A man named Abel white, who had come out there as an indigoplanter,wanted an overseer to look after his coolies and keep themup to their work. He happened to be a friend of our colonel’s, whohad taken an interest in me since the accident. To make a longstory short, the colonel recommended me strongly for the post,and, as the work was mostly to be done on horseback, my leg wasno great obstacle, for I had enough thigh left to keep good grip onthe saddle. What I had to do was to ride over the plantation, tokeep an eye on the men as they worked, and to report the idlers.
The pay was fair, I had comfortable quarters, and altogether I wascontent to spend the remainder of my life in indigo-planting. Mr.Abelwhite was a kind man, and he would often drop into my littleshanty and smoke a pipe with me, for white folk out there feeltheir hearts warm to each other as they never do here at home.
“Well, I was never in luck’s way long. Suddenly, without a noteof warning, the great mutiny broke upon us. One month Indialay as still and peaceful, to all appearance, as Surrey or Kent; thenext there were two hundred thousand black devils let loose, andthe country was a perfect hell. Of course you know all about it,gentlemen—a deal more than I do, very like, since reading is not inmy line. I only know what I saw with my own eyes. Our plantationwas at a place called Muttra, near the border of the NorthwestProvinces. Night after night the whole sky was alight with theburning bungalows, and day after day we had small companiesof Europeans passing through our estate with their wives andchildren, on their way to Agra, where were the nearest troops.
Mr. Abel white was an obstinate man. He had it in his head thatthe affair had been exaggerated, and that it would blow over assuddenly as it had sprung up. There he sat on his veranda, drinkingwhiskey-pegs and smoking cheroots, while the country was ina blaze about him. Of course we stuck by him, I and Dawson,who, with his wife, used to do the book-work and the managing.
Well, one fine day the crash came. I had been away on a distantplantation and was riding slowly home in the evening, when myeye fell upon something all huddled together at the bottom of asteep nullah. I rode down to see what it was, and the cold struckthrough my heart when I found it was Dawson’s wife, all cut intoribbons, and half eaten by jackals and native dogs. A little furtherup the road Dawson himself was lying on his face, quite dead, withan empty revolver in his hand and four Sepoys lying across eachother in front of him. I reined up my horse, wondering which wayI should turn; but at that moment I saw thick smoke curling upfrom Abel white’s bungalow and the flames beginning to burstthrough the roof. I knew then that I could do my employer nogood, but would only throw my own life away if I meddled in thematter. From where I stood I could see hundreds of the blackfiends, with their red coats still on their backs, dancing andhowling round the burning house. Some of them pointed at me,and a couple of bullets sang past my head: so I broke away acrossthe paddy-fields, and found myself late at night safe within thewalls at Agra.
“As it proved, however, there was no great safety there, either.
The whole country was up like a swarm of bees. Wherever theEnglish could collect in little bands they held just the groundthat their guns commanded. Everywhere else they were helplessfugitives. It was a fight of the millions against the hundreds; andthe cruellest part of it was that these men that we fought against,foot, horse, and gunners, were our own picked troops, whom wehad taught and trained, handling our own weapons and blowingour own bugle-calls. At Agra there were the 3d Bengal Fusiliers,some Sikhs, two troops of horse, and a battery of artillery. Avolunteer corps of clerks and merchants had been formed, andthis I joined, wooden leg and all. We went out to meet the rebelsat Shahgunge early in July, and we beat them back for a time, butour powder gave out, and we had to fall back upon the city.
“Nothing but the worst news came to us from every side—which is not to be wondered at, for if you look at the map you willsee that we were right in the heart of it. Lucknow is rather betterthan a hundred miles to the east, and Cawnpore about as far tothe south. From every point on the compass there was nothingbut torture and murder and outrage.
“The city of Agra is a great place, swarming with fanatics andfierce devil-worshippers of all sorts. Our handful of men were lostamong the narrow, winding streets. Our leader moved across theriver, therefore, and took up his position in the old fort at Agra.
I don’t know if any of you gentlemen have ever read or heardanything of that old fort. It is a very queer place—the queerestthat ever I was in, and I have been in some rum corners, too. Firstof all it is enormous in size. I should think that the enclosuremust be acres and acres. There is a modern part, which took allour garrison, women, children, stores, and everything else, withplenty of room over. But the modern part is nothing like the sizeof the old quarter, where nobody goes, and which is given over tothe scorpions and the centipedes. It is all full of great desertedhalls, and winding passages, and long corridors twisting in and out,so that it is easy enough for folk to get lost in it. For this reasonit was seldom that any one went into it, though now and again aparty with torches might go exploring.
