The Second G.A. Henty

by G. A. Henty

  “I will send word up to the governor,” the officer said. “It is a long time since we have been visited by traders, and maybe he will grant you permission. You had best go back to the shade of those trees. It will be a good hour before the answer comes.”

  “I think it likely they will let us in,” Dick said, as they moved away towards the trees. “It is but a short time since things were sufficiently settled for traders to venture up here, and as Savandroog lies altogether off the roads between large towns, it is possible that none with such goods as we have have come this way, since the garrison took over Savandroog from the British detachment that occupied it.”

  In little over an hour there was a shout from the walls, and on approaching the gate again, they were told that the governor had given permission for them to enter.

  “You are to be blindfolded,” the officer said, as the gate closed behind them. “No one may ascend the rock, unless he consents to this. Your horses will be led, and beware that you do not attempt to remove the bandages, until you have permission to do so.”

  It took nearly an hour to mount the steep road, and when they came to a standstill, and the sub-officer who had accompanied them told them they could now remove their bandages, they found themselves in front of a small building, close to the commander’s quarters. The packs were, by the order of the officer, taken off the horses by the soldiers who had led them up, and carried into the house. The horses were fastened in the shade to rings in the wall, and on Surajah pointing out the packs containing goods he wished to show to the ladies, two of the soldiers carried them across to the governor’s house. The old officer himself came to the door.

  “Enter, my friends,” he said. “You are the first traders who have come up here since we took over the fort, some six months ago, and methinks you will do a brisk business if your wares are, as you sent up to say, good and cheap.”

  The bales were taken into a room, the soldiers retired, and in a minute the commander’s wife, accompanied by three or four other ladies, entered. Dick and Surajah, after salaaming profoundly to the veiled figures, at once began to unpack their bales.

  The assortment had been very judiciously made, and to women who had, for more than six months, been deprived of the pleasure of shopping, the display was irresistible. In their desire to examine the goods, the ladies speedily lifted their veils, and, seating themselves on cushions they had brought in with them, chattered unrestrainedly; examining the quality of the silks which Surajah and Dick, squatting behind their wares, handed for their inspection; comparing the colours, asking each other’s advice, and endeavouring to beat down the terms Surajah named.

  In the first place, he asked the prices marked on small labels attached to each article, but suffered himself, after the proper amount of reluctance, and protests that he should be a ruined man, to abate his terms considerably, although the ladies were evidently well satisfied that the goods were indeed bargains.

  It was a long time before the ladies could make up their minds which to choose, among the many silks exhibited for their selections. When this had been settled, the pack containing delicate muslins was opened, and the same scene gone through. It was, altogether, four hours before the purchases were all made, and even then the boxes of trinkets remained unopened, the governor’s wife saying:

  “No, we will not look at them. We have ruined ourselves already. Tomorrow, when our husbands know how much we have spent, you can show the trinkets to them, and try your best to get them to buy. These things we have been getting are our own affair. It is for them to make us presents of ornaments, if they are disposed to.

  “This evening you must come in again. The ladies from the other fort will be here, then.”

  The purchases made were paid for, the bales again fastened up, and carried across to their room. The governor met them as they went out.

  “I suppose you have been ruining us all?” he said good humouredly. “Well, it is a dull life up here, and the ladies have but few chances of spending money.”

  “We are to see the ladies from the other fort this evening, my lord,” Surajah said. “Have we your permission, in the meantime, to go and sell in the soldiers’ quarters? We have goods suited to the needs of their wives also, as well as those for the ladies.”

  “Certainly. You can go about as you please up here. It is only as to the approaches that we have to be careful. But wait in your room for a short time. I will have food sent over to you.”

  In a few minutes a servant brought across a large dish of pillau, and several cakes of sweetmeats, the latter being, as he informed them, the special gift of the governor’s wife. There was no occasion for them to start, as they had intended, after their meal, for the news of their coming had spread, and by the time they had finished, a number of women were waiting outside. Until sunset they were busily engaged in selling their goods—for the most part bright cotton cloths, red silk handkerchiefs, and cheap silver trinkets. Soldiers sauntered in and out. For these they had provided a store of pipes, tobacco, tobacco boxes, knives, and muslins for turbans; and as the news spread that these were to be obtained, the number of soldiers increased, until the room was quite crowded with them, as well as by many natives engaged in the work of rebuilding the fortifications.

  Surajah did the selling, while Dick’s part of the work was receiving the money and giving change. As he was stooping over a tray in front of him, piled with copper, picking up the change for silver coin, he heard a man ask Surajah for a pound of his best tobacco and a pipe.

  There was something in the accent that caused him to look up sharply. As he did so, he started. The blood rushed to his head so violently that a mist seemed to pass across his eyes, and his hand shook so that he dropped the coins he was counting. Forgetful of the dark stain on his face, he bent forward over the tray again to conceal his emotion, forced himself to pick out the right change, and then, handing it to its owner, again looked up.

  The man who was standing before Surajah was broader and taller than those around him. The sun had darkened his face, until its shade approached those of his companions, and yet there was no mistaking the fact that he was a European. A heavy moustache and beard, streaked with grey, concealed the lower part of his face. Dick dared not gaze on the man too earnestly, and could see no likeness to the picture on the wall at Shadwell; but, allowing for the effects of hardship and suffering, he judged him to be about the age of his father.

  The man was evidently on good terms with the soldiers, one or two of whom were chaffing him on his purchase.

  “Will nothing but the best tobacco satisfy you?” one laughed.

  “Nothing; and even that won’t really satisfy me. This stuff is good enough, when rolled up, for cigars, and it does well enough in hookahs; but I would give all this pound for a couple of pipes of pigtail, which is the tobacco we smoked at sea.”

  Again Dick’s heart beat rapidly. This man must have been a sailor. He could not restrain himself from speaking.

  “Have you been a sailor, then?” he asked.

  “Ay, I was a sailor, though it is many years ago, now, since I saw the sea.”

  “We got some English tobacco at Madras,” Dick said, not hesitating for once at telling an untruth. “We sold most of it to the Feringhee soldiers, on our way up, but I think I have got a little of it still left somewhere in the pack. I am too busy to look for it now, and we shall soon be going to show our goods to the officers’ wives; but if you can come here at nine o’clock, I may have looked it out for you.”

  “I can’t come at nine,” the man said, “for at half-past eight I am shut up for the night.”

  “Come at eight, then,” Dick said. “If I am not back, come the first thing in the morning, before we get busy.”

  “I will come, sure enough,” the man said. “I would walk a hundred miles, if they would let me, for half a pound of pigtail.”

  “Get rid of them, Surajah,” Dick whispered, as the man shouldered his way through the crowd. “Make some
excuse to send them off.”

  “Now, my friends,” Surajah said, “you see it is getting dusk. It will soon be too dark to see what you are buying, and we have been selling for eight hours, and need rest. At eight o’clock tomorrow we will open our packs again, and everyone shall be served; but I pray you excuse us going on any longer now. As you see, we are not as young as we once were, and are both sorely weary.”

  As time was no object, and the work of purchasing would relieve the tedium of the following day, the crowd good humouredly dispersed. Surajah rose and closed the door after the last of them, and then turned to Dick. He had, himself, been too busily engaged in satisfying the demands of the customers to look up, and had not noticed that one of them was a white man.

  “What is it?” he asked, as he looked round. “Has the heat upset you?”

  Then, as his eye fell on Dick, his voice changed, and he hurried towards him, exclaiming anxiously:

  “What is it, Dick? What has happened?”

  For Dick was leaning against a bale by the side of him, and had hidden his face in his arms. Surajah saw that his whole frame was shaking with emotion.

  “My dear lord,” Surajah said, as he knelt beside him and laid his arm across his shoulder, “you frighten me. Has aught gone wrong? Are you ill?”

  Dick slightly shook his head, and, lifting one of his hands, made a sign to Surajah that he could not, at present, speak. A minute or two later, he raised his head.

  “Did you not see him, Surajah?”

  “See who, Dick?”

  “The white man you last served.”

  “I did not notice any white man.”

  “It was the one you gave a pound of the best tobacco to. Did you not hear me speak to him, afterwards?”

  “No. I was so busy, and so fearfully hot with this padded thing, it was as much as I could do to attend to what they said to me. A white man, did you say? Oh, Dick!”

  And as the idea struck him, he rose to his feet in his excitement.

  “Do you think—do you really think he can be your father?”

  “I do think so, Surajah. Of course, I did not recognise his face. Nine years must have changed him greatly, and he has a long beard. But he is about the right age, and, I should say, about the same figure; and he has certainly been a sailor, for he said, to one of the soldiers, that he would give that pound of tobacco for a couple of pipes of pigtail, which is the tobacco sailors smoke. I told him that, perhaps, I might be able to find him some in my packs, and asked him to come here at eight o’clock this evening. If I was not in, then, he was to come the first thing tomorrow morning; but of course I shall be in at eight. You must make some excuse to the ladies. Say that there are some goods you wish to show them, in one of the other packs, and ask me to go and look for it.”

  “Oh, Dick, only to think that, after all our searching, we seem to have come on him at last! It is almost too good to be true.”

  Great as was Surajah’s confidence in Dick, he had never quite shared his faith that he would find his father alive, and his non-success while with the army, and since, had completely extinguished any hopes he had entertained. His surprise, therefore, equalled his delight at finding that, after all, it seemed probable that their search was likely to be crowned with success.

  “Of course we will manage it,” he said. “I will put aside that narrow Benares cloth-of-gold work for trimmings, and you can be as long as you like looking for it. They will be too busy examining the other things to give it a thought, after you have gone out.”

  “I can be back at half-past eight,” Dick said, “for the man told me he was locked up at that hour. If it had not been for that, I should have arranged for him to come a little later. But, of course, I shall have opportunities for talking to him tomorrow.

  “There is someone at the door.”

  Surajah opened it, and a soldier entered with their evening meal, and a request that they would go across to the governor’s as soon as they had finished it, as the ladies had already assembled there. They hurried through their food, and then went across. There was quite a large gathering, for not only had the wives of the officers in the other fort come over, but all those who had been there in the morning were again present, several of them prepared to make further purchases. Trade was as actively carried on as it had been before.

  When he judged it to be nearly eight o’clock, Dick nudged Surajah, who said, a minute afterwards:

  “We have forgotten the Benares cloth-of-gold. I am sure that will please the ladies for waist bands, or for trimmings. It must have got into the other bales, by mistake.”

  “I will go and fetch it,” Dick said, and, rising, left the room.

  A figure was standing at the door, when he reached the house.

  “I was afraid you had forgotten me,” the man said. “It is not quite eight o’clock yet, but as I found that you were both out, I began to be afraid that you might be detained until after I had to go; and you don’t know how I long for a pipe of that tobacco. The very thought of it seems to bring old days back again.”

  By this time they had entered the house, and Dick shut the door behind him. He had left a light burning, when they went out. Dick was so agitated that he felt unable to speak, but gazed earnestly in the man’s face.

  “What is it, old chap?” the latter said, surprised at the close scrutiny. “Is anything wrong with you?”

  Dick took off his spectacles, rather to gain time than to see more clearly, for a plain glass had been substituted for the lenses.

  “I want to ask you a question,” he said. “Is your name Holland?”

  The man started.

  “My name is Jack Holland,” he said, “sure enough; though how you come to know it beats me altogether, for I am always called Jack, and except the governor, I don’t think there is a man here knows my other name.”

  “You were captain of the Hooghley, wrecked on the Malabar coast, nine years ago,” Dick said, this time speaking in English.

  After an exclamation of startled surprise, the man stared at him in an astonishment too great for words.

  “Are you English?” he said slowly, at last. “Yes, I was in command of the Hooghley. Who, in God’s name, are you?”

  Dick took his two hands.

  “Father,” he said, “I am your son, Dick.”

  The sailor gazed at him with a stupefied air.

  “Are you mad, or am I?” he said hoarsely.

  “Neither of us, Father. I am disguised as an old man, but really I am little more than eighteen. I have been searching for you for more than two years, and, thank God, I have found you at last;” and, bursting into tears, Dick would have thrown his arms round his father’s neck, but the latter pushed him off with one hand, and held him at arm’s distance, while his other hand plucked at his own throat, as if to loosen something that was choking him.

  “It can’t be true,” he muttered to himself. “I am dreaming this. I shall wake presently, and you will be gone.”

  “It is quite true, Father. Mother is down at Tripataly, waiting for me to bring you to her.”

  With a hoarse cry the sailor reeled, and would have fallen, had not Dick caught him and allowed him to sink gradually to the ground; where he lay, half supported by one of the bales. Dick ran to one of the saddlebags, where he carried a flask of brandy in case of emergencies, poured some into a cup, and held it to his father’s lips. The sailor gasped.

  “It is brandy,” he said suddenly. “I can’t have dreamt that.”

  Then he broke into a violent sobbing. Dick knelt by his side, and took his hand.

  “It is assuredly no dream, Father,” he said gently. “I am really your son, Dick. I am here with a trusty friend, and now we have found you, you may be sure that we will, in some way, manage your escape. There is no time, now, to tell you all that has happened. That I can do, afterwards. All that is important for you to know, is, that Mother is quite well. She has never given up hope, and has always insisted that you were alive, for
she said that she should surely have known, if you had died. So she taught me her language, until I could speak like a native; and two years and a half ago, she came out here with me.

  “I accompanied the army, with my uncle’s troop, and searched every hill fort they took, for you. Since they went back, I have been up in Mysore with my friend Surajah, and, thank God, at last we have found you!”

  “Thank God, indeed, my boy. I do thank Him, not only that you have found me, but that your mother, whom I had never hoped to see again, is alive and well; and also, that He has given me so good a son.”

  “And now, Father, about your escape. In the first place, have you given your parole not to try to get away?”

  Captain Holland was himself now.

  “No lad, no. At the fort, where I was for six years, there was no possibility of escape; and as I was a long time, before I began to speak the language, even if I had got away I could never have made my way through the country. Then the governor—it was the same we have here—took me with him to Kistnagherry. I was the only white captive who went there with him. At Kistnagherry there were five or six others, but when Tippoo heard that an English army was coming up the ghauts, an order came that they were to be killed. But the governor is a kind-hearted old fellow, and as I had become almost a chum of his, he chose to consider that the order did not apply to me, but only to those he had found at Kistnagherry—for I fancy my existence had been forgotten altogether.

  “I had great hopes that the British would take the place. I think that is the only time I have hoped, since I was made prisoner; but the old man is a good soldier, and beat them off.

  “When peace was made, Kistnagherry was, as you know, given up, and the governor was ordered to evacuate the place, and to come here. He brought me with him, making me dye my face before I started, so that in my native dress it would not be noticed, in any town we passed through, that I was a white. For had this been done, the news might have come to Tippoo’s ears, and there would have been an end of me.