The day ended with tropical abruptness, and it was dark, There was no lantern in the cell, and the gloom was Stygian. Richard felt his way across the room to the cot bed, sat down, and listened to the key turning in the door. He frowned; he had already had his second meal of the day.
‘A visitor, sahib,’ said the gaoler.
Richard stood up. Behind the gaoler he could see a tall figure wrapped in a capuchin cloak and hood which entirely concealed her features. His heart gave a tremendous bound. Could it possibly be…?
The figure came closer, and he inhaled a vaguely familiar scent, but it was not Barbara’s.
‘One hour,’ Amy Holder said.
‘One hour, mistress. One hour.’ The gaoler backed out, and closed the door. The key turned in the lock. But he had left the lantern, and this Amy now raised to peer at Richard.
‘Mrs Holder?’ he asked, stupidly.
‘As the mountain has found it impossible to go to Mahomet, Mahomet must needs visit the mountain,’ she remarked, and sniffed. ‘My God, do you spend all your time in this pesthole?’
‘I’m afraid I do.’
She inspected the bed. ‘My God!’ she said again. Then she shrugged the cloak from her, and let it fall to the ground. ‘Beggars cannot be choosers.’ She placed the lantern on the floor. ‘Will you not say you are pleased to see me?’
‘I think you must be mad. Your husband…’
‘Why should he find out? I gave Mubak a handsome bribe.’
‘But you have taken such a risk, just to…’
‘I doubt you will ever understand, dear boy,’ she said. ‘But since I am here, do you not consider that it would be a dreadful waste to ignore me? I have said that I paid a considerable amount to secure this interview.’
Her face was just visible in the gloom. Visitors were not allowed into the prison at night. She must indeed have paid a great deal of money.
He touched her arms, and she was in his. She threw her arms round his neck and kissed him on the mouth with a passion which made Barbara Smythe appear like a schoolgirl.
‘Listen,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I want to help you. I want to do it because I am sick of this place, because I hate the people I am forced to see every day, who laugh at me, who ridicule me, pity me, shun me. Oh, I’ve been foolish and indiscreet, but no woman could tolerate my Godfearing corpse of a husband. But my one or two little adventures have made my life a misery.’
Richard wondered why she was telling him all this, as she stood clasping him feverishly. She went on, unstoppably.
‘We are much of a height, you and I. You must overpower me, tie me up, and take my clothes…’
‘But the scandal, the disgrace to you…’
‘I am already disgraced. The worst that will happen is that my husband will send me home, which he has been longing to do these past few years. And I will have the satisfaction of knowing that at least I have earned my disgrace. A sort of honour would attach to it, I feel.’
Richard’s head rose. This was too ridiculous to be true, yet was it not what he had dreamed of?
‘Mrs Holder—Amy,’ he stammered. ‘Would you really do this? For me?’
‘Yes, dear Richard, I would. For I do it for myself as well, you see. But I would ask one thing of you—we still have time…’
‘Anything.’
‘Make love to me. Just once. It is all I want.’
‘You’ll find I sorely need a bath,’ he told her.
‘I like my men dirty,’ she grinned. ‘Arthur is far too clean. Let me touch you.’
He dropped his trousers without hesitation. Suddenly he wanted it as much as she.
Her hands slid over him, caressed his buttocks, then moved down his thighs as she stooped to kiss him.
‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘No belly. Strong legs.’ Then she frowned. ‘Are you not ready?’
‘I will be,’ he assured her. ‘When I have touched you in turn.’
She gave a little giggle, and released her gown. Like most women in the Bombay heat, she wore no corset and only a single shift.
‘Touch me,’ she commanded.
He ran his hands over her body. She was surprisingly attractive to the touch. Her breasts were small, and only slightly sagging. Her belly was smooth, her legs muscular. It was something of a shock for him to realise she was the first naked white woman he had ever touched.
‘Do you like me?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I like you very much.’
‘Then come to me,’ she said. ‘We only have an hour, and too much of that is spent.’
She lay back on the cot, and he lay on top of her—there was no room for him beside her—and he became ready. Unlike love-making with an Indian whore, it was all very straightforward and quick. He never even touched her breasts before he was inside her, and she was wrapping her long legs round him and hugging him against her while she uttered little moans of pleasure. He did his best to hold back, as his brain filled with the image of Barbara Smythe lying beneath him. He wondered if she would feel any different, any more exciting.
But then the long-starved urges of his nature took control of his senses, and he exploded into her.
‘Oh,’ she gasped. ‘Oh. That was good. Oh, that was good.’
She was panting, and he rolled off her, found himself on his knees beside the cot.
‘Oh, yes,’ she said, her eyes were closed. ‘To think that we will never do that again! I’ve half a mind to go back on my promise.’
She then sat up, swinging her legs to the floor. ‘How much time do you think we have left?’
‘Not a great deal.’
‘We must hurry, then. Put on my dress—here, like this. Now the cloak. Now call the gaoler.’
‘But I can’t just leave you here, naked, to be found by the guards. I’m afraid, Amy, I shall have to knock you senseless.’
‘A poor return for my kindness, sir!’ she smiled crookedly. ‘But you are right. I see that.’
Richard kissed her once, as fondly as he could, for he was truly grateful to her.
‘Close your eyes,’ he said, then struck her on the point of the jaw with all his strength.
Her body gave a little leap, and she sagged without a sound. She was so inert he thought for a moment he might have killed her, but she was breathing.
He stretched her on the bed, her back to the door. He tore his shirt into strips, used them to gag her, bind her wrists behind her back and her ankles together. He took his belt and passed it round her and under the cot, securing her to it, before covering her up with the blanket.
Then he turned down the lantern.
He knelt by the bed, whispered endearments, just in case the guard was listening. After five minutes or so he went to the door. ‘Guard,’ he whispered, making his voice as high as he could. ‘Guard.’
He heard feet in the corridor.
‘Where is the light?’ Mubak asked.
‘It has gone out,’ Richard told him.
‘I will fetch another.’
‘Let me out first,’ Richard whispered. ‘I have stayed too long as it is.’
‘It is not yet an hour, memsahib.’
‘I must go,’ he insisted. ‘Farewell, dear Richard. I will try to come again.’
The key was turning in the lock, and the door swung outwards.
‘You must be careful, memsahib,’ Mubak said. ‘It would be better to have another light.’
‘Haste,’ Richard commented, and stepped past him. Perfume rose from the gown and clouded around them both. Mubak could have no doubt it was Mrs Holder standing in front of him. Richard did not wait, but hurried along the corridor and up the step to the guardroom. Here there was a lantern on the table. Behind him he heard the key turning in the lock, but he was through the room and into the open air before Mubak regained the light.
There were two armed guards gossiping at the gate. Richard drew a long breath as he approached them, taking short, quick steps as he supposed a woman might. They w
ould have been there when Amy came in, he was sure.
‘Good night, memsahib,’ one said.
‘Good night,’ Richard whispered, and went through the gate. He heard it close beneath him, and felt a peculiar sensation of weakness. He was free!
*
But what was he to do now?
He had no idea. The understanding that he could escape his fate by a single bold action had crept up on him. It was rather similar to his emotions as he had waited for Gillespie’s handkerchief to drop. Thus he had acted, decisively. Now he must think what came next.
He had unconsciously moved towards the bungalow. He had to start from here, in any event, and it was so early that Albert would certainly still be out. There were, in fact, a good number of people on the streets. But he held the cloak close about himself, and kept to the shadows, until he reached the bungalow. He hurried up the steps, came face to face with Hanif.
‘Memsahib?’ Hanif asked in bewilderment.
Richard stepped past him, into the study, took off the cloak. Hanif stared at him with his mouth open.
‘You’ll not betray me, Hanif,’ Richard said.
‘Oh, sahib, how could you suppose that?’ Hanif asked.
‘Get me something to eat.’
Richard went into his room, threw the gown on the floor, put on his own clothes. Then he found his pistol case and his bag of powder and shot. He strapped on his sword, and immediately felt better.
Hanif fetched some cold curry and a glass of wine. Nothing had ever tasted so good.
‘What will you do, sahib?’ Hanif asked.
‘Get off the island, to begin with,’ Richard said. ‘Then go into the jungle.’
‘To where, sahib?’
‘Somewhere I can offer my sword.’ His knowledge of Indian geography was limited.
‘To the south is Mysore, sahib. The people of Mysore hate the British. To the east, all about, is the Maratha Confederacy. They are at war with the British. These people will kill you sahib.’
‘Well, then…Hyderabad. I will find my way through the Maratha country and take service with the Nizam.’
‘The John Company is well-represented at the court of the Nizam, sahib. You would be arrested and sent back.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake! I did not escape gaol merely to commit suicide, Hanif.’
‘If it were possible to pass beyond the lands of the Nizam, and the lands of the Marathas, and come to Scindhia, there you might find refuge.’
‘With the Frenchman de Boigne? Then would I become a traitor.’
‘I have heard there is another viceroyalty, beyond Scindhia, which is called Hariana. I have not heard of any Frenchmen in Hariana. There you might find refuge. The people of Hariana would surely be happy to employ a warrior such as yourself.’
A warrior, Richard thought. If the boy only knew.
‘Then I will take your advice, and become a renegade as well as a felon.’
‘It is a long and dangerous journey you propose, sahib. I will come with you.’
‘You, Hanif? You would make yourself into an outlaw?’
‘I will accompany my master, sahib.’
‘You will very likely die.’
‘But you will live longer with me at your side, sahib. How may a white man survive, alone, in the jungle?’
Richard hesitated. But he knew the boy was right. He knew too just how afraid he had been of what he was proposing to do.
But with Hanif…
He held out his hand. ‘You are my friend, not my servant, Hanif. Now and always. Remember this.’
‘You are my master, Richard sahib, now and always. Now let us make haste.’
*
Hanif took charge of the entire plan. While Richard wrote Albert a hasty note, confessing what he had done but giving no indication of where he was going, and asking his friend to burn the letter and not raise the alarm before the discovery of Amy in the morning, Hanif armed himself with a long, sharp-bladed knife, and filled a haversack with spices, as well as bread and fruit enough to last them twenty-four hours.
It occurred to Richard that, like himself, the boy was a dreamer, who had always had the idea of escaping Bombay and his life of virtual slavery, and making a new and exciting career for himself. Now the opportunity had presented itself, he had not hesitated for a moment.
As soon as all was ready, Hanif and Richard stole out of the bungalow and made their way to the north end of the island.
‘How much time do we have, sahib?’
‘I would hope until dawn. But it would be best not to count on it.’
The tide was high, but they waded across to the mainland, Richard carrying his powder above his head. Then they made their way through the overflow from Bombay itself. People greeted them and Hanif replied. When they saw soldiers they waited in the shadows until the men were past.
By three o’clock they were clear of the settlement and into the trees. But Hanif would not stop, led them on into the forest. Richard had never contemplated challenging the jungle by night. He imagined all manner of fearsome dangers. But Hanif smiled.
‘There are no snakes at night, and no crocodiles, sahib. Snakes and crocodiles are creatures of the day. They need the sun. At night, like men, they sleep.’
‘What of tigers?’
‘Ah, tigers are nocturnal beasts, to be sure, sahib. But there are no tigers here. The white men have chased them all away.’
And what of men? Richard wondered, although he did not say it. But to imagine falling into the hands of the villagers whose woman had been tortured by Ford...
When they stopped at dawn, and ate some of the food Hanif
had brought, they heard the distant booming of a cannon.
‘They have discovered your escape, sahib.’
Poor Amy!
‘Will they follow?’
‘Oh, they will follow, sahib. They will know that you have left the island. If you have the strength, it would be best for us to continue for a while longer.’
‘I have the strength,’ Richard told him.
*
They went on until noon. By then Richard was too exhausted to travel further; the weeks in prison were taking their toll. He slept soundly for several hours, while Hanif watched, and then he watched in turn while the boy slept.
He sat with his back to a tree and stared into the tree-screen; he could see no further than twenty feet. Around him were a variety of rustles and creaks, strange noises and stranger silences. He wondered he was not afraid; there could be no doubt that snakes were active in the middle of the afternoon. Yet his depression of the night and morning had vanished with his sleep. Hanif’s confidence helped.
He was free! For perhaps the first time in his life! He had shrugged away the cloying restraints of law and convention, taken his life in his hands. Now society had no claims upon him, as he had none upon it. He would live or die, prosper or starve, by the simple virtue of his own right arm and his brains, and Hanif’s friendship.
It was a strangely satisfying thought.
*
He heard nothing of any pursuit, and when Hanif awoke they ate the last of the food.
‘What will we do now?’ Richard asked.
‘We will hunt, sahib.’
With his slingshot, with which he was as accurate as Richard with his pistols, he brought down a bird that afternoon. That evening he lit a small fire by rubbing two carefully selected sticks together, and roasted the fowl. They were close to water, and drank and washed, but retreated into the jungle for the night.
‘Hanif, you are a treasure,’ Richard told him.
‘The time will come when I will rely upon you, sahib,’ Hanif warned.
It came sooner than Richard had expected. For several days they made their way steadily to the north-east, moving very carefully now, as they were beyond the limits of the Company’s territory. Equally were they beyond the limits of any pursuit. But now all men might be their enemies. For three of the days they ate birds killed b
y Hanif, but on the fourth day they caught nothing, and that night they were hungry, save for some fruit the boy picked.
Richard’s strength had by now fully returned, which made him even more aware of his empty belly.
‘We will have to take, where we cannot find, sahib,’ Hanif said.
‘Take from where?’
‘There is a village not far from here.’
‘How can you tell?’
‘Can you not smell it, sahib?’
Richard had to confess that he couldn’t. But Hanif was proved right. Next morning they crept through the jungle, and soon came across a cleared area very like the one Richard had visited with Ford, so long ago. Only this time the presence of marauders in the forest was clearly unsuspected, and the people went about their daily chores.
They lay in the jungle all day, watching the men working, the women cooking, the children playing. Watching too the hens scratching in the dust, while their bellies rolled with hunger, and they chewed the few edible nuts Hanif had been able to gather.
The sun dropped at last, and the forest was plunged into darkness. By then they had memorised every aspect of the houses and the fields before them.
‘Remember, sahib,’ Hanif said. ‘We must not be taken, or they will kill us, slowly. Thus we must not hesitate for an instant. They have no arms to compare with your sword and pistols; they will be surprised—and we will be ruthless.’
‘I understand,’ Richard said.
‘You take the largest pot, and I will secure a fowl, two if I am able,’ Hanif said.
They waited until the villagers had sunk into slumber, and then stole from their hiding place. Richard’s sword was drawn, and both pistols, thrust into his belt, were loaded and primed. His hands were sticky with far more apprehension than he had felt immediately before facing Berkeley Ford. But this was the life he had chosen.
They crept across the open space. As they approached the houses a chicken squawked and then another, and then a dog barked.
‘Haste, sahib!’ Hanif snapped.
The ran into the houses, chickens scattering before them. But Hanif secured one, and with a quick twist of his hands wrung its neck. Richard was almost at the cooking pots when one of the dogs leapt at him, fangs bared. He ran it through with his sword, and it collapsed without sound.
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