That which arrested the eye of Dr. Avery was another crowd, or more properly the same one. He had been drawn away from his true course, and in trying to regain it, he came face to face with the wild mob. Should he be recognized, he would be set upon at once; but with the coolness of a veteran he sauntered along, keeping in the shadow as much as he could. Providentially he was soon clear from all danger from that source.
His heart gave a sympathetic throb when he caught the meaning of enough of the broken exclamations to learn that the fugitive had escaped from the throng that had chased him only a short way before he left them out of sight.
"Luchman gave me this street because it is the most direct one to the Cashmere Gate, and I am less likely to lose my way, but it seems to me it has more moonlight and the natives are altogether too plentiful. I shouldn't wonder now if they are so impatient that they will not wait for the sepoys to begin their deviltry. I think I will turn off and take a road where there are not so many neighbors."
He speedily reached such a street, which appeared to run parallel to the one he had just left, and certainly was much safer. He decided to keep it as long as he could, and when convinced that he was following a wrong course, he would make his way back to the main road that Luchman had directed him to follow.
Dr. Avery had gone perhaps two thirds of the distance to the Cashmere Gate when he made a terrifying discovery.
The portion of the street into which he had drifted was almost deserted, and he was wondering whether it might not be one of the most dangerous parts of the city, when he observed three persons on the other side of the way. They were less than fifty feet distant, and the moon was shining full upon them, so they were in plain sight.
They were two natives supporting a female between them, all walking slowly, while the head of the woman was bowed, and she moaned as if in pain.
"That is singular," thought Dr. Avery; "she seems to be faint, and they are supporting her to her home."
Prompted by a natural impulse, he turned and moved toward the trio, timing his steps so that he was not noticed. He quickly saw that the woman was holding back, while the escort was drawing her forward.
"That has a bad look," he said, walking faster until he was close upon them. Then, oblivious of the fact that he was using an unknown tongue, he called out:
"What are you doing with that woman?"
The natives stopped in a surprised way and stared at him, while the prisoner raised her head and wailed in a faint voice:
"O Baird, save me from them!"
"My God, Marian! is that you?" he asked, springing forward and catching her arm.
The natives, in accordance with their cowardly nature, were about to drop on their knees and beg for mercy, when they had wit enough to see their opportunity. At the moment the surgeon seized the arm of the young lady, the trembling wretches slipped noiselessly away. Had they delayed their departure a single minute, Baird Avery would have shot both dead.
"How came you here?" he asked, half believing it was all a hideous dream, until he felt the warm arm of his beloved grasped by his own strong right hand.
"I can hardly tell you, but it must have been my fault. Luchman walked quite rapidly, never once looking behind to see whether I was keeping near him. He had the right to believe that I knew enough to act my part without any help from him; but at one of the bazars the crowd was so dense that I was compelled to turn aside. Then, when I tried to get back, something caused an excitement in front, and I was forced still further away. By that time I had lost Luchman altogether. You know that no woman ventures in such a place at night without her husband, and I was in a sad predicament. With a view of not drawing unpleasant attention to myself, I tried to keep directly behind a stranger."
"That ought to have protected you," said her escort.
"So it did for a time, but I was terrified when I found that a couple of Mohammedans were following me. I started to flee, but they quickly overtook and made me a prisoner. I pleaded with them and offered all my jewelry, but they laughed and replied that they would soon have it any way. I dared not shriek, for that would have brought others around me, and made my danger tenfold worse."
"But where was that pistol of yours?" asked the doctor, drawing her arm within his own. "Why was it loaded with such care, and stowed away in the recesses of your dress?"
"Would you believe that I forgot I had it until after they grasped my arm so tightly that I could not get hold of it?"
"Such forgetfulness cannot happen again; but we shall be a long time getting out of the city at this rate. How far are we from the Cashmere gate?"
"About half a mile."
"Do you know the way?"
"Perfectly; if the moon was not so bright we would go straight to it, but the whole city is out of doors and we must pick our path. I wonder whether father and mother have had any trouble."
"We can only hope that they have not. What course are you following?" asked Avery a minute later, when they turned into a still narrower street. "If they keep on contracting in this fashion we shall find ourselves caught like the Man in the Iron Mask."
"I am trying to get away from the crowds of people, but they seem to be everywhere."
"Helloa! What does that mean?"
Avery stopped short, drawing his pistol and looking behind him. Marian knew more about the people than he did. She understood the significance of that horrible cry.
"Quick, Baird! We have no time to lose.
"But tell me," he added, moving on again, "what is the meaning of those cries?"
"They are those of the natives who have come upon the dead body of one of their number. It may be that of one who had been pursuing the Englishman you told me about, or it may be one who was killed by an enemy of his own race; but many of them lay his death to the door of the English."
"But they know nothing about us——"
"See!" whispered Marian, catching his arm with a nervous start; "they have discovered us, and are running this way."
Avery saw that his companion spoke the truth. Direct flight was out of the question, for the natives could speedily overtake them. The two walked rapidly, and at the first cross street made a short turn to the right in the hope of getting beyond sight before their enemies could see them again.
Fortunately our friends had entered one of the loneliest portions of Delhi, where for a time they saw not a living soul, even when so many thousands were abroad; but this could not last, and some would be sure to meet them before going much further.
It was this dread that prevented them from keeping up their fastest gait, even while they were so anxious to increase the distance between themselves and their enemies.
The latter were gaining rapidly, for that peculiar "monotonous chant of frenzy," (Allah-ullah) which, once heard, can never be forgotten, sounded closer every minute.
Although Marian Hildreth had lived a number of years in Delhi, she was now in a portion that was as unfamiliar to her as the slums of Cawnpore or Lucknow. Naturally, therefore, her escort took the lead.
"Follow me as fast as you can," he whispered, increasing his speed.
The young surgeon had caught sight of a piece of broken wall of sun dried bricks on his right. One powerful leap carried him to a projection near the top, and catching the hand of Marian he drew her up beside him. The jagged pieces of wall served as well as a stair could have done, and a moment later both were on the top of a flat roofed, unoccupied building, partly in ruins.
The couple ran across the flat surface to the other side, where they found themselves facing an open space, which was the compound or garden of some wealthy native, whose house was in plain sight a hundred yards away.
It was not the place that Avery would have selected, but there was no time for choosing. Running to the edge of the roof, he dropped to the earth. The descent was about a dozen feet, and he was considerably shaken; but he did not mind that, and, steadying himself, he looked up at Marian, who was peering hesitatingly down upon him.
"Jump!" he whispered, "I'll catch you!"
With the faith of the little child leaping into the arms of its parents, she gathered her skirts about her dainty feet and dropped as lightly as a bird. The powerful Avery caught her without trouble, and placing her on the ground clasped her hand.
"The only thing to do is to hide under those trees; it isn't the best place in the world, but we have no choice."
There was some consolation in the knowledge that a wall ten feet high separated them from their enemies, though there was no telling how long that obstacle would intervene. They had but a short distance to go when they stopped beneath the shadow of a number of trees in the corner of the compound.
The street along which they were passing when observed by the mob, ran north and south. Turning to the right, the fugitives sped a short distance in an easterly direction, that being the course of the wall up which they clambered. They took to the shelter of the trees near where they dropped to the ground, which was in the southeastern corner. From this point they had a fair view of the garden and home of the wealthy native, upon whose property they were trespassers.
The house stood in the middle of the compound, which was surrounded on all sides by a wall ten feet high, composed of sun dried bricks. The roof of this house was sloped and thatched and had a long veranda in front. The high inclosing wall had but one entrance, which was from the main street, that is, the one running north and south, from which the fugitives turned off before taking refuge in the garden. Their position, therefore, was close to the street, along which the mob were hurrying in pursuit, though, as has been shown, the high wall separated the parties.
The hope of the fugitives was that their enemies would continue up the street without suspecting their refuge. Would they do so? A few minutes must tell.
"I hardly expected to find such fine grounds in this part of the city," whispered Avery, standing with the hand of Marian clasped in his own, and using his eyes and ears for all they were worth.
"They are not many in number. This must be the home of some nawab. Baird, listen! They are moving along the street just beyond this wall to the back of us. Hear them talking and cursing!"
"There is no doubt that they will search this garden, for the broken wall will suggest the means by which we eluded them."
"They will not enter there, but by the regular entrance in front of the house. What do you think? Is there any hope?"
Passing his strong arm around her waist, he drew her closer to him, held her thus a moment, pressed his lips to hers and in a low, loving, but firm voice said:
"Marian, I do not believe that we shall be alive fifteen minutes longer."
"Baird, will you do me a favor—the last that I can ask?"
"I will refuse you nothing in my power to grant."
"When all hope of escape is gone, will you shoot me dead?"
"I will," was the instant response that escaped the white lips, "and that reminds me," he added the next moment, "that one of my pistols is unloaded."
And while they stood in the heavy shadow of a mango tree, he deliberately recharged the five chambers of his revolver, as though he was making ready to engage in a shooting match with a friend.
Meanwhile the rabble on the other side of the wall was increasing in numbers every minute. Some of the most significant of their expressions were translated by Marian.
"Where did the sahib loge go?" asked one.
"They went along this road," replied another.
"They did not do so," said a third; "we ran faster than they, and we should have seen them."
"Where then can they be?"
"They have fled into one of the bungalows; likely they are among the trees of a garden; they may be close at hand."
"We will search this garden, but we may not do so without permission of the nawab."
The last remark convinced the fugitives that they were standing in the grounds of some native of note, else the mob would not have felt any hesitation about searching them without asking permission.
A minute later two of the leaders approached the entrance of the garden, and were met by the porter, who had noticed the turmoil outside. When the wish of the intruders was made known, the porter, sensible of his duty to his master, refused point blank to allow any of the party to enter the grounds.
He asserted that no one had taken refuge there, and intimated that the request of the men before him was only a thin subterfuge by which they hoped to gain plunder.
The leaders became angry, and replied that it would be impossible to keep out the mob; it was best to give permission when a refusal would only exasperate the impatient men to violence.
All this time the nawab was quietly smoking his hookah on the veranda. He left all such matters to his porter, but inasmuch as he heard every word that passed, he saw that his personal attention was needed. Rising from his lounging chair, he walked slowly forward and asked what was the matter,—as though he did not know anything about the cause of dispute.
The two leaders, who were talking angrily with the porter, used few words in making their business known. The nawab was shrewd enough to see that the easiest way out of the trouble was to compromise.
"I cannot have the crowd trampling through my grounds," said he, removing his hookah from between his lips; "but I hate the Inglese and will help kill all the Christians. Select three of your men to join you two, and do you make thorough search of all the grounds, taking good care to injure nothing. I will allow no one else to come in. You five can find the Inglese, if they are here, can you not?"
"We cannot fail," replied one of the men, both of whom were pleased by the condescension of the nawab. The mob on the outside were also suited. Many of them, believing the fugitives had taken refuge elsewhere, moved down the street, those who remained scattering so as to surround, as far as possible, the inclosing wall. The moment the fugitives should be driven from the grounds and attempt to scale the high wall, these natives meant to be on hand to secure them.
The fugitives plainly heard every word spoken, and Marian translated the whole conversation. The two believed that the decision was certain death, for it was utterly impossible for five fierce fanatics to make such a search of the grounds as they were sure to do, without finding those for whom they were looking. Indeed it was hard to see how they could fail to discover them during the first few minutes of their search.
Avery and Marian were standing erect under a large mango, whose dense shadow screened them from the sight for a distance of a rod or so, but was of no use when their enemies should come within a few paces.
"I will wait right here," he said, in a low voice, "and fight until I can fight no longer. The last bullet from my revolver shall be driven through your brain."
"Save the last foryourself," whispered Marian, "and give me the last but one."
"No; I shall die fighting," was the response; "I want to carry as many of them with me as I can, and unless some unexpected slip takes place, I'll thin them out considerably."
Many a time during the sepoy mutiny was this done. More than one brave officer, when he saw the wretches swarming over the vainly defended entrenchments, shot wife and daughter and then turned his pistol upon himself. It was a mercy to his loved ones that he did so.
The spokesman of the mob, having made known to them the decision of the nawab, singled out his assistants by name, and the search began.
A few minutes later, the latter, standing under the mango tree, saw the dark figures fall apart and gradually draw near them. One tall, sinewy native, carrying a scimeter in his hand, as if led by fate itself, came straight toward the large mango, walking slowly with his serpent eyes darting keen glances in every direction.
Nearer and nearer he advanced, until within three paces, when he stopped. He had discovered the fugitives.
As he stood, the moonlight fell upon his bronzed countenance, and Marian recognized him as Ali Khan, their Mohammedan servant, who had left their house two days before to look after his sick wife.
"Ali," whispered Marian, "it is the Miss sahib, daughter of the missionary. Won't you save me?"
Dr. Avery believed the appeal useless, for the presence of this servant among the murderers proved that he was in sympathy with them; but, as is often the case, the impulse of the woman was superior to the reason of the man.
The native recognized the speaker and raised his hand.
"Chup!" (Be silent) he whispered, turning away and moving in another direction.
This proceeding brought him face to face with two other searchers, who were groping under the adjoining trees, and Marian overheard the words that passed:
"Have you found them?" asked Ali Khan.
"They are not near the house; they must be in another part of the garden.
"I have looked under every tree," was the unblushing remark of Ali Khan, "but they are not there."
"It is strange; let us make another search."
"I will help you," said Ali Khan, in an indifferent voice, "but it is useless. You, Buddao, pass close to the house once more, while Ramchundra and I look to the rear."
This suggestion was adopted. One of the men was sent to join his comrades in another part of the grounds, quite remote from the fugitives, while Ali Khan, the friendly servant, became one of the two who set out to prowl through the very part of the garden where the fugitives were hiding.
Ali Khan having proved his wish to befriend the Europeans, it now became his delicate and difficult duty to prevent his companion from detecting the deception. He had a double motive for such a course, for if Ramchundra should find the fugitives, it would be such proof of the disloyalty of Ali Khan that the others would undoubtedly kill him.
The friendly native stopped a dozen steps away, turned his back upon the tree which sheltered the fugitives, and looked toward Ramchundra, who was searching among the shrubbery, and gradually drawing near the couple. Unless he was diverted, he would discover them within the next three minutes.
"We are losing time," said Ali. "I believe now what some of our people said."
"What was that?" asked Ramchundra, looking up in surprise.
"That they ran down the road to the left."
"I did not hear that said."
"Several said it, and many have gone that way to look for them; they will find them while we are here."
"Likely they spoke truth," said Ramchundra, who, however, did not show any disposition to give up the search; "but this is such an inviting place that the Inglese would be sure to take advantage of it, if they had the chance."
"But how could they get the chance? They could only come in by the entrance where the porter would have seen them."
Ramchundra looked at the ruins of the low, flat roofed building in the corner of the compound. He had not noticed the broken wall over which the fugitives passed, but he seemed to suspect they had some way of entering the garden at that point.
Poking the stick in his hand among the shrubbery, Ramchundra resumed his search, gradually drawing near Dr. Avery, who stood grimly watching him revolver in hand. Ali Khan had edged over toward the mango, so that he stood between his companion and the fugitives.
Suddenly Ramchundra stopped poking with his stick, straightened up, and started toward Ali. The latter had his eye on him, and at once advanced so as to meet him, thus checking his approach a moment before it would be fatal.
"Have you searched behind you?" asked Ramchundra, peering around and over the shoulder of Ali.
"I have done so twice," was the reply,—an admission that sealed Ali's doom, if the fugitives were discovered.
"Then 'tis useless to look further."
At that moment the two stood so close that Dr. Avery feared he would betray himself by the tumultuous throbbing of his heart. He was still erect, with his back against the trunk of the mango, his pistol in his right hand, the muzzle pointed downward. Marian was partly behind him, with her tiny pistol ready for use, and the resolve to save one bullet for herself, in case the nerve of Baird should fail, when the crisis came. Neither dared whisper or move, for a strange hush brooded over the scene.
The clamorous mob in the road outside were impatient. Most of them moved away, while the rest were awaiting the verdict of their five representatives appointed to search the grounds.
At this juncture, when it looked as if the cunning of Ali Khan must prevail, a strange perversity took possession of his companion. Though Ramchundra had just remarked that it was useless to search further, he was determined to do so. He used his stick with much vigor, until all at once he met with a success for which he was not looking.
Underneath one of the bushes was coiled a deadly serpent, which with a slight hiss made a dart at the hand of the native, its fangs missing by a hair's breath. Ramchundra, with a quick flirt of the stick, decapitated it as neatly as Ali could have done with his scimeter.
Ramchundra seemed satisfied to go no further. Bloodthirsty as he was, he could not hope to succeed, where his equally revengeful companion (as he believed him to be) had failed, so at last he ceased his efforts. Side by side with Ali Khan, he sauntered toward the house.
If the other natives should take it into their heads to examine the lower part of the grounds, nothing could save the fugitives from discovery.
All at once Avery saw two strange figures walking directly toward him.
"It's all up now," he thought, knowing they were two of the ringleaders of the mob. "Ali does not see them; he imagines he has turned aside all danger, but he has failed——"
"The Inglese loge! The Inglese loge!We have seen them!"
This was the fearful exclamation that suddenly rang out on the air, and that crushed the last faint hope in the hearts of Baird Avery and Marian Hildreth.
But Dr. Avery underestimated the cunning of Ali Khan.
While the fugitives stood motionless beneath the spreading mango, the fearful cry fell upon their ears. Then it was that neither was able to move or speak and life stood still.
But the cry was uttered to save them. It was shouted by Ali, who heard the voices and descried the approaching forms. He saw the new peril as quickly as did the fugitives themselves, and, like a flash, he seized the single desperate means of saving them.
The cry of Ali, who was near the house, immediately brought the others, including the porter, around him, the two who had approached close to the fugitives instantly turning and running at full speed.
"I saw them! I saw them!" explained Ali, walking rapidly and in great excitement toward the entrance, and looking back over his shoulder, as if inviting the others to do the same; "the porter left his place to help in the search: while he was gone I saw the Inglese loge dart out of the entrance; they cannot be far away; let us hasten and we shall have them yet!"
The impetuosity of a man at such a time carries everything before it. A number of the mob were still lingering in the road outside, and, though none of them had seen the Inglese they all joined in the mad pursuit of a couple of imaginary fugitives.
Indeed the rush from the nawab's premises was so headlong that that worthy was exasperated. Two of the natives, as they converged toward the entrance, crashed through his choicest pineapples, plantains, pomegranates, guavas, oranges, lemons, limes, figs, dates, citrons, brinjalls, nollcolls, jasmines and roses with an enthusiasm that played sad havoc with them.
"Tum burra budmash ho! Jalde jao!" he shouted, running after them and savagely swinging his arms.
That these two scamps were impelled by pure malice was proven by their act in running against the nawab with such violence that he was knocked almost breathless to the ground. By the time the porter had helped him fa his feet, the marauders were out of sight.
"Thank heaven!" muttered Dr. Avery; "they are gone, and we have escaped by the narrowest chance that ever saved mortal from death——"
At that moment, the head of Marian drooped and he caught her as she sank to the ground. The reaction from the fearful tension caused her to swoon. Her escort let her gently down and rested her head against the tree, while he picked up the pistol that had fallen from her hand and hastily shoved it into his pocket.
The nawab, having recovered from his overthrow, had started through his garden to learn the extent of the damages done by his unwelcome visitors. He was of the belief that if two could inflict so much damage under his own eyes, the other three had not been much behind them.
He had not gone far when he checked himself with a "Wah! wah!" expressive of his amazement at sight of the two fugitives under one of his own mango trees.
Dr. Avery had been so occupied with looking after Marian that he did not observe the native's approach, until he heard his ejaculation. Leaning the head of his sweetheart against the trunk of the tree, he sprang toward the nawab and thrust the muzzle of his pistol into his face.
"One word and you're a dead scoundrel!"
The Mohammedan may not have caught every shade of meaning in these words, but the gestures and movements made them sufficiently clear for all practical purposes.
Like all of his people, he was a craven when cornered, and he began begging in the most abject manner for mercy. His actions were so pitiful that Dr. Avery easily understood his prayer was that no violence should be done him.
The faint of Marian was not serious. She quickly revived, and now hastened to the side of her escort.
"Who is he?" she asked.
"He is the owner of the grounds, I suppose, and he has done what the others could not do,—he has found us."
"But he has no thought of harming us; he is begging for his life."
"So I supposed, but I see no reason for granting it."
"O Baird, do not be so cruel! He has done us no harm; wait till I speak to him."
Thereupon she addressed him in Hindustani:
"We are fleeing from an angry crowd; we wish you no harm; we want only our own safety."
"What fools," exclaimed the nawab; "they should all be hanged! They have ruined my grounds, and now they seek the lives of the English. I am their enemy and your friend."
"Will you give us shelter from them?"
"Gladly; my house and all that I have are at your disposal. Stay with me until their madness is over; they will soon be punished."
Several causes led the young lady to do that from which, under other circumstances, she would have recoiled. She was so broken by the terrifying experiences of the last hour, and so impressed by the unexpected loyalty of Ali Khan, that she believed the declaration of the nawab.
"We have friends as well as enemies," said she, turning to her escort. "We found one a few minutes ago, and here is another."
"What are your grounds for suspecting that he is honest?" asked the surgeon, who placed little faith in the native.
"He insists that he is a friend to us; he is angry with the people who have trampled his shrubbery. He wants to punish them, and he asks us to take shelter with him until the trouble is over."
"I would trust him just as far as I would trust the devil and no farther, but you are faint, and it is safe to avail ourselves of his offer for a few minutes."
Marian turned to the nawab, and told him they accepted his hospitality with much gratitude. He seemed delighted, and led the way to the veranda, where he insisted that they should seat themselves on the cane settees and chairs of native manufacture The porter approached and made a respectful salaam, though he must have been filled with wonder to see the two Inglese before him. Like his master, he would have been eager to betray them into the power of their enemies, had he suspected their presence in the garden. He and his master must have wondered how it was the couple escaped discovery.
Addressing Marian, the nawab asked,
"Ap ko kuchh khana chaiye?" (Do you desire any food?)
She declined with thanks, saying that they only wanted rest and shelter.
"Stay under my roof, Miss sahib, as long as my poor hospitality can be endured," urged the nawab, with the effusiveness characteristic of his people.
The native, having recovered from his excessive fear, lit his hookah, offering none, however, to his infidel guest. He smoked a few minutes in silence, and then, addressing himself to Marian, asked her to be kind enough to tell how it was she and her escort were in such danger from the wicked mob. The young lady told the story in a few sentences.
When she had finished, their host, in his soft, pleasant voice, said that he had learned of the revolt at Meerut, and his heart was deeply pained. He saw that much sorrow and suffering must come, but he knew that in the end the English would subdue the rebels, who would be made to suffer for their evil deeds.
"Nor will the English fail to reward their friends," was the diplomatic observation of the young lady; "our government is as quick to recognize a friend as to punish a foe."
"That I have always known; therefore, come what may, I shall be true to the English."
The nawab, having delivered himself of this fine sentiment, summoned one of the two servants who were standing in the further corner of the veranda, where until then they had shown no more life than a couple of stone images. As the man stepped promptly forward, his master said a few words in such a low voice, that the listening Marian could not catch a syllable. She afterward believed that she did hear what was said, but it was in some dialect unintelligible to her. She thought nothing of it, however, and the servant entered the house in his stealthy, gliding fashion.
Having translated for Dr. Avery what had passed between her and the nawab, Marian turned toward him again, as if inviting him to continue the conversation.
"Where is the home of Miss sahib, who honors me with her presence?" asked the native, after taking two or three strong puffs at his hookah, which had been neglected for a few minutes.
She gave him the address, and he nodded his head.
"I know the good man—I know Mr. Jennings also. He is a missionary. I do not believe in your faith, but I am none the less your friend. A true follower of the Prophet is the enemy of no man."
These sentiments were so unusual and so inappropriate, as may be said, for a Mohammedan, that the young lady was puzzled. She could not but doubt the sincerity of a Mussulman who talked that way.
Since Dr. Avery found his ears of little account while this conversation was going on, he made good use of his eyes. Marian was talking with some animation, when through the tattie that had been pulled aside he discerned the crouching figure of a man stealing toward the entrance of the compound. He came around the corner of the house, and was evidently trying to reach the street without being seen.
The truth flashed upon the surgeon.
"That is the servant the nawab called to him and gave some order in a low voice; that order was that he should slip out of the garden and make known to the leaders of the mob that the infidels for whom they are searching are here in his house, and he will keep them until they come back and kill them."
"Marian," said he, suppressing all evidence of excitement, "if we do not leave at once, we are lost. The precious scoundrel has sent out his servant to notify the mob that we are here. Make the best excuse we can; let us go."
He rose to his feet, and Marian, instantly grasping the situation, thanked their host for his kindness, adding as an excuse for their abrupt departure that her parents would be alarmed by her long absence.
"Will not the sahib honor our home with his presence?" asked the nawab, who could not conceal his chagrin.
"Tell him," growled Avery, "that nothing would give me more pleasure than to fill his carcass with lead."
Under the pretense of translating this savage remark, the young lady repeated her thanks. Then, Marian taking the arm of her escort, the two waved their host a respectful farewell and hurried into the street.
For several minutes they did not speak, but, walking rapidly, took advantage of every turn that presented itself. Dr. Avery was sure they were watched, and not until convinced they were safely beyond all surveillance did he speak.
"Do you know where we are?"
"I have a general knowledge of the direction," she said. "If we keep on, we shall soon reach the Cashmere Gate; but we are now approaching a part of the city where we shall meet many people. To avoid attention I must walk behind you, according to the custom in this part of the world."
"Your head is level," was the admiring comment of Dr. Avery, whose spirits began to rebound from their extreme depression; "but since I don't know anything about this town, you will have to guide me. When you want me to turn to the right call out 'Haw!' and when I am to go the other way, sing out 'Gee.' If I travel too fast shout 'Whoa!' and if I go too slow touch me up with anything you can lay hands on."
It need not be said that these heroic measures did not become necessary. Avery sauntered along in a natural manner. Whenever in doubt about the right course to take, he glanced behind him, and his fair guide had no difficulty in giving him the cue.
Before long, the massive city wall loomed up before them. The huge Cashmere Gate was open as usual, and crowds of people were coming in through it as well as through the Calcutta Gate and other openings, while only a few passed out. The first arrival of mutineers from Meerut was by way of the River Gate, the news of their coming reaching the cantonments about the middle of the forenoon.
Dr. Avery was making his way with care and a little trepidation through the crowd when some one touched his arm. Turning about, he was delighted to see that it was Luchman.
"Were you alarmed by our delay?" asked the surgeon.
"Follow me," said the native, without deigning a reply.
He conducted them in the direction of the cantonments, where General Graves's soldiers were posted, from which Avery judged that he had decided to trust to their protection.
Before going far, they came upon the missionary and his wife, who were in an agony of fear because of the prolonged absence of their daughter. Their joy was that of those whose beloved was dead and is alive again.
"We shall take refuge in the Flagstaff Tower," said Luchman; "the Ghoojurs are swarming into the city."
The Ghoojurs are a numerous people in the villages around Delhi, and belong to the nomadic tribes which originally occupied India. They profess agriculture, but are brigands and murderers.
On the forenoon of Monday, May 11, 1857, the horde of mutineers, fresh from the massacres of the evening before at Meerut, were discerned by the crowds that were swarming on the walls and outlooks of Delhi.
The great city at this time was garrisoned entirely by native troops, consisting of the Thirty Eighth, Fifty Fourth and Seventy Fourth Regiments of infantry, and a battery of artillery. The arsenal within the city contained nearly a million cartridges, ten million muskets, two complete siege trains and a great many field guns. The powder magazine, removed a short time before at the request of the inhabitants, was filled with ten thousand barrels of powder.
The mutineers crossed the suspension bridge over the Hindun torrent, a dozen miles out, and came turbulently toward Delhi, confident of a royal reception from the sepoys stationed there.
When the rebels were observed in the distance, the three native regiments mentioned were paraded in service order—the guns loaded, and Brigadier General Graves, having shown no more conception of the situation than a child, now proceeded to make the sepoys a speech, appealing to them to remain faithful to their colors and to do all they could to repel the mutineers, whose yells fell upon their ears at that moment.
This speech was received with cheers, and the Fifty Fourth especially were furious in their denunciations of the rebels, and they demanded the privilege of being led against them. General Graves and poor Colonel Ripley, commandant of the regiment, were touched almost to tears by the devotion of the Fifty Fourth. The latter officer immediately placed himself at the head of the regiment, and, leaving Major Patterson, the second in command, to follow with two guns, started in the direction of the Cashmere Gate, where it was reported the mutineers were gathering.
The Fifty Fourth moved with the swinging, even step of veterans, and Colonel Ripley's eye kindled as he looked upon the fine figures, who he was confident would stand by him against all machinations and in the face of every danger.
The approaching mutineers from Meerut were now in full view. They were a tumultuous horde, at whose head rode two hundred and fifty troopers of the Third Cavalry, the most fiendish of the Meerut butchers. On the breasts of many of them were medals gained in fighting the battles of England. Their horses were on the gallop, and they swung their swords on high and shouted greeting to the native regiments, drawn up with loaded muskets, awaiting the order to fire upon them.
A short distance behind them were to be seen twelve hundred infantry, all in uniform, though covered with dust, the whole savage horde on a run in their eagerness to reach the gilded minarets of Delhi. Their muskets flashed in the sun, and the crowds who were watching their approach knew only too well what it all signified.
Upon this frightful host the Fifty Fourth Regiment, under the leadership of Colonel Ripley, steadily moved, until but a short distance separated them. All at once the regiment, without orders, halted.
A number of the mutineers were among the soldiers, calling upon them in the name of the faith to join them.
Within less than five minutes from the time this appeal was made, the Fifty Fourth mutinied in a body and withdrew from their officers, who were thus left standing in the middle of the road. Immediately a squad of the cavalry dashed forward and attacked them. Colonel Ripley shot a couple dead with his pistol and then was cut down. None of the other officers had any weapons beside his side arms, and all were killed without the power to offer resistance. The treacherous Fifty Fourth made a pretense of protecting their officers, but fired over the heads of the cavalry, who, having finished their work, sprang from their horses, and affiliated with them.
The mutineers by this time were joined by many stragglers from the other two regiments in cantonment, and the wild horde made a rush for the Cashmere Gate, through which they poured into the city, cutting down all Europeans that were seen.
Meanwhile another portion of the Meerut rebels had crossed the Jumna and taken possession of the causeway on the Delhi side of the river, close to the Calcutta Gate, which was closed against them. Simon Fraser, Commissioner at the Court of Delhi, learning of their arrival, started and reached the palace, but was shot down, while the sepoys on guard threw open the gate and admitted the mutineers.
The sepoys, reinforced by the Ghoojurs, were now rushing into the city from every direction, and the reign of pandemonium began. Plunder, outrage, massacre and death were on every hand.
On that lurid 11th of May, 1857, while the sepoys were swarming into the doomed city, another party ran to the river gate of the emperor's palace, where they opened communication with the adherents of the potentate. After a brief parley he gave orders to admit the troopers.
Hurrying into the audience chamber, they declared that the whole of Hindostan had risen in rebellion and cast off the English yoke; that Calcutta and other leading cities were already in the possession of the native troops, and that it only remained for his Imperial Majesty to unfurl the sacred banner of the Prophet, when the millions of India would rally beneath it and the Mogul Empire, in all its ancient glory, should be re-established to last as long as the sun and stars.
The Emperor of Delhi at that time was four score years of age, wan and thin to emaciation, with a snow white beard, scant hair, lack luster eyes and a frame enfeebled by a lifetime of indolence and indulgence. It would have been thought that within such an aged bosom the fires of ambition had long since died out, and that all he could have desired was peace, rest, and a quiet death.
But the blood tingled in his languid frame, his feeble heart quickened its throbbings, and the flame was kindled anew in the dim eye, as he saw the picture thus held aloft before him.
The Mogul Empire restored!
Back through the dim vista of the centuries to the Moslem invasion, nearly a thousand years before, to that year, 1205, when Cootub, the Afghan conqueror, made Delhi the capital, to 1525, when Baber slew the last Afghan monarch and established the line of Mogul princes, to the consolidation of the empire and its culmination under Aurungzebe; then down the slow but steady dry rot, until the English came a century before and established themselves masters of the mighty empire.
Thoughts of those stupendous epochs and the dream of restoring the splendor, the barbaric pomp, the magnificence and glory of the Mogul Empire, must have stirred the sluggish blood of the wan old puppet until, rapt by the dazzling vision, he consented.
A throne of silver, that had been laid away since the year 1843, was brought into the "hall of special audience," and Mohammed Suraj-oodeen Shah Gezee took his seat upon it as the Great Mogul of India.
Two troops of artillery from Meerut entered the city by the Calcutta Gate and fired a royal salute of twenty one guns in front of the palace. Instantly the multitude became frantic in their exultation, for they felt that now they had a head, a rallying point for the faithful of India, and the days of English rule were numbered.
The ceremony within the palace being ended, the royal procession was formed. Amid the booming of artillery, the blare and clangor of martial music and the shouts of the fanatics, the gates of the palace were thrown open, and Prince Mirza Mogul, one of the sons appointed to the command of the royal army, rode forth, followed by his brother, Prince Abu Beker, at the head of the royal body guard.
Surrounded by the latter, came the king in an open chariot, his great age and feebleness preventing him from riding on horseback or upon an elephant.
Thus attended, he was slowly driven through the principal street, the swarming throngs becoming more frenzied every hour, until the Juma Musjeed was reached. This is the largest mosque in India, and surpassed only by Mecca and St. Sophia.
And here took place that strange, impressive ceremony, which consisted of the unfurling of the banner of the Prophet, and the proclamation of the Mogul Empire.
The commands of his majesty were promulgated to the effect that the shop keepers and inhabitants should resume their vocations, after which he slowly returned to the palace.
Thus amid fire, pillage, and blood, the Mogul Empire was proclaimed.
How long was it to last?
Other scenes accompanied the proclamation of the Mogul Empire. Hardly was the barbaric ceremony completed when the fanatics rushed through the streets and the plundering and massacre began.
While the missionary, Mr. Hildreth, and his friends kept close watch within their home through the entire day, they knew of the wild excitement in other parts of the city, but they had no suspicion of the proclamation of the Mogul Empire. Luchman knew all about it, but he kept the tidings to himself, through his wish to avoid causing his friends too much alarm.
Luchman was in hourly expectation of an assault by the mob, and his anxiety was none the less terrible because he repressed all signs of it. Why the home of the missionary was not attacked can hardly be explained. The native as well as the good man himself attributed it to fervent prayer, but there were others who prayed just as fervently, and they were cut down like lambs at the slaughter.
It was not until the fugitives reached the Cashmere Gate on Monday evening that they learned of the proclamation of the Mogul Empire, and the fact that plunder and massacre had been going on ever since midday.
The first person killed in Delhi was a Mr. Todd. He was shot while standing on the bridge of boats over the Jumna, by the first mutineers that arrived from Meerut. The second victim was Captain Douglas, commandant of the guard of the titular King. The next persons slain were the Reverend Mr. Jennings, the English chaplain of the residency, and his daughter, a lady of nineteen. They and some others applied to the Emperor for protection, and he gave them to the soldiers.
Meanwhile the Ghoojurs, the hyenas of East Indian society, were swarming into the city. Nearly every house in which a European was known to have lived was gutted: the purpose of the soldiers was massacre,—that of the rabble, plunder. The budmashes and rioters broke into the dwellings of the wealthy natives and the public stables. Scores of shopkeepers in the bazars were killed for the crime of asking payment for their goods.
Suddenly one of the infuriate mobs made for the Delhi Bank, in quest of the treasure deposited there. The throats of Mr. Beresford, the manager, his wife, and five children, were cut. The government treasuries were then plundered, the church burned, and the rioters attacked the office of theDelhi Gazette. When the compositors saw them coming they hastily disguised themselves as natives and mingled with the crowd. They were recognized, however, and hewn in pieces. The presses of the paper were thrown into the river, and the type melted into slugs.
A fearful fate awaited every European who stayed in Delhi. Men, women and children, to the number of several hundred, fell victims to the ferocity of a mob whose fiendishness has never been equaled except by Geronimo and his brother chiefs and Apache braves, or a Paris commune. Delhi was a fitting precursor of the Cawnpore and Lucknow atrocities.
Sir Theophilus Metcalf, the political agent, and Lieutenant Willoughby gave their attention to the magazine, which, as has been stated, contained an enormous amount of ammunition and military stores. The gates were closed and barricaded, two six pounders, double charged with grape, were pointed so as to command the gates in case they should be carried, while other guns, also double charged, covered the different portions of the magazine. A train was then laid connecting with the interior, arms were distributed to the native servants of the establishment, and the garrison, consisting of nine Europeans, calmly awaited the attack that was sure to come.
By and by the palace guard rushed up and demanded the surrender of the magazine, in the name of the Emperor. No answer was given, and ladders were brought from the palace for the purpose of taking the arsenal by escalade.
The mutineers swarmed upon the walls like bees, and the garrison tumbled them off as fast as they could load and fire. During the confusion, the native servants of the magazine and ordnance departments scrambled to the sheds and buildings against the outer wall, and, hurrying down the ladder, affiliated with their fierce countrymen.
Charge after charge of grape was fired among the wretches, and the rifles of the brave garrison cracked without intermission; but the sepoys numbered thousands, and no diminution of the horde was noticeable. They too kept up an unremitting fusillade, dancing and darting hither and thither, so overrunning with wild fury that they could not keep still. Without the least chance of accomplishing anything, hundreds fired their guns against the solid walls: such was their fanatical venom that they could not help it.
After a time two of the garrison were wounded, and only seven were left to fight the raging host.
From one of the bastions, the eye could trace a long reach of road in the direction of Delhi. Here Willoughby stationed himself, while Conductor Scully stood with lighted portfire, and his eye fixed on his commander, waiting for the signal to fire the magazine.
Shading his eyes with his hand, the lieutenant gazed long and earnestly in the direction of Meerut. Across the flaming plain, the keen vision searched for that which it could not see.
Ah, what means that dust? Is it not made by the hoofs of the cavalry galloping in mad haste to the rescue of the garrison, which can hold out but a few minutes longer? No; the faint puff of dust is wafted aside like a feather, and there is nothing beneath.
Meanwhile Scully grows impatient. He knows that when the magazine is fired it will hurl hundreds of the sepoys into eternity. They are swarming so fast that the opportunity is a glorious one.
"Isn't it time?" he calls out to the lieutenant, who glances toward him and shakes his head.
No hope, but the officer peers off over the buildings, along the parched road, over which if the help comes at all it must come quickly. He knows from the infernal tumult without that the sepoys will be inside the defenses within the next ten minutes. Even if the cavalry should now dash into sight they cannot reach the garrison in time to save them.
"Time yet, lieutenant?" asks Scully again.
"Yes; touch her off!" replies the officer, raising his hat above his head: this is the signal agreed upon for firing the magazine. Conductor Scully stoops over and touches the flame to the powder. The serpent of fire hisses straight into the heart of the magazine, and it seems as if a volcano has burst through the crust of the earth. The ground sways, as did that beneath Charleston, and an immense volume of fire and vapor, as if belched from Vesuvius, rolls upward and settles in a black cloud above the city.
Following the awful explosion was a din of yells, shrieks, execrations and cries of agony. When the great magazine of Delhi went up in flame and smoke, it mangled and killed more than half a thousand sepoys. Lieutenant Willoughby and two companions, scorched, wounded and buried in the ruins, smiled with satisfaction when they realized what a magnificent success the gigantic fireworks had proven to be.
These three men actually succeeded in crawling from the ruins at night and stole through the sally port on the river face. Willoughby was afterward killed in a village near Delhi. Two of the men, Forrest and Buckley, lived to tell of their marvelous escape, but Scully, who fired the train, was blown to fragments with the hundreds of sepoys by the terrific outburst.
When the tempest broke over Delhi, General Graves did what he could for the safety of the Europeans within the city and the vicinity. It was decided that the ladies and persons of civil employment should go to the Flagstaff Tower. This was a strong building of circular shape, standing on an elevation near the cantonment, and only a short distance from the Cashmere and Moree Gates.
At this station was General Graves himself, the eminence affording him a good view of the movements of the mutineers in the city. With him were detachments of the Thirty Eighth and Seventy Fourth Regiments. His situation was trying.
Of the three regiments stationed at Delhi, every member of one—the Fifty Fourth, which went out to fight the mutineers—had joined them and was now engaged in helping to plunder the city. Members of the other two regiments were also there, and the rest were eager to be with them.
When the thunder of the exploding magazine shook the ground, and the sulphurous cloud rose above the city, the sepoys at the Flagstaff Tower became irrestrainable. Catching up their arms with shouts of "Deen! deen!" (the faith! the faith!) they seized two guns and pointed them against the tower. Providentially they yielded to persuasion and gave up the pieces, but by this time it was clear that there was not a safe spot in all Delhi for a European.
The sagacious Luchman saw he had made a grave error. He had thought that the sepoys at the Flagstaff, where they were under the immediate eye of the general, would for a time at least remain loyal. But the whirlwind of revolt swept everything before it.
"It would have been better had we started back into the country at once," said Dr. Avery, while discussing the situation with his friends in the Flagstaff Tower.
"It would have made little difference," replied the missionary, "for we should have encountered the Ghoojurs, who are flocking hither from every direction."
"But Luchman is so well acquainted with the country that he would have steered clear of the robbers."
Avery looked at the native for his opinion. He seemed pleased by the compliment and nodded his head, but said nothing.
"If these sepoys could only be depended upon, we might stay here and bid defiance to the whole horde of mutineers," said Mr. Hildreth, looking gloomily off in the direction of the city, from which the smoke was rising and whence came a din like that of the infernal regions.
"They can be depended upon, sahib," said Luchman, with a scowl, "for being thieves and murderers, who will not spare the infant in its mother's arms."
All noticed the eclipse which darkened the face of the native, and their old fear returned. Would Luchman himself withstand the swirl of fanaticism that had turned men into devils?
It is a terrifying situation for the traveler to distrust the bridge when he is half way over the rushing torrent; for a mariner to doubt the seaworthiness of his vessel, when the monsoon is marshaling its forces; for the patient, when hovering between life and death, to know that his physician is incompetent; but similar to this was the feeling that came to the missionary and his friends when they saw the forbidding scowl on the face of Luchman.
Though a professing Christian, could he conquer the impulses that were tugging like wild horses at his heart strings? Would not the memories of the two score years during which he was the strictest of Brahmins, now assert themselves with resistless strength?
The missionary shuddered as he scrutinized that forbidding face, whose owner was staring off over Delhi, as if he longed to be there with his brother rioters.
"God keep him faithful, but I fear the worst."
The evening was well advanced, when General Graves approached the group.
"It is all over," he said with a sigh and shake of the head.
Luchman continued gazing toward Delhi. He glanced at the officer, but said nothing. Evidently he felt little respect for the leader who had shown such inefficiency, and therefore did not deign to notice his remark.
Dr. Avery, now that all military rule was at an end, was tempted to reproach the general for his blindness to the peril until it was too late, but he checked such feeling, conscious of the cruelty of giving it expression.
"What do you mean, general, by its being all over?"
"I doubt whether there is a living European in Delhi at this moment; or if there is, he will not escape an hour longer."
"But what about the sepoys around you?"
"They are on the verge of revolt."
"And are we left alone?" asked Marian with a gasp of dismay.
"It amounts to that, since even if those that are left should stand by us, they cannot resist the force that will soon attack them. They have opened the jails and turned the convicts loose. The Mussulmans are hunting everywhere for victims; and, friends," added the commandant with great impressiveness, "it becomes my duty to say that I have no longer any power to help you. Each one must look out for himself."
These were dreadful words coming from the head of the soldiery, but the little group had felt their truth before.
Luchman stood a minute longer in silence, and then wheeling abruptly said:
"Sahib, let us go!"
The heart of the missionary was lead. His distrust of the native came with overpowering force, and he was almost certain he meant to betray them into the hands of their enemies.
Dr. Avery stepped beside the good man and whispered:
"Don't let him see that you distrust him! We will go with him; at the first sign of treachery I will put a bullet through his skull."
Mr. Hildreth felt the wisdom of the suggestion, and acted upon it at once. Calling his wife to him, he said:
"Follow close behind me; we must make a start. Marian will follow the doctor. Luchman, we are ready. Under Heaven everything now depends upon you; lead the way."
The younger man was more distrustful of Luchman than was the elder. He had studied him closely, and he believed his sympathies were with the wretches of the torch and knife.
Furthermore, the doctor was confirmed in his suspicion by the course of Luchman respecting the wonderful diamond, the Star of India. When he showed it to him near Lucknow he declared that it was a present for Miss Hildreth, but the latter was in ignorance of such purpose, as her lover learned from several guarded questions during his first night in Delhi.
True, it might be that Luchman thought it best under the circumstances to wait until they were free from the peril by which they were environed; but, admitting such to be the case, the query naturally presented itself as to why he had given no intimation of his intention to the young lady.
The only answer that Dr. Avery could form was that he had changed his mind. Such a recantation must signify a withdrawal of his loyalty to the missionary and his family. Actuated by friendship, he had still clung to them, in a measure, but where one wavers in such a situation, it may be certain he will soon become the bitterest enemy. In fact, all that Luchman was doing, and all that he had proposed to do, the surgeon set down as part of a plan to deliver the whole party over to the mutineers.
Yet there was a possibility of mistake, and so Avery determined to affect a belief in him, but at the first manifestation of treachery he would shoot the native as if he were a cobra drawn back to strike.
Where there was such panic the means of conveyance like horses and carriages was altogether inadequate to the demand. Many of the native servants had stolen those belonging to their masters, and none was to be obtained elsewhere.
"Whither shall we go?" asked Dr. Avery of Luchman, when they were fairly out of the tower and on the road.
"To Kurnal," was the answer.
"Where is that?" asked the young man, and the missionary took upon himself to answer.
"It is a small town lying directly north, and distant some sixty or seventy miles."
"Why is it safer to go that way than the other?"
"For manifest reasons; we are nearly a thousand miles from Calcutta, the most accessible large city where we would be safe, and between us and that point is the hot bed of revolt. It is death for us to venture to the east or south; the true course is to the north, away from the centers of the mutiny."
"Do we approach Meerut?"
"No, sahib; we go to the left, and are likely to escape if we succeed in reaching Kurnal."
If Luchman really intended to do his best to conduct the fugitives to that point it was good evidence that he still meant them well.
Musketry firing was heard all around them, and the fugitives were kept in continual fear that some of the guns were aimed at them. It was unsafe to approach the bridge over the Jumna River, and Luchman made a circuit, which brought him to the stream fully a quarter of a mile to the south—a fortunate movement, as it took them pretty well out of the way of the swarming rabble and fugitives.
The river was quite low, so that little difficulty would have been met in fording (the men carrying the ladies), but Luchman was lucky enough to come upon a small boat, by means of which he took all over dry shod.
Being now fairly outside the city and with the Jumna rolling between it and them, our friends felt there was hope of escaping the fate of so many of their countrymen. The road leading to Meerut and to Kurnal was crowded with wretched fugitives, and the distant reports of guns and the shouts of the sepoys showed that plunder and massacre were going on in every direction. Many of the sepoys and the marauding Ghoojurs were at work on the highway as well as in the city.
Luchman explained his plan: he meant to bear off to the left, taking less frequented roads and paths, journeying mostly by night and hiding by day. He knew the country well—an advantage whose importance was beyond estimate, and he did not hesitate to say that if his instructions were followed there was a fair chance of success.
Appreciating the value of every hour, they pushed on while the darkness lasted. In the confusion and gloom there was little to be feared, for they were not likely to be taken for foreigners. Without interruption they reached a point some three miles from the Jumna, where Luchman made another turn to the left, effecting quite a detour, which led them into a path used by pedestrians and horsemen, but without traces of carts or carriages.
No persons were seen, and no doubt Luchman's move was a wise one. There was cultivated land at intervals, and then they passed through dense groves very tempting in the way of hiding places, for they were in continual dread of meeting enemies.
Impelled by their alarm, they pushed forward after daylight, until the increasing heat compelled them to stop. Then, pretty well worn out, they halted near a small stream, where the dense wood hid them from view of any passers by. No one cared about food, though their strength had been taxed to the utmost. The men took turns in watching and sleeping, so that when the sun was low in the sky they were in fair form to continue their flight.
Luchman was walking a short distance in advance, every one silent and alert, when the guide, whose action was much like that of an American Indian, stood motionless a moment, then stepped softly forward, craned his neck and lifted his hand, as a signal for those behind him to stand still.
They instantly obeyed, wondering what it all meant, when Luchman suddenly whirled aid ran toward them.
"The Ghoojurs! The Ghoojurs!" he exclaimed; "make ready for a fight!"