The Tiger of Mysore Part 23

Unfortunately, in the confusion but three companies had followed him.

The rest of the regiment and three companies of Sepoys crossed lower down, and gained possession of a palace on the bank of the river. The officer in command, however, not knowing that any others had crossed, and receiving no orders, waited until day began to break. He then recrossed the river and joined Lord Cornwallis, a portion of whose column, having been reinforced by Maxwell's column, crossed the river nearly opposite the town.

As they were crossing, a battery of the enemy's artillery opened a heavy fire upon them; but Colonel Knox, with his three companies, charged it in the rear, drove out the defenders, and silenced the guns.

All this time Lord Cornwallis was with the reserve of the central column, eagerly waiting the arrival of General Meadows' division.

This, in some unaccountable way, had missed the gap in the hedge by which the centre column had entered, and, marching on, halted at last at Carrygut Hill, where it was not discovered until daylight.

The Mysore army on its left was still unbroken, and had been joined by large numbers of troops from the centre. On discovering the smallness of the force under Lord Cornwallis, they attacked it in overwhelming numbers, led by Tippoo himself. The British infantry advanced to meet them with the bayonet, and drove them back with heavy loss. They rallied, and returned to the attack again and again, but were as often repulsed; continuing their attacks, however, until daylight, when Lord Cornwallis, discovering at last the position of General Meadows, joined him on Carrygut Hill.

When day broke, the commanders of the two armies were able to estimate the results of the night's operations. On the English side, the only positions gained were the works on Carrygut Hill, the redoubt at the northwest corner of the hedge, another redoubt captured by the centre column, and the positions occupied by the force under Colonels Stuart and Knox, at the eastern end of the island.

The sultan found that his army was much reduced in strength, no less than twenty-three thousand men being killed, wounded, or missing. Of these, the missing were vastly the most numerous, for ten thousand Chelahs, young Hindoos whom Tippoo had carried off in his raids, and forced to become soldiers, and, nominally, Mohammedans, had taken advantage of the confusion, and marched away with their arms to the Forest of Coorg.

Tippoo made several determined efforts to drive Colonel Stuart's force off the island, and to recapture the redoubts, but was repulsed with such heavy loss that he abandoned the attempt altogether, evacuated the other redoubts, and brought his whole army across on to the island.

Tippoo now attempted to negotiate. He had already done so a month before, but Lord Cornwallis had refused to accept his advances, saying that negotiation was useless, with one who disregarded treaties and violated articles of capitulation.

"Send hither," he wrote, "the garrison of Coimbatoor, and then we will listen to what you have to say."

Lord Cornwallis alluded to the small body of troops who, under Lieutenants Chalmers and Nash, had bravely defended that town when it had been attacked by one of Tippoo's generals. The gallant little garrison had surrendered at last, on the condition that they should be allowed to march freely away. This condition had been violated by Tippoo, and the garrison had been marched, as prisoners, to Seringapatam. The two officers had been kept in the fort, but most of the soldiers, and twenty-seven other European captives who had lately been brought in from the hill forts, were lodged in the village that Colonel Knox had first occupied, on crossing the river, and had all been released by him. Some of these had been in Tippoo's hands for many years, and their joy at their unexpected release was unspeakable.

Preparations were now made for the siege. General Abercrombie was ordered up, with a force of six thousand men, but before his arrival, Lieutenant Chalmers was sent in with a letter from Tippoo, asking for terms of capitulation. Negotiations were indeed entered into, but, doubting Tippoo's good faith, the preparations for the siege were continued; and upon the arrival of General Abercrombie's force, on the 15th of February, siege operations were commenced at the end of the island still in British possession.

A few days afterwards, the army was astounded at hearing that the conditions had been agreed upon, and that hostilities were to cease at once. So great was the indignation, indeed, that a spirit of insubordination, and almost mutiny, was evinced by many of the corps.

They had suffered extreme hards.h.i.+ps, had been engaged in most arduous marches, had been decimated by fever and bad food, and they could scarce believe their ears when they heard that they were to hold their hands, now that, after a year's campaigning, Seringapatam was at their mercy; and that the man who had butchered so many hundred English captives, who had wasted whole provinces and carried half a million people into captivity, who had been guilty of the grossest treachery, and whose word was absolutely worthless, was to escape personal punishment.

Still higher did the indignation rise, both among officers and men, when the conditions of the treaty became known, and it was discovered that no stipulation whatever had been made for the handing over of the English prisoners still in Mysore, previous to a cessation of hostilities. This condition, at least, should have been insisted upon, and carried out previous to any negotiations being entered upon.

The reasons that induced Lord Cornwallis to make this treaty, when Seringapatam lay at his mercy, have ever been a mystery. Tippoo had proved himself a monster unfitted to live, much less to rule, and the crimes he had committed against the English should have been punished by the public trial and execution of their author. To conclude peace with him, now, was to enable him to make fresh preparations for war, and to necessitate another expedition at enormous cost and great loss of life. Tippoo had already proved that he was not to be bound either by treaties or oaths. And, lastly, it would have been thought that, as a general, Lord Cornwallis would have wished his name to go down to posterity in connection with the conquest of Mysore, and the capture of Seringapatam, rather than with the memorable surrender of York Town, the greatest disaster that ever befell a British army.

The conditions were, in themselves, onerous, and had they been imposed upon any other than a brutal and faithless tyrant, might have been deemed sufficient. Tippoo was deprived of half his dominions, which were to be divided among the allies, each taking the portions adjacent to their territory. A sum of 3,300,000 pounds was to be paid for the expenses of the war. All prisoners of the allied powers were to be restored.

Two of Tippoo's sons were to be given up as hostages. Even after they had been handed over, there were considerable delays before Tippoo's signature was obtained, and it was not until Lord Cornwallis threatened to resume hostilities that, on the 18th of March, a treaty was finally sealed. Of the ceded territory the Mahrattis and the Nizam each took a third as their share, although the a.s.sistance they had rendered in the struggle had been but of comparatively slight utility.

It may, indeed, be almost said that it was given to them as a reward for not accepting the offers Tippoo had made them, of joining with him against the British.

The British share included a large part of the Malabar coast, with the forts of Calicut and Cananore, and the territory of our ally, the Rajah of Coorg. These cessions gave us the pa.s.ses leading into Mysore from the west. On the south we gained possession of the fort of Dindegul, and the districts surrounding it; while on the east we acquired the tract from Amboor to Caroor, and so obtained possession of several important fortresses, together with the chief pa.s.ses by which Hyder had made his incursions into the Carnatic.

d.i.c.k felt deeply the absence of any proviso, in the treaty, that all prisoners should be restored previous to a cessation of hostilities; at the same time admitting the argument of his uncle that, although under such an agreement some prisoners might be released, there was no means of insuring that the stipulation would be faithfully carried out.

"You see, d.i.c.k, no one knows, or has indeed the faintest idea, what prisoners Tippoo still has in his hands. We do not know how many have been murdered during the years Tippoo has reigned. Men who have escaped have, from time to time, brought down news of murders in the places where they had been confined, but they have known little of what has happened elsewhere. Moreover, we have learned that certainly fifty or sixty were put to death, at Seringapatam, before we advanced upon it the first time. We know, too, that some were murdered in the hill forts that we have captured. But how many remain alive, at the present time, we have not the slightest idea. Tippoo might hand over a dozen, and take a solemn oath that there was not one remaining; and though we might feel perfectly certain that he was lying, we should be in no position to prove it.

"The stipulation ought to have been made, if only as a matter of honour, but it would have been of no real efficiency. Of course, if we had dethroned Tippoo and annexed all his territory, we should undoubtedly have got at all the prisoners, wherever they were hidden.

But we could hardly have done that. It would have aroused the jealousy and fear of every native prince in India. It would have united the Nizam and the Mahrattis against us, and would even have been disapproved of in England, where public opinion is adverse to further acquisitions of territory, and where people are, of course, altogether ignorant of the monstrous cruelties perpetrated by Tippoo, not only upon English captives, but upon his neighbours everywhere.

"Naturally, I am prejudiced in favour of this treaty, for the handing over of the country from Amboor to Caroor, with all the pa.s.ses and forts, will set us free at Tripataly from the danger of being again overrun and devastated by Mysore. My people will be able to go about their work peacefully and in security, free alike from fear of wholesale invasion, or incursions of robber bands from the ghauts. All my waste lands will be taken up. My revenue will be trebled.

"There is another thing. Now that the English possess territory beyond that of the Nabob of Arcot, and are gradually spreading their power north, there can be little doubt that, before long, the whole country of Arcot, Travancore, Tanjore, and other small native powers will be incorporated in their dominions. Arcot is powerless for defence, and while, during the last two wars, it has been nominally an ally of the English, the Nabob has been able to give them no real a.s.sistance whatever, and the burden of his territory has fallen on them. They took the first step when, at the beginning of the present war, they arranged with him to utilise all the resources and collect the revenues of his possessions, and to allow him an annual income for the maintenance of his state and family. This is clearly the first step towards taking the territory into their own hands, and managing its revenues, and the same will be done in other cases.

"Lord Cornwallis the other day, in thanking me for the services that you and I and the troop have rendered, promised me that an early arrangement should be made, by which I should rule Tripataly under the government of Madras, instead of under the Nabob. This, you see, will be virtually a step in rank, and I shall hold my land direct from the English, instead of from a prince who has become, in fact, a puppet in their hands."

A few days later, the army set off on its march from Mysore, and the same day the Rajah, after making his adieus to Lord Cornwallis, started with his troop for Tripataly, making his way by long marches, instead of following the slow progress of the army. After a couple of days at Tripataly, they went down to Madras, and brought back the Rajah's household.

The meeting between d.i.c.k and his mother was one of mixed feeling. It was twenty months since the former had left with his uncle, and he was now nearly eighteen. He had written whenever there was an opportunity of sending any letters; and although his position as interpreter on the staff of the general had relieved her from any great anxiety on his account, she was glad, indeed, to see him again.

Upon the other hand, the fact that, as the war went on, and fortress after fortress had been captured, no news came to her that her hopes had been realised; and that the war had now come to a termination, without the mystery that hung over her husband being in any way cleared up, had profoundly depressed Mrs. Holland, and it was with mingled tears of pleasure and sorrow that she fell on his neck on his return to Madras.

"You must not give way, Mother," d.i.c.k said, as she sobbed out her fears that all hope was at an end. "Remember that you have never doubted he was alive, and that you have always said you would know if any evil fate had befallen him; and I have always felt confident that you were right. There is nothing changed. I certainly have not succeeded in finding him, but we have found many prisoners in some of the little out-of-the-way forts. Now, some of them have been captives quite as long as he has; therefore there is no reason, whatever, why he should not also be alive. I have no thought of giving up the search as hopeless. I mean to carry out our old plans; and certainly I am much better fitted to do so than I was when I first landed here. I know a great deal about Mysore, and although I don't say I speak the dialect like a native, I have learnt a good deal of it, and can speak it quite as well as the natives of the ghauts and outlying provinces.

Surajah, who is a great friend of mine, has told me that if I go he will go too, and that will be a tremendous help. Anyhow, as long as you continue to believe firmly that Father is still alive, I mean to continue the search for him."

"I do believe that he is alive, d.i.c.k, as firmly as ever. I have not lost hope in that respect. It is only that I doubt now whether he will ever be found."

"Well, that is my business, Mother. As long as you continue to believe that he is still alive, I shall continue to search for him. I have no other object in life, at present. It will be quite soon enough for me to think of taking up the commission I have been promised, when you tell me that your feeling that he is alive has been shaken."

Mrs. Holland was comforted by d.i.c.k's a.s.surance and confident tone, and, putting the thought aside for a time, gave herself up to the pleasure of his return. They had found everything at Tripataly as they had left it, for the Mysore hors.e.m.e.n had not penetrated so far north, before Tippoo turned his course east to Pondicherry. The people had, months before, returned to their homes and avocations.

One evening the Rajah said, as they were all sitting together:

"I hear from my wife, d.i.c.k, that your mother has told her you still intend to carry out your original project."

"Yes, Uncle. I have quite made up my mind as to that. There are still plenty of places where he may be, and certainly I am a good deal more fitted for travelling about in disguise, in Mysore, than I was before."

The Rajah nodded.

"Yes. I think, d.i.c.k, you are as capable of taking care of yourself as anyone could be. I hear that Surajah is willing to go with you, and this will certainly be a great advantage. He has proved himself thoroughly intelligent and trustworthy, and I have promised him that someday he shall be captain of the troop. You are not thinking of starting just yet, I suppose?"

"No, Uncle. I thought of staying another month or two, before I go off again. Mother says she cannot let me go before that."

"I fancy it will take you longer than that, d.i.c.k, before you can pa.s.s as a native."

d.i.c.k looked surprised.

"Why, Uncle, I did pa.s.s as a native, eighteen months ago."

"Yes, you did, d.i.c.k; but for how long? You went into shops, bought things, chatted for a short time with natives, and so on; but that is not like living among them. You would be found out before you had been a single day in the company of a native."

d.i.c.k looked still more surprised.

"How, Uncle? What do I do that they would know me by."

"It is not what you do, d.i.c.k, but it is what you don't do. You can't sit on your heels--squat, as you call it. That is the habitual att.i.tude of every native. He squats while he cooks. He squats for hours by the fire, smoking and talking. He never stands for any length of time and, except upon a divan or something of that sort, he never sits down. Before you can go and live among the natives, and pa.s.s as one for any length of time, you must learn to squat as they do, for hours at a stretch; and I can tell you that it is not by any means an easy accomplishment to learn. I myself have quite lost the power. I used to be able to do it, as a boy, but from always sitting on divans or chairs in European fas.h.i.+on, I have got out of the way of it, and I don't think I could squat for a quarter of an hour, to save my life."

d.i.c.k's mother and cousins laughed heartily, but he said, seriously, "You are quite right, Uncle. I wonder I never thought of it before. It was stupid of me not to do so. Of course, when I have been talking with Surajah or other officers, by a camp fire, I have sat on the ground; but I see that it would never do, in native dress. I will begin at once."

"Wait a moment, d.i.c.k," the Rajah said. "There are other things which you will have to practise. You may have to move in several disguises, and must learn to comport yourself in accordance with them. You must remember that your motions are quicker and more energetic than are those of people here. Your walk is different; the swing of the arms, your carriage, are all different from theirs. You are unaccustomed to walk either barefooted or in native shoes. Now, all these things have to be practised before you can really pa.s.s muster. Therefore I propose that you shall at once accustom yourself to the attire, which you can do in our apartments of an evening. The ranee and the boys will be able to correct your first awkwardness, and to teach you much.

"After a week or two, you must stain your face, arms, and legs, and go out with Rajbullub in the evening. You must keep your eyes open, and watch everything that pa.s.ses, and do as you see others do. When Rajbullub thinks that you can pa.s.s muster, you will take to going out with him in the daylight, and so you will come, in time, to reach a point that it will be safe for you to begin your attempt.

"Do not watch only the peasants. There is no saying that it may not be necessary to take to other disguises. Observe the traders, the soldiers, and even the fakirs. You will see that they walk each with a different mien. The trader is slow and sober. The man who wears a sword walks with a certain swagger. The fakir is everything by turns; he whines, and threatens; he sometimes mumbles his prayers, and sometimes shrieks at the top of his voice.