Rujub, the Juggler

“So far so good, ladies,” the Major said cheerily, as the garrison, leaving one man on watch, descended from the roof. “We have had no casualties, and I think we must have inflicted a good many, and the mutineers are not likely to try that game on again, for they must see that they are wasting ammunition, and are doing us no harm. Now I hope the servants have got tiffin ready for us, for I am sure we have all excellent appetites.”

“Tiffin is quite ready, Major,” Mrs. Doolan, who had been appointed chief of the commissariat department, said cheerfully. “The servants were a little disorganized when the firing began, but they soon became accustomed to it, and I think you will find everything in order in the hall.”

The meal was really a cheerful one. The fact that the first attack had passed over without anyone being hit raised the spirits of the women, and all were disposed to look at matters in a cheerful light. The two young subalterns were in high spirits, and the party were more lively than they had been since the first outbreak of the mutiny. All had felt severely the strain of waiting, and the reality of danger was a positive relief after the continuous suspense. It was much to them to know that the crisis had come at last, that they were still all together and the foe were without.

“It is difficult to believe,” Mrs. Doolan said, “that it was only yesterday evening we were all gathered at the Major’s. It seems an age since then.”

“Yes, indeed,” Mrs. Rintoul agreed; “the night seemed endless. The worst time was the waiting till we were to begin to move over. After that I did not so much mind, though it seemed more like a week than a night while the things were being brought in here.”

“I think the worse time was while we were waiting watching from the roof to see whether the troops would come out on parade as usual,” Isobel said. “When my uncle and the others were all in, and Captain Forster, and the gates were shut, it seemed that our anxieties were over.”

“That was a mad charge of yours, Forster,” the Major said. “It was like the Balaclava business—magnificent; but it wasn’t war.”

“I did not think of it one way or the other,” Captain Forster laughed. “I was so furious at the insolence off those dogs attacking me, that I thought of nothing else, and just went at them; but of course it was foolish.”

“It did good,” the Doctor said. “It showed the Sepoys how little we thought of them, and how a single white officer was ready to match himself against a squadron. It will render them a good deal more careful in their attack than they otherwise would have been. It brought them under our fire, too, and they suffered pretty heavily; and I am sure the infantry must have lost a good many men from our fire just now. I hope they will come to the conclusion that the wisest thing they can do is to march away to Delhi and leave us severely alone. Now what are your orders, Major, for after breakfast?”

“I think the best thing is for everyone to lie down for a few hours,” the Major said. “No one had a wink of sleep last night, and most of us have not slept much for some nights past. We must always keep two men on the roof, to be relieved every two hours. I will draw up a regular rota for duty; but except those two, the rest had better take a good sleep. We may be all called upon to be under arms at night.”

“I will go on the first relief, Major,” the Doctor said. “I feel particularly wide awake. It is nothing new to me to be up all night. Put Bathurst down with me,” he said, in a low tone, as the Major rose from the table. “He knows that I understand him, and it will be less painful for him to be with me than with anyone else. I will go up at once, and send young Harper down to his breakfast. There will be no occasion to have Bathurst up this time. The Sepoys are not likely to be trying any pranks at present. No doubt they have gone back to their lines to get a meal.”

The Doctor had not been long at his post when Isobel Hannay came up onto the terrace. They had seen each other alone comparatively little of late, as the Doctor had given up his habit of dropping in for a chat in the morning since their conversation about Bathurst.

“Well, my dear, what is it?” he asked. “This is no place for you, for there are a few fellows still lurking among the trees, and they send a shot over the house occasionally.”

“I came up to say that I am sorry, Doctor.”

“That is right, Isobel. Always say you are sorry when you are so, although in nine cases out of ten, and this is one of them, the saying so is too late to do much good.”

“I think you are rather hard upon me, Doctor. I know you were speaking at me today when you were talking to the others, especially in what you said at the end.”

“Perhaps I was; but I think you quite deserved it.”

“Yes, I know I did; but it was hard to tell me it was as contemptible to despise a man for a physical weakness he could not help, as to despise one for being born humpbacked or a cripple, when you know that my brother was so.”

“I wanted you to feel that your conduct had been contemptible, Isobel, and I put it in the way that was most likely to come home to you. I have been disappointed in you. I thought you were more sensible than the run of young women, and I found out that you were not. I thought you had some confidence in my judgment, but it turned out that you had not. If Bathurst had been killed when he was standing up, a target for the Sepoys, I should have held you morally responsible for his death.”

“You would have shared the responsibility, anyhow, Doctor, for it was you who repeated my words to him.”

“We will not go over that ground again,” said the Doctor quietly. “I gave you my reasons for doing so, and those reasons are to my mind convincing. Now I will tell you how this constitutional nervousness on his part arose. He told me the story; but as at that time there had been no occasion for him to show whether he was brave or otherwise, I considered my lips sealed. Now that his weakness has been exhibited, I consider myself more than justified in explaining its origin.”

And he then repeated the story Bathurst had told him.

“You see,” he said, when he had finished, “it is a constitutional matter beyond his control; it is a sort of antipathy. I have known a case of a woman courageous in all other respects, who, at the sight of even a dead cockroach, would faint away. I have seen one of the most gallant officers of my acquaintance turn pale at the sight of a spider. Certainly no one would think of calling either one or the other coward; and assuredly such a name should not be applied to a man who would face a tiger armed only with a whip in defense of a native woman, because his nerves go all to pieces at the sound of firearms.”

“If you had told me all this before I should never have spoken as I did,” Isobel pleaded.

“I did not go into the full details, but I told you that he was not responsible for his want of firmness under fire, and that I knew him in other respects to be a brave man,” the Doctor said uncompromisingly. “Since then you have by your manner driven him away from you. You have flirted—well, you may not call it flirting,” he broke off in answer to a gesture of denial, “but it was the same thing—with a man who is undoubtedly a gallant soldier—a very paladin, if you like—but who, in spite of his handsome face and pleasant manner, is no more to be compared with Bathurst in point of moral qualities or mental ability than light to dark, and this after I had like an old fool gone out of my way to warn you. You have disappointed me altogether, Isobel Hannay.”

Isobel stood motionless before him, with downcast eyes.

“Well, there, my dear,” the Doctor went on hurriedly, as he saw a tear glisten in her eyelashes; “don’t let us say anything more about it. In the first place, it is no affair of mine; and in the second place, your point of view was that most women would take at a time like this; only, you know, I expected you would not have done just as other women would. We cannot afford to quarrel now, for there is no doubt that, although we may put a good face on the matter, our position is one of grave peril, and it is of no use troubling over trifles. Now run away, and get a few hours’ sleep if you can. You will want all your strength before we are through with this business.”

While the Doctor had been talking to Isobel, the men had gathered below in a sort of informal council, the subject being Bathurst’s conduct on the roof.

“I would not have believed it if I had not seen it,” Captain Rintoul said. “The man was absolutely helpless with fright; I never saw such an exhibition; and then his fainting afterwards and having to be carried away was disgusting; in fact, it is worse than that.”

There was a general murmur of assent.

“It is disgraceful,” one of the civilians said; “I am ashamed that the man should belong to our service; the idea of a fellow being helpless by fright when there are women and children to be defended—it is downright revolting.”

“Well, he did go and stick himself up in front,” Wilson said; “you should remember that. He may have been in a blue funk, I don’t say he wasn’t; still, you know, he didn’t go away and try to hide himself, but he stuck himself up in front for them to fire at. I think we ought to take that into consideration.”

“Dr. Wade says Bathurst put himself there to try and accustom himself to fire,” Captain Forster said. “Mind, I don’t pretend to like the man. We were at school together, and he was a coward then and a sneak, but for all that one should look at it fairly. The Doctor asserts that Bathurst is morally brave, but that somehow or other his nerves are too much for him. I don’t pretend to understand it myself, but there is no doubt about the Doctor’s pluck, and I don’t think he would stand up for Bathurst as he does unless he really thought he was not altogether accountable for showing the white feather. I think, too, from what he let drop, that the Major is to some extent of the same opinion. What do you think, Doolan?”

“I like Bathurst,” Captain Doolan said; “I have always thought him a first rate fellow; but one can’t stick up, you know, for a fellow who can’t behave as a gentleman ought to, especially when there are women and children in danger.”

“It. is quite impossible that we should associate with him,” Captain Rintoul said. “I don’t propose that we should tell him what we think of him, but I think we ought to leave him severely alone.”

“I should say that he ought to be sent to Coventry,” Richards said.

“I should not put it in that way,” Mr. Hunter said gravely. “I have always esteemed Bathurst. I look upon it as a terribly sad case; but I agree with Captain Rintoul that, in the position in which we are now placed, a man who proves himself to be a coward must be made to feel that he stands apart from us. I should not call it sending him to Coventry, or anything of that sort, but I do think that we should express by our manner that we don’t wish to have any communication with him.”

There was a general expression of assent to this opinion, Wilson alone protesting against it.

“You can do as you like,” he said; “but certainly I shall speak to Bathurst, and I am sure the Doctor and Major Hannay will do so. I don’t want to stand up for a coward, but I believe what the Doctor says. I have seen a good deal of Bathurst, and I like him; besides, haven’t you heard the story the Doctor has been telling about his attacking a tiger with a whip to save a native woman? I don’t care what anyone says, a fellow who is a downright coward couldn’t do a thing like that.”

“Who told the Doctor about it?” Farquharson asked. “If he got it from Bathurst, I don’t think it goes for much after what we have seen.”

Wilson would have replied angrily, but Captain Doolan put his hand on his shoulder.

“Shut up, Wilson,” he said; “this is no time for disputes; we are all in one boat here, and must row together like brothers. You go your own way about Bathurst, I don’t blame you for it; he is a man everyone has liked, a first rate official, and a good fellow all round, except he is not one of the sociable kind. At any other time one would not think so much of this, but at present for a man to lack courage is for him to lack everything. I hope he will come better out of it than it looks at present. He will have plenty of chances here, and no one will be more glad than I shall to see him pull himself together.”

The Doctor, however, would have quarreled with everyone all round when he heard what had been decided upon, had not Major Hannay taken him aside and talked to him strongly.

“It will never do, Doctor, to have quarrels here, and as commandant I must beg of you not to make this a personal matter. I am very sorry for this poor fellow; I accept entirely your view of the matter; but at the same time I really can’t blame the others for looking at it from a matter of fact point of view. Want of courage is at all times regarded by men as the most unpardonable of failings, and at a time like the present this feeling is naturally far stronger even than usual. I hope with you that Bathurst will retrieve himself yet, but we shall certainly do him no good by trying to fight his battle until he does. You and I, thinking as we do, will of course make no alteration in our manner towards him. I am glad to hear that young Wilson also stands as his friend. Let matters go on quietly. I believe they will come right in the end.”

The Doctor was obliged to acknowledge that the Major’s counsel was wise, and to refrain from either argument or sarcasm; but the effort required to check his natural tendency to wordy conflict was almost too great for him, and when not engaged in his own special duties he spent hours in one of the angles of the terrace keenly watching every tree and bush within range, and firing vengefully whenever he caught sight of a lurking native. So accurate was his aim that the Sepoys soon learned to know and dread the crack of his rifle; and whenever it spoke out the ground within its range was speedily clear of foes.

The matter, however, caused a deep if temporary estrangement between Wilson and Richards. Although constantly chaffing each other, and engaged in verbal strife, they had hitherto been firm friends. Their rivalry in the matter of horseflesh had not aroused angry feelings, even their mutual adoration of Isobel Hannay had not affected a breach in their friendship; but upon the subject of sending Bathurst to Coventry they quarreled so hotly, that for a time they broke off all communication with each other, and both in their hearts regretted that their schoolboy days had passed, and that they could not settle the matter in good schoolboy fashion.

CHAPTER XIV

But though obliged to defer to Major Hannay’s wishes, and to abstain from arguing with the men the question of Bathurst being given the cold shoulder, Dr. Wade had already organized the ladies in his favor. During the afternoon he had told them the tiger story, and had confidentially informed them how it was that Bathurst from his birth had been the victim of something like nervous paralysis at all loud sounds, especially those of the discharge of firearms.

“His conduct today,” he said, “and his courage in rescuing that native girl from the tiger, illustrate his character. He is cool, brave, and determined, as might be expected from a man of so well balanced a mind as his; and even when his nerves utterly broke down under the din of musketry, his will was so far dominant that he forced himself to go forward and stand there under fire, an act which was, under the circumstances, simply heroic.”

There is little difficulty in persuading women as to the merits of a man they like, and Bathurst had, since the troubles began, been much more appreciated than before by the ladies of Deennugghur. They had felt there was something strengthening and cheering in his presence, for while not attempting to minimize the danger, there was a calm confidence in his manner that comforted and reassured those he talked to.

In the last twenty-four hours, too, he had unobtrusively performed many little kindnesses; had aided in the removals, carried the children, looked after the servants, and had been foremost in the arrangement of everything that could add to the comfort of the ladies.

“I am glad you have told us all about it, Doctor,” Mrs. Doolan said; “and, of course, no one would dream of blaming him. I had heard that story about his leaving the army years ago; but although I had only seen him once or twice, I did not believe it for a minute. What you tell us now, Doctor, explains the whole matter. I pity him sincerely. It must be something awful for a man at a time like this not to be able to take his part in the defense, especially when there are us women here. Why, it would pain me less to see Jim brought in dead, than for him to show the white feather. What can we do for the poor fellow?”

“Treat him just as usual. There is nothing else you can do, Mrs. Doolan. Any tone of sympathy, still less of pity, would be the worst thing possible. He is in the lowest depths at present; but if he finds by your tone and manner that you regard him on the same footing as before, he will gradually come round, and I hope that before the end of the siege he will have opportunities of retrieving himself. Not under fire—that is hopeless; but in other ways.”

“You may be sure we will do all we can, Doctor,” Mrs. Doolan said warmly; “and there are plenty of ways he will be able to make himself most useful. There is somebody wanted to look after all those syces and servants, and it would be a comfort to us to have someone to talk to occasionally; besides, all the children are fond of him.”

This sentiment was warmly echoed; and thus, when the determination at which the men had arrived to cut Bathurst became known, there was something like a feminine revolution.

“You may do as you like,” Mrs. Doolan said indignantly; “but if you think that we are going to do anything so cruel and unjust, you are entirely mistaken, I can tell you.”

Mrs. Rintoul was equally emphatic, and Mrs. Hunter quietly, but with as much decision, protested. “I have always regarded Mr. Bathurst as a friend,” she said, “and I shall continue to do so. It is very sad for him that he cannot take part in the defense, but it is no more fair to blame him than it would be to blame us, because we, too, are noncombatants.”

Isobel Hannay had taken no part in the first discussion among the ladies, nor did she say anything now.

“It is cruel and unjust,” she said to herself, “but they only think as I did. I was more cruel and unjust than they, for there was no talk of danger then. I expressed my contempt of him because there was a suspicion that he had showed cowardice ten years ago, while they have seen it shown now when there is fearful peril. If they are cruel and unjust, what was I?”

Later on the men gathered together at one end of the room, and talked over the situation.

“Dr. Wade,” the Major said quietly, “I shall be obliged if you will go and ask Mr. Bathurst to join us. He knows the people round here better than any of us, and his opinion will be valuable.”

The Doctor, who had several times been in to see Bathurst, went to his room.

“The Major wants you to join us, Bathurst; we are having a talk over things, and he wishes to have your opinion. I had better tell you that as to yourself the camp is divided into two parties. On one side are the Major, Wilson, and myself, and all the ladies, who take, I need not say, a common sense view of the matter, and recognize that you have done all a man could do to overcome your constitutional nervousness, and that there is no discredit whatever attached to you personally. The rest of the men, I am sorry to say, at present take another view of the case, and are disposed to show you the cold shoulder.”

“That, of course,” Bathurst said quietly; “as to the ladies’ view of it, I know that it is only the result of your good offices, Doctor.”

“Then you will come,” the Doctor said, pleased that Bathurst seemed less depressed than he had expected.

“Certainly I will come, Doctor,” Bathurst said, rising; “the worst is over now—everyone knows that I am a coward—that is what I have dreaded. There is nothing else for me to be afraid of, and it is of no use hiding myself.”

“We look quite at home here, Mr. Bathurst, don’t we?” Mrs. Doolan said cheerfully, as he passed her; “and I think we all feel a great deal more comfortable than we did when you gave us your warning last night; the anticipation is always worse than the reality.”

“Not always, I think, Mrs. Doolan,” he said quietly; “but you have certainly made yourselves wonderfully at home, though your sewing is of a more practical kind than that upon which you are ordinarily engaged.”

Then he passed on with the Doctor to the other end of the room. The Major nodded as he came up.

“All right again now, Bathurst, I hope? We want your opinion, for you know, I think, more of the Zemindars in this part of the country than any of us. Of course, the question is, will they take part against us?”

“I am afraid they will, Major. I had hoped otherwise; but if it be true that the Nana has gone—and as the other part of the message was correct, I have no doubt this is so also—I am afraid they will be carried away with the stream.”

“And you think they have guns?”

“I have not the least doubt of it; the number given up was a mere fraction of those they were said to have possessed.”

“I had hoped the troops would have marched away after the lesson we gave them this morning, but, so far as we can make out, there is no sign of movement in their lines. However, they may start at daybreak tomorrow.”

“I will go out to see if you like, Major,” Bathurst said quietly. “I can get native clothes from the servants, and I speak the language well enough to pass as a native; so if you give me permission I will go out to the lines and learn what their intentions are.”

“It would be a very dangerous undertaking,” the Major said gravely.

“I have no fear whatever of danger of that kind, Major; my nerves are steady enough, except when there is a noise of firearms, and then, as you all saw this morning, I cannot control them, do what I will. Risks of any other kind I am quite prepared to undertake, but in this matter I think the danger is very slight, the only difficulty being to get through the line of sentries they have no doubt posted round the house. Once past them, I think there is practically no risk whatever of their recognizing me when made up as a native. The Doctor has, no doubt, got some iodine in his surgery, and a coat of that will bring me to the right color.”

“Well, if you are ready to undertake it, I will not refuse,” the Major said. “How would you propose to get out?”

“I noticed yesterday that the branches of one of the trees in the garden extended beyond the top of the wall. I will climb up that and lower myself on the other side by a rope; that is a very simple matter. The spot is close to the edge of Mr. Hunter’s compound, and I shall work my way through the shrubbery till I feel sure I am beyond any sentries who may be posted there; the chances are that they will not be thick anywhere, except opposite the gate. By the way, Captain Forster, before I go I must thank you for having risked your life to save mine this morning. I heard from Mrs. Hunter that it was you and the Doctor who rushed forward and drew me back.”

“It is not worth talking about,” Captain Forster said carelessly. “You seemed bent on making a target of yourself; and as the Major’s orders were that everyone was to lie down, there was nothing for it but to remove you.”

Bathurst turned to Dr. Wade. “Will you superintend my get up, Doctor?”

“Certainly,” the Doctor said, with alacrity. “I will guarantee that, with the aid of my boy, I will turn you out so that no one would know you even in broad daylight, to say nothing of the dark.”

A quarter of an hour sufficed to metamorphose Bathurst into an Oude peasant. He did not return to the room, but, accompanied by the Doctor, made his way to the tree he had spoken of.

“By the way, you have taken no arms,” the Doctor said suddenly.

“They would be useless, Doctor; if I am recognized I shall be killed; if I am not discovered, and the chances are very slight of my being so, I shall get back safely. By the way, we will tie some knots on that rope before I let myself down. I used to be able to climb a rope without them, but I doubt whether I could do so now.”