“And the same from me,” said I. “And from me,” “And from me,” added the other gentlemen, and Omychund called his cash-bearer from among his attendance, and bade him count out the money. By this time the other servant was returned with the iya, an elderly Moorwoman well muffled in a blue cloth, and to her Omychund gave the rupees, with many good counsels, which she promised faithfully to observe, while all the time she was assisting to lift Miss Freyne, who was still insensible, though faintly moaning, into the palanqueen, and place her as easily as she might. When this was done, and the checks drawn, she followed behind the bearers, and they passed out of our sight. Dear sir, I am sensible that we seem to have played but a sorry part in this affair, and yet, what could we do? There wasn’t a man of us but would have given his life cheerfully to save Miss Freyne, but all our lives together would not have been accepted in exchange for hers, although, as you shall see, there was one worthy fellow did actually sacrifice himself for her.
“See,” cried Mr Cooke, as the Jemmautdar and his men left the Fort after the palanqueen, “the rascal is taking one of ourselves with him. Who is it? This is contrary to the Nabob’s message of clemency, Omychund.”
“Not so, Saeb,” says the Gentoo. “His Highness desires European gunners, and this person has offered himself as one of ’em. I fear he has the notion that he will be permitted to attend on the young lady, but he’ll soon be undeceived in this.”
“Sure ’tis that sergeant of Captain Colquhoun’s!” said I, and on a sudden impulse, started to run after the poor man and warn him of his mistake, but so weak and sick was I that I could not even reach the gate before I fell down helplessly. And thus, sir, was this poor faithful fellow trapped into entering the Nabob’s service, in the vain belief that he would be suffered to watch over the safety of the lady of whom his late beloved commander was enamoured. That very day, as we learned, was he put on board the same boat as Miss Freyne and her attendant, which started for Muxadabad under the charge of the Jemmautdar and a strong guard. Of the other unfortunate lady we have heard nothing, but we know sufficient to wish that Miss Freyne had, like her, been consigned to the Buxey, Meer Jaffier. It seems that as our ships dropped down the river from Surmans, on beholding the fall of the Fort, they were hotly cannonaded by the Nabob’s fortresses of Tannah and Buzbudgia, and under this fire the snow Diligence, on board of which were Mrs Drake and Mrs Mapletoft and two other ladies, besides Mr Labaume, a French officer of ours, who was badly wounded, and Mr Holwell’s goods and money, in charge of his clerk, Mr Weston, run ashore. The four ladies were handed over by their captors to Meer Jaffier, who treated them with the greatest humanity, and ordering his secretary, Mirza Omar-beg, to take a swift boat, put the ladies and Mr Labaume into it, and despatched them, under the secretary’s care, to the ships, where husbands and wives were happily reunited. It may be that the Buxey has used Mrs Carey in the like handsome and delicate fashion, but of this we have no news.[05]
And meanwhile, what of ourselves? my good father will ask. Indeed, dear sir, the sojourn in Allynagore (as the Soubah has renamed Calcutta, building a mosque or Mussleman temple in the very Fort itself), which was granted us through Omychund’s intercession, was but short. For ten days we all lay sick of frightful fevers and the most painful imposthumes or boils, which broke out all over us owing to the foul atmosphere we had been in. I’ll assure the dear circle that it afforded us little consolation as we lay abed to hear the rain pattering on the roofs and terrasses, rain which began on the night of our sufferings,[06] and which, had it come one day nearer its usual date, might have availed to save Calcutta. As soon as any of us were able to be about again, our troubles began anew, for the Nabob made Monickchund the Phousdar of Houghley governor of Allynagore. This man affects to rule with an iron hand (the Soubah being returned to Muxadabad), and on one of the sergeants that survived with us the horrors of our imprisonment celebrating his recovery by getting drunk and killing a Moorman, Monickchund turned all of us Europeans out of the place, under penalty of cutting off the nose and ears of any one he found there after sunset of that day, so that we were forced to make our way painfully to Fultah, a settlement of the Dutch on the Houghley River, where our ships were lying. This place is at all times very unhealthy, but the great number of persons now crowded together on board the vessels, and sleeping on deck without any shelter, exposed to the rains without so much as a change of clothes, has caused an extraordinary great prevalence of disease. The wisest course for the unhappy persons in this deplorable situation would questionless be to make the best of their way by slow stages to Madrass, in spite of the opposing winds, but Mr Manningham, who has good reason to dread the true history of his pusillanimous behaviour becoming known at that place, pointed out so forcibly to the President and Mr Frankland the inexpediency of such a proceeding, that they, being themselves in the like case with him, put an end immediately to the notion. This apart, I know my dear friends will rejoice to hear that the greatest kindness is shown by all on board the ships to us unhappy sufferers, and that many who have saved but little of their property share the scanty remnants with us.
The full history of the capture of the Fort was unknown until our arrival, although some partial reports had been brought in by blackfellows, and the utmost horror and amazement was excited by what we had to tell. Mrs Freyne has taken her stepdaughter’s melancholy fate so much to heart that she has requested Miss Freyne’s name may never again be mentioned in her hearing, but the young lady’s chief female friend, Mrs Hurstwood, looks at the matter in an entirely different light. Repairing, at her request, on board the Dodley, where she is lying sick, I related the whole mournful affair to Mrs Hurstwood, when the lady astonished me by crying out to know whether there was none of us man enough to snatch a scymitar from the guards and slay her unfortunate friend. To this I could only reply, quite confounded, that I could not have ventured upon so terrible and resolved a measure but upon the lady’s own urgent request, upon which Mrs Hurstwood mocked at me for preferring my punctilio to Miss Freyne’s honour and happiness, and bade me depart and never enter her presence again. Happening to meet Mr Hurstwood this morning, he told me that my news had so grievously affected his lady that she had been seized with a fresh access of her disorder, in so much that the physicians despaired of her life, a moving incident that shows the falseness of those who contend that no true friendship can exist between persons of the female sex. But as to that which the lady found fault with me for not doing, I can’t discern, even now, that I ought to have done it. I do entreat my dear father to unite his supplications to Heaven with mine, that my hesitation may be over-ruled by Omnipotence for good, even for that of the unhappy lady herself, and so assist to calm the troubled mind of, sir, your obedient son and servant,
Robert Fisherton.
From Mrs Hurstwood to Colvin Fraser, Esq.
On board the Hon. Co.’s Ship Doddaly, off Fulta, July ye 6th.
Sir,—I send you these lines by the hand of Mess. Manningham and La Beaume, to whom is committed the melancholy task of announcing at Madrass the deplorable ruin that has lately fell upon our Calcutta factory. I make no excuse for addressing a letter to a gentleman that I know so slightly, and with whom my relations in the past have not been so friendly as I should have desired, seeing he had succeeded in inspiring such a tender interest in the bosom of my dearest friend. Mr Fraser don’t need me to tell him that I was always of opinion Miss Freyne might do vastly better than marry him, and that in aspiring even to the honour of her friendship he was pretending to a favour much above his deserts. True, sir, and even at this present time I can’t bring myself to feign otherwise, but I don’t think so ill of Mr Fraser as to imagine he will let my whimsies prejudice him against the lovely and innocent creature in whose behalf I now demand his help. What (you’ll say), I have changed my tune? Indeed, sir, I’ll assure you that the change springs only from the need of the moment, and ’twill require a very exceptional behaviour on your part to induce it to become permanent. But I do need your help,—nay, I demand it, and this because there’s no one else to whom I can confidently apply, and to whom Miss Freyne’s fate is a matter of such proper concern. My spouse knows that if there’s any question of attacking Muxadavad when reinforcements reach us, he must march with the troops to Miss Freyne’s rescue (if he be forced to do no more than carry a fire-rock in the ranks), or he shall never again call Charlotte Hamlin his wife, but the unreasonable creature persists in considering me before my dearest Sylvia, and won’t consent to take any present step that might interfere with his protecting me. Our excellent Mr Freyne is no more, and his lady is too much relieved to find herself suddenly liberated from the scandal that was beginning to threaten her name, and to believe herself the heir to all that her spouse has left behind him, to feign any interest in the recovery of her stepdaughter. Your cousin Colquhoun, the worthiest person of my acquaintance (you are aware of my opinion, that if you, sir, had possessed the Captain’s disposition, or he your youth and prospects, I need have sought no further for a spouse for my Sylvia), is also dead, and the only person left to watch over the dear creature’s fate is myself. The fearful news that my dearest girl had been carried into the most frightful and revolting slavery imaginable threw me at first into such a sickness that both Dr Knox and a Dutch physician from the factory here predicted my immediate dissolution, but, sir, I can’t, I won’t die, while my Sylvia needs a disinterested friend. If I can do no more than incite you to attempt her deliverance, I shan’t have lived in vain, but I fear that I don’t trust Mr Fraser sufficiently to die happy until I have seen him actually successful. Come, sir, I challenge you to undertake the task. You have declared that you love my incomparable Miss Freyne—or at least, at the end of a monstrous fine and flowery epistle of yours there was a postscriptum that the dear creature would not read to me, but to which her eyes returned ever and anon with a smile of sweet satisfaction when she thought I wasn’t looking at her—what, pray, is your love good for? Hitherto it has been fertile in producing the most fantastical letter ever wrote out of a romance, and the most unhappy expedient for sparing your punctilio and testing your mistress’s affection that ever set a gentleman and lady at cross purposes, but is it capable of anything more? You have confused and muddled your affairs in a style worthy only of a poet; is it possible to you to go to work like a man of sense to set ’em right? If so, let me see you throwing, for once, your prudence and calculation and worldly wisdom to the winds, and setting out to rescue Miss Freyne, if living, to avenge her, if dead. You’ll observe that I don’t condition with you to marry her if she be rescued. Your sentiments may have altered, and no man shall marry my Sylvia Freyne that would make a condescension of doing so. My house and my heart are always open to her; your part is only to restore her to the arms of, sir, your obedient servant,