CHAPTER XX
An End to Mystery
The moon was up and the stars out in their thousands as Owen and thesmall band of troopers, native and white, who had ridden at his kneeduring the pursuit, turned their weary horses towards Laswaree. Theenemy was routed. Far and wide the plain was scattered with the fallen,and on every hand knots and sections of the cavalry force which hadhelped in that great day were straggling back to the division. Owen rodeat the head of his men, his sabre sheathed, his head sunk deep betweenhis shoulders, and his eyes almost closed. Every now and again heactually fell asleep in the saddle, till a snort from one of the jadedhorses or a touch from Mulha's hand awakened him. Suddenly the nativeservant leaned across and took him by the elbow.
"Sahib," he said, "there is more work, I think, for yonder there is acollection of the enemy. But mayhap you would leave them now to pass totheir own homes peacefully. They are utterly crushed and beaten."
He pointed to a low tope of pepul-trees some distance away, where, inthe full light of the moon, a number of men were gathered, their dressshowing them to be Mahrattas. Owen roused himself with an effort andstared at the enemy.
"My orders were precise," he said. "I was to break up all gatherings andscatter the enemy. We must ride against those men. Wheel to the left.Now trot!"
It was as much as the horses could do to increase their pace, but thewilling animals responded to the appeal and hurried their riders towardsthe tope. And presently, when within some two hundred yards, a horsemanwas seen to break from the group gathered there and advance towardsOwen. He unsheathed his tulwar, and when within some twenty paceslowered the point.
"We surrender," he said. "Let the white lord take my word that there arenone there who will offer further opposition. The British have won amagnificent victory and Scindia is conquered. Will the sahib accept mytulwar?"
"Replace it and wear it till I reach your comrades," answered Owen."Return to them and bid them lay their arms on the ground at once. Theywill dismount and rein their horses together. Warn them that I willcharge if there is a sign of treachery."
The soldier salaamed humbly and turned to obey, when our hero againcalled to him.
"What is your regiment? And how many are there of you?"
"There are forty, my lord, and we were not of Scindia's force. We haveridden from Indore."
The mention of that city roused Owen still more, and he sat up in hissaddle, wide awake and fully alert now.
"From Indore? What brought you here?"
"We came as escort to the white officer who commanded Holkar's forces,the Colonel sahib, Le Pourton. He lies yonder, my lord."
Then the tables were turned, and the very man who had so nearly broughtdeath to Owen was a prisoner, humbled, fallen from his high position,the sport of a cruel fate. He who had threatened assassination washelpless.
"Lead me to him," commanded our hero, "and, Mulha, bring some of thetroopers close to me. I do not forget this officer or his threats. Adesperate man may attempt anything, and I will neglect no precaution. Wewill advance."
They followed the Mahratta horseman, and, having reached the group,surrounded them. Then, at the order of the messenger, those of the enemywho were still mounted threw themselves from their saddles and tossedtheir arms to the ground. But Owen took little notice of them, for intheir midst, unseen till this moment, was the figure of their leader,dressed in his Mahratta finery, ghastly pale, and stretched on theground, with his head supported on the flank of a fallen horse. His eyeswere closed, and that, with the deathly pallor of his face and thebandage about his head, gave him such a ghastly appearance that allthought he was dead. But he opened his eyes feebly as Owen and Mulhaadvanced on foot, and smiled at them. Then, with an obvious effort, helifted a hand and signalled to them to come quite close.
"Have no fear," he said faintly. "The man who sent a threatening note ispast performing violence. His course is run, and even a bitter enemywould not care to triumph over him. Come closer, Owen Marshall."
Owen Marshall! The name startled our hero, and he stood for more than aminute staring at the figure of the fallen Colonel. Then pity for theunfortunate officer took the place of the dislike he had formerly felt,and he kneeled beside him, taking his hand and looking into his face.
"Bring some spirit, Mulha," he said. "There is a flask in my holster,and it may do some good. Get it quickly."
"It will give me strength, but not life," was the answer, as the Colonelagain smiled at him. "That is for ever forfeited, for no man can suffersuch a wound as I have and live. Listen, Owen Marshall; yes, that isyour name, Owen Marshall, son of Captain Marshall, once of the Company'sservice. Listen. I will speak in Mahratti, for I know little English.This Captain Marshall----"
A violent fit of coughing arrested his words and shook his frame so muchthat Owen thought that life itself would have departed. Blood fleckedhis lips and cheek, while his pallor became even more pronounced.Beneath the sickly beams cast by the moon Colonel Le Pourton looked asif he had breathed his last, as if his troubles, his hatreds, and hisintrigues were ended for ever. But Mulha arrived at that instant, andOwen contrived to force a few drops of spirit between the dying man'slips.
"No man can suffer such a hurt and live," repeated the Colonel with asigh, and a sad smile, as he placed his feeble hand against his side."Your British horses are magnificent. Their lances are terrible! Trulythere is little wonder that you conquer. But I must not waste time, formy hours are few and my breath comes shorter. Closer! Closer, so thatyou can hear my whisper."
"Stand on the far side," said Owen to Mulha in English. "The Colonel isdying, and I think is about to confess something which has to do with myearlier life. Listen and remember what you hear. It is important thatthere should be a witness. Now, Colonel," he went on, taking the fallenofficer's hand gently in his own, "speak. Tell me all you know. Tell meeverything that may concern my early life."
There was a long pause while the unfortunate man gathered strength andbreath, lying there with closed eyes and one hand resting on his breast.Then he slowly looked up at Owen, gently returned the pressure of hishand, and smiled.
"I have done an evil thing and am repaid with bitterness," he whispered."Mon dieu! What misery I have caused! What suffering to that good man.And to you--what a bar I have been to progress. But for me and thiswicked scheme you would have been wealthy, titled perhaps, and broughtup amongst those who would have cared for and loved you. Yes, for whenyou lay in that poorhouse there were those living in England who wouldhave given all their wealth, even their right hands, to have discoveredyou. My scheme was terribly successful."
Once more he paused for breath, while Owen leaned over him and gave himanother sip of the spirit.
"Tell me about the scheme and about these relatives of mine," he saidgently. "I can forgive you for all that you may have done, if you willmake amends now while you are able. You say that my name is OwenMarshall. Speak of my father, of my mother, and of others whom you mayhave known."
"Listen, then. Fifteen years ago, more or less, I came to this country,and was quartered with the native troops at Pondicherry, where theFrench are settled. We fought the English constantly, and when two yearshad passed it happened that I was taken prisoner and carried toCalcutta, where I was placed on my parole. The English are good. Theirsoldiers are brave and jovial, and their officers the best of fellows.They fight an enemy with courage and dash. They make friends with equalreadiness. They were good to me. They fed me, housed me, invited me totheir homes, and made the hours pass as a pleasant dream to a poorcaptive Frenchman. I came to like them, to forget all the old hatred andprejudice, and--ah, there was another reason--your father was there,Captain Thomas Marshall of the 22nd regiment, temporarily in theservice of the Company, and he it was who made Calcutta what it was forme; for listen, Owen----"
Silence fell over the group once more, our hero holding his breath as hewaited for the next words, while Mulha stood like a statue over thedying man. Above them the moon stared
down upon a scene as strange andas tragic as could be imagined, for here was a man who had erred,stricken to his death and with little of life remaining, while kneelingbeside him was a youth whose future fortunes depended largely upon theinformation which was locked in the Colonel's breast. No wonder thatOwen trembled, no wonder that he stared at the mute lips of Colonel LePourton with a longing which he could not express. But this Frenchmanhad the courage of despair and the tenacity of purpose which helps a manto carry out a task, however arduous. Talking was difficult. His breathcame shorter and quicker, and a thin stream of blood trickled from thecorner of his mouth. But still he forced himself to complete the tale,and, gathering all his strength, once more proceeded with it.
"Listen carefully, for now I come to your parents. Your father, thisCaptain Marshall, a fine and gallant officer, had by some strangefortune met and married my cousin when in London. She, poor girl, hadgone to England with her father, who was a wealthy merchant, and whodied about the time of my imprisonment, leaving this girl a finefortune. You were there, Owen, the apple of a proud father and mother'seyes, and fortune smiled on you and on them. Mon dieu! What a tale ofignominy for a dying man to tell! Would that I had never thought of thisghastly scheme. But gold, with all the useful purposes to which it maybe put, is a fatal magnet which draws many to ill-doing. This cousin,your dear mother, had in earlier days been my dear friend, and at onetime it seemed that we might be married. She had cared for me, and nowshe felt pity for my condition. She made a will. I saw it, Owen. All wasleft to your father, and then to you. If those two lives failed, thefortune she had inherited was to go to me. Yes, for the wealth wasentrusted to others for her benefit, and was administered by relativesin England. Otherwise, from all I know of the English law, it would havegone to your father on the marriage. But no matter. Facts were as I havestated, and I found myself poor and a captive with those three livesbetween me and a fortune. Your mother died, and your miserable fatherwent up country on some military expedition, leaving me to send youhome. You sailed on an Indiaman, and with you, in addition to an ayah,went one who was my agent. He it was who abducted you, and then, fearingto go to extremes, left you on the roadside. Your father was slain inthat expedition, and I was left, as I thought, sole survivor."
"And my relatives? How is it that they did not discover me?"
Owen asked the question eagerly as he bent over the Colonel.
"They had no word of your coming. They thought you safe in India, andit was not till a year later that they learned that your mother was deadand your father slain. Also that you had been sent to England and hadlanded there. The ayah was able to report how you had been abducted, andafterwards--there is little marvel in the fact that search failed toreveal you. More than a year had passed, and you were lost."
"And you were the heir?"
"I thought so, but was disappointed. Your English courts are precise andparticular. The trustees of this fortune handed the money over to thesecourts, and though I tried to prove your death I was unable to do so. Myscheme had succeeded too well where you were concerned, but had failedto better my fortunes. I took service with Holkar, and a month ago, whenyou arrived at the palace and I recognised you by your likeness to myone-time friend, I thought still to retrieve this fortune, to obtainthat for which I had so long intrigued. But there is a God above us, andsurely it is true that He watches over the widow and the orphan. Youescaped where another would have remained, fearful of discovery and ofthe difficulties which had to be faced. That British dash and daring,that promptness in great danger for which your race is so justly famed,took you safely from Indore, and left me with rage and disappointment inmy heart, and with every intention of pursuing you. I left Indore mainlyfor that purpose, for our spies learned that you had ridden to Agra, andthat you had joined General Lake's division. I had you watched, and--ah,how cruel is the thought to me now!--there were those in your camp whowere hired to slay you. But you were guarded. Those faithful natives wholook up to you as if they were children watched over you, so that my menwere helpless. The armies met, and----"
"The day went with us," said Owen gently.
"Scindia's hosts were broken, as will be those of Holkar, for who canstrive against such men as yours are? I fell, pierced by a lance, and Iam now your prisoner, and very near the grave. Forgive me! Let a dyingman who has wronged you hear that you can forgive and forget."
The unhappy Colonel sat up on his elbow with a huge effort and stared atOwen with bloodshot eyes. There was a look of desperate earnestness onhis pallid features. Deep lines of pain marked his face, while hischeeks were pale and sunken.
"Forgive and forget!"
"I do. I forgive freely, and will forget. Calm yourself, and tell mewhat little there is left. There, lie down again and be calm. You havehad your punishment. It is not for me to add to it. We are none of usperfect, and if you have made a sad mistake, so may I on some futureoccasion. There! Lie down!"
Very gently and tenderly Owen lowered him back into his position, andseeing that he was extremely weak pressed more spirit upon him, causinga little colour to return to his wan cheeks. Then he took the poorfellow's hand again and pressed it.
"Who were these relatives to whom I was sent?" he asked, placing hislips to the Colonel's ear, for the wounded man seemed to be almostunconscious. "One more effort I beg of you. Who were these people?"
At the sound of his voice the Colonel turned his eyes in his directionand groped with his hand.
"It is dark, and I cannot see you. Get a light, and I will speak. Quick!There is little time left to me."
A minute later a smoking torch was brought and placed in Mulha's hand,whereupon the officer opened his eyes again and smiled at Owen.
"May blessings for ever rest on you," he said, gently returning thepressure of his hand. "I am forgiven, and though that does not excusethe act, yet I can die the easier for it. And now I will end the matterby speaking of the others. Sail for England as soon as you can andpresent yourself to Sir Owen Marshall, your grandfather, who stilllives. You will find him in the county of Cheshire, though I forget thetown in which he resides. But he is one of those trustees whoadministered the funds bequeathed to your dear mother, and he willwelcome you. That is all. Let me lie quietly here till the end, andOwen--bury me beneath the tope of trees which lies behind us."
It was a sad, sad scene, and Owen's eyes were filled with tears beforethe interview was over. All thought of his parentage, of his dead fatherand mother, were banished for the time, and he thought of this unhappyman, alone, steeped to the eyes in infamy, and yet repentant andforgiven at the last. He lowered the Colonel's head on to a cushion ofsoft grass covered with a cloth, and sat down beside him to wait forhelp, for one of the troopers had ridden for a surgeon. And within anhour one arrived and bent over the patient.
"He will live an hour, two perhaps," he said sadly. "I can do nothingfor him. Keep him as he is, and he will be quite easy."
"Then there is more for me to do," whispered the Colonel, when he hadheard what had been said. "Send for an officer, for two if possible, andlet them bring paper and writing materials. I will make the fullestamends I can, and will repeat my tale to witnesses, and will sign whatis written. Hasten, Owen, or it will be too late."
That night, ere the moon went down, the spirit of this unfortunateFrench colonel departed, and his body was buried close beneath the topeof pepul-trees, a couple of flaming torches lighting the workers. ThenOwen mounted and returned sadly to camp, his mind filled with the scenethrough which he had passed. But it was long before he had anopportunity of returning home to meet his long-lost relatives, for erethe Mahratta war ended Bundelcund was conquered, the important battle ofArgaun fought and won, and Gwalighur stormed. In four months an amazingamount of fighting had been accomplished: four general battles had beenfought and won in brilliant manner, while eight fortresses had beenstormed and captured. In addition, large provinces had been added to thepossessions of the Government; and, more important than all, theFrench-traine
d force which had for so long been a menace to ourexistence in India had been utterly crushed, while some 250,000 troopsof all arms had been swept from the different fields by a British forcenumbering under 60,000--a feat of arms of which we may well be proud.
But there still remained Holkar, and the following year found us at warwith him. The evil advice he had had, his own ambitions, and a hatred ofthe British led him to try his fortunes against us, and had he not madethe first move in this matter we ourselves should have done so, for thismiscreant treacherously murdered those three officers whom Owen had metat Indore, thus making it imperative that we should attack him. There isno need to tell how a disastrous affair at first marred our fortunes,and how in the end our troops were victorious. Holkar was completelyhumbled, though it cost us much to bring that end about. Indeed, ourtroops made four glorious but unsuccessful assaults on the fortress ofBhurtpore, and were still without the walls when a truce was come to.But they were not disheartened, and it was their persistence, theirdetermination to continue the siege that finally brought Holkar toreason.
In this last campaign Owen lost his right arm, and was at oncedespatched to England. He had already written home to Mr. Halbut and theSergeant, and had communicated with his grandfather, Sir Owen Marshall,so that on his arrival he had friends and relatives to meet him. He wasreceived with open arms, and when all legal formalities had beencompleted found himself the possessor of a very fine fortune. Hisgrandfather died in the following year, and Captain Marshall became SirOwen. Badly maimed by his wounds, he decided to retire from the service,and took up his residence in Cheshire, where he married.
For many a long year after there was a gathering of friends at hismansion to celebrate the anniversary of that eventful day when theSergeant had fought the farmer for him. Trim and well dressed as ofyore, Mr. Halbut was always a prominent figure at the table; while atOwen's right hand would be seen the Sergeant, getting somewhat stout andunwieldy now, no figure for a military tunic; the same Sergeant,however, with his kind heart, his steady strength, and his courtesy. Andat the far end of the table sat as comely a lady as could well be found,nodding her dancing curls at our hero.
"To my dear friends, Mr. Halbut and the Sergeant," Owen would say as helifted his glass. "My dear, join me in this toast."
And when they were seated Mr. Halbut would rise up, stately, and withthat frank smile on his lips by which all knew him. "My dear Sergeant,my old friend and helper," he would say in smooth, courtly tones, "onthis day of days we lift our glasses to that lad whom we met many yearsago. Fill up, my friend. I drink good health, long life, and prosperityto Owen--to Jones of the 64th."
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Transcriber's note:
Punctuation has been corrected.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.
Jones of the 64th: A Tale of the Battles of Assaye and Laswaree Page 21