The Second G.A. Henty

by G. A. Henty

  Annie was secretly dreading the arrival of the answer. After her life as a slave, her present existence seemed to her so perfectly happy that she shrank from the idea of any fresh change. She had no memory, whatever, of her parents, and had already a very strong affection for Mrs. Holland. She liked the ranee very much also, and the absence of all state and ceremony, in the household of the Rajah, was to her delightful. She was already on good terms with the boys; and as to Dick, she was always ready to go out with him, if he would take her, to run messages for him, or to do anything in her power; and, indeed, watched him anxiously, as if she would discover and forestall his slightest wish.

  “One would think, Annie,” he said one day, “that you were still a slave, and that I was your master. I don’t want you to wait on me, child, as you waited on the ladies of the harem. However, as I shall be going away in a few days now, it does not matter; but I should grow as lazy as a young rajah, if this were to go on long.”

  “What shall I do when you go away, Dick?”

  “Well, I hope that you will set to work, hard, to learn to read and write, and other things my mother will teach you. You would not like, when you find your own people, to be regarded by girls of your own age as an ignorant little savage; and I want you to set to, and make up for lost time; so that, if you are still here when I come back, I shall find you have made wonderful progress.”

  “Oh, I do hope I sha’n’t be gone before that, Dick!”

  “I am afraid you must make up your mind to it, Annie, for there is no saying how long I may be away next time. You see, there is not much chance of my lighting upon another white slave girl, and having to bring her down here; and I shall go in for a long, steady search for my father.”

  “I don’t want you to find another slave girl, Dick,” she said earnestly, “not even if it brought you down here again. I should not like that at all.”

  “Why not, Annie?”

  “Oh, you might like her ever so much better than me. I should like you to do all sorts of brave things, Dick, and to save people as you have saved me, but I would rather there was not another girl.”

  Dick laughed.

  “Well, I don’t suppose that there is much chance of it. Besides, I can’t turn my uncle’s palace into a Home for Lost Girls.”

  Two days before Dick and Surajah started again, the reply from the military secretary arrived. It stated that the time and circumstances pointed out that the place besieged and forced to surrender, eight years before, was Corsepan; and this was indeed rendered a certainty, by the fact that the officer in command was Captain Mansfield. He had with him a half company of Europeans, and three companies of Sepoys. On looking through the official papers at the time, he had found Captain Mansfield’s report, in which he stated that, on the night after leaving the fort, the troops, which had been reduced to half their original strength, had been attacked by a party either of dacoits or irregular troops. Fearing that some such act of treachery might be attempted, he had told his men to conceal a few cartridges under their clothes, when they marched out with empty cartridge pouches. They had, on arriving at their halting place, loaded; and, when the dacoits fell upon them, had opened fire.

  The robbers doubtless expected to find them defenceless, and speedily fled. In the confusion, some of them had penetrated far into the camp, and had carried off the captain’s daughter, a child of six years old. When peace was signed with Tippoo, three weeks afterwards, the commissioners were ordered to make special inquiries as to this child, and to demand her restoration. They reported that Tippoo denied all knowledge of the affair, and neither she, nor any of the other girls there, were ever given up. The letter went on:

  “There can be no doubt that the young lady you rescued is the child who was carried off, and the initials you speak of, on the cross, may certainly be taken as proof of her identity. Her father retired from the Service last year, with the rank of colonel. I am, of course, ignorant of his address. As you say that Mrs. Holland will gladly continue in charge of her, I would suggest that you should write a letter to Colonel Mansfield, stating the circumstances of the case, and saying that, as soon as you are informed of his address, the young lady will be sent to England. I will enclose the letter in one to the Board of Directors, briefly stating the circumstances, and requesting them to forward the enclosure to Colonel Mansfield.”

  To Annie, the letter came as a relief. It would be nearly a year before a letter could be received from her father. Until then she would be able to remain in her new home.

  THE TIGER OF MYSORE [Part 4]

  CHAPTER 18

  A Narrow Escape

  Mrs. Holland undertook to write the letter to Annie’s father, and did so at very much greater length than Dick would have done, giving him the story of the girl’s life at Seringapatam, the circumstances of her meeting Dick, and the story of her escape. She assured him that his daughter was all that he could wish her to be.

  “She is of a very affectionate disposition. She is frank, outspoken, and natural—qualities that are wonderful, considering the years she has passed as a slave in the harem. Now that she has been with us for a fortnight, and has recovered from the fatigue of her flight, and is beginning to feel at home, she has regained her natural spirits, after their long repression.

  “Personally, she is of about the average height, and of a more graceful figure than is usual with girls of her age. The stain has now worn off her face, and I should say she will, as she grows up, be pretty. She is fair rather than dark, has expressive eyes, and a nice mouth. Altogether, had I a daughter, I should be well content if she resembled your Annie. I shall, I can assure you, do my best to supply the place of a mother to her, until I receive a letter from you, and shall part from her with regret. She is, of course, at present entirely uneducated, but she has already begun to learn with me, and as she is quick and intelligent I hope that, before I resign my charge, her deficiencies will be so far repaired that she will be able to pass muster, in all ordinary matters.”

  “You will be back before I go, won’t you, Dick?” Annie said, as she sat by his side on a seat in the garden, on the evening before he was to start.

  “I think so,” he said. “We can calculate on your being here ten months, anyhow. I have been talking it over with my mother. If it had not been for those jewels, I should have given up the search for my father after another six months, because it would have been high time for me to get to work in some profession. I had, indeed, made up my mind to enter the Company’s service, for Lord Cornwallis promised me a commission, and my uncle received a letter some time ago, from the governor of Madras, saying that, on the very strong recommendation of Lord Cornwallis, and his report of my services, he was authorised to grant me one. It was to be dated back to the time I joined Lord Cornwallis, more than two years ago. However, now that I am really made independent of a profession, I shall probably continue my search for a somewhat longer time. But at any rate, I will promise to come back, at the end of ten months from the present time, so as to say goodbye to you, before you start.”

  The girl’s face brightened.

  “Thank you, Dick. I don’t think I should go, anyhow, until I saw you again—not even if I got a letter saying that I was to sail by the next ship.”

  “My uncle would take you down bodily, and put you on board,” Dick laughed. “Mind, Annie, when I come back, at the end of ten months, I shall expect to find you quite an educated young lady. I shall think of all sorts of hard questions, in geography and history, to put to you.”

  “I will try hard, Dick, really hard, to please you. I have had three lessons, and I have learnt all the letters quite well.”

  “That is a good beginning, Annie. It took me a lot longer than that, I know.”

  The next morning, Dick and Surajah started. They were to ride up the ghauts, to the frontier line at Amboor, two troopers accompanying them to bring back their horses. There they were to disguise themselves as traders, and make their way direct to Bangalore. D
ick said goodbye to his mother, up in her own room.

  “You must not be down-hearted, Mother,” he said, as she tried in vain to keep back her tears. “You see, I have come back to you twice, safely, and after passing unsuspected in Tippoo’s palace, there is no fear of my being detected elsewhere. Besides, of course, every month I am there I become better acquainted with the people, and can pass as a native more easily.”

  “I am not really afraid, my boy. You have got on so well that, it seems to me, God will surely protect you and bring you back safely. And I can’t help thinking that this time your search may be successful. You know why I feel convinced that your father is still alive, and, in spite of past disappointments, I still cling to the belief.”

  “Well, Mother, if he is to be found I will find him. There are still many hill forts where he may be living, and his very existence forgotten, and until I have visited every one of them, I don’t mean to give up the search. Anyhow, I shall come back at the end of ten months, whether I have heard of him or not. I have promised Annie that I will be back before she sails. It is not a very long journey down here, and I shall drop in for a fortnight’s stay with you, as I have done this time.”

  “She is in the next room, crying her eyes out, Dick. You had better look in there, and say goodbye to her. She is not fit to go down to the door.”

  After parting with his mother, Dick went in to see Annie.

  “You must not cry so, child,” he said, as she rose from the divan, with her face swollen with crying. “I am sure that you will be very happy here, until I come back.”

  “I know, Dick; but it won’t be at all the same, without you.”

  “Oh, you will have plenty to do, and you will soon fall into regular ways. Besides, you know, you have got to comfort my mother, and keep up her spirits, and I quite rely upon you to do that.”

  “I will try, Dick,” she said earnestly.

  “Now, goodbye, Annie.”

  He held out his hand, but she threw her arms round his neck, and kissed him.

  “You have never kissed me, not once,” she said reproachfully, “and you were going away without it, now. Your mother kisses me, and the English girls in the harem always used to do so.”

  “But that is different, Annie. Girls and women do kiss each other, but boys and girls do not kiss, unless they are brothers and sisters, or are relations, or something of that sort.”

  “But you are not a boy. You are a great big man, Dick.”

  “I am not much more than a boy yet, Annie. However, there is no harm in kissing, when one is saying goodbye, so there.

  “Now be a good girl, and don’t fret;” and he ran downstairs to the door, where his uncle and the two boys were standing.

  “Take care of yourself, lad,” the Rajah said, as, after bidding them goodbye, Dick sprang upon his horse. “Whenever you get a chance, send down a letter as we arranged last night, to the care of Azol Afool, trader, Tripataly. That will seem natural enough, whoever you send it by, while a letter directed to me might excite suspicion.

  “Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye, Uncle;” and, with a wave of his hand, Dick rode off and joined Surajah, who was waiting for him a short distance off. And then, followed by Ibrahim—who had begged so earnestly to be allowed to accompany them that Dick had consented to take him, feeling indeed that his services would be most useful to them—and the two troopers, they rode off at a sharp pace.

  At Amboor they assumed their disguises. Dick purchased a pack pony, and some goods suitable to their appearance as pedlers, and then they started up the pass on foot. They passed the frontier line without any interruption, stopped and chatted for a few minutes with the guard, and then passed on up the valley.

  “There is the house where we had our fight, Surajah,” Dick said, as they reached the ruined village. “Though there is peace now, I fancy we should not get much farther than that fort ahead, if they guessed that we were the fellows who gave them such trouble, two years and a half ago.”

  “There is no fear of our being recognised,” Surajah said. “The guard has probably been changed, long ago. Besides, they never once caught sight of our faces.”

  “Oh, no; we are safe enough,” Dick agreed. “If I had not been sure of that, we would have gone up one of the passes to the south, that has been ceded to us, though it would have been a great deal longer round to Bangalore—unless, indeed, we had gone by Kistnagherry, and that would have been too dangerous to attempt, for the officers on the frontier would probably have recognised us.”

  It was late in the afternoon before they arrived at the gate. It stood open, and there was no sentry on duty. A few soldiers could be seen, loitering about in the street; but it was evident that, now the war was over and everything finally settled, it was considered that all occasion for vigilance was at an end.

  Upon making inquiries, they soon found a house where they could put up for the night. They had, as is the custom in India, brought their provisions with them, and after leaving their goods in the house, and seeing that the horse was fed, Ibrahim set to work to cook a meal; while the others opened one of the packs, and went round the village, where they disposed of a few small articles.

  They arrived, without any adventure, at Bangalore. There, as soon as they had established themselves at one of the caravansaries for travellers, Dick and Surajah went to the house of the trader to whom Pertaub had promised to consign their goods.

  “We have come for some packs, that have been sent by friends of ours at Seringapatam to your care,” Dick said, making as he spoke the sign that Pertaub had taught him, as enabling those who were Hindoos to recognise each other, at once. “We were to use the word ‘Madras’ as a sign that we were the parties to whom they were consigned.”

  “The goods arrived a week ago,” the trader said, “and are lying for you at my warehouse. I will hand them over to you, tomorrow morning.”

  “Thank you. We may not come early, for we have to purchase two pack horses to carry them, and three tats for ourselves and our man. This may take us some time, and it will be, perhaps, better for us to come to you early the next morning, and we can then start away direct.”

  This was arranged, and on the following day, two strong animals were bought for the packs; and three tats, or ponies, for their own riding. Dick had disposed of the horse he had ridden down to Tripataly for a good price, and had also been supplied with funds by his mother, although, as he said, the contents of their packs ought to suffice to pay all their expenses, for a long time.

  Then they purchased some provisions for the journey. The pack horse they had brought with them was laden with these, and the goods brought up from Amboor. The new pack horses were taken round to the trader’s, and the goods sent from Seringapatam packed on them. Then they mounted and rode off at a walk, the pack animals following Ibrahim’s horse, tied one behind the other.

  They had already debated upon the course to pursue, and finally decided that they would, in the first place, again visit Savandroog; for the conviction Dick had entertained, that there was at least one white captive there, had increased rather than diminished.

  “I can’t give any good reason for it, Surajah,” he had admitted, when they talked it over before starting, “but it is just because I have no good reason to give, that I want to go there again. Why should I have such a strong conviction without a good cause? One has heard of a presentiment of evil—I can’t help feeling that this is a presentiment of good. The question is, how can we best go there again? I don’t think it is in the least likely that the governor will have heard of our flight, as this would be the last direction anyone would think of our taking, for had we done so, we might have met the Sultan on his way back from Bangalore. It will naturally be supposed that we have made for the frontier, and have descended the Western or Southern Ghauts. The affair will, of course, seem a mystery to them altogether; for why should two young fellows, so recently promoted, and in such high favour, desert Tippoo’s service? If they do not as
sociate Annie’s disappearance with our flight—and there is no reason on earth why they should do so, as no one ever saw us speaking to her—they will most likely think that we have fallen into the hands of the Dacoits, or Thugs, and have been murdered. Numbers of people do disappear every year, and are, as everyone supposes, victims of that detestable sect. My uncle has told me of Thugs. He warned me to be very careful, if I travelled with strangers, for that these men travel in all sorts of disguises.

  “So I think that, as far as that goes, we could boldly put on our uniforms and badges again, and ride into Savandroog. The disadvantage of doing so is, however, plain. The commander would remain with us all the time. We should get no opportunity of speaking privately with any of the soldiers, and, taking us to be in Tippoo’s confidence, he would, as before, shirk the question of prisoners. On the other hand, if we can get in as traders we shall be able to move about unwatched—to go to the soldiers’ huts and offer goods to their wives, and be able to find out, to a certainty, if there is a prisoner there, and, if so, where he is kept. We may even see him; for while, if the governor wished to keep his existence a secret, he would have shut him up when he heard that two of Tippoo’s officers were coming, he would not trouble about it, one way or the other, in the case of a couple of traders.

  “The only objection to that course is that we were here but two or three months since, and he and his servants, and that artillery officer we went round with, would know us at once. If we go, we shall have to alter our appearance completely. At any rate, we had better provide means for disguise, and we can use them, or not, as we please.”

  While they were at Tripataly, therefore, they had two false beards made for themselves, and tried many experiments in the way of painting their faces; and found that by tracing light lines on their foreheads, and at the corners of their eyes, they were able, by the help of beards, to counterfeit the appearance of old age, so well that it could only be detected on close observation. Dick, too, had purchased a pair of native spectacles, with large round glasses and broad black-horn rims, that made him look, as he said, like an astonished owl. It was agreed that Surajah should wear, under his dress, a very thickly padded vest, which would give him the appearance of being fat, as well as elderly.