Ch. Hurstwood.
Three letters from Colvin Fraser, Esq., to Mrs Hurstwood.
The Tank-house, Madrass, Aug. ye 17th.
Madam,—Your obliging favour is to hand, writ in language that I am sensible my former behaviour has but too well deserved. The just remarks that you have passed upon my usage of the dear lady whose name I scarce dare profane with my pen find a ready echo in the heart of the unhappy wretch that now addresses you. I dare not, madam, protest my love for Miss Freyne, but I’ll hope to prove it. I have long been convinced that the happy issue hinted at for my affairs in my cousin Colquhoun’s letter of April the 29th was not to be confidently looked forward to, for in that case what punishment would I have received for the sufferings inflicted on my charmer by my fault? But that my punishment should arrive through further sufferings on Miss Freyne’s part—sure, dear madam, this is more than is just, for I had willingly endured any trials rather than they should come on her. When the news arrived here in the middle of July of the fall of Cossimbuzar, I was very urgent with Captain Latham and the Admiral to grant me leave to accompany Major Kilpatrick’s detachment of 230 Europeans, which was despatched at once to the assistance of Calcutta, but I was strictly refused, both because it was intended very shortly to employ all our force in aiding the Nizam Salabadjing against Mr Bussey, who has established himself with a French garrison at Charmaul in the vicinity of Hyderabad, and also because it was the confident expectation everywhere that Fort William would easily beat off any army the Soubah could bring against it. In spite, however, of the cheerfulness of all around me, I remained in a state of the most cruel anxiety, although not anticipating news of such horror as reached us yesterday by the hand of Mr Labaume. Mr Manningham, whom you mention as also detailed to carry the awful tidings, chose to remain at Vizagapatnam, being apprehensive as to the sort of reception he might expect here when his cowardly behaviour became known, and indeed, I think the men would have beat him to death with their scabbards, or the ladies stabbed him with their bodkins, had he been within reach when they heard of his action in forsaking the defence, and going on board the ships with the women and Mr Frankland, after no more than a day’s fighting. On his arrival, Mr Labaume was summoned to the consultation chamber, where he delivered his despatches to Mr President Pigot and the Council, and answered the questions showered upon him as to the reason and manner of this unparalleled calamity. Then, when the public men were satisfied, came the turn of those that had relations or private friends in Calcutta, and among them myself. I knew by the young gentleman’s air when he saw me that he had ill news to convey, and like a man condemned to drink poison, that might begin by sipping delicately at the edge of the cup, I only approached by degrees the topic of my supreme concern. “What of my friend Jack Bellamy, sir?” “Dead, sir, and the Padra too.” “And my cousin Colquhoun?” “Dead, like them, in the black hole.” “And my good friend Mr Freyne?” “Dead of his wounds, sir.” “And—and what of his daughter, sir?” “Alas, sir! she fell into the hands of the enemy, and was carried to Muxidavad.” Such was the awful gradation of my misery, which made me burst through the crowd and rush into the open air, whither Mr Labaume followed me and thrust a pacquet into my hand. ’Twas your letter, madam, but indeed its incitements were not needed, although they served to impel me to a greater frenzy than I was in.
Scarce knowing what I did, I returned to the consultation chamber, and waited at the door until the Admiral had ended his conference with Governor Pigot and the Council, waylaying him as he came out, and demanding his leave to repair at once to Fulta in order to take measures for Miss Freyne’s deliverance. What was my consternation when Mr Watson not only refused me very curtly, but looking keenly into my face, ordered me to return on board my ship at once. The habit of obedience assisted me to turn my steps in the direction of the strand, but once out of the Admiral’s presence the thought of my dear angel’s cruel fate overcame me again, and blotted out all recollection of the order I had received. Instead of seeking a shore-boat to go on board the Tyger, I turned aside to the ramparts, and there wandered about, I think, for hours, seeing that it was before sunset I had met with Mr Labaume. My whole soul was consumed with the thought of the miseries that the dear creature, whose humble servant I am proud to be, must have endured. An officer of the city watch coming upon me at last, recommended me to leave the walls, and finding that I was as though I heard him not, led me by the arm to the strand and set me in the direction of the spot where our boats from the ships are wont to land and embark their crews, with great peril from the surf. Wading along in the heavy sand, with no design nor intention in my mind for betaking myself anywhere, it seemed to me that I heard my name called, but I could not discover from what point the voice came. Presently, however, I felt myself seized by the sleeve, and found that Billy Speke, son to the captain of the Kent, and the Admiral’s favourite midshipman, was come running after me.
“The Admiral bids you attend him at once, sir,” he said.
I followed the lad to the road, where I found Mr Watson standing beside his hackery,[07] which he had halted on catching sight of me. He was on his way home from the President’s to the Tank-house, which is his residence while on shore. Looking at me with great seriousness, “What are you doing here, sir?” he asked me. “Did you repair on board as I ordered you?”
I could only look at him without a word, but I fancy he must have read in my countenance something of the torments I had been enduring.
“Come home with me,” he said, with that benevolent air which has made him the idol of every man that has ever served under him. “You shall lie at the Tank-house to-night, and I will make your excuses to Captain Latham.” With gentle force, he compelled me to enter the hackery. “You are very foolhardy thus to expose your health to these night airs, child, and I shall bid my surgeon look to you, for I don’t desire to lose one of my most active officers before we sail to avenge our people at Calcutta. Pray, Mr Speke, contrive to perch yourself somewhere on this machine, and bid the driver go on.”
“Oh, pray, sir,” I cried, “is Calcutta to be avenged?”