A Bayard From Bengal
Page 12
CHAPTER XI
STONE WALLS DO NOT MAKE A CAGE
Oh, give me back my Arab steed, I cannot ride alone! Or tell me where my Beautiful, my four-legged bird has flown. 'Twas here she arched her glossy back, beside the fountain's brink, And after that I know no more--but I came off, I think.
_More so-called original lines by aforesaid young English friend. But I have the shrewd suspicion of having read them before somewhere.--H. B. J._
And now, O gentle and sympathetic reader, behold our unfortunate heroconfined in the darkest bowels of the Old Bailey Dungeon, for the merecrime of being an impecunious!
Yes, misters, in spite of all your boasted love of liberty and freshair, imprisonment for debt is still part of the law of the land! Howlong will you deafen your ears to the pitiable cry of the bankrupt as hepleads for the order of his discharge? Perhaps it has been reserved fora native Indian novelist to jog the elbow of so-called Britishjurisprudence, and call its attention to such a shocking scandal.
Mr Bhosh found his prison most devilishly dull. Some prisoners have beenknown to beguile their captivity by making pets or playmates out of mostunpromising materials. For instance, and _exempli gratia_, Mr MontyChristo met an abbey in his dungeon, who gave him a tip-top education;Mr Picciola watered a flower; the Prisoner of Chillon made chums of hischains; while Honble Bruce, as is well-known, succeeded in taming aspider to climb up a thread and fall down seven times in succession.
But Mr Bhosh had no spider to amuse him, and the only flowers growing inhis dungeon were toadstools, which do not require to be watered, nor didthere happen to be any abbey confined in the Old Bailey at the time.
Nevertheless, he was preserved from despair by his indomitable nativechirpiness. For was not _Milky Way_ a dead set for the Derby, and whenshe came out at the top of the pole, would he not be the gainer ofsufficient untold gold to pay all his debts, besides winning the hand ofPrincess Petunia?
He was waited upon by the head gaoler's daughter, a damsel ofconsiderable pulchritude by the name of Caroline, who at first regardedhim askance as a malefactor.
But, on learning from her parent that his sole offence was insuperablepennilessness, her tender heart was softened with pity to behold such ayoung gentlemanly Indian captive clanking in bilboes, and soon theybecame thick as thieves.
Like all the inhabitants of Great Britain, her thoughts were entirelyengrossed with the approaching Derby Race, and she very innocentlynarrated how it was matter of common knowledge that a notoriousgrandame, to wit the fashionable Duchess of Dickinson, had backedheavily that _Milky Way_ was to fail like the flash of a pan.
Whereupon Mr Bhosh, recollecting that he had actually entrusted hisinvaluable mare with her concomitant jockey to the mercy of thisself-same Duchess, was harrowed with sudden misgivings.
By shrewd cross-questions he soon eliminated that Mr McAlpine was apal of the Duchess, which she had herself admitted at the Victoriaterminus, and thus by dint of penetrating instinct, Mr Bhosh easilyunravelled the tangled labyrinth of a hideous conspiracy, which causedhim to beat his head vehemently against the walls of his cell at thethought of his utter impotentiality.
Like all feminines who were privileged to make his acquaintance, MissCaroline was transfixed with passionate adoration for Bindabun, whom sheregarded as a gallant and illused innocent, and resolved to assist himto cut his lucky.
To this end she furnished him with a file and a silken ladder of her ownknitting--but unfortunately Mr Bhosh, having never before undergoneincarceration, was a total neophyte in effecting his escape by suchdangerous and antiquated procedures, which he firmly declined to employ,urging her to sneak the paternal keybunch and let him out at daybreak bysome back entrance.
And, not to crack the wind of this poor story while rendering it asshort as possible, she yielded to his entreaties and contrived torestore him to the priceless boon of liberty the next morning at about 5A.M.
Oh, the unparalleled raptures of finding himself once more free as abird!
It was the dawn of the Derby Day, and Mr Bhosh precipitated himself tohis dwelling, intending to array himself in all his best and go down toEpsom, where he was in hopes of encountering his horse. Heyday! What washis chagrin to see his jockey, Cadwallader Perkin, approach withstreaming eyes, fling himself at his master's feet and implore him to bemerciful!
"How comes it, Cadwallader," sternly inquired Mr Bhosh, "that you arenot on the heath of Epsom instead of wallowing like this on my shoes?"
"I do not know," was the whimpered response.
"Then pray where is my Derby favourite, _Milky Way_?" demanded Bindabun.
"I cannot tell," wailed out the lachrymose juvenile. Then, afterprolonged pressure, he confessed that the Duchess had met him at thestation portals, and, on the plea that there was abundance of spare timeto book the mare, easily persuaded him to accompany her to the buffet ofRefreshment-room.
There she plied him with a stimulant which jockeys are proverbiallyunable to resist, viz., brandy-cherries, in such profusion that hepromptly became catalyptic in a corner.
When he returned to sobriety neither the Duchess nor the mare wasperceptible to his naked eye, and he had been searching in vain for themever since.
It was the time not for words, but deeds, and Mr Bhosh did not indulgein futile irascibility, but sat down and composed a reply wire to theClerk of Course, Epsom, couched in these simple words: "Have you seen myDerby mare?--BHOSH."
After the suspense of an hour the reply came in the discouraging form ofan abrupt negative, upon which Mr Bhosh thus addressed the abashedPerkin: "Even should I recapture my mare in time, you have provedyourself unworthy of riding her. Strip off your racing coat and cap, andI will engage some more reliable equestrian."
The lad handed over the toggery, which Bindabun stuffed, being of veryfine silken tissue, into his coat pocket, after which he hurried off toVictoria in great agitation to make inquiries.
There the officials treated his modest requests in very off-handedstyle, and he was becoming all of a twitter with anxiety andhumiliation, when, _mirabile dictu!_ all of a sudden his ears wereregaled by the well-known sound of a whinny, and he recognised thebeloved voice of _Milky Way_!
But whence did it proceed? He ran to and fro in uncontrollableexcitement, endeavouring to locate the sound. There was no trace of ahorse in any of the waiting-rooms, but at length he discovered that hismare had been locked up in the Left-Luggage department, and, summoning aporter, Mr Bhosh had at last the indescribable felicity to embrace hiskidnapped Derby favourite _Milky Way_!