Gil the Gunner by George Manville Fenn (rainbow fish read aloud TXT) 📕

They were, as I have said, dressed in white, and I saw now, as I examined them more closely, that the stuff was white muslin, both robe and turban, the latter being ornamented with a fine cord of gold twist.

They were not very different to scores of men of their class, such as I had seen in good houses at Calcutta, or at the messes of the regiments where I had dined, but they attracted me greatly now, and my eyes rested searchingly on their brown faces, thick beards, bare legs, and feet partly hidden by red slippers.

It was a neat, becoming dress, and I kept up my scrutiny, noting everything, including, of course, the cummerbund or broad cotton scarf or belt about the men’s waists.

As for them, they did not even raise their eyes, but stood gazing down at the floor while I made a mental picture of their appearance, and oddly enough, I began thinking about walnuts, and wishing I had some.

A curious wish, you will say, for a prisoner who had only to give the word, and a delicious breakfast would be placed before him, with curries and fruits, and sweets with his coffee.

But I did not want any of them; I wanted walnuts.

Ah! you will say, and a pair of nutcrackers, and some salt into which I could dip the ivory-white corrugated scraps when I had peeled them, and possibly then a glass of fine old port wine, making together—the one indigestible, the other heating—about as bad a mixture as a weak convalescent could partake of in India.

But then, you see, you are perfectly wrong, for I was not thinking of eating and drinking, but wishing I could have a dozen or so of the big green walnuts I remembered growing on a great tree down in Surrey.

What for?

Why, to beat up into a kind of dark juice, in which I could wash my hands, neck, and face, my head, too, and then my feet and legs, till I had stained myself as dark as the darkest Hindu I had ever met.

The windows, with the gateway to be reached by means of the twisted curtains; the dress of one of those men, and my skin darkened. So far as this already on the first morning of my gilded captivity!

“I am getting on,” I said to myself, with a smile on my face, and then I grew rigid; for I turned and saw that Salaman was watching me keenly, as if he could read every thought.

“Let not my lord be angry,” he said humbly. “I could not help seeing that he was pleased. Yes, they are two good servants; the best I could find. His highness said I was to do everything to make my lord happy. But will he not eat?”

“Yes,” I cried eagerly, for I felt that he could not have read my thoughts, but had interpreted my looks to have meant satisfaction with the servants.

And then I took my place, feeling all at once hungry and ready for my meal.

“I must eat and grow strong,” I said. “Dost cannot get to me here, even if he dared use the same disguise. I must get out of the palace, and away into the country, and then all will be well.”

My hopes were a little dashed directly after, for I felt that I had been too sanguine. But I brightened up again, for I knew that I could not succeed all at once, and that I had done wonders towards getting my liberty by making a beginning.

I quite enjoyed the delicious breakfast they gave me, and felt in high spirits thinking such a life as the rajah offered me would be glorious if it could have been accepted with honour, and one could have made sure that his enemies would not be of his own race.

The meal removed, Salaman informed me that the rajah had sent to know how I was; and, as I heard his words, there was the excuse ready to gain time. I might say I was weak and ill. But I did not. I sent word that I was rested and better.

Salaman sent off his messenger, and then returned to say that a palanquin and bearers were waiting if I wished to go out about the gardens and park.

But I declined, preferring to rest for the day, and think. I really was tired, and a seat in the shade by an open window would, I felt, be far preferable, so I seated myself, and tried to follow up my early success with some fresh idea that would help my escape.

I looked down into the court, and watched the goldfish and those of a deep orange; then I looked down at the men on guard, and wondered whether they would stop one of the servants of the palace if they saw him walking steadily out, for that seemed to me the task before me.

I was watching the gate, and picturing myself walking boldly up to the sentries, when I heard a familiar sound, and leaned out, as there was a loud trampling of horses, and I knew that a regiment must be passing by.

But I could see nothing, only mentally picture what was going on as I listened, making out that it must be a very strong body to take so long in passing, while hardly had they gone before there came the dull regular tramp of foot, and regiment after regiment went past I wondered what for, and wished that my window looked right upon the road by which they passed, knowing full well that a request to that effect would be eagerly granted by one who would be pleased to see me taking so much interest in his troops.

So of course I could not ask, only content myself by thinking out what was going on—whether the men were going to some drill, or whether an attack was imminent.

My cheeks tingled at this, and my imagination grew busy as I began to picture the advance of some of our force. All I had been told by the rajah vanished like mist, and with patriotic fervour I mentally declared that England could not be beaten so easily as he supposed.

But time wore away, and as the day glided by I grew dull and low-spirited, for I began to dread a visit.

“He has been busy with his troops,” I said; “and to-night he will come to talk to me.”

I was quite right; just at dark the rajah came to greet me smilingly, and sat down to smoke and chat as freely as if such a question as my joining his army were quite out of the question. He seemed pleased to find me so well, and begged me to ask for anything I wished—except liberty—and ended by telling me how hard he had been at work all day drilling and reviewing troops.

“They want a great deal of teaching,” he said gloomily. “There is everything in them to make good soldiers, and they are willing to learn, but there is no one to drill them properly, and make them smart and quick like the whites.”

We were getting on to dangerous ground, and he felt it too, and as if not to break his word about treating me as a friend, he changed his position directly, and began to ask my opinion about certain manoeuvres made by foot regiments, and whether I did not think them a great mistake.

From that we drifted into the manufacture of powder, and the casting of shot and shell.

“I mean to have all that done by my people,” he said—“in time. By-and-by I shall cast my own cannon. No, no,” he cried merrily; “we must not talk about guns.”

“No; please don’t,” I said.

“I’ll keep my word, Gil,” he cried; and as he spoke he looked one of the most noble gentlemen I ever saw. “Oh yes, I’ll keep my word to you, Gil; but we can talk about soldiering, even if you are not in my service.”

And he went on talking upon that subject with all the keen interest of a man who was a soldier at heart, and who meant to gather round him an army which he meant to be invincible.

I am sorry to say that I was very ignorant of the history of India; but still I had read and studied it a great deal, and I felt that Ny Deen was of the same type of men as the old warriors who rose from time to time, petty chiefs at first, but who by their indomitable energy conquered all around, and grew into men whose names were known in history, and would never die.

“I tire you,” he said at last, after talking eagerly for some time about raising a regiment of light horse—all picked men, with the swiftest and best Arab troopers that could be obtained. “Mount them for speed,” he said, “and to harass the advance of an enemy, and keep him engaged when he is in retreat. Such men, if I can get them drilled and trained to the perfection I want, will be invaluable. You see, I have plenty of schemes,” he added, with a laugh. “All ambition, I suppose. No, not all,” he continued, earnestly; “for I want my nation to be great, and my people prosperous and well governed. It is not from the greed of conquest, Gil, nor the love of blood. I hope it is something better; but this rising of the peoples of Hindustan is my opportunity. Once the English are driven out of the country, the rest will be easy.”

“Then the English are not driven out?” I said sharply.

“Not quite, boy; but they are at their last gasp. There, Gil, I have placed myself in your hands. If you betray what I have said to-night, every one of the chiefs who now help me, and are my allies, would turn against me, and I should stand alone.”

“You have no fear of that,” I said quietly. “You would not have trusted me if you had.”

“No,” he said, rising, “I should not. So you see what confidence I have in you. There, I shall leave you now. Go to rest, man, and get stronger. You are beginning to look weary already.”

He held out his hand as I walked with him to the door, and as I gave him mine, not without a feeling of compunction, for I was playing a double part, and letting him, as I thought, believe I was settling down, when he laughed merrily.

“It is of no use,” he said.

“I don’t understand,” I said, colouring like a girl.

“Then I’ll explain. You are thinking of nothing else but escaping. Well, try to get away. There are only curtains before the doors; but you will find my plans stronger than locks and bolts. Try and grow contented with your lot, Gil—with the great future that is before you; for it is greater than you can grasp, boy. There, good night.”

He passed through the doorway, and the purdah dropped behind him, while I stood thinking of his words, and ended by going to one of the windows and leaning out to gaze at the great stars.

“That is not my fate,” I said to myself; and as the cool night-breeze came softly over my heated forehead, I saw better things in store than becoming the servant of a conquering tyrant, and I went to my couch more strongly determined than ever to scheme some way of escape.