As he entered he met his friend the Moolah. He could not resist the impulse, his spirit was oppressed, and he again requested the Moolah’s kind administration of his property in case of his death, and the remission of its proceeds to his mother. Such requests were not uncommon at that period, and death was too busy in the Fort for every man not to prepare for his own end. The Sultaun arrived soon after from his early circuit of the walls, attended by his chief officers, and the morning prayer commenced.
It was finished, and men arose and were preparing to depart. ‘Stay!’ cried the Sultaun, ‘we would speak to all.’ And as he cast his eye around, ‘Ye all here love me,’ he said, in so melancholy a tone that most were touched by it. ‘Ye, Kummur-ud-deen, Syud Sahib, Syud Ghuffoor, Bakir Sahib, and thou Kasim Ali, who once saved me, ye are all here. Alas! there are but few remaining like you. How many have been faithless, who have eaten my salt for years! Listen—our glory is gone—the light of the earth, the star of Islam is quenched. No more triumphs to the Faith—all is dark before us. Hear ye what we have come to; we asked for peace at the hands of the infidels—we asked the cause of this unjustifiable attack—why we were insulted and bearded in our very capital; but no answer is returned. The insatiate thirst of power and conquest is apparent in the reply of the kafir Cornwallis. Listen.’
There was perfect silence: every man felt that the Sultaun’s spirit was broken, and melancholy was upon every face, as he unfolded a letter, and, mounting a step of the pulpit, began to read. It was short, and there were few ceremonious expressions: to resign half his territories, to pay the cost of the war, and to surrender his sons as hostages, were the humiliating terms proposed; and as they heard it, a burst of indignation arose from the assembly, which rung through the lofty arches and fretted roof of the mosque.
‘I thank you, friends and brothers,’ he said; ‘ye feel for me—I bless ye, that ye have hearts for the unfortunate. But will you bear this? Will ye, whose victorious arms have ere now vanquished the kafirs, will ye submit to these insults?’
‘If all in this fort were as true as we are,’ cried Syud Ghuffoor, ‘there would be no fear; but, alas! the faint-hearted tremble for their lives, as every English shot strikes the wall, and there are thousands such.’
‘Alla be merciful to me!’ said the Sultaun, bowing his head; ‘are they so faithless? What say ye, sirs?’
Many replied, but only a few could answer for the men, and then many wept passionately. The grief of those strong warriors was moving to look on.
‘And are we to die here—to die like dogs, like wild beasts in a cage?’ broke out the Sultaun frantically, and throwing his turban on the ground; ‘to have our children torn from us, our wives defiled before our eyes? to be plundered of our kingdom—torn from our throne—humbled in the dust? Are we to bear this from kafirs, from hogs too? Holy Alla, and Mahomed the Apostle, are we to suffer this indignity? are we to be so beaten down? Sirs, have ye no hearts? Where is your vaunted bravery? Ye have eaten my salt, ye have grown rich where ye were poor—have ye no gratitude? have ye no faith?’
‘We have! we have!’ cried one and all of that assembly. ‘We will die at your feet; our lives are in your hand.’
‘The infidels are before ye—they for whose presence ye have often longed, to prove your prowess. Will ye swear before Alla, and here in his house, to be faithful to me his servant, to your Sultaun?’