Like Another Helen

by Sydney C. Grier

Resolved to second to the best of my power the efforts of this human pagan, I catched up Mr Freyne’s pistols, and stood with one of them in each hand, while the shouts and cries of the victorious Moguls approached nearer, although none had as yet penetrated to our neighbourhood. I thought I had passed through the bitterness of death, Amelia, and ’twas like a new life when I saw Captain Colquhoun and his sergeant come hurrying across the courtyard, in company with one of the Moorish Jemmautdars and ten or twelve of his men, while the poor Gentoo that guarded us was so confused by their sudden appearance that he fetched a great blow at the Captain with his scymitar, but the sergeant warded it off, and no harm was done, though I cried out aloud in my fright.

“Madam,” says the Captain, brushing the Gentoo aside, and coming into the chamber, “this Jemmautdar here en’t so vile as the most of them, and has promised, in return for receiving all our valuables, to save us from the ill-treatment of his fellows. Pray give him any jewellery you may happen to have about you, and he’ll conduct us to our friends, the rest of the prisoners.”

My dear girl will guess that I did not delay to give the Captain my brooch and rings, my silver-framed tablets, and even the coral pins that fastened my handkerchief, to present to the Moor, observing that the poor gentleman himself had been robbed not only of his watch and shoe-buckles, but of the very buttons from his coat. My papa’s pistols, which were mounted in silver, next excited the covetousness of the Jemmautdar, and Captain Colquhoun bade me give them up to him, making a sign to me that he himself had still a weapon concealed on his person. Since we were now robbed of everything, the Captain bade me pull the frills of my cap over my face as far as I could, and he and Sergeant Jones took up the two ends of the bedstead on which Mr Freyne lay, to carry it out. But to this the most strenuous objection was offered by Omy Chund’s servant, who declared himself fully equal to protecting us if we remained where we were, and brought the Jemmautdar over to his side by means of signs which we could not comprehend. I was in terror lest the Captain and his man should be dragged away, and my papa and I left to the poor protection of this one Gentoo with his scymitar, but Mr Freyne settled the matter for himself.

“I don’t desire to be separated from my friends,” he said, awaking, as it seemed, from sleep. “My daughter and I will share the lot of the other prisoners.”

The servant offering no further opposition, we quitted the chamber, I keeping close to Captain Colquhoun, and the Jemmautdar and his men acting as our guard. Not knowing what sights of horror might meet my eyes, I durst not look around me, but we passed unmolested—the Moors, as I learnt, being so busy with the spoil they had found, such as bales of broadcloth, chests of coral, plate, and treasure, in the private rooms of the gentlemen in the factory, that they had no time to observe us, and we arrived safely in the arched varanda in front of the barracks that extended from the great gate of the Fort to the south-east bastion, inside our eastern wall. Here were gradually gathered all that had escaped the perils of the day, including, besides ourselves, Mr Holwell, Mr Secretary Cooke, Mr Bellamy and his son the Lieutenant, Mr Eyre, Mr Baillie and several other members of Council, Captains Clayton and Witherington, a number of young gentlemen of the Service and the army (among them that gallant officer Mr Ensign Piccard, who was almost disabled by his wounds), several masters and mates of ships who had chose to remain with us when their fellows abandoned their duty, and some common soldiers and militia, both white and black. Oh, my dear, all these brave gentlemen! Sure I could weep tears of blood, to think of the awful fate of the best and noblest of our people in this factory, while the cowards and deserters stood aloof in safety.

About five o’clock the Nabob and his brother entered the Fort in state, being borne in ornamented litters, and Surajah Dowlah, having ordered a guard to be placed over the treasury, proceeded to the principal apartments of the factory, where he set up his throne and held his Court, receiving the compliments of Meer Jaffier the Buckshy, and the rest of his attendants. Having indulged himself in this fanfaronade, the victor sent for Mr Holwell to attend him, whom we saw depart with great grief and apprehension, but had presently the delight of welcoming him back unhurt, though with a countenance expressive of the utmost concern. After telling us that the Nabob had declared himself exceeding dissatisfied with the small quantity of money in the treasury, and had loudly expressed his resentment at our presumption in defending the place so stubbornly with such a small garrison, demanding also why Mr Holwell had not had the prudence to make his escape with the President, but ending with a promise that no harm should befall the prisoners, the good gentleman admitted us into the secret of his dejection.

“One of the first acts of the Soubah on entering,” he said, “was to have Omy Chund and Kissendass fetched out of prison, whom he received with the greatest imaginable civility, and presented ’em both with seerpaws.”[03] (These, Amelia, are vests of honour, given by a ruler to those he most affects.) “You may well look astonished, gentlemen, knowing that the shelter given to Kissendass was our chief alleged crime in the Nabob’s eyes, but there’s worse yet. Have you forgot that in the same prison with the two Gentoos was a European, suspected, like them, of trafficking with the enemy? I understand that when the prison was broke open the unhappy man had almost secured his freedom by promising to show the Moors that discovered him where he had buried a prodigious treasure, but, as you are sensible, Omy Chund never forgives, and sure Mr Menotti made him his deadly enemy when he sought to save himself by casting suspicion on him. Not that Omy Chund appeared in the matter, save by preventing Menotti’s escape, for there was another ready to do the business. When the wretched man was brought before the Soubah, there stood out to accuse him a person somewhat of a European aspect, but dressed like the Moors, and this I discovered to be the renegade Frenchman, Sinzaun, the master of the Nabob’s artillery. From all I could learn (for the apostate spoke very vehemently and with an almost incredible swiftness in Moors), Menotti, who had for years supplied the old Soubah with information respecting us and our designs, suddenly demanded from Surajah Dowlah that in the event of this place being captured a certain female should be allotted to him as a part of his reward. Finding the Muxadavad Durbar disinclined to increase their offers, he supported his request with threats, declaring that he would otherwise betray the Nabob’s designs to our Presidency. On this Sinzaun visited Calcutta in disguise, as I understood, and arrived at the determination to carry off the lady himself, whereupon, so he alleged, Menotti sought to betray both him and their common design to us, trusting to obtain the object of his pursuit through the gratitude of the chiefs of our factory. At this point of his discourse the accuser directed at Menotti a gross taunt that appeared to sting him to the highest pitch of indignation, for drawing a stiletto that he had contrived to conceal about him, he flung himself upon Sinzaun with such fury, despite his chains, that it seemed impossible to part ’em. But the renegade wearing a shirt of mail under his Moorish vest, the blow was fruitless, and Menotti was dragged from his prey, when the Soubah, who was prodigiously incensed that such an attempt should be made on his officer in his presence, cried out to the guards to fall upon him, and he was cut to pieces in the twinkling of an eye. Can you wonder at my seriousness, gentlemen, after beholding so shocking a spectacle?”

The gentlemen vied with each other in expressions of horror, but what does my Amelia think was the state of mind of the three persons that knew who was the unhappy creature alluded to as the object of the rivalry of these two traitors? My poor father groaned aloud, while I sank down by his side overcome with terror, and Captain Colquhoun opened his vest and showed me the butt of a pistol, which, indeed, was the greatest comfort that he could have offered me at that moment. But the next there came an even greater alarm to rouse us from our stupor of fright, for Lieutenant Bellamy pushed his way through the crowd to us with—

“There’s several Moors of high rank crossing the parade, gentlemen, and they say that one of ’em is Sinzaun.”

“Crouch down where you are, madam,” says Captain Colquhoun, “but get a glimpse of the fellow if you can. It may be that our alarm en’t needed. And, gentlemen, not a word of Miss if your lives be the forfeit.”