Gil the Gunner, George Manville Fenn [fun books to read for adults txt] 📗

I worried and fretted a great deal about that proposal of the rajah’s, but I firmly declared that it was quite impossible, however tempting to my vanity. How could I become officer over a set of cowardly, mutinous, murderous scoundrels, even if I had been set free to undertake the task; and in my most bitter times I told myself that I would far rather turn the guns upon such a crew than teach them to work them.

I fully expected the rajah to come to me the next day, but he did not, and a week had gone by, during which time, although I was growing stronger, it was not so fast as it would have been had I felt free.

And then came a night when I was very low indeed. The monotony of my life in that solitary place affected my spirits terribly. They were already weak enough, consequent upon my hurts; but that time I was so depressed that I prayed that the rajah might not come, lest I should accept his proposal as a means of escape from a life which, in spite of the constant attention I received, had grown unbearable. It made me so irritable to the attendants that they shrank from coming near more often than they could help, and I saw Salaman look at me sometimes as if he thought that I should develop into a tyrant also, or would be a danger to those who served.

“I know what it is,” I muttered to myself that night. “He is waiting on purpose so as to catch me in some weak moment, when I am utterly tired out of this wretched prison, and ready to say yes.”

My wretched prison, be it remembered, was a luxurious tent, with men who were like so many slaves about me ready to obey my slightest wish; but I was miserable, of course, all the same.

It had grown dark rapidly that evening, and there was a curious sensation of heat in the air, great puffs coming as if from off heated metal. Then there were distant flashes of lightning, and faint mutterings which I knew portended a storm; and, as it drew near, I felt a kind of satisfaction in wishing that it would be very bad, for I was just in the frame of mind, no doubt from being weak and easily affected by the electricity in the atmosphere, to welcome anything for a change.

“I hope it will come a regular roarer,” I said to myself as I lay on my back with my wounds aching, and the faint blue of the lightning making my lamp look dim.

“Wish it would blow the tents all down, and scare the black scoundrels right away.”

A sensible wish, for in my weak state it meant exposure, a drenching, and probably a feverish attack; but I was in an unreasoning fit, and ready for anything absurd just then.

After a time, there was the rush of wind through the trees, and the side of the tent flapped like a filling sail on board ship.

“It’s coming,” I said, with a laugh; and then I thought of the torrents of rain that would now begin to fall, and called to mind that twice over there had been very heavy rains, but that the double canvas roof had turned it all away.

Then there was a lull, followed by a pattering of rain, and I heard the men go round and tighten the cords, while Salaman came in and secured the tent door, pausing to ask me if he should bring me anything, but I was too ill-tempered to answer him, and I suppose he thought I was asleep, for he went out very softly.

Then, with a rush, down came the storm, with the water rushing in sheets, and beating against the tent, off which I could hear it streaming, while it was lit up almost constantly by the blue glare of the lightning. Next came the thunder, deafening roar after roar, to which I listened with satisfaction, for it was a change.

But the change soon grew as monotonous as my prison life. The rain poured down, there were fierce rushes of wind, blinding flashes of lightning, and deafening peals of thunder; but the tents were not blown down, they were too well sheltered by the huge trees around, and as the rain brought a feeling of coolness, I began to grow more sensible, and to feel glad that no catastrophe had happened. I must have dropped asleep, to wake up with a start and the recollection of my visitation from the serpents. I could see nothing, and my heart seemed to cease beating as I recalled the habits of the creatures, how, drowned out of their holes by such a storm, they would seek shelter in houses, and here was one wet, cold creature with its head playing over my face, and from there gliding down my arm to my hand, which it seized, the jaws closing upon my fingers while I lay, unable in my horror to call for help.

Then my confusion and horror mingled passed off, and a curious sensation of exultation came over me, for it was all fancy about the serpent. The lamp was out, the tent in total darkness, and that which I had felt was a hand gliding over my face, and from thence to my hand, into which it had pressed something.

At that moment I heard a rustling to my left, and sounds to my right, the tent door was thrown open, and I could just make out the figure of Salaman, as he uttered an ejaculation at the darkness, and hurried across to the stand, where he paused to strike a light, the lamp having by some accident gone out.

The light of the match he had struck illuminated the tent, and I glanced sharply round, but no one else was visible; and as I lay wondering, and ready to believe it all fancy, there was what felt like a note crushed in my hand, and Salaman was busy about the tent.

“Is my lord asleep?” he said softly.

“No,” I replied.

“When my lord wishes the lamp to be turned out, so that he may look at the lightning, if he calls his servant will come.”

“Yes; thank you,” I said. And then I lay thinking, my heart thumping heavily the while.

Somebody—a friend, then—had crept into the tent and turned out the lamp, before trying to give me the note.

But was it a note?

It felt like it, as I held it tightly in my hand, longing now for the man to go, but afraid to say a word to send him away, for fear I should raise his suspicions in the slightest degree, and induce him to rouse his companions and watch, or go round the tent at a time when I felt sure that the bearer of the note was hiding just outside.

Oh, how long it seemed, and what a number of petty, trifling little things Salaman did before he moved toward the doorway of the tent!

I do not think he did more than was his custom; but this time I fancied he suspected something wrong, and was watching me.

I was quite right. He was watching me intently; and I turned hot and trembled, for it would be horrible, I felt, if help was near, to have it discovered by this man, who was thoroughly devoted to the rajah’s interests, and who would, I felt sure, have to answer with his head if I escaped through his neglect.

He came nearer to me, and I was afraid he would read the anxiety in my face; and yet I dared not turn it round and away from him, for fear of making him suspect me more, so I lay gazing straight at him.

“Would my lord like a cool drink?” he asked.

“No,” I replied; “not now.”

“My lord’s voice is changed!” he cried excitedly. “He is not worse?”

“Oh no;—better,” I said.

“But my lord speaks strangely—as he did that night when the serpent crawled into the room. He has not been alarmed? Yes, I know—by the terrible storm.”

“Think—think it was that?” I faltered.

“Yes, my lord,” he said eagerly; “but it is gone now. Can I get anything for my lord?”

“No; not now,” I said. And at last he left the tent.

I was lord and master, according to Salaman; but I felt quite a slave as I lay there, afraid to move lest he should come back. And as I listened, I heard him go round the tent to try all the ropes, two others being with him, as I judged by the voices. While they went quietly round, I listened with eager ear, fully expecting some alarm to be raised, and my messenger, whoever he was, to be discovered.

But I heard the men go right round, and return to their own tent; and then, as soon as I felt it to be safe, I crawled from my couch and made my way to the lamp, trembling with eagerness to read the message that had been sent, I hoped, by Brace.

The paper was a mere scrap doubled up quite small, and, as I opened it, and held it close to the light, my eyes fell on these characters, scrawled in a very feeble hand, with some kind of pencil which left a very uncertain mark—

There were faint traces of similar lines above and below, but they were so rubbed as to be undecipherable; while, as to the above, fancy my chagrin and disappointment as I turned the paper over, then back, and scanned the crabbed shorthand-like characters over and over again, but only to grow more and more confused, for I could make no sense of it whatever. Even if the upper and lower lines had been plain, I am afraid that I should have been no wiser. Certainly I had gone through a long study of the Eastern languages, and this bore a strong resemblance to some of the characters; but what it meant, I had no more idea than a babe.

I remained by the lamp, puzzling over that scrap of paper till my brain began to swim; and at last, wearied out, and in utter despair, I went back to my couch and threw myself down, to lie and think. And all the time I knew that this might be a message bidding me be quite ready, for an effort was to be made, perhaps that very night, to rescue me and restore me to my friends.

That it must be something of the kind, I had no doubt; but how foolish it seemed to be of Brace to trust another to write his