Rujub, the Juggler Part 42

"Why not, Doctor? It is a dangerous mission, but no more dangerous than remaining here."

"Well, we shall see," the Doctor said, as he left the group.

Nothing was said for a few minutes, the men sitting or lying about smoking. Presently the Doctor returned.

"Bathurst refuses absolutely," he said. "He admits that he does not think there would be much difficulty for him to get through, but he is convinced that the mission would be a useless one, and that could help have been spared it would have come to us before now."

"But in that case he would have made his escape," the Major said.

"That is just why he won't go, Major; he says that come what will he will share the fate of the rest, and that he will not live to be pointed to as the one man who made his escape of the garrison of Deennugghur."

"Whom can we send?" the Major said. "You are the only other man who speaks the language well enough to pa.s.s as a native, Doctor."

"I speak it fairly, but not well enough for that; besides, I am too old to bear the fatigue of riding night and day; and, moreover, my services are wanted here both as a doctor and as a rifle shot."

"I will go, if you will send me, Major," Captain Forster said suddenly; "not in disguise, but in uniform, and on my horse's back. Of course I should run the gauntlet of their sentries. Once through, I doubt if they have a horse that could overtake mine."

There was a general silence of surprise. Forster's reckless courage was notorious, and he had been conspicuous for the manner in which he had chosen the most dangerous points during the siege; and this offer to undertake what, although a dangerous enterprise in itself, still offered a far better chance of life than that of remaining behind, surprised everyone. It had been noticed that, since the rejection of his plan to sally out in a body and cut their way through the enemy, he had been moody and silent, except only when the fire was heavy and the danger considerable; then he laughed and joked and seemed absolutely to enjoy the excitement; but he was the last man whom any of them would have expected to volunteer for a service that, dangerous as it might be, had just been refused by Bathurst on the ground that it offered a chance of escape from the common lot.

The Major was the first to speak.

"Well, Captain Forster, as we have just agreed that our only chance is to obtain aid from one of the stations, and as you are the only volunteer for the service, I do not see that I can decline to accept your offer. At which station do you think you would be most likely to find a force that could help us?"

"I should say Lucknow, Major. If help is to be obtained anywhere, I should say it was there."

"Yes, I think that is the most hopeful. You will start at once; I suppose the sooner the better."

"As soon as they are fairly asleep; say twelve o'clock."

"Very well. I will go and write a dispatch for you to carry, giving an account of the fix we are in here. How will you sally out?"

"I should think the easiest plan would be to make a gap in the sandbags in the breach, lead the horse till fairly outside, and then mount."

"I think you had better take a spare horse with you," the Doctor said; "it will make a difference if you are chased, if you can change from one to the other. Bathurst told me to say whoever went could have his horse, which is a long way the best in the station. I should fancy as good as your own."

"I don't know," Forster said; "led horses are a nuisance; still, as you say, it might come in useful, if it is only to loose and turn down a side road, and so puzzle anyone who may be after you in the dark."

The Major and Forster left the roof together.

"Well, that is a rum go," Wilson said. "If it had been anyone but Forster I should have said that he funked and was taking the opportunity to get out of it, but everyone knows that he has any amount of pluck; look how he charged those Sepoys single handed."

"There are two sorts of pluck, Wilson," the Doctor said dryly. "There is the pluck that will carry a man through a desperate action and lead him to do deeds that are the talk of an army. Forster possesses that kind of pluck in an unusual degree. He is almost an ideal cavalryman--das.h.i.+ng, reckless; riding with a smile on his lips into the thickest of the fray, absolutely careless of life when his blood is up.

"There is another sort of courage, that which supports men under long continued strain, and enables them, patiently and steadfastly, to face death when they see it approaching step by step. I doubt whether Forster possesses that pa.s.sive sort of courage. He would ride up to a cannon's mouth, but would grow impatient in a. square of infantry condemned to remain inactive under a heavy artillery fire.

"No one has changed more since this siege began than he has. Except when engaged under a heavy fire he has been either silent, or impatient and short tempered, s.h.i.+rking conversation even with women when his turn of duty was over. Mind, I don't say for a moment that I suspect him of being afraid of death; when the end came he would fight as bravely as ever, and no one could fight more bravely. But he cannot stand the waiting; he is always pulling his mustache moodily and muttering to himself; he is good to do but not to suffer; he would make a shockingly bad patient in a long illness.

"Well, if any of you have letters you want to write to friends in England I should advise you to take the opportunity; mind, I don't think they will ever get them. Forster may get through, but I consider the chances strongly against it. For a ride of ten miles through a country swarming with foes I could choose no messenger I would rather trust, but for a ride like this, that requires patience and caution and resource, he is not the man I should select. Bathurst would have succeeded almost certainly if he had once got out. The two men are as different as light to dark; one possesses just the points the other fails in. I have no one at home I want to write to, so I will undertake the watch here."

CHAPTER XVII.

The men on descending from the roof found all the ladies engaged in writing, the Major having told them that there was a chance of their letters being taken out. Scarce one looked up as they entered; their thoughts at the moment were at home with those to whom they were writing what might well be their last farewells. Stifled sobs were heard in the quiet room; mournful letters were blurred with tears even from eyes that had not before been dimmed since the siege began.

Isobel Hannay was the first to finish, for her letter to her mother was but a short one. As she closed it she looked up. Captain Forster was standing at the other side of the table with his eyes fixed on her, and he made a slight gesture to her that he wished to speak to her. She hesitated a moment, and then rose and quietly left the room. A moment later he joined her outside.

"Come outside," he said, "I must speak to you;" and together they went out through the pa.s.sage into the courtyard.

"Isobel," he began, "I need not tell you that I love you; till lately I have not known how much, but I feel now that I could not live without you."

"Why are you going away then, Captain Forster?" she asked quietly.

"I don't want to go alone," he said; "I cannot go alone--I want you to go with me. Your uncle would surely consent; it is the only chance of saving your life. We all know that it is next to hopeless that a force sufficient to rescue us can be sent; there is just a chance, but that is all that can be said. We could be married at Allahabad. I would make for that town instead of Lucknow if you will go with me, and I could leave you there in safety till these troubles are over; I am going to take another horse as well as my own, and two would be as likely to escape as one."

"Thank you for the offer, Captain Forster," she said coldly, "but I decline it. My place is here with my uncle and the others."

"Why is it?" he asked pa.s.sionately. "If you love me, your place is surely with me; and you do love me, Isobel, do you not? Surely I have not been mistaken."

Isobel was silent for a moment.

"You were mistaken, Captain Forster," she said, after a pause. "You paid me attentions such as I had heard you paid to many others, and it was pleasant. That you were serious I did not think. I believed you were simply flirting with me; that you meant no more by it than you had meant before; and being forewarned, and therefore having no fear that I should hurt myself more than you would, I entered into it in the same spirit.

Where there was so much to be anxious about, it was a pleasure and relief. Had I met you elsewhere, and under different circ.u.mstances, I think I should have come to love you. A girl almost without experience and new to the world, as I am, could hardly have helped doing so, I think. Had I thought you were in earnest I should have acted differently; and if I have deceived you by my manner I am sorry; but even had I loved you I would not have consented to do the thing you ask me. You are going on duty. You are going in the hope of obtaining aid for us. I should be simply escaping while others stay, and I should despise myself for the action. Besides; I do not think that even in that case my uncle would have consented to my going with you."

"I am sure that he would," Forster broke in. "He would never be mad enough to refuse you the chance of escape from such a fate as may now await you."

"We need not discuss the question," she said. "Even if I loved you, I would not go with you; and I do not love you."

"They have prejudiced you against me," he said angrily.

"They warned me, and they were right in doing so. Ask yourself if they were not. Would you see a sister of yours running the risk of breaking her heart without warning her? Do not be angry," she went on, putting her hand on his arm. "We have been good friends, Captain Forster, and I like you very much. We may never meet again; it is most likely we never shall do so. I am grateful to you for the many pleasant hours you have given me. Let us part thus."

"Can you not give some hope that in the distance, when these troubles are over, should we both be spared, you may--"

"No, Captain Forster, I am sure it could never be so; if we ever meet again, we will meet as we part now--as friends. And now I can stay no longer; they will be missing me," and, turning, she entered the house before he could speak again.

It was some minutes before he followed her. He had not really thought that she would go with him; perhaps he had hardly wished it, for on such an expedition a woman would necessarily add to the difficulty and danger; but he had thought that she would have told him that his love was returned, and for perhaps the first time in his life he was serious in his protestation of it.

"What does it matter?" he said at last, as he turned; "'tis ten thousand to one against our meeting again; if we do, I can take it up where it breaks off now. She has acknowledged that she would have liked me if she had been sure that I was in earnest. Next time I shall be so. She was right. I was but amusing myself with her at first, and had no more thought of marrying her than I had of flying. But there, it is no use talking about the future; the thing now is to get out of this trap. I have felt like a rat in a cage with a terrier watching me for the last month, and long to be on horseback again, with the chance of making a fight for my life. What a fool Bathurst was to throw away the chance!"

Bathurst, his work done, had looked into the hall where the others were gathered, and hearing that the Doctor was alone on watch had gone up to him.

"I was just thinking, Bathurst," the Doctor said, as he joined him, "about that fight today. It seems to me that whatever comes of this business, you and I are not likely to be among those who go down when the place is taken."

"How is that, Doctor? Why is our chance better than the rest? I have no hope myself that any will be spared."

"I put my faith in the juggler, Bathurst. Has it not struck you that the first picture you saw has come true?"