‘Lead on,’ said Herbert firmly, ‘and molest me not by thy words. I am ready.’
‘Not so fast, sir; the Sultaun’s orders must first be obeyed. Say, art thou ready to take his service, or dost thou refuse?’
‘I have already told him my determination, and will waste no words upon such as thee,’ was Herbert’s reply.
‘It is well!’ said the Jemadar, ‘thou wilt learn ere long to speak differently:’ and he turned away from him to where several of the others were now standing. He regarded them for a few minutes steadily and exultingly, as one by one the miserable beings were led up; and some, unable from mental and bodily exhaustion to support themselves, sunk down on the rock almost insensible.’
There was one youth, a noble and vigorous fellow. Herbert had remembered him when he was first brought to Bangalore from some distant fortress—high-spirited and full of fire, which even captivity had not tamed. But the long and rapid journey, the bad food, the exposure to scorching heat and chilling dew, had brought on dysentery, which had exhausted him nigh to death. He was almost carried by the guards, and set down apart from the rest. His languid and sunken eye and pallid cheek told of his sickness; but there was a look of hope in the glance which he cast upwards now and then, and a gentle movement of his lips, which showed that his spirit was occupied in prayer.
The Jemadar’s eye rested on him. ‘Let him be the first—he will die else!’ he cried to some of the guards, who, having divested themselves of their arms, stood ready to do his bidding.
A cry of horror burst from the group of Englishmen. There were two or three of the strong men who struggled firmly with their captors, as their gallant hearts prompted them to strike a blow, for their suffering comrade. But, bound and guarded, what could they do?
They saw the young man lifted up by two of the executioners, and borne rapidly to the further edge of the rock, not twenty yards from them. He uttered no cry; but looking towards them sadly, he bade them farewell for ever, with a glance even more eloquent than words. Another instant, and he was hurled from the brink by those who carried him.
Almost unconsciously each bent forward to catch even a passing sound, should any arise; and there was a dead silence for a few moments, as the men who had done their work leaned over the edge to see if it had been surely effected. But none arose: the sufferer had been quickly released from his earthly pain.
‘Dost thou see that, Captain Compton?’ said the Jemadar. ‘Thy turn will come.’