They had an important task to plan—a rendezvous and promise to keep in Marseilles.
7
L’Affaire Savarkar
London, August 1910
The mood was sombre in the departmental inquiry chambers of the Metropolitan Police. Churchill was furious and had ordered a thorough investigation into the lapses. In the dock were two officials—Metropolitan Police officer Inspector Edward John Parker and the deputy superintendent of CID, Charles John Power. They were part of the escort that was supposed to bring Vinayak back to India. In a correspondence dated 27 May 1910, Sir Edward Henry, the commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, had authorized Inspector Parker as the Scotland Yard officer who could give evidence back in India about Vinayak’s activities in London. Parker had been shadowing Vinayak as a detective for a long time. He was even present as a lay audience at the Caxton Hall meeting held on 29 December 1908 to commemorate Guru Gobind Singh’s birth anniversary. Even after Vinayak moved out of India House, Parker had kept a close watch on him. He was also one of the detectives who was present at Vinayak’s arrest at Victoria Station in March 1910 and had searched his trunk and belongings to discover the revolutionary books and pamphlets.
Earlier, on 10 April 1910, Deputy Superintendent C.J. Power had arrived from Bombay, bringing with him all the necessary papers related to Vinayak’s case, the depositions of witnesses in India in the Nashik trial, and had submitted these at the Bow Street Police Court. Power was a distinguished officer with an unblemished record of over sixteen years of service in the Bombay City and Mofussil Police, with nearly thirteen good service and reward entries. In 1904, he had been deputed to Manila with one of the other officers of the Bombay City Police to effect the extradition of Shapurji Kavasji Sanjana and escort him back to Bombay. He had performed this duty with rare tenacity, managing numerous difficulties that came his way in connection with extradition formalities in Manila. Hence, the Indian government decided that he would be the most appropriate officer to bring home the ‘notorious’ Vinayak to justice.
In London, Power reported himself to Inspector McCarthy at Scotland Yard and to the accountant general at the India Office. He had been authorized to take charge of the proceedings at court against Vinayak and also make suitable arrangements related to his passage back to India. In early June, Power had sent letters to several departments of the government regarding booking the P&O vessel Marmora initially. Given the manner in which the case proceeded with appeals in the divisional courts, the date was missed and thereafter the S.S. Morea was booked on 24 June 1910. Before leaving for London, Power had received strict instructions from his department head in India that his main responsibility was ‘looking after the prisoner on the return voyage’.
In a letter dated 26 March 1910, J.A. Guider, the special assistant to the deputy inspector general of police and Power’s superior, had written to him:
The three head constables will sail by the Macedonia next week and will go all the way by sea to London. The Inspector-General of Police desires that you should meet them on arrival and instruct them where lodgings have been arranged for them . . . You will remember the instructions I gave you about looking after the prisoner on the return. You will be careful not to leave the Nasik Head Constable alone at any time with the prisoner. There are reasons why this is undesirable. The Head Constable however is not to be informed of the prohibition, Nevertheless you are to see that it is strictly adhered to. Keep me posted in all your doings by your weekly diary dispatched every Friday. 1
Power, thus, had a serious responsibility on his hands. His lapses on board the Morea were hence viewed sternly by the department. In a long-winded inquisition, Power and Parker narrated their tale of woes about all that had transpired on that fateful day when the Morea docked at Marseilles in France.
Marseilles, France, 8 July 1910
On 1 July 1910, the S.S. Morea sailed from Tilbury docks carrying Vinayak who was escorted by Power and Parker and two Indian head constables, Muhammad Siddik of the Poona police force and Amarsingh Sakharamsingh of the Nashik police force. A third officer, Usman Khan, who had been sent from India especially to guard Vinayak, died in England on 14 June 1910. Power hence assigned this duty to both Siddik and Amarsingh. They reached Marseilles on 7 July around noon.
In the week preceding their arrival at Marseilles, Power and Parker followed a strict daily schedule. Either of them had to be in constant attendance on Vinayak. They occupied an inner four-berth cabin without a porthole and at night this was secured by locking the door with a key that was especially obtained from the purser on the day of sailing. Either of the two officers kept the key. Parker and Vinayak occupied the lower berths while Power, the berth directly above Vinayak. Parker’s berth was closest to the door and faced Vinayak directly. The light directly over Vinayak’s head was kept burning all night. Vinayak was not handcuffed till they reached Marseilles. He wore a pair of drawers and a singlet. 2
The officers were usually woken up by the cabin steward, Slavin, a little after 7 a.m. every day. That is when Power and Parker would begin to dress. If either or both of them wanted to take a bath, they would wait for the other’s return to the cabin so that Vinayak was always under their watch. After they had finished, Vinayak was allowed to get up and dress. He usually performed his ablutions in the cabin. When he wished to use the lavatory, usually around 8 a.m., it was decided that the two officers would hand him over to the Indian head constables who were invariably waiting outside the cabin at this time. They escorted him to the lavatory and were instructed never to allow him to shoot the bolt, but leave the door slightly ajar. Both of them were to stand close to the door, one to look over by standing on the urinal platform and to watch the porthole of the lavatory. While being taken to the lavatory, Vinayak usually changed into a dressing gown and wore a pair of slippers that he left at the lavatory door after use. This procedure was followed all through when the vessel was at sea.
Vinayak and the two English officers stayed in the cabin till breakfast, at which time they were led to the dining saloon with their prisoner sitting between them. After breakfast, the officers sometimes had a smoke. On a couple of occasions, they took Vinayak to the upper deck to let him have some exercise. He was never allowed to walk by himself or sit alone on the deck. During this time, the two Indian head constables were also on the deck keeping a close watch on Vinayak. He would frequently ask to be led back to the cabin where he spent several hours either reading or sleeping. At all times, Parker and Power, or one of them, stayed in the cabin with the door firmly fastened. Meals were had at the dining saloon again. The afternoons and evenings were spent in pretty much the same manner. Vinayak was never allowed to converse with any passenger on board. He usually retired to bed around 9 p.m. and it was only around 10 p.m. that the head constables were relieved from their duty.
Vinayak had a bath almost every morning during which time he was committed to the care of the head constables. In fact, on many occasions, he had to bathe in Muhammad Siddik’s presence. One day, after he complained of chest pain, Power advised him not to bathe. The doctor on board examined him, found his right lung slightly infected, and prescribed a lotion for external use. Muhammad Siddik applied this on his chest at the time of going to bed.
When the vessel docked at Marseilles on 7 July, Power kept a close watch on Vinayak inside the locked cabin. Meanwhile, Parker stationed himself on the gangway to keep watch for any known Indian revolutionary who might have assembled there with the purpose of freeing their prized prisoner. Power had strictly instructed the team to be cautious when the steamer was docked. Either he or Parker had to be with Vinayak all the time. They had lunch by 1 p.m. and thereafter were in the cabin till 4 p.m. The heat in the cabin was becoming intolerable owing to all the portholes being closed on account of coaling and hence the trio went up to the smoke room. At around 5 p.m.,Vinayak was taken down for a wash and kept there till dinner at the dining saloon by 7 p.m. Post-dinner, he was given a little walki
ng exercise for about an hour with all the four in attendance. Unusually, Vinayak requested to be allowed to take a bath at around 9 to 9.30 p.m. Power handed him over to the head constables and instructed Muhammad Siddik to take him to an inner bathroom with no porthole. After the bath, Vinayak retired for the day by 11 p.m., as did the others.
On the morning of 8 July, Vinayak made an unusual request to go to the lavatory as early as 6.15 a.m. The officers had slept late and Power was still asleep. He heard the request but tossed over and went back to sleep. Parker, who was half awake, took it upon himself to lead Vinayak to the water closet and lavatory. Parker followed him in the narrow passage. The two head constables were standing near the lavatory door, on the other side, where they kept their kit boxes. They were still dressing up. A sleepy Parker put Vinayak into the water closet without paying any attention to the state of the porthole. He also did not wait to check if the constables had seen them coming and so were aware that their services were needed to keep a watch as always.
Amarsingh dressed and made his way to the cabin, assuming he had to take the prisoner on the usual morning routine. But Parker whistled to Amarisngh, casually pointing to the water closet and told him, ‘He is here,’ before sauntering back to the cabin. Amarsingh hurriedly ran back to the lavatory and was soon joined by Muhammad Siddik. By this time, which was less than a minute, Vinayak managed to bolt the lavatory door and make the best use of the confusion that prevailed. He discovered to his luck that the porthole in the water closet was open and Parker had not bothered to fasten or clamp it. This was the moment that he had been eagerly waiting for. Summoning all his courage, he made a dash at the twelve-inch-diameter porthole, wriggled his lean frame out of it and made a giant dive into the sea, hoping, towards liberty and justice. He swam for about ten to twelve feet to get to the quay.
There was an opening of about three inches at the top and bottom of the water closet doors. Peeping under the doors, Amarsingh saw a pair of slippers and assumed that Vinayak was seated inside. However, to be doubly sure, he decided to stand on the urinal platform and peep through the top. To his horror he noticed that half of Vinayak’s body was already out of the porthole. He screamed at him to stop the escape. Amarsingh tried to force the door open but it did not yield and two panes of glass broke in the door. By then, Vinayak had jumped out. The two constables raised an alarm and ran across the deck to secure Vinayak, who by then had managed to reach the quay and had begun to run. The constables chased him with loud shouts of ‘Thief! Thief!’ ‘Catch him!’ ‘Catch him!’ and were joined by some of the ship’s crew. Vinayak had run for about 200 yards and was visibly exhausted. He kept shouting for a cab but realized that he had no money.
It was equally unfortunate that Aiyar, Madame Cama and Virendranath Chattopadhyay who were in the vicinity had reached the site late, only after Vinayak had been recaptured. Their delay was possibly caused due to a closed railway level crossing, or for having had a cup of tea, or perhaps both. 3 There is however very little corroborative evidence to suggest that any Indian revolutionaries were present on the site and multifold narratives abound of the episode.
Meanwhile, Brigadier Pesquié of the French Gendarmerie Maritime saw the confusion and joined the chase party. In no time, the head constables and the gendarme managed to seize Vinayak, who specifically told the Frenchman, ‘Take me into your custody, assist me; take me before a Magistrate.’ It was Vinayak’s understanding that since he was now on the soil of sovereign France, if at all he could be tried, it would be through French laws and the British had no jurisdiction there. As a political prisoner, he was eligible for asylum in France. But sadly for him, the gendarme, Pesquié, barely understood any English. He handed him over to the huffing and panting head constables who dragged Vinayak back to the Morea . His heroic attempt had been in vain.
A dripping wet and exhausted Vinayak was ushered into the cabin where Power was still resting and Parker was busy with his morning shave. They were horrified to hear all that had transpired while they remained blissfully unaware. Vinayak was verbally abused and immediately handcuffed. He was not allowed to leave the cabin except for an hour of exercise right in front of the cabin, in the passage. One of the head constables was made to enter the lavatory or water closet with Vinayak. Power and Parker had already ruined their distinguished careers by this act of omission on their parts and hence took every possible care to prevent a repeat.
In this moment of utter despair at having lost a great opportunity to free himself, Vinayak seemed least perturbed. He coolly sat in the cabin, warned the officers not to abuse him, and is said to have hummed a poem that he composed titled ‘Atma bal’ (Spiritual Strength). The poem begins with the lines:
Anaadi mi, ananta mi, avadhya mi bhala
Maaril ripu jagati asa, kavan janmala
(With me the things begin, and they end with me as well
I am in the midst of them all. A foe who can finish me off is yet to take birth.)
The translation of the rest of the poem goes this way:
Resolutely, as the Upholder of Dharma,
Challenging very Death, into the battlefield charge I.
A sword cannot slice me nor can fire burn me,
Craven Death itself shall flee in fear of me, aye!
And yet, O Foolish Foe!
By fear of Death you dare to scare me!
Pushed into the cage of a ferocious lion
Reduce him to a cowering servility, I will!
Flung into the blaze of a roaring inferno
Reduce it to a gentle halo of brilliance, I will!
Bring on your mighty, skilled, armed Legion,
Your weapons and missiles that deadly fire spill!
Ha! Like Lord Shiva consuming the poison Halahal,
Gulp down and digest all, I will! 4
The S.S. Morea left the port of Marseilles after completing the repairs on 9 July. Reaching the port of Aden on 17 July, the British contingent and their political prisoner disembarked and boarded another ship, the Salsette . Here, Vinayak was confined to a cage-like cabin with a space of only 4 feet to sit, stand or walk. He was kept handcuffed day and night till the vessel reached Bombay on 22 July 1910. He was handed over to Mr Kennedy, inspector general of police, and to J.A. Guider, special assistant to the deputy inspector general of police. He was taken in a taxi to Victoria Terminus, put in a train to Nashik the same afternoon, and locked up in a jail on reaching Nashik.
In Nashik, Guider made several attempts to get Vinayak to write out a statement of the facts relating to his escape from custody at Marseilles. But he did not consent to write one or sign any that Guider offered to record. His reason was that he did not wish to deny that he had escaped but was ‘unwilling to say anything which might prejudice any of the police officers who accompanied him from England’. 5
Meanwhile, the departmental inquisition found Power guilty of dereliction. He was demoted in service, incurred a loss of Rs 100 per month for a few years, and his career took a hit. The inquiry concluded with its resolution on 8 October 1910 signed by the undersecretary to the government, J.E.B. Hotson:
Marseilles was the only real danger point on the voyage, and it was Mr Power’s obvious duty to have drawn up a definite plan of action for the safe custody of his prisoner during the stay there, arranging that the prisoner should never be separated even for a moment from himself or Inspector Parker, and providing carefully for all the details, such as the closing of the portholes. The general instructions, which he claims to have issued were not adequate to meet these requirements, nor does it appear that he took adequate steps to secure that they were carried out. The prisoner’s request for a bath on the previous night should have warned Mr Power to be specially on the alert, and Government can only conclude that he neglected his duties with almost inconceivable carelessness, and must be held directly responsible for permitting the prisoner to escape. The story of this unfortunate episode presents no mitigating features, but looking to Mr Power’s excellen
t record in the past, His Excellency the Governor-in-Council considers that the punishment suggested by the Inspector-General of Police will be sufficiently severe. Mr Power should accordingly be reduced to the last place in the 2nd grade of Deputy Superintendents of Police with effect from 1st October 1910. 6
Meanwhile, the French press and particularly those oriented towards the socialists castigated Brigadier Pesquié’s action as a national scandal. That a political prisoner who had landed on French soil was allowed to be taken away by British officials was an insult to French sovereignty, they argued. Almost the entire French Press—L’Humanite , L’Eclaire , Le Monde , Le Temps and Le Matin —denounced Vinayak’s recapture from France and a violation of his right to political asylum. Jean Longuet, socialist leader and grandson of Karl Marx, became Vinayak’s vocal supporter. He wrote a blistering article in the socialist newsweekly that he edited, L’Humanite , on 12 July:
This abominable violation of the right of asylum was effected in absolute secrecy; had it not been for a telegram published yesterday (11 July) in the Paris Daily Mail , we should still have been in ignorance of the incident. But it is quite impossible that the matter can be allowed to rest there. In delivering up a political refugee the Marseilles authorities—admitting that they had acted on their own initiative—have committed an outrage of which account will most assuredly be demanded and in respect of which the sanction of the state itself is necessary. 7
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