thou shalt have rank, power, wealth, women—’
‘I am in your hands, a helpless captive, O Sultaun,’ replied Herbert; ‘and therefore I cannot but hear whatever thou choosest to say to me: but if thou art a man and a soldier, insult me no more with such words. Nay, be not impatient, but listen. When Mathews was poisoned by thy order,—nay, start not! thou knowest well it is the truth,—I was given the choice of life, and thy service, or death upon refusal,—I chose death. Year after year I have seen those die around me whom I loved; I have courted death by refusal of thy base and dishonourable offers: thou hast not dared to destroy me. My life, a miserable one to me, is now of no value; those whom I love in my own land have long mourned me as dead. It is well that it is so—I am honoured in death. Alive, and in thy service, I should be dead to them, but dishonoured: therefore I prefer death. I ask it from thee as a favour; I have no wish to live: bid yonder fellow strike my head from my body before thine eyes. As thou lovest to look on blood, thou wilt see how a man, and an Englishman, can bear death. Strike! I defy thee.’
‘Beat him on the mouth with a shoe! gag the kafir son of perdition! send him to hell!’ roared many voices; ‘let him die!’ while scowling looks and threatening gestures met him on all sides.