Vellenaux A Novel, Edmund William Edmund William [reading a book .TXT] 📗

Pleasure

Beaming From His Flashing Eye At The Bare Idea Of The Coming Contest.

 

"If I Can Only Get My Twenty-Four Pound Howitzer In a Good Position I

Will Make The Place So Hot In a Dozen Hours That The Blackguards Will

Curse Their Unlucky Stars That Caused Them To Unlimber For Action In

Such An Owl'S Nest As That," Put In another Of The Party,  An Artillery

Officer,  Attached To The Flying Column.

 

"But What Say You To A Move,  Gentlemen. We Have Some Miles To Ride,  And

That,  Too,  Before The Trumpet Sounds The Mess Call," Said Travas,

Raising Himself From His Sitting Position And Moving Towards His Horse.

This Suited The Views Of The Whole Party. The Greater Number Were

Already In The Saddle. While Arthur And The Two Others Had Their Feet In

The Stirrup,  Preparing To Mount,  The Whole Party Were Startled And

Amazed By The Very Novel And Unlooked For Apparition Of A Female Figure,

Flying Towards Them,  Evidently In Great Terror And Alarm. On Reaching

Carlton,  Who Was The Nearest To Her,  She Bent Forward With Supplicating

Looks And Clasped Hands,  Passionately Exclaiming,  "Oh! For Pity Sake,

Hasten To The Rescue,  Ere It Be Too Late. Fly! Gentlemen,  And Stay The

Bloody Work Of Those Miscreants,  Those Fiends In Human Form. Oh! Waste

Not A Moment,  Or Your Aid May Come Too Late." The Supplicant Was A

Handsome Three-Quarter Cast. Her Luxuriant Hair,  Dark As A Raven'S Wing,

Hung In Wild Confusion About Her Neck And Shoulders. Her Well-Fitting

Dress,  Of Fine Madras Muslin,  Hung In Shreds Around Her Finely Moulded

Form,  And Blood Was Issuing From Rents In Her Light Kid Slippers,

Caused,  Doubtless,  By The Thorns And Other Prickly Obstacles She Had Met

With On Her Passage Through The Tangled Brushwood Of The Jungle.

 

"Pray,  Calm Yourself,  I Beg,  And Endeavour To Collect Your Thoughts. To

Whom Do You Allude,  And In What Direction; Do You Wish Us To Go?" Said

Dorville,  As He Handed Her Some Sherry And Water From His Flask; This

She Drank Eagerly,  Then Hurriedly Continued--The Whole Group Pressing

Nearer And Nearer To The Excited Woman,  To Learn By What Mischance Or

Accident She Had Been Thrown Amongst Them At Such A Time And Place,  So

Suddenly--"The Collector Of Runjetpoora,  His Wife,  Daughter,  And

Sister,  With His Four Clerks,  Their Wives And Children,  Have Been

Attacked And Captured By A Band Of Twenty Mounted Mutineers,  Who Have

Sworn To Massacre Them,  And Some Of The Children Have Already Been

Cruelly Butchered By These Remorseless Villains; I,  Alone,  Escaped,  And

Sought Shelter In The Jungle,  Where,  From An Opening Down The Ravine,

Caught A Glimpse Of Your Party,  And Have Struggled Through Brake And

Briar To Implore Your Assistance. Oh! Do Not Lose A Moment,  If You Would

Be In Time. Even Now It May Be Too Late To Save Them;" And,  Weeping

Wildly,  Sank On Her Knees,  Convulsive Sobs Choking Her Further

Utterance.

 

There Was Now No Need To Urge Them On,  For They At Once Realized The

Horrors Of The Position In Which The Collector And His Party Were Now

Placed. Exclamations Of Anger,  And Vows Of Bitter Vengeance Burst From

The Lips Of All,  As They,  With Paling Cheek,  And Flashing Eye,  Their

Teeth Clenched Fiercely Together,  Listened To The Appaling Tale Of The

Half Frantic Girl Before Them.

 

"They Are But Three To One,  The Pack Of Mutinous Scoundrels,  And Cannot

Resist Our Charge Five Minutes,  And Must Go Down Before Well-Tried

Sabres," Cried Carlton,  Springing Into His Saddle,  And Taking The Lead,

Saying,  As He Did So,  "Point Out The Way We Should Take,  My Good Girl,

And What Courage,  Brave Hearts,  And Trusty Swords Can Effect,  Shall Be

Done To Rescue Your Friends From The Terrible Fate Which,  Doubtless,

Awaits Them."

 

"When You Reach That Single Tree On The Crest Of Yonder Hill,"

Indicating With Her Right Hand The Direction To Be Taken,  "You Will Come

In Sight Of The Place,  Where This Villainous Outrage Has Been

Committed; Your Own Judgment Will Then Tell You What Is Best To Be

Done," She Replied,  Evidently Strengthened And Refreshed By The Wine She

Had Taken,  And The Comforting Assurance Held Out To Her By Arthur And

His Companions. These Words Had Scarcely Passed Her Lips When,  Applying

The Spur Vigorously,  The Whole Party,  With One Exception,  Dashed Off In

The Direction Indicated. Captain Crosby Of The Artillery,  Who Had Not

Started With The Rest,  Feeling Somewhat Anxious For The Poor Girl'S

Safety--Alone As She Would Be Shortly In That Dense Jungle,  For Every

Sabre Would Be Needed In The Coming Onslaught--Approaching Her,  Said

Kindly And Gently,  "And You; What Is To Become Of You? What Will You Do,

Or Where Can You Go?" "Oh,  Do Not Think Of Me," She Replied,  "I Can

Retrace My Steps The Way I Came,  Alone And Unassisted," Moving A Few

Steps In That Direction. "But Stay One Moment," Said Crosby; "Take This

It May Assist You In clearing A Pathway Through The Thicket And

Underbrush," Handing Her,  As He Spoke,  His Long Hunting Knife. Raising

Her Beautiful Eyes To His,  With A Look Of Thankfulness,  She Accepted The

Weapon. In another Instant,  The Ringing Of Horses' Hoofs,  Now Growing

Fainter In The Distance,  Told Her That Help Was Hastening On To Where

Help Was Most Required.

 

 

 

Chapter 13

 

 

 

The Spot Where The Collector And His Party Had Been Surprised And

Captured,  Was On The High Road,  Midway Between The Khandish Ghaut And

The Large And Populous Town Of Runjetpoora,  The Inhabitants Of Which,

With The Exception Of Their Begum,  Or Princess,  And A Few Of Her

Immediate Followers,  Had Thus Far Remained Faithful To British Rule,  And

To Which Place He Was Now Returning,  After Making A Tour Of Inspection

Through The Districts,  Which Inspection Consisted In Surveying And

Valuing The Crops While Growing,  The Cattle And Other Properties Of

Those Residing Within His Jurisdiction,  So That Taxes Might Be Levied On

Each Individual According To Their Wealth And Substance,  During The

Current Year.

 

The Baggage Escort And Principal Servants Had Been Sent On In advance.

This The Mutineers Were,  Doubtless,  Aware Of,  Or Counted On As Being

Likely To Be The Case,  Therefore Little Opposition Was To Be Expected,

And So Suddenly Did They Sweep Down Upon Them That The Little Party Were

Surrounded And Overpowered Ere They Could Seize Their Weapons To Defend

Themselves. All Were Made Prisoners Save One,  Mrs. De Mello,  A Handsome

Three-Quarter Caste,  The Youthful Bride Of The Collector'S Clerk Or

First Assistant,  Who Had Alighted From Her Palkee To Gather Some Wild

Flowers That Grew On The Road Side,  A Short Time Prior To The Appearance

Of The Mutineers,  And From Where She Stood Witnessed The Attack.

Terrified Beyond Measure At Her Dangerous Proximity To The Ruffians,

She Fled For Safety Into The Depths Of The Jungle,  And So Escaped.

 

The Carriage And Bullock Games Were Drawn To An Open Space Some Little

Distance Into The Jungle,  The Intervening Bushes Screening It To A

Considerable Extent From The Road. The Collector And His Clerks Were

Then Brutally Stripped Of Their Clothing,  And,  Having Taken Possession

Of Their Money And Other Valuables,  The Wretches Bound Them,  Spread

Eagle Fashion,  To The Wheels Of The Vehicles. The Terrified Women Were

Next Dragged Forth,  With More Indignity And Even Greater Brutality,  And

Secured In a Similar Manner,  And In Such A Position That Their Tortures

Might Be Witnessed By Their Helpless Husbands. The Children,  With The

Exception Of The Collector'S Daughter,  A Bright,  Golden Haired Girl Of

Some Ten Summers,  Who Had Clung Convulsively To Her Mother,  Were Thrown

Together Into A Small Hollow In The Ground About The Centre Of The

Place,  They Being Too Young To Make Any Opposition,  The Black Devils

Forming A Complete Semi-Circle Round Their Intended Victims.

 

The First Scene Of The Bloody Drama They Proposed To Enact,  To Satisfy

Their Devilish Thirst For The Blood Of The Unfortunates,  Who Had Thus

Fallen Into Their Hands,  Was Opened By A Tall,  Burly Ruffian Bending

Over,  Seizing One Of The Children,  Hurling It Into The Air,  And Yelling

With An Awful Imprecation While So Doing,  That He Would Wager A Gold

Mohur To Five Rupees,  That He Could,  With His Tulwa,  Strike Off The

Child'S Right Arm At The Elbow Without Touching Any Other Part Of The

Body. This Was Accepted At Once By Half-A-Dozen Voices; The Wretch

Immediately Raised His Tulwa And,  As The Infant Descended,  Made A Sharp,

Quick,  Upper Cut,  And Ere It Reached The Ground Its Little Arm Was

Disjointed,  As Though By The Knife Of An Experienced Surgeon. A Groan Of

Horror Burst From The Lips Of The Agonized Parents,  And A Convulsive

Shudder Ran Through The Remainder Of The Unhappy Party; But This Past

Unheeded By Their Captors,  Being Drowned By The Yells Of Fiendish

Delight And Approval That Broke Forth From The Throats Of These Hell

Hounds,  As The Mutilated Body Of The Child Lay Wreathing In agony At

Their Feet,  Absorbing For The Moment All Other Feeling. "I Will Double

The Stakes," Cried Another,  "That I Take Off The Head Of A Second Of

These Young Imps Close To The Shoulder Without Making Wound Or Scar On

Any Other Part." "Done,  And Done Again!" Shouted Several Voices,

Throwing Up Their Weapons In The Air,  And Re-Catching Them Again,  So

Delighted Were They At The Idea Of Another Spectacle So Much In Unison

With Their Blood-Thirsty And Relentless Passions. A Powerful Ruffian Now

Dismounted,  And Catching Up A Second Babe,  A Pretty Little Thing

Scarcely Two Years Old,  Hurled It With His Utmost Strength High Into The

Air. On Gaining Its Greatest Altitude,  It Turned Completely,  And Was

Descending,  Head Downwards. When Within Six Feet Of The Ground,  The

Brutal Villain,  With One Lightning Stroke Of His Tulwa,  Severed The Head

From Its Shoulders,  Amid The Shouts And Gesticulations Of The Assembled

Miscreants. By Some,  The Wretch Was Pronounced A Winner,  But On

Examining The Body,  The Skin Of One Shoulder Was Found To Be Grazed Or

Cut. Many Maintained It Was Done By The Sword; Others Asserted That It

Was Caused By Falling On A Stone Or Some Such Substance. The Dispute Ran

High,  And Possible Might Have Come To Blows,  But For The Interference Of

Another Of The Party,  Who Appeared To Be A Sort Of Leader Among Them,

Shouting Out "Come! No More Of This Fooling; Too Much Time Has Been

Already Wasted On This Tumahsha. Give The Cursed Feringees A Volley From

Your Carbines,  Loot The Garries,  And Then Make Off With All Speed,  Or

The Cursed Kaffirs May Get Wind Of The Affair And Follow In Our Track."

 

"Shumsodeen Is Right," Called Out Another. "There Is Both Truth And

Reason In What He Says. But There Must Be No Firing,  It Might Attract

The Notice Of Any Straggler From The Camps Of Those Dogs Of Kaffirs,  And

Bring Their Infernal Dragoons Down Upon Us. No! Cut The Throats Of The

Men,  And As There Are But Twenty Of Us,  And Only Five Of These Women,

Tell Off One Of Them To Each Four Of Us,  And Let Us Begone,  For We Must

Put The Broad Plain,  At The Foot Of The Khandish Ghaut,  Between Us And

This Place Ere Night Fall,  And On Our Camping For The Night,  Each Four

Can Decide What Is To Be Done With Their Prize." This Suggestion Was

Received With Applause,  And They Immediately Prepared To Act Upon It.

Already Two Or Three Had Dismounted And Drawn Their Creeses To Slit The

Throats Of Their Male Prisoners,  When A Youth,  About Eighteen,  Son Of

The Fellow Called Shumsodeen,  Cried Out,  "Do As You Please With The

Women Among Yourselves,  But I Will Have Yonder Curly Headed Cutcha

Butchee For My Prize,  Come What May," And He Took A Few Steps In The

Direction Of The Collector'S Daughter,  Who Was Still Clinging To Her

Parent For Protection; But Ere He Reached Her,  A Loud,  Clear Voice At No

Great Distance Rang Out,  "Fire! Gentlemen,  And Charge!" Then Came From

Between The Leaves And Bushes A Withering Volley Of Bullets From Rifle

And Revolver,