by Ruskin Bond
Major Mulvaney did his best to collect the twelve thousand rupees so as to repay the Marwadis at the end of the year; but it was hopeless. His total pay was eight hundred rupees a month and he would have had to save a thousand a month to do so. At the end of the year the Marwadi's agent appeared at Jetalsar and demanded the money under threat of immediate execution. Major Mulvaney had scraped together three thousand five hundred and offered that sum in part payment. He asked for time; but the agent refused point blank. At last he affected to be touched by Mulvaney's pleadings and consented to enter two thousand five hundred rupees on the decree. The other thousand were set aside to cover the agent's expenses. Major Mulvaney felt at first some slight relief; but it vanished when it was pointed out to him that, although the capital sum had been reduced, he had, under the terms of the bond, to go on paying on the entire twelve thousand interest at thirty per cent until the last rupee had been paid off. Now 30 per cent on twelve thousand is 3,600 rupees a year or three hundred rupees a month, so that it became really impossible for the debtor ever to pay off his debt. He was fairly caught in the Marwadis' net. After a year of hopeless indebtedness the Irishman's fertile brain began to look for some way out of the road to Hell down which he was steadily proceeding. He wrote home to his elder brother Mr. Thaddeus Mulvaney of Mulvaney Castle for financial assistance. The latter had a large landed estate on the Sligo coast, with a nominal rentroll of £2,000 a year. But it was only nominal like most Irish rentrolls. The tenants rarely paid more than a quarter of their rents. On the other hand they poached the river and the grouse moors so that they could not be let. Indeed if Mr. Thaddeus Mulvaney collected from his farmers five hundred pounds in twelve months, he thought that he had done rather well. When, therefore, he got a letter from his younger brother Patrick, asking him for a loan of nine hundred pounds so as to liquidate his debt for twelve thousand rupees, he whistled and then shrugged his shoulders. He doubted whether he could have raised nine hundred pence at a moment's notice. Still he was fond of his brother Patrick and he advised him to shake the dust of India from off his feet and return to dear old Ireland. Once there Thaddeus hoped that he could secure for him the post of a resident magistrate or some similar office. Anyway, Patrick could always live at Mulvaney Castle and work as Thaddeus' land agent. The latter was a bachelor and even lazier than his young brother. But Patrick must find his own way to Ireland, as there was no money to be had in the castle either from Thaddeus or anyone else.
When Major Mulvaney read his brother's reply, he felt no great disappointment. He had feared that Thaddeus would have no cash to send him; but when he thought of the indolent life in Ireland with the rich meadows at the castle door and the great Atlantic rollers breaking close by on the Sligo coast, he felt overcome with homesickness and he longed to be rid of India and the Marwadis' slave chain. What career had he in front of him? After paying them their pound of flesh every month he had only just enough left to keep himself alive. He could never put money by for a trip home or even to Bombay. Sooner or later the Government would hear he was in debt and would not promote him. For the rule was strict. Officers in high places must be free from debt and, therefore, not exposed to temptations. If only he could raise money for a ticket to England; but it was a hopeless proposition. So Major Mulvaney sat huddled up in an armchair in his verandah at Jetalsar, looking at the sun-baked landscape across which a fresh cold wind was blowing. Then suddenly he had a brainwave.
When he had last been on leave Major Mulvaney had landed at 'Gib' and had gone to the regimental mess to meet one or two old friends and have a drink. There he had heard an amazing tale that had much interested him. It appeared that in Tangier there lived a Mr. Henderson, the correspondent of the Standard newspaper, and a certain Scotch adventurer called Kaid Macintosh, the Commander-in-chief of the army of the Sultan of Morocco. Both were inveterate gamblers and very hard up; so to raise the wind they had induced a Berber brigand named Haji Isa Khan, whom they knew, to carry them off to the Atlas mountains and hold them to ransom. The Haji was willing to oblige two old friends and took them off one day from Mr. Henderson's villa outside Tangier. Before he left Henderson sent off a telegram to the Standard, informing the editor of his own and his friend's fate. A press campaign for their release followed with the result that under pressure from the British Government the Sultan paid £30,000 for the release of the two captives. The honest brigand let them go, paying to each of them ten thousand pounds. The balance he kept himself.
This tale suddenly flashed across Major Mulvaney's brain and he asked himself why he should not do something of the same kind himself. Of course he would not ask for thirty thousand pounds. The Bombay Government would never pay such a sum; but he might be held to ransom for thirty thousand rupees. This amount the Government might pay and he and his captor might share the money. With the modest sum so realised he would be able to get home and have a few hundred pounds in hand until he got a job of some kind.
"Now who could I get to kidnap me?" muttered Mulvaney half aloud. "Yes, by Jove, there is one likely fellow, Naja Wala of Sudodhra." The man in question was a Kathi1 landholder of the Jornagar State. Major Mulvaney had first met him some three years before, when he had gone into outlawry, because the Jornagar administration had imposed a new tax on his holding. The sum involved was only two rupees or three shillings a year; but such was the touchiness of the Kathi gentleman that, sooner than pay what he thought an unjust tax, he abandoned his house and lands and he and his kinsmen became brigands. Major Mulvaney understood, as an Irishman, the Kathi's injured pride and handled him in just the right way. He arranged that the chief of Jornagar should give up the tax and accept as a present the gift of a Kathi mare. The mare came of a famous stock and was worth at least a thousand rupees; but she was a voluntary offering that Naja Wala was proud to make. On the other hand he would have killed himself rather than pay an increased impost on his hereditary lands; for his family had held them long before Jornagar had become a ruling state.
Major Mulvancey sent a polite note to Naja Wala begging him to call on him at Jetalsar. Three days later the Kathi gentleman, accompanied by three of his nephews and all splendidly mounted, arrived. Major Mulvaney offered them "kusumba," a mixture of opium and water, and they talked in Gujarati about the crops, the weather, Naja Wala's horses, about everything in fact except the object of the interview. Naja Wala, however, quite understood and after some twenty minutes he hinted to his nephews that the Major Sahib wished to speak to him about official business. Once they had gone Mulvaney said suddenly:
"Naja Wala, would you like to become an outlaw again?"
"No, Major Sahib, but I am quite willing to do so if the Government wish it."
"Well, would you do me a favour and kidnap me and hold me to ransom?"
"After the Sahib's kindness to me about the Jornagar tax, I can refuse you nothing; but truly I do not understand. Why should I kidnap the Sahib? Moreover, I should soon be hunted down by the Agency police and you would be rescued without a ransom. But if the Sahib would explain, it would be better; for the Sahib is not like other topiwalas (Englishmen), he understands our people and talks our language."
Major Mulvaney then proceeded to unbosom himself to his Kathi friend. He told him of his indebtedness and his vain struggle to pay off the Marwadi's debt and his intense desire to get out of India. This he could only fulfil if he could get the Government to pay a ransom of thirty thousand rupees, which they could share.
"But would it not do, Sahib, if I kidnapped the Marwadi and held him to ransom?"
"No indeed, Naja Wala, the Government would never pay thirty thousand rupees to free a Marwadi and the other Marwadis would soon get to the bottom of the matter."
"Yes, Sahib," said Naja Wala thoughtfully, "yours is a good plan and I would willingly earn fifteen thousand rupees myself so easily; but there is the Jornagar State. Their police would work with the Agency police and they would hunt us down."
"That is true," said Mulvaney, "but
we must promise to pay the Jornagar chief five thousand rupees out of the ransom. He is very hard up. That will still leave us twelve thousand five hundred each. I'll talk him over. Anyway, on Monday week I shall be riding in the Jornagar Gir with only one attendant and you must surround me with your men. I'll write a letter to the Government, telling them that I have been captured and that you want thirty thousand rupees and threaten to cut off one of my ears if the ransom is not paid. I'll send this letter back by an attendant and I shall also stir up the Bombay newspaper. That will frighten the authorities."
Naja Wala was delighted and after a last drink of "kusumba" the two conspirators parted excellent friends.
The following Monday week about 4 p.m. Major Mulvaney, who had gone on a tour of inspection and was in tents not far away, rode with a mounted groom into the Gir forest that lay in Jornagar territory. When he reached an open glade, he pulled up his horse and waited; for this was the meeting place agreed on with Naja Wala. Some ten minutes later Naja Wala, with some ten or twelve retainers, rode up. They pointed guns at Mulvaney and ordered him and his groom to dismount. They seized the two horses and Naja Wala told the political officer that he would be a prisoner until his government ransomed him for thirty thousand rupees. This comedy was enacted for the benefit of the groom, to whom his master entrusted two letters, one addressed to the secretary of the Government and one to the editor of the Bombay Gazette. Once the groom was out of sight, the farce was dropped and Naja Wala became Mulvaney's attentive host.
"We shall have to ride, Major Sahib, another four or five miles into the Gir. I trust Your Honour is not fatigued. In any case a glass of kusumba will revive you."
After the two had drunk off their opium and water, the Kathi and the Englishman rode into the forest for an hour and then dismounted. They had reached their halting place. The camping arrangements were primitive, but there was a cot under a tree for the prisoner and a country mattress and a blanket lay on it. Mulvaney could sleep anywhere, so he did not mind. He enjoyed the evening spent by the firelight and the general conversation in Gujarati which he followed quite easily. About ten p.m. Mulvaney went to his cot, put his saddle on it for a pillow and picketed his horse close by. The Kathis had no bedding and slept by their horses. The latter realised that their duty was to watch while their masters slept. They stood by the men, wide awake for some four hours, their bridles fastened to their sleeping owners' wrists. At the end of the watch they whinnied, the men woke up and watched for a similar period, while the horses lay down. Then once more the men rested and the horses took the watch until dawn.
A week passed, then two weeks and no answer came from the Government. Naja Wala said gloomily: "Well, Major Sahib, what are we to do? The Governor Sahib is perhaps waiting for us to send your ear."
This was a kind of talk that was very unpleasing to Mulvaney; for although he was as brave as another, he was imaginative; and when he pictured Naja Wala sawing off his ear with a blunt sword, he felt quite faint.
"Ah now, Naja Wala, don't be in a hurry! The Governor is a kind man, God bless him! And he would not like me to lose an ear. He'll be sending the money along one of these days."
"Maybe, Sahib," said the Kathi, "But we cannot stay here. We must move deeper still into the Gir, otherwise the Agency police will track us down in spite of the goodwill of the Jornagar chief."
"Very well, let's move now," said Mulvaney. "I'm getting tired of this spot."
They struck camp that evening and halted just on the boundary of Jornagar. They dared go no farther, for had they crossed it, the neighbouring State would have shewn them no mercy.
The Kathis went to sleep as usual with their horses watching by their masters' sides, when suddenly there was a terrific roar. Mulvaney sprang off his cot and saw the Kathis rushing about and firing recklessly into the undergrowth. Naja Wala was away for a few minutes and then came back with a dead man across his shoulder. He laid the body on the ground and covered its face with a shawl. He explained to Mulvaney that a lion had unexpectedly rushed the camp—there are still a few lions in the Kathiawar forests—and tried to seize one of the horses. The horse had dragged its master some way and then broken its reins. The lion, baulked of its prey, had killed the man and tried to carry him off, but frightened at the firing had dropped him. Mulvaney expressed his grief, but Naja Wala said indifferently: "He was a Bashio, one of my hereditary servants, and of no consequence."
Mulvaney went to sleep again but about four a.m. he was again awakened. Naja Wala was standing by his cot.
"It's all right, Major Sahib, fear no more for your ears. I have cut off both those of that Bashio and we'll send the right ear at once to the Government in a registered packet and you will, no doubt, write a letter to go with it."
Mulvaney felt immensely relieved and his ears tingled with pleasure.
"It was indeed God who sent that lion, Naja Wala."
"Yes indeed," replied the Kathi piously: "without doubt God sent it so that the Sahib might keep both his ears. The Sahib would not have liked losing them."
"You never said a truer word, Naja Wala," said Mulvaney heartily.
The letter was written and the right ear placed carefully in a sealed envelope and so they reached the table of the Honourable Mr. George Massena Robinson, C.S.I., as I have already described. A day or two later the Political Agent got the telegram and forwarded it to Naja Wala through the Jornagar State. But Mulvaney refused to be released until half the money had been paid, so that he might have his passage money anyway Rupees fifteen thousand were handed over to Naja Wala's agent in Jornagar and Mulvaney, with one side of his head heavily bandaged, returned to Jetalsar. There he received a letter from His Excellency's private secretary informing him that he could expect no further promotion. He at once applied for leave. This he got without difficulty and in a short while Naja Wala's agent received the remaining fifteen thousand. Out of this sum five thousand were paid to the Jornagar chief and the captive and his captor divided the rest, to their great satisfaction.
Once Major Mulvaney had got his leave and his passage money, it might have seemed that his difficulties were over; but they were not. Directly the Marwadi bankers saw that their debtor had been granted leave, they obtained a warrant for his arrest before judgment, so as to force him to give them security before he left India for the repayment of his loan. Mulvaney, however, got the editor of the Bombay Gazette first to publish that he was leaving by the P. and O. from Bombay and then later that he was embarking at Calcutta and going home via Japan. In the meantime he bought through his agents, Messrs. Wm. Watson & Co., a ticket by the Hall Line from Karachi very secretly and under a false name. Then he went by rail and embarked there. In the meantime the Marwadis had posted agents with warrants both at Bombay and at Calcutta. At the last moment the Marwadis got on their debtor's track and one of them climbed on board just as the steamer was weighing its anchor. He flourished his warrant, but in the passenger list there was no Major Mulvaney and it was impossible to recognise the fugitive debtor in the tall flaxen-haired quarter-master on deck. He looked more like a Viking than a political officer, wearing, as he did, a blond wig and a huge beard, specially provided by Messrs. Wm. Watson & Co. for just such cases. While the Marwadi was still searching, the ship got under way and he had to jump into the sea to get back to his boat. He sent a telegram to Aden, but the Hall Line boats did not call there, so Major Mulvaney got safely away and never paid the Marwadi bankers another farthing.
About a month or so after his escape, the Jornagar chief reported that his police had surprised Naja Wala and his gang and had killed them all. The Agency police, therefore, gave up their pursuit of the outlaws. Major Mulvaney read the news with genuine regret and sent a letter from Ireland to Naja Wala's son expressing his grief at the loss of his greatly esteemed friend.
Two years later Major Mulvaney sat in Mulvaney Castle. He was its owner, having inherited it from his brother Thaddeus, who had been killed in the hunting field six months after his
younger brother's return. On the strength of his inheritance the Major had married Miss Norah O'Brien, the daughter of a successful Dublin engineer, with £5,000 of her own. She was very glad to become the chatelaine of Mulvaney Castle and he was only too pleased to use her money in restoring the castle and in rebuilding his tenants' cottages that had fallen into a dreadful state of disrepair. That morning the Major had found on his plate an Indian letter. He opened it and in a great state of excitement shouted across the table to his wife:
"Why it's from that old devil Naja Wala, who has been dead nearly two years."
"Faith! it's the first time I've ever heard of a post from Hell!" said his wife, for like most Irish ladies she believed that the souls of non-Christians were dispatched to the infernal regions as a mere matter of routine.
"Ah, stop your talk, Norah, and just listen to what the ould blaygard says," cried Mulvaney, his brogue coming out strongly in his excitement.
The letter read as if it had been first written in Gujarati and then laboriously translated into English.
"From the fortunate seaport of Bombay, Naja Wala, Kathi sends to Major Mulavaney Sahib greetings:
"From your honoured letter to my son, it seems that you have heard how I was shot by the Jornagar police. That was all a show to save me from the Agency police, who were following me. I escaped without hurt and came by steamer to Bombay, where by Your Honour's favour and my share of the money I have set up as a moneylender. Taught by Your Honour, I am making advances to young Englishmen, but never at a higher interest than they can afford. So they always repay me both capital and interest. The Marwadis are angry with me because I am taking away their business. Still what can they do? If a dog bark at an elephant, why should the elephant fear?
"My son is enjoying my estate in Jornagar, which he inherited at my death.
"I trust that Your Honour keeps good health and often feels Your Honour's ears, being glad that they are there.