-
Notifications
You must be signed in to change notification settings - Fork 0
/
Edward-S-Ellis-The-Jungle-Fugitives-A-Tale-of-Life-and-Adventure-in-India-1903-Fiction.txt
8254 lines (6394 loc) · 389 KB
/
Edward-S-Ellis-The-Jungle-Fugitives-A-Tale-of-Life-and-Adventure-in-India-1903-Fiction.txt
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610
611
612
613
614
615
616
617
618
619
620
621
622
623
624
625
626
627
628
629
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672
673
674
675
676
677
678
679
680
681
682
683
684
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701
702
703
704
705
706
707
708
709
710
711
712
713
714
715
716
717
718
719
720
721
722
723
724
725
726
727
728
729
730
731
732
733
734
735
736
737
738
739
740
741
742
743
744
745
746
747
748
749
750
751
752
753
754
755
756
757
758
759
760
761
762
763
764
765
766
767
768
769
770
771
772
773
774
775
776
777
778
779
780
781
782
783
784
785
786
787
788
789
790
791
792
793
794
795
796
797
798
799
800
801
802
803
804
805
806
807
808
809
810
811
812
813
814
815
816
817
818
819
820
821
822
823
824
825
826
827
828
829
830
831
832
833
834
835
836
837
838
839
840
841
842
843
844
845
846
847
848
849
850
851
852
853
854
855
856
857
858
859
860
861
862
863
864
865
866
867
868
869
870
871
872
873
874
875
876
877
878
879
880
881
882
883
884
885
886
887
888
889
890
891
892
893
894
895
896
897
898
899
900
901
902
903
904
905
906
907
908
909
910
911
912
913
914
915
916
917
918
919
920
921
922
923
924
925
926
927
928
929
930
931
932
933
934
935
936
937
938
939
940
941
942
943
944
945
946
947
948
949
950
951
952
953
954
955
956
957
958
959
960
961
962
963
964
965
966
967
968
969
970
971
972
973
974
975
976
977
978
979
980
981
982
983
984
985
986
987
988
989
990
991
992
993
994
995
996
997
998
999
1000
THE JUNGLE FUGITIVES
A Tale of Life and Adventure in India
Including also
Many Stories of American Adventure, Enterprise and Daring
by
EDWARD S. ELLIS, A.M.
New York
Hurst and Company
Publishers
1903
CONTENTS
THE JUNGLE FUGITIVES
LOST IN THE WOODS
IN THE NICK OF TIME
LOST IN THE SOUTH SEA
AN UNPLEASANT COMPANION
A STIRRING INCIDENT
CYCLONES AND TORNADOES
LOST IN A BLIZZARD
THROWING THE RIATA
A WATERSPOUT
AN HEROIC WOMAN
THE WRITING FOUND IN A BOTTLE
THAT HORNET'S NEST
A YOUNG HERO
OVERREACHED
A BATTLE IN THE AIR
WHO SHALL EXPLAIN IT?
A FOOL OF A GENIUS
THE JUNGLE FUGITIVES.
CHAPTER I.
IN THE SPRING OF 1857.
All through India, with its fanatical population five times as great as
that of England, the rumblings of the coming uprising had been heard
for months. The disaffection had been spreading and taking root. The
emissaries of the arch-plotters had passed back and forth almost from
end to end of the vast empire, with their messages of hatred and
appeal. The people were assured that the "Inglese loge" were
perfecting their insidious schemes for overthrowing their religion, and
the faithful everywhere were called upon to crush the infidels in the
dust. The evil seed fell upon the rankest of soil, and grew with a
vigor and exuberance that threatened to strangle every other growth.
The plot, as agreed upon, was that a general uprising was to take place
throughout India on the last day of May, 1857, but, as is often the
case in such far-reaching schemes, the impatience of the mutineers
precipitated the tremendous tragedy.
The first serious outbreak took place at Meerut on Sunday, May 10th,
just three weeks previous to the time set for the general uprising.
That town, with its population of about 40,000 at that time, lies
thirty-two miles northeast from Delhi, which was to be the capital of
the resurrected Mogul Empire. It was the precipitancy of this first
revolt that prevented its fullest success. The intention was to kill
every white man, woman and child in the place. Two regiments were
clamorous for beginning the massacre, but the Eleventh Native Infantry
held back so persistently that the others became enraged and fired a
volley among them, killing a number. Thereupon the Eleventh announced
themselves ready to take their part in the slaughter that was to free
India from the execrated "Inglese loge."
Seeing now for the first time the real peril, the colonel of the
Eleventh made an impassioned appeal to the regiment to stand by its
colors and to take no part in the useless revolt. While he was
speaking, a volley riddled his body, and he tumbled lifeless from his
saddle. The Eleventh, however, covered the flight of the other
officers, but helped to release a thousand prisoners, suffering
punishment for various offenses, and then the hell fire burst forth.
The bungalows of the officers, the mess houses of the troops, and all
the buildings between the native lines and Meerut were fired, and the
whole became a roaring conflagration, whose glare at night was visible
for miles.
When an appeal was made to the Emperor of Delhi by the troopers, he
inquired their errand. The lacklustre eyes flashed with a light that
had not been seen in them for years, the bowed form acquired new
energy, and he gave orders to admit the troopers.
Their message was enough to fan into life the slumbering fires of
ambition in the breast of a dying person.
He yielded to the dazzling dream. A throne of silver, laid away for
years, was brought into the "hall of special audience," and the
tottering form was helped to the seat, into which he sank and looked
around upon his frenzied followers. Mohammed Suraj-oo-deen Shah Gezee
was now the Great Mogul of India. A royal salute of twenty-one guns
was fired by two troops of artillery from Meerut in front of the
palace, and the wild multitudes again strained their throats. To the
thunder of artillery, the strains of martial music and the shouting of
the people, the gates of the palace were flung open, and Prince Mirza
Mogul, with his brother, Prince Abu Beker, at the head of the royal
bodyguard, rode forth, the king following in an open chariot,
surrounded by his bodyguard.
With impressive slowness this strange procession made its way through
the principal street, the populace becoming as frantic as so many ghost
dancers. Finally a halt was made at the Juma Musjeed, the largest
mosque in India, where the banner of the Prophet was unfurled and the
Mogul Empire proclaimed.
CHAPTER II.
ON AN AFTERNOON.
Almost due east from Delhi Dr. Hugh Marlowe, a venerable American
physician, had lived for more than twenty years. Since the death of
his wife, six years previous to the Mutiny, he had dwelt alone with his
only daughter, Mary, and their single servant, Mustad, a devout
Mussulman. A portion of the time mentioned had been passed without the
society of his beloved child, who spent several years in New England
(where the physician himself was born and had received his education)
at one of the fashionable schools.
Shortly after her graduation, Miss Marlowe met Jack Everson, fresh from
Yale, and the acquaintance ripened into mutual love, though the filial
affection of the young woman was too profound to permit her to form an
engagement with the young man until the consent of her father was
obtained, and he would not give that consent until he had met and
conversed with the young gentleman face to face and taken his measure,
as may be said.
"If he doesn't esteem you enough to make a little journey like the one
from America to this country he isn't worth thinking about."
"But he _will_ make the journey," said the blushing daughter, patting
the bronzed cheek of the parent whom she idolized as much as he
idolized her.
"Don't be to sure of that, my young lady; romantic young girls like you
have altogether too much faith in the other sex."
"But he _has_ started," she added with a sly smile.
"He has, eh? He will change his mind before he reaches here. How far
has he got?"
"He was due in England many weeks ago."
"Well, well! How soon will he arrive _here_?"
"I think he is due now."
"Very probably, but his fancy will give out before he reaches this
out-of-the-way place."
"I think not, papa."
"Of course not, of course not; I just told you that that is the way
with all foolish girls like you."
The old gentleman had assumed a stern earnestness, and he added: "I
tell you he will never show himself here! I know what I'm talking
about."
"But he _is_ here, papa; let me introduce you to Jack Everson, a
physician like yourself."
All this time the smiling young man was standing directly behind the
old doctor, who was lazily reclining in a hammock on the shaded lawn,
smoking a cheroot, while his daughter sat on a camp stool, with one
hand resting on the edge of the hammock, so as to permit her gently to
sway it back and forth. As she spoke the tall, muscular American
walked forward and extended his hand.
"Doctor, I am glad to make your acquaintance," he said, in his cheery
way. The astonished physician came to an upright position like the
clicking of the blade of a jackknife, and meeting the salutation,
exclaimed:
"Well, I'll be hanged! I never knew a girl so full of nonsense and
tricks as Mary. You are welcome, doctor, to my house; let me have a
look at you!"
Jack Everson laughingly stepped hack a couple of paces and posed for
inspection. The elder deliberately drew his spectacle case from his
pocket, adjusted the glasses and coolly scrutinized the young man from
head to foot.
"You'll do," he quietly remarked, removing his glasses and returning
them to the morocco case; "now, if you'll be good enough to seat
yourself, we'll talk over matters until dinner time. When did you
arrive?"
Jack seated himself on the remaining camp stool, a few paces from the
happy young lady, accepted a cheroot from his host, and the
conversation became general. Like most Americans, when at home or
travelling, Jack Everson kept his eyes and ears open. He heard at
Calcutta, his starting point, at Benares, Allahabad, Cawnpore and other
places, the whisperings of the uprising that was soon to come, and his
alarm increased as he penetrated the country.
"Worse than all," he said gravely, speaking of his trip, "one of my
bearers spoke English well, and quite an intimacy sprang up between us.
Since his companions could not utter a word in our language, we
conversed freely without being understood. He was reticent at first
concerning the impending danger and professed to know nothing of it,
but this forenoon be gave me to understand, in words that could not be
mistaken, that the whole country would soon be aflame with
insurrection."
"Did he offer any advice?" asked Dr. Marlowe, less impressed with the
news than was his visitor or his daughter.
"He did; he said that the escape of myself and of your family could be
secured only by leaving this place at the earliest moment possible."
"But whither can we go? We are hundreds of miles from the seacoast and
should have to journey for weeks through a country swarming with
enemies."
"I asked him that question, and his answer was that we should make for
Nepaul."
"That is the province to the east of us. It is a mountainous country,
a long way off, and hard to reach. Why should he advise us to go
thither?"
"I questioned him, but he seemed to fear that his companions would grow
suspicious over our conversation and he said nothing more. I thought
he would add something definite when we came to separate, and, to
loosen his tongue, I gave him an extra fee, but he added never a word,
and, unless I am mistaken, regretted what he had already said."
"It seems to me," observed the daughter, "that the man knew it is
impossible for us to get to the seacoast, and believed that by going
further into the interior we should reach the people who are not
affected by the insurrection. Wide as it may be, there must be many
points that will not feel it."
"That is the true reason," said her parent, "but, confound it! I have
lived in this spot for twenty years; the little town of Akwar lies
near, and there is hardly a person in it who has not been my patient.
I am known even in Meerut and Delhi, and I can hardly believe the
mutineers, for such they seem to be, will harm me or my friends."
"You once told me," replied Mary, "that when an appeal was made to the
religion of this people they knew no such thing as fear or mercy."
"And I told you the truth," said her father gravely. "But since we
have weapons and plenty of ammunition, and know how to handle the
firearms we shall not be led like lambs to the slaughter."
"That is true enough," said Jack, "but it will be of little avail, when
our enemies are numbered by the hundred and perhaps the thousand."
"I take it, then, that you favor an abandonment of our home?"
"I do, and with the least possible delay."
"And you, my daughter, are you of the same mind?"
"I am," was the emphatic response.
"Then my decision is that we shall start for the interior and stay
there until it is safe to show ourselves again among these people,
provided it ever shall be safe."
"When shall you start?"
The parent looked at the sky.
"It is two or three hours to nightfall. We will set out early
to-morrow morning before the sun is high in the sky."
"But will we not be more liable to discovery?" asked Jack.
"Not if we use care. I am familiar with the country for miles in every
direction. We shall have to travel for the first two or three days
through a thick jungle, and it is too dangerous work to undertake in
the night-time. This, you know, is the land of the cobra and the
tiger, not to mention a few other animals and reptiles equally
unpleasant in their nature. Last night," continued the doctor, "I saw
a glare in the sky off to the westward on the opposite side of the
river in the direction of Meerut. I wonder what it meant?"
"By Jove!" exclaimed Jack, "that explains something that the palanquin
bearer said to me about there being so many Inglese where there are
none to-day. I could not catch his meaning, though he mentioned
Meerut. But he gave me to understand that it was not quite time yet
for the uprising, which would come in a few weeks."
"Those things are apt to be precipitated. I have no doubt that the
mutineers burned the city last night. If so, the main body will hurry
to Delhi, which, being the ancient capital of the Mogul Empire, will
become the new one. Some of the rebels may take it into their heads to
come in this direction. What is the matter, Dr. Everson?"
CHAPTER III.
YANKEE MARKSMANSHIP.
As Jack Everson was seated he faced the broad, sluggish Ganges, with
the low, green banks beyond. He was looking over the water, in the
rays of the declining sun, when he saw something that caused him to
rise hastily from his seat and peer earnestly across the river toward
the opposite shore. Observing his action, the doctor asked his
question. Both he and his daughter, rising to their feet, gazed in the
same direction. It was easy to see what had attracted the attention of
their guest. A party of horsemen, fully twenty, if not more, in
number, had approached the river and were now halted on the other side,
looking across in the direction of Dr. Marlowe's home, as if debating
the question of making it a visit.
"Let me get my glass," said Mary, starting toward the house, hardly a
hundred feet distant.
"Allow me to bring it," interrupted Jack. "It is on one of the chairs
on the veranda, and I want my rifle."
Taking the glass from him on his return, the young woman levelled it at
the group of horsemen on the other side.
"I cannot make out who they are," she said, passing the glass to her
father.
It took the parent but a few seconds to answer the question. One
sweeping glance told him.
"They are Ghoojurs," he remarked, with as much calmness as he could
assume.
"And who are Ghoojurs?" asked Jack Everson, less excited than his
friends.
"They belong to the nomadic tribes which originally occupied India, and
are among the worst wretches in the world. They are brigands and
robbers, who are to be dreaded at all times. Now, if the revolt has
broken out, they will be as merciless as tigers."
"It looks as if they intended to make us a visit, doctor?"
"Alas! there can be no earthly doubt of it."
"Let us hurry into the jungle," said Mary, her face paling with fear.
"We have not a minute to waste."
"The advice is good, but before acting on it I should like to make an
experiment."
During this brief interval Jack Everson had carefully examined his
rifle to assure himself that it was in good condition.
"Heavens, man!" exclaimed Dr. Marlowe, "you are not going to try a shot
at them?"
"That is my intention."
"They are a mile distant!"
"One of my medals was won for hitting a target at exactly that
distance," replied Jack, continuing his preparations.
"It is impossible that you should succeed."
"But not impossible that I should try, so please don't bother the man
at the wheel."
"They have ridden into the water," added the young woman, still nervous
and excited.
"Which will serve to shorten the distance somewhat."
"Why not wait until they are halfway across; or, better still, not wait
at all?" inquired the doctor.
Jack Everson made no reply, but, lying down on his back, he slightly
separated his raised knees, and, by crossing his ankles, made a rest
for the barrel of his rifle. The left arm was crooked under his head,
so as to serve as a pillow or support, leaving the hand to steady the
stock of his gun, while the right inclosed the trigger guard.
The horsemen, instead of riding side by side, were strung along in a
line, with the leader several paces in advance and mounted on a rather
large horse of a coal-black color. Directly behind him came one upon a
bay, while a little further back rode another on a white steed. There
could be no question that they were on their way to kill without mercy.
The situation was intensely trying to father and daughter. The whole
party of Ghoojurs had entered the Ganges and were steadily approaching.
The water was so shallow that it could be seen as it splashed about the
bodies of the riders, who were talking and laughing, as if in
anticipation of the enjoyment awaiting them. They preserved their
single file, like so many American Indians in crossing a stream, and
their last thought must have been of any possible danger that could
threaten them from the three on the further bank.
The situation was becoming unbearable when the rifle cracked with a
noise no louder than a Chinese cracker, and a faint puff of smoke
curled upward from the muzzle of the weapon. At the same moment the
Ghoojur at the front, on his black horse, flung up his arms and tumbled
sideways into the water, which splashed over his animal's head.
Frightened, the horse reared, pawed the air, and, whirling about,
galloped back to the bank, sending the water flying in showers from his
hoofs.
"Score me a bull's-eye!" called Jack Everson, who in his pleasure over
his success, could not wait for the result.
"But see!" cried Mary, "you have only infuriated them. Oh! father, how
can we save ourselves?"
CHAPTER IV.
FLIGHT.
The success of the first shot gave Jack Everson self-confidence and he
took less time in aiming the second, which was as unerring as the
first. Another Ghoojur plunged off his horse and gave but a single
struggle when he sank from sight in the shallow water.
"Another bull's-eye!" called Jack, proceeding to reload his piece. "I
hope, doctor, you are keeping a correct score; I must have credit for
all I do."
"Now for my distinguished friend on the milk-white steed," said Jack,
proceeding to adjust his telescopic sight to that individual. "If they
will send over the three horses it will give us one apiece."
But the Ghoojurs had had enough of this fearful business. They saw
that some unaccountable fatality was at work and it was madness for
them to remain. With never a suspicion of the truth they wheeled their
animals about and sent them galloping for the bank which they had left
a short time before full of hope and anticipation.
"I'm sorry for that," reflected Jack Everson, "for it mixes things and
I can't pick out my man, but here goes."
In one sense, his opportunity was better than before; for, while he
could not select his particular target, he had but to aim at the bunch
to make sure of hitting somebody, which is precisely what he did.
The Ghoojur whom he punctured did not fall, for the reason that two of
his friends reached out and prevented him. It was a piece of
supererogation on their part, for when the party emerged from the
Ganges upon dry land that fellow was of no further account.
Jack now showed more haste than before in reloading his weapon, fearing
that the party would get beyond his reach before he could fire for the
fourth time. Much to his regret, they did so, for though he made the
shot, it was necessarily so hurried that it inflicted no injury, and
the whole party galloped out of sight over the slight swell without
showing any further concern for their companions left behind. Jack now
rose to his feet with the question:
"What is my record, doctor?"
"Three bull's-eyes; your score is perfect."
"Hardly, for the last was a miss; however, three out of a possible four
is pretty fair when the circumstances are considered. I suspect that
that particular party is not likely to give us further trouble."
"No, they will not forget the lesson."
"If we can induce our enemies to make their approach by the same ford
and when the sun is shining this will become truly amusing."
"But the Ghoojurs will not repeat that mistake. This affair has served
another purpose," added the physician, "we must not delay our
departure."
"Do you advise our going while it is night?"
"I advised the contrary a little while ago, but I confess I am afraid
to stay in the house, even for a few hours. However, we will take our
dinner there, gather a few belongings and then hurry off. We shall
find some spot where it will be safe to pass the night, and where we
are not likely to be molested, because no one will know where to find
us."
All glanced in the direction of the other shore, and seeing nothing to
cause misgiving moved to the house, a low, roomy structure, though of
moderate proportions, with a broad veranda extending along two sides.
It was time for the evening meal, and there was some surprise felt that
Mustad, the servant, had not summoned them before.
This surprise turned to astonishment and alarm when it was discovered
that Mustad was not in the house. No preparation had been made for
dinner, and though his name was called several times in a loud voice,
there was no response.
"He has left us," said the doctor.
"What does it mean?" asked Mary.
"It can have but one meaning: by some legerdemain, such as our own
Indians show in telegraphing news from one mountain top to another,
word has reached Mustad of what has taken place, and he has been called
upon to join the faithful, and has been only too glad to do it."
"I should think he would have attempted to do us harm before going."
"He is too great a coward."
"But his fanaticism will make him reckless."
"When he gets among his friends then he will be among the worst."
"But, father, he was always meek and gentle and respectful."
"Those are the kind who become directly the opposite."
"Do you think he would harm us?"
"I have no doubt of it," was the reply of the doctor. "I know the
breed; I have twice been the means of saving his life through my
medicines, and Mary nursed him for three weeks when he was suffering
from a fever."
"Yon may be doing him an injustice," ventured Jack Everson, to whom the
judgment of his friend seemed bitter.
"I wish I could think so, but, Mary, if you can provide us with
something in the way of food, Mr. Everson and I will get the things
together that we are to take with us."
Dr. Marlowe wisely decided not to burden themselves with unnecessary
luggage. Jack took from his trunk a few needed articles and stowed
them into a travelling bag whose supporting strap could be flung over
one shoulder. Though a physician himself, admitted to practice, he had
brought none of his instruments with him, for the good reason that he
saw no sense in doing so. Into the somewhat larger bag of the elder
doctor were placed his most delicate instruments and several medical
preparations, mostly the results of his experiments. They were too
precious to be lost if there was any way of preserving them. Mary
packed her articles in a small travelling bag, the strap of which she,
too, flung over her shoulder, though Jack asked to be allowed to
relieve her.
It was after the hurried meal had been eaten by lamplight that the
three completed their preparations for departure. That to which they
paid the most attention was their means of defense. Jack Everson had
brought a plentiful supply of cartridges for his superb breechloader;
and the belt was already secured around his body. Dr. Marlowe never
allowed his supply of ammunition to run low, so that the two were well
supplied in that respect.
Jack was pleased to find that the revolver belonging to Mary Marlowe
was of the same calibre as his own, so that the cartridges could be
used indiscriminately.
"I remember," he said to her, when the parent was just beyond hearing,
"that you were quite skillful with your weapon."
"Not specially so, but what skill I gained is due to your tuition."
"Not so much to that as to the aptness of the pupil."
"Your remark is more gallant than true, but I hope I shall not be
called upon to use this weapon as you used yours awhile ago."
"Such is my prayer, but if the necessity arises do not hesitate."
"Be assured I shall not," she replied, with a flash of her fine eyes
and a compression of her lips.
CHAPTER V.
COMPANIONS IN FLIGHT.
Everything needed having been gathered, the lamps were extinguished,
and with the physician in the lead, the three passed out of the front
door to the veranda. The doctor decided to leave the door unfastened,
since it was useless to secure it.
Suddenly, when the doctor was about to give the word to move, he saw a
shadowy figure in the direction of the river.
"Sh!" he whispered; "it looks as if we had waited too long; some one is
approaching. Be ready to use your gun or to retreat into the house if
necessary to fight it out there."
"It is a white man," said the daughter in an undertone; "he may be a
patient."
It was clear by this time that the stranger was not a native, for he
was dressed in civilized costume and his gait was that of a European.
He did not perceive the silent figures until within a few paces of the
veranda, when he paused abruptly, as if startled.
"Good evening," he said in English. "Is this Dr. Marlowe?"
"It is; who are you?"
"My name is Anderson; I was looking for you."
"In what way can I serve you?"
"You have heard the news, I suppose," said the man, keeping his
position, and looking up to the three, who were now all on the edge of
the veranda; "the native soldiers at Meerut mutinied yesterday, killed
most of their officers, plundered the city, slaying every white person
they could find, after which most of them hurried to Delhi."
"You bring dreadful tidings; I had heard nothing definite, but
suspected all that you have told me. Are you alone and why do you come
to me?"
"I fled with my wife and two other families, Turner and Wharton, from
the outskirts of Meerut as soon as there seemed a chance for us. We
made our way to the river, found a boat and paddled to this place, for
we had no sail and there was scarcely any wind."
"Where are your friends?"
"I left them by the edge of the river in the boat, promising to rejoin
them in a few minutes."
"Have you no companions, but those you named?"
"None; my wife and I buried two children last Summer; Mr. Turner has
none, and Mr. Wharton and his young wife were but recently married."
"You have not told me why you come to me?"
"Chiefly to warn you of your peril and to beseech you to fly before it
is too late."
"I thank you very much for your solicitude; it was kind on the part of
you and your friends, but it strikes me that one place is about as safe
as another."
"We are so far from the large cities and the coast that it is useless
to attempt to reach any of them. Our first aim was to get as far from
Meerut as possible; then as we found ourselves approaching your home,
it seemed to us there was a chance for our lives by pushing to the
northward, into the wilder and less settled country, where the flames
of the insurrection may not reach."
"Your sentiments are our own; you have been wonderfully fortunate in
getting this far; my friends and I have seen enough to warn us to lose
no time, and we were on the point of starting when I saw you."
"May I ask what course you intend to take?"
"I have lived here for twenty years, so that I am acquainted with the
section. My intention was to follow a slightly travelled road, which,
in fact, is little more than a bridle path, until several miles beyond
Akwar, when we should come back to the main highway and keep to that
for fifty or perhaps a hundred miles. By that time, we should be safe,
if such a thing as safety is possible."
"Your plan is a good one, but is not mine better?"
"What is that?"
"I, too, am familiar with this part of the country; a stream empties
into the Ganges just eastward of your house, hardly a half mile
distant; it must have its source somewhere among the foothills of the
Himalayas. At any rate, it is navigable for all of a hundred miles.
It seems to me that when paddling up that stream at night, between the
wooded banks, there will be less chance of being discovered by enemies
than when travelling overland, as you contemplate."
"I am favorably impressed with your plan; do I understand you to invite
us to join your party?"
"You are more than welcome; our boat will accommodate us all without
crowding, but I regret to say we have but a single gun among us. That
is mine, which I left with my friends against my return."
"We are well supplied in that respect; we accept your invitation with
many thanks."
As the doctor spoke he stepped down from the veranda, followed by the
others, and Mr. Anderson led the way across the lawn to the river,
where his friends were awaiting his coming with many misgivings. A
general introduction followed. A common danger makes friends of
strangers, and in a few minutes all were as well acquainted as if they
had known one another for days and weeks. Anderson and Turner were men
in middle life, while Wharton was of about the same age as Jack
Everson. They had lived for several years on the outskirts of Meerut,
but it was young Wharton who discovered the impending peril, and it was
due to him that the three families escaped the fate of hundreds of
others on that woful night. The young wife and Mary Marlowe became
intimate friends at once, while, as has been said, there was a hearty,
genuine comradeship immediately established among all.
The boat was larger than Dr. Marlowe and his companions suspected. It
was more than twenty feet in length, with a cabin at the stern, a place
for a mast, though there was neither mast nor sail on board. Anderson
had spoken of paddling to this point, when, had he spoken correctly, he
would have said that no paddles were used, but that the craft was
propelled by means of poles.
CHAPTER VI.
ON THE GANGES.
While all the members of the party were cheered by hope, none forgot
that a dreadful peril impended. Enough time had passed since the
revolt at Meerut for the news to spread even beyond the little town of
Akwar, which was within a fourth of a mile of the home of Dr. Marlowe.
He was aware that some of the most fanatical Mussulmans in all India
lived there. The action of the servant Mustad, who owed his life to
the father and child, was proof of what might be expected from these
miscreants when swept off their feet by the delirium that was spreading
with the frightful swiftness of a prairie fire.
Accordingly no time was lost. There was a hurried scrambling on board,
the water fortunately being deep enough near shore to allow all to step
upon the boat dry shod. The faint moon revealed the smooth surface of
the Ganges for nearly a hundred yards from land, but the further shore
was veiled in darkness. It was at this juncture that Miss Marlowe made
an annoying discovery.
"Oh, papa, I have forgotten my pistol!"
"Wait and I'll soon get it," she added, starting to leap the short
distance from the gunwale to land, but Jack Everson caught her arm.
"You must not think of it; tell me where you left the weapon and I'll
bring it."
"I laid it on the table in the dining-room and in the hurry forgot it
when we left."
Jack turned to his friends.
"Don't wait here," he said, aware of the nervousness of the whole
party. "Push down stream, and I'll quickly overtake you."
Without waiting for further explanation, he leaped the slight space and
started up the lawn on a loping trot. For convenience he left his
rifle behind, but made sure that his revolver was in his hip pocket.
He did not apprehend that he would need the weapon in the short time he
expected to be absent, but if anything went awry it would be more
useful than the rifle.
In that moment of profound stillness following the disappearance of the
young man among the trees grouped about the lawn, the motionless people
on the boat felt a thrill of terror at the unmistakable sound of oars
from some point on the river not distant.
"Let us land and take refuge in your house," suggested young Wharton;
"we cannot make a decent fight in this boat."
"We shall have a better chance than in the house," was the reply of the
physician; "the bank of the river is shaded by trees a little further
down; we must lose no time in getting there, and avoid the least noise."
There were two long poles belonging to the boat, one of which was
grasped by Wharton, while Anderson swayed the other, the remainder
watching their movements, which could not have been more skillful.
Pressing the end against the bank, and afterwards against the clayey
bottom, the craft speedily swung several rods from shore.
While the two men were thus employed, the others peered off in the
gloom and listened for a repetition of the sounds that had frightened
them a few minutes before. They were not heard again, nor could the
straining vision detect anything of the dreaded object, which could not
be far away. Not a person on board doubted that a number of their
enemies were near and searching for them. Dr. Marlowe would have taken
comfort from this fact had the circumstances been different; for the
men who were hunting for him would go to his house, since it was there
they must gain their first knowledge of his flight; but, as he viewed
it, it was impossible that they should be wholly ignorant of the boat
and its occupants, which must have made most of the distance before
night closed in.
It followed, therefore, that if they were looking for the doctor and
his family they were also looking for the boat and the fugitives it
contained. The low-lying shore, with no trees fringing the bank, was
the worst place for him and his friends, and he was in a fever of
eagerness to reach the protecting shadows along shore. The nerves of
all were keyed to the tensest point, when they caught the dim outlines
of the overhanging growth, with the leafage as exuberant as it always
is in a subtropical region at that season of the year. The men toiled
with vigor and care, while the others glanced from the gloom of the
river to the deeper gloom of the bank, which seemed to recede as they
labored toward it. With a relief that cannot be imagined the bulky
craft glided into the bank of deeper gloom, which so wrapped it about
that it was invisible from any point more than a dozen yards distant.
It is inconceivable how a narrower escape could have come about, for
the two men had hardly ceased poling, allowing the boat to move forward
with the momentum already gained, when their enemies were discovered.
Mary Marlowe's arm was interlocked with that of her father, when she
nervously clutched it and whispered:
"Yonder is their boat!"
All saw the terrifying sight at the same moment. Almost opposite, and
barely fifty yards out on the river, could be traced a moving shadow,
the outlines of which showed a craft similarly shaped to their own,
except that it was somewhat smaller and sat lower in the water. The
men were too dimly seen for their number to be counted or their motions
observed, but, as in the former instance, the sounds indicated that
they were using paddles.
Since it was certain that the natives were searching for the fugitives
in the boat under the shadows of the bank every one of the latter
wondered that the pursuers remained out in the stream, when there was
need of unimpeded vision. They half expected their enemies to turn to
the left and come directly for them. But nothing of the kind took
place. The craft headed down the river, the sound of the paddles so
slight that only the closely listening ear could hear them, until it
melted in the gloom and vanished from sight.
It was a vast relief for the moment, but little comfort could our
friends take from the fact. Their enemies were not likely to go far,
when they would suspect that something of the nature described had
occurred, and they would return and grope along shore for their
victims. So certain was Dr. Marlowe of this turn that he believed the
wisest course was for the entire party to abandon the boat, and, as may
be said, "take to the woods." They had the whole night before them,
and, with his intimate knowledge of the roads, paths and trails of the
country and jungles, he was confident of guiding them beyond danger and
to some place where, when morning dawned, there would be little to fear
in the way of discovery.
This course would have been taken except for the absence of Jack
Everson. There was no way of apprising him of the change of plan, and,
with his ignorance of the topography of their surroundings, he would be
certain to go astray, and for any one in his situation, to go astray
meant death.
CHAPTER VII.
AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.
Meanwhile, Mr. Jack Everson found matters exceedingly interesting.
When he informed his friends that he would rejoin them in the course of
a few minutes the possibility of anything interfering with his promise
did not occur to him. That danger threatened every member of the
little company may be set down as self-evident, but what could happen
to disturb him in the brief interval spent in running up the slope,
dashing into the house and back again to the river's side?
Such were his thoughts as he entered the shadows and hurriedly
approached the front veranda. Although he had reached this spot within
the preceding twenty-four hours the evening meal and the preparations
for flight had given him sufficient knowledge of the interior to remove
all difficulty in going straight to the table in the dining-room and
taking the forgotten revolver therefrom.
The first tingle of misgiving came to the young man when he was close
to the porch and about to step upon it. He remembered that it was
himself who had extinguished the lamp on the table as the three were
about to pass into the hall and out of doors, but lo! a light was
shining from that very room. What could it mean?
"That's deuced queer," he thought, coming to an abrupt halt; "I screwed
down that lamp and blew into the chimney in the orthodox fashion, so it
couldn't have been that I unconsciously left the wick burning."
At this juncture he made another significant discovery. The front door
which he had seen Dr. Marlowe close was partly open. The inference was
inevitable: some one was in the house. In the brief time that had
passed one or more persons had entered and were busy at that moment in
the interior. Perhaps they had been watching among the shadows on the
outside for the occupants to leave the way open for them to pass within.
Prudence dictated that Jack Everson should not linger another moment.
Indeed, he ought to have counted himself fortunate that he had made his
discovery in time to save himself from running into a trap. He should
return to his friends with the alarming news and help them in getting
away with the utmost haste possible. But Jack did nothing of the sort.
The chief cause of his lingering was his desire to obtain the revolver
belonging to Miss Marlowe. Recalling the paucity of firearms among the
people on the boat he felt that a single weapon could be ill spared.
But above and beyond this cold truth was a vague, shuddering suspicion,
amounting to a belief, that the young woman would soon need that very
weapon; that, without it she would become another of the unspeakable
victims of the fiends who made the Sepoy Mutiny one of the most hideous
blots that darken the pages of history. He compressed his lips and
swore that the revolver should be recovered, if the thing were
possible, failing in which he would compel her to take his own.
The first thing was to learn whether there was more than one person in
the house and what business had brought them there. His own return was
not expected, so that that advantage was in his favor. He stepped
lightly upon the veranda and, like a burglar in his stocking feet,
passed across the porch and pushed back the door far enough to admit
him. This required but a few inches, and the hinges gave out not the
slightest creak. The entrance to the dining-room was closed, so that
all was darkness, but he plainly saw the yellow thread along the edges
of the door, caused by the lamp in the room beyond.
Once within the hall he listened intently, but could not detect the
slightest sound within the building. He had already drawn his
revolver, and held it ready for instant use. Knowing the value of
seconds, he began moving along the hall toward the door, which was only
a few paces distant, and had passed half the space when a muttered
execration escaped him, for his foot struck some object that was kicked
the remaining length of the hall with a clatter that he verily believed
must have been heard by his friends on the boat.
No use now for precaution. Determined to have the other weapon, but
not unmindful of the peril involved, he strode the few remaining steps
and hastily shoved open the door of the dining-room. If a foe was
there with the revolver he was quite likely to hold it levelled at the
intruder, because of which Jack, when he burst into the room, held his
own weapon pointed, so as to prevent any enemy from "getting the drop"
on him.
For one moment the young man believed it was all a mistake and that,
despite the precaution taken upon leaving the house, he had not
extinguished the lamp, whose wick had recovered its vigor, but the
suspicion was hardly formed when he knew there was no foundation for
it. In the first place no lamp ever acts that way, and, the front door
having been closed, could not open of itself. More convincing than all
was the fact that Mary Marlowe's revolver, which had brought him back,
was missing.
Diagonally across the dining-room from where Jack Everson stood was the
door leading to the rear of the house. This was open for three or four
inches, and while searching the apartment with all the keenness of his
powerful vision, he distinctly saw it move. The distance was no more
than an inch, but he was not mistaken, and knew it had been drawn that
much nearer shut. Since no air was stirring the conclusion was
inevitable that some one was on the other side who was aware of the
entrance of the American.
The position of the lamp on the table threw the crevice caused by the
slight opening of the door in shadow, and all was blank darkness
beyond. But, looking in that direction, Jack caught the gleam of a
pair of eyes, peering from the gloom like the orbs of a jungle tiger
gathering himself for a spring. Nothing could be seen but the glow of
the eyes, that seemed to have something of the phosphorescence of the
cat species, but he could not mistake the meaning of what he saw.
Jack had partly lowered his revolver, after the first glance around the
room, but it now came to a level again with the suddenness of lightning
and was pointed straight at the gleaming eyes, as he spoke in a low,
deadly tone:
"Come forth or I'll send a bullet through your infernal brain!"
Never was man more fairly caught. In the language of the West, Jack
Everson had the drop on him, and none could be more alive to the fact
than the fellow who was thus taken at disadvantage. It was merited
punishment for his foolhardiness in inviting his own discomfiture. At
first the chances of the two were equal, but the white man was more
alive to the situation.
The Asiatic showed his appreciation of the situation by stepping
forward into the lamplight.
Incredible as it may seem, he not only held a pistol in his right hand,
but it was half raised and pointed at Jack Everson.
CHAPTER VIII.
MUSTAD.
The East Indian who stood before Jack Everson, thoroughly cowed and
submissive, was unusually tall, dark, and thin to emaciation. He wore
a turban, a light linen jacket which encompassed his chest to below the
waist, with a sash or girdle, loose flapping trousers and sandals. In
the girdle at his waist was a long, formidable knife or yataghan, which
he would have been glad to bury in the heart of the man who had thus
brought him to his knees.