In Clive's Command: A Story of the Fight for India

by Herbert Strang

  Chapter 22: In which is given a full, true, and particular account of theBattle of the Carts.

  Desmond expected that Mohun Lal would reach Santipur shortly afternightfall. He himself might hope to arrive there, if not intercepted atKhulna or Amboa, at any time between midnight and three o'clock,according to the state of the river.

  It was approaching dusk when he drew near to Khulna. The boats havingbeen tied up to the bank, as the custom was, Desmond sent the Babu tofind out from the Company's gumashta there whether news of the capture ofCossimbazar Fort had reached the bazar, and if any runner had come infrom the north. In an hour the Babu returned. He said that there wasgreat excitement in the bazar: no official messenger had arrived, buteverybody was saying that the Nawab had captured the English factory atCossimbazar, and was going to drive all the Firangi out of Bengal.

  Desmond decided to take a bold course. Official news not having arrived,he might seize the moment to present his dastaks and get away before thecustoms officers found any pretext for stopping him. Everything happenedas he hoped. He met with no more difficulty than at Path, and informingthe official who examined the dastaks that he would drop down to Amboabefore tying up for the night, he drew out again into the stream.

  He spent some time in consultation with the serang. In a rather desolatereach of the Hugli, he learned that in the middle of the stream there wasa small island, uninhabited save by teal and other waterfowl, and notknown to be the haunt of tigers or other beasts of prey. Reaching thisislet about ten o'clock at night, when all river traffic had ceased, herowed in, and landed the Armenian with his crews.

  "I thank you for your company, Coja Solomon," he said blandly. 'We musthere part, to my regret, for I should like to have the pleasure ofwitnessing your meeting with Mr. Merriman. The nights are warm, and youwill, I am sure, be quite comfortable till the morning, when no doubt apassing boat will take you off and convey you back to your business atCossimbazar."

  "I will not stay here," protested the Armenian, his face livid withanger.

  "Believe me, you have no choice. Let me remind you that had you behavedhonestly there would have been no reason for putting you to theinconvenience of this tiring journey. You have brought it on yourself."

  Coja Solomon sullenly went up the shore. Desmond then paid the menhandsomely: they had indeed worked well, and they were abundantlysatisfied with the hire they received.

  Leaving Coja Solomon to his bitter reflections, Desmond dropped down toSantipur, arriving there about two o'clock in the morning. Just beforedawn ten hackeris, each yoked with two oxen, drew up near the Company'sghat. They were accompanied by a crowd of the inhabitants, lively withcuriosity about the engagement of so many vehicles. The gumashta came upwith the first cart, his face clouded with anxiety. He recognized theBabu at once, and said that while he had fulfilled the order he hadreceived on Mr. Merriman's behalf, he had done it in fear and trembling.The whole country knew that Cossimbazar Fort was in possession of theNawab, and, more than that, the Nawab had on the previous day set outwith an immense army for Calcutta. Santipur was not on the high road, andthe Company was respected there; yet the gumashta feared the people wouldmake an attack on the party if they suspected that they carried goodsbelonging to an Englishman.

  Hitherto Desmond had kept himself in the background. But now he had anidea inspired by confidence in his costume. Introducing himself to thegumashta, he asked him to give out that the party was in command of aFirangi in the service of the Nawab, and was conveying part of theNawab's private equipage in advance to Baraset, a few miles north ofCalcutta, there to await the arrival of the main army. To make theimposition more effective, he called for the lambadar of the village andordered him in the Nawab's name to despatch a flotilla of twenty-fivewollacks {barges} to Cutwa to convey the official baggage.

  The trick proved effective. Desmond found himself regarded as a person ofimportance; the natives humbly salaamed to him; and, taking matters witha high hand, he impressed a score of the village idlers into the work oftransferring his precious bales from the boats to the hackeris. The workwas accomplished in half an hour.

  "Bulger," said Desmond, when the loading was done, "you will consideryourself in charge of this convoy. The Babu will interpret for you. Youwill hurry on as fast as possible toward Calcutta. I shall overtake youby and by. The people here believe that I am a Frenchman, so you hadbetter pass as that, too, for of course your disguise will deceive nonative in the daylight."

  "Well I knows it." said Bulger. "They've been starin' at me like as if Iwas a prize pig this half hour and more, and lookin' most uncommoncurious at my little button hook. But, sir, I don't see any call for meto make out I'm a mounseer. 'T'ud make me uneasy inside, sir, the verythought of eatin' what the mounseers eat."

  "My good man, there's no need to carry it too far. Do as you please, onlytake care of the goods."

  Except Desmond and four men whom he retained, the whole party moved offwith the hackeris towards Calcutta. The road was an unmade track, heavywith dust, rough, execrably bad; and at the gumashta's suggestion Desmondhad arranged for three extra teams of oxen to accompany the carts, toextricate them in case of necessity from holes or soft places.Fortunately the weather was dry: had the rains begun--and they wereoverdue--the road would have been a slough of mud and ooze, and thejourney would have been impossible.

  When the convoy had set off, Desmond with three men, including theserang, returned to the empty boats. The lookers-on stared to see thecraft put off and drop down the river with a crew of one man each:Desmond in the first, and the smaller boat that had contained Bulger andhis party trailing behind. Floating down some four or five miles with thestream, Desmond gave the order to scuttle the three petalas, and rowedashore in the smaller boat. On reaching land he got the serang to knock ahole in the bottom of the boat, and shoved it off towards midstream,where it rapidly filled and sank.

  It was full daylight when Desmond and his party of three struck offinland in a direction that would bring them upon the track of the carts.He had a presentiment that his difficulties were only beginning. By thistime, no doubt, the news of his escapade had been carried through thecountry by the swift kasids of the Nawab. His passing at Khulna and Amboawould be reported, and a watch would be kept for him at Hugli. Ifperchance a kasid or a chance traveler entered Santipur, the trick he hadpractised there would be immediately discovered; but if the messengeronly touched at the places on the direct route on the other bank, hemight hope that some time would elapse before the authorities theresuspected that he had left the river. They must soon learn that threepetalas lay wrecked in the stream below Amboa; but they could not satisfythemselves without examination that these were the vessels of which theywere in search.

  Tramping across two miles of fields newly sown with maize and sorghum, heat length descried the trail of his convoy and soon came up with it. Ifpursuers were indeed upon his track, only by the greatest good fortunecould he escape them. The carts creaked along with painful slowness; thewheels halfway to the axles in dust; now stopping altogether, now rockinglike ships in a stormy sea.

  With his arrival and the promise of liberal bakshish the hackeriwallahsurged the laboring oxen with their cruel goads till Desmond, alwaystender with animals, could hardly endure the sight. By nine o'clock themorning had become stiflingly hot. There was little or no breeze, andDesmond, unused of late to active exercise, found the heat terriblytrying. But Bulger suffered still more. A stout, florid man, he toiledalong, panting, streaming with sweat, in difficulties so manifest, thatDesmond, eying him anxiously, feared lest a stroke of apoplexy shouldbring him to an untimely end.

  The country was so flat that a string of carts could not fail to be seenfrom a long distance. If noticed from the towers of Hugli across theriver, curiosity, if not suspicion, would be aroused, and it would nottake long to send over by a ford a force sufficient to arrest and capturethe party. To escape observation it was necessary to make wide detours.At several small hamle
ts on the route Desmond managed to get fresh oxen,but not enough for complete changes of team.

  So, through all the broiling heat of the day, at hours when no otherEuropeans in all Bengal were out of doors, the convoy struggled on,making its own road, crossing the dry beds of pools, skirting or laboringover rugged nullahs.

  At nightfall Desmond learned from one of the drivers that they were stillsix miles short of being opposite to Hugli. The patient Bengalis couldendure no more; the oxen were done up, the men refused to go fartherwithout a rest. Halting at a hamlet some five miles from the river, theyrested and fed till midnight, then set off again. It was not soinsufferably hot at night, but on the other hand they were less able toavoid obstructions: and the rest had not been long enough to make up forthe terrible exertions of the day.

  By daybreak they were some distance past Hugli, still keeping about fivemiles from the river. Desmond was beginning to congratulate himself thatthe worst was over; Barrackpur was only about twelve miles away. But alittle after dawn he caught sight of a European on horseback crossingtheir track towards the river. He was going at a walking pace, attendedby two syces {grooms}. Attracted, apparently, by the sight, unusual atthis time of year, of a string of hackeris, he wheeled his horse andcantered towards the tail of the convoy, which was under Bulger's charge.

  "Hai, hackeriwallah," he said in Urdu to the rearmost driver, "to whom dothese hackeris belong?"

  "To the great Company, huzur. The sahib will tell you."

  "The sahib--what sahib?" asked the rider in astonishment.

  "The sahib yonder," replied the man, pointing to Bulger.

  Bulger had been staring at the horseman, and growing more and more red inthe face. Catching the rider's surprised look, he could contain himselfno longer.

  "By thunder! 'tis that villain Diggle!" he shouted, and rushed forward todrag him from his horse.

  But Diggle was not taken unawares. Setting spurs to his steed, he causedit to spring away. Bulger raised his musket, but ere he could fire Digglewas out of range. Keeping a careful distance he rode leisurely along thewhole convoy, and a smile of malignant pleasure shone upon his face as hetook stock of its contents.

  Meanwhile Bulger, already repenting of his hasty action, hurried forwardto acquaint Desmond with what had happened. Diggle's smile broadened; hehalted and took a long look at the tall figure in native dress to whomBulger was so excitedly speaking. Then, turning his horse in thedirection of the river, he spoke over his shoulder to his syces andgalloped away, followed by them at a run.

  "You were a fool, Bulger," said Desmond testily. "This may lead to no endof trouble."

  Bulger looked penitent, and wrathful, and overwhelmed.

  "We must try to hurry," added Desmond to Surendra Nath. "Promise the menmore bakshish: don't stint."

  For two hours longer they pushed on with all the speed of which the jadedbeasts were capable. Every now and again Desmond looked anxiously back,hoping against hope that they would not be pursued. But he knew thatDiggle had recognized him, and being prepared for the worst, he began torack his brains for some means of defense.

  Misfortune seemed to dog him. Two of the oxen collapsed. It was necessaryto distribute the loads of their hackeris among the others. The march wasdelayed, and when the convoy was again under way, its progress was slowerthan ever.

  It had, indeed, barely started, when in the distance Desmond spied ahorseman cantering towards them. A few minutes revealed him as Diggle. Herode up almost within musket shot, then turned and trotted back.

  What was the meaning of his action? Desmond, from his position near theforemost hackeri, could see nothing more. But, a few yards ahead of him,to the right of the track, there was a low artificial mound, possibly thesite of an ancient temple, standing at the edge of a nullah, its top someten or twelve feet above the surrounding plain. Hastening to this hegained the summit, and, looking back, saw a numerous body of men on footadvancing rapidly from the direction in which the horseman had come. Intwenty minutes they would have come up with the convoy. He must turn atbay.

  He glanced anxiously around. He was in the midst of an almost baresun-baked plain, the new-sown fields awaiting the rains to spring intoverdure. Here and there were clumps of trees--the towering palmyra withits fan-shaped foliage, the bamboo with its feathery branches, theplantain, throwing its immense leaves of vivid green into every fantasticform. There was no safety on the plain.

  But below him was the nullah, thirty feet deep, eighty yards wide, soonto be a swollen torrent dashing towards the Hugli, but now dry. Its sideswere in parts steep, and unscalable in face of determined resistance. Ina moment Desmond saw the utmost of possibility.

  Running back to the convoy, he turned its head towards the mound, and,calling every man to the help of the oxen, he dragged the carts one byone to the top. There he caused the beasts to be unyoked, and placed thehackeris, their poles interlocked, so as to form a rough semicircularbreastwork around the summit of the mound. For a moment he hesitated indeciding what to do with the cattle. Should he keep them within hislittle intrenchment? If they took fright they might stampede and domischief; in any case they would be in the way, and he resolved to sendthem all off under charge of such of the drivers as were too timid toremain. He noticed that the Babu was quivering with alarm.

  "Surendra Nath," he said, "this is no place for you. Slip away quietly;go towards Calcutta; and if you meet Mr. Merriman coming in response tomy message, tell him the plight we are in and ask him to hasten to ourhelp."

  "I do not like to show the white feather, sir," said the Babu.

  "Not at all, Babu, we must have a trustworthy messenger: you are the man.Now get away as fast as you can."

  The Babu departed on his errand with the speed of gladness and relief.

  The ground sloped sharply outward from the carts, and the rear of theposition was formed by the nullah. The last two hackeris were beingplaced in position when the vanguard of the pursuers, with Diggle attheir head, came to a point just out of range. The party was larger thanDesmond had estimated it to be at his first hasty glance. There were sometwenty men armed with matchlocks, and forty with swords and lathis. Allwere natives.

  His heart sank as he measured the odds against him. What was his dismaywhen he saw, half a mile off, another body following up. And these werewhite men! Was Diggle bringing the French of Chandernagore into the fray?

  Desmond posted his twelve armed peons behind the hackeris. He gave themstrict orders to fire only at the word of command, and as they hadundergone some discipline in Calcutta he hoped that, if only in selfpreservation, they would maintain a certain steadiness. Behind them heplaced twelve sturdy boatmen armed with half pikes, instructing them totake the place of the peons when they had fired. Bulger stood at themidpoint of the semicircle; his rough square face was a deep purple witha rim of black; his dhoti had become loosened, leaving his greatshoulders and brawny chest bare; his turban was awry; his eyes, bloodshotwith the heat, were as the eyes of Mars himself, burning with the fire ofbattle.

  The pursuers had halted. Diggle came forward, trotting his horse up tothe base of the mound. The peons fingered their matchlocks and lookedexpectant; Bulger growled; but Desmond gazed calmly at his enemy.

  "Your disguise is excellent," said Diggle in his smoothest tones; "but Ibelieve I speak to Mr. Desmond Burke."

  "Yes, Mr. Diggle," said Desmond, stepping forward.

  "I am glad to have overtaken you. Sure you have encamped early. I have amessage from my friend the Faujdar of Hugli. By some mistake aconsignment of merchandise has been illegally removed from Cossimbazar,and the Faujdar, understanding that the goods are contained in thesecarts, bids me ask you to deliver them up to his men, whom you see herewith me."

  Desmond was anxious to gain time. He thought out his plan of action whileDiggle was speaking. His impulsiveness prompted a flat defiance in fewwords; policy counseled a formality of utterance equal to Diggle's.

  "These carts certainly contain mer
chandise, Mr. Diggle," he said. "It isthe property of Mr. Edward Merriman, of Calcutta; I think you know him?It was removed from Cossimbazar; but not, I assure you, illegally. I havethe dastaks authorizing its removal to Calcutta; they are signed by theFaujdar of Murshidabad. Has the Faujdar of--where did you say?"

  "Of Hugli."

  "Has the Faujdar of Hugli power to countermand what the Faujdar of thecapital has done?"

  "Why discuss that point?" said Diggle with a smile. "The Faujdar of Hugliis an officer of the Nawab; hoc sat est tibi--blunt language, but thephrase is Tully's."

  "Well, I waive that. But I am not satisfied that you, an Englishman, haveauthority to act for the Faujdar of Hugli. The crowd I see before me--arabble of lathiwallahs--clearly cannot be the Faujdar's men."

  At this point he heard an exclamation from Bulger. The second body of menhad come up and ranked themselves behind the first.

  "And may I ask," added Desmond, with a slight gesture to Bulger torestrain himself--he too had recognized the newcomers--"since when theNawab has taken into his service the crew of an interloping Englishmerchantman?"

  "I shall give you full information, Mr. Burke," said Diggle suavely,"when we stand together before my friend the Faujdar. In the meantime youwill, if I may venture to advise, consult your interest best in yieldingto superior numbers and delivering up the goods."

  "And what about myself, Mr. Diggle?"

  "You, of course, will accompany me to the Faujdar. He will be incensed, Imake no doubt, at your temerity, and not unjustly; but I will intercedefor you, and you will be treated with the most delicate attentions."

  "You speak fair, Mr. Diggle," said Desmond, still bent upon gaining time;"but that is your way. What assurance have I that you will, this time,keep your word?"

  "You persist in misjudging me," said Diggle regretfully. "As Cicero saysin the play, you construe things after your fashion, clean from thepurpose of the things themselves. My interest in you is undiminished; nayrather, it is increased and mixed with admiration. My offers still holdgood: join hands with me, and I promise you that you shall soon be apersona grata at the court of Murshidabad, with wealth and honors in yourgrasp."

  "Your offer is tempting, Mr. Diggle, to a poor adventurer like me, and ifonly my own interests were involved, I might strike a bargain with you. Ihave had such excellent reasons to trust you in the past! But the goodsare not mine; they are Mr. Merriman's; and the utmost I can do at presentis to ask you to draw your men off and wait while I send a messenger toCalcutta. When he returns with Mr. Merriman's consent to the delivery ofthe goods, then--"

  The sentence remained unfinished. Diggle's expression had been becomingblacker and blacker as Desmond spoke, and seeing with fury that he wasbeing played with he suddenly wheeled round, and, cantering back to hismen, gave the order to fire. At the same moment Desmond called to his mento lie flat on the ground and aim at the enemy from behind the solidwooden wheels of the hackeris. Being on the flat top of the mound, theywere to some extent below the line of fire from the plain, and when thefirst volley was delivered no harm was done to them save for a fewscratches made by flying splinters struck from the carts.

  But the crack of the matchlocks struck terror into the pale hearts ofsome of the hackeriwallahs. Several sprang over the breastwork andscuttled away like scared rabbits. The remainder stood firm, graspingtheir lathis in a manner that showed the fighting instinct to be strong,even in the Bengali.

  Many anxious looks were bent upon Desmond, his men expecting the order tofire. But he bade them remain still, and through the interval between twocarts he watched for the rush that was coming. The crew of the GoodIntent, headed by Sunman, the cross-eyed mate, and Parmiter, had come upbehind the natives. These, having emptied their matchlocks, were nowretiring to reload. Diggle had dismounted, and was talking earnestly withthe mate. They walked together to the edge of the nullah, and looked upand down it, doubtless canvassing the chances of an attack in the rear;but the sides were steep; there was no hope of success in this direction;and they rejoined the main body.

  Evidently they had decided on making a vigorous direct attack over thecarts. Dividing his troop into two portions, Diggle put himself at thehead of the one, Sunman at the head of the other. Arranged in asemicircle concentric with the breastwork, at the word of command all themen with firearms discharged their pieces; then, with shrill cries fromthe natives, and a hoarse cheer from the crew of the Good Intent, theycharged in a close line up the slope.

  Behind the barricade the men's impatience had only been curbed by thequiet imperturbable manner of their young leader. But their selfrestraint was on the point of breaking down when, short, sharp and clear,the long-awaited command was given. Their matchlocks flashed; the volleytold with deadly effect at the short range of thirty paces; four or fivemen dropped; as many more staggered down the slope; the rest haltedindecisively, in doubt whether to push forward or turn tail.

  "Blockheads! cowards!" shouted Diggle in a fury. "Push on, you dogs; weare four to one!"

  He was now a very different Diggle from the man Desmond had knownhitherto. His smile was gone; all languor and indolence was lost; hiseyes flashed, his lips met in a hard cruel line; his voice rang outstrong and metallic. That he was no coward Desmond already knew. He puthimself in the forefront of the line, and, as always happens, a braveleader never lacks followers.

  The whole of the seamen and many of the Bengalis surged forward afterhim. Behind the breastwork all the men were now mixed up--musketeers withpikemen and lathiwallahs. Upon these came the swarming enemy, someclambering over the carts, others wriggling between the wheels. There wasa babel of cries; the exultant bellow of the born fighter, British ornative; a few pistol shots; the scream of the men mortally hit; the "Wah!wah!" of the Bengalis applauding their own prowess.

  As Diggle had said, the odds were four to one. But the defenders had theadvantage of position, and for a few moments they held the yelling mob atbay. The half pikes of the boatmen were terrible weapons at closequarters, more formidable than the cutlasses of the seamen balked by thebreastwork, or the loaded bamboo clubs of the lathiwallahs.

  Sunman, the mate, was one of the first victims; he fell to a shot fromBulger. But Parmiter and Diggle, followed by half a dozen of the sailors,and a score of the more determined lathiwallahs and musketeers withclubbed muskets, succeeded in clambering to the top of the carts andprepared to jump down among the defenders, most of whom were busilyengaged in jabbing at the men swarming in between the wheels. Desmond sawthat if his barricade was once broken through the issue of the fight mustbe decided by mere weight of numbers.

  "Bulger, here!" he cried, "and you, Hossain."

  The men sprang to him, and, following his example, leaped on to the cartnext to that occupied by Diggle and Parmiter. Desmond's intention was totake them in flank. Jumping over the bales of silk, he swung over hishead a matchlock he had seized from one of his peons, and brought it downwith a horizontal sweep. Two of the Bengalis among the crowd oflathiwallahs, who were hanging back out of reach of the boatmen's pikes,were swept off the cart. But the violence of his blow disturbed Desmond'sown balance; he fell on one knee; his matchlock was seized and jerked outof his hand; and in a second three men were upon him. Bulger and theserang, although a little late, owing to want of agility in scaling thecart, were close behind.

  "Belay there!" roared Bulger, as he flung himself upon the combatants.

  The bullet head of one sturdy badmash cracked like an eggshell under thebutt of the bold tar's musket; a second received the terrible hook squarein the teeth; and a third, no other than Parmiter himself, was caughtround the neck at the next lunge of the hook, and flung, with a mightyheave, full into the midst of the defenders. Bulger drew a long breath.

  At the same moment Diggle, attacked by the serang, was thrown from hisperch on the hackeri and fell among his followers outside the barricade.There was a moment's lull while both parties recovered their wind. Firinghad ceased; to load a matchlock w
as a long affair, and though theattackers might have divided and come forward in relays with loadedweapons, they would have run the risk of hitting their own friends.

  It was to be again a hand-to-hand fight. Diggle was not to be denied.Desmond, who had jumped down inside the barricade when the pressure wasrelieved by Bulger, could not but admire the spirit and determination ofhis old enemy, though it boded ill for his own chance of escape. He wasweary; worn out by want of rest and food; almost prostrated by theterrible heat. Looking round his little fort, he felt a tremor as he sawthat five out of his twenty-four men were more or less disabled. True,there were now more than a dozen of the enemy in the same or a worseplight; but they could afford their losses, and Desmond indeed wonderedwhy Diggle did not sacrifice a few men in one fierce overwhelmingonslaught.

  "A hundred rupees to the man who kills the young sahib, two hundred tothe man who takes him alive!" cried Diggle to his dusky followers, asthough in answer to Desmond's thought.

  Then, turning to the discomfited crew of the Good intent, he said: "Sure,my men, you will not be beaten by a boy and a one-armed man. There's afortune for all of you in those carts. At them again, my men; I'll showyou the way."

  He was as good as his word. He snatched a long lathi from one of theBengalis and rushed up the slope to the hackeri nearest the nullah.Finding a purchase for one end of his club in the woodwork of the wagon,he put forth all his strength in the effort to push it over the edge.Owing to the length of the lathi he was out of reach of the half pikes inthe hands of the boatmen, who had to lunge either over or under thecarts.

  His unaided strength would have been unequal to the task of moving thehackeri, heavily laden as it was, resting on soft soil, and interlockedwith the next. But as soon as his followers saw the aim of his movements,and especially when they found that the defenders could not touch himwithout exposing themselves, he gained as many eager helpers as couldbring their lathis to bear upon the two carts.

  Meanwhile the defense at this spot was weak, for the men of the GoodIntent had swarmed up to the adjoining carts and were threatening at anymoment to force a way over the barricade. They were more formidableenemies than the Bengalis.

  Slowly the two hackeris began to move, till the wheels of one hung overthe edge of the nullah. One more united heave, and it rolled over,dragging the other cart with it and splitting itself into a hundredfragments on the rocky bottom. Through the gap thus formed in thebarricade sprang Diggle, with half a dozen men of the Good Intent and ascore of Bengalis.

  Desmond gathered his little band into a knot in the center of theinclosure. Then the brazen sun looked down upon a Homeric struggle.Bulger, brawny warrior of the iron hook, swung his musket like a flail,every now and again shooting forth his more sinister weapon with terribleeffect. Desmond, slim and athletic, dashed in upon the enemy with hishalf pike as they recoiled before Bulger's whirling musket. The rest, nowa bare dozen, Bengalis though they were, presented still an undauntedfront to the swarm that surged into the narrow space. The hot air grewhotter with the fight.

  To avoid being surrounded, the little band instinctively backed towardsthe edge of the nullah. Diggle exulted as they were pressed remorselesslyto the rear. Not a man dreamed of surrender; the temper of the assailantswas indeed so savage that nothing but the annihilation of their victimswould now satisfy them. Yet Diggle once again bethought himself thatDesmond might be worth to him more alive than dead, and in the midst ofthe clamor Desmond heard him repeat his offer of reward to the man whoshould capture him.

  Diggle himself resolved to make the attempt. Venturing too near, hereceived an ugly gash from Desmond's pike, promising a permanent markfrom brow to chin. This was too much for him. Beside himself with fury,he yelled a command to his men to sweep the pigs over the brink, and, oneside of his face livid with rage, the other streaming with blood, hedashed forward at Bulger, who had come up panting to engage him.

  He had well timed his rush, for Bulger's musket was at the far end of itspendulum swing, but the old seaman saw his danger in time. With amovement of extraordinary agility in a man of his bulk, he swung on hisheel, presenting his side to the rapier that flashed in Diggle's hand.Parrying the thrust with his hook, he shortened his stump and lunged atDiggle below the belt. His enemy collapsed as if shot; but his followersswept forward over his prostrate body, and it seemed as if, in one briefhalf minute, the knot of defenders would be hurled to the bottom of thenullah.

  But, at this critical moment, assailants and defenders were stricken intoquietude by a tumultuous cheer, the cheer of Europeans, from thedirection of the gap in the barricade. Weapons remained poised in midair; every man stood motionless, wondering whether the interruption camefrom friend or foe. The question was answered on the instant.

  "Now, men, have at them!"

  With a thrill Desmond recognized the voice. It was the voice of SilasToley. There was nothing of melancholy in it, nor in the expression ofthe New Englander as he sprang, cutlass in hand, through the gap. Slow totake fire, when Toley's anger was kindled it blazed with a devouringflame. The crowd of assailants dissolved as if by magic. Before the lastof the crew of the Hormuzzeer, lascars and Europeans, had passed into theinclosure, the men of the Good Intent and their Bengali allies werestreaming over and under the carts toward the open.

  Diggle at the first shock had staggered to his feet and stumbled towardthe barricade. As he reached it, a black boy, springing as it were out ofthe earth, hastened to him and helped him to crawl between the wheels ofa cart and down the slope. On the boy's arm he limped toward his horse,tethered to a tree. A wounded wretch was clumsily attempting to mount.Him Diggle felled; then he crawled painfully into the saddle and gallopedaway, Scipio Africanus leaping up behind.

  By this time his followers were dispersing in all directions--all buteight luckless men who would never more wield cutlass or lathi, and adozen who lay on one side or other of the barricade, too hard hit tomove.