Begumbagh: A Tale of the Indian MutinyFenn, George Manville
History
Begumbagh: A Tale of the Indian Mutiny
Fenn, George Manville
British -- India -- Fiction; India -- History -- Fiction; India -- History -- Sepoy Rebellion, 1857-1858 -- Fiction
Now came again the shape of something round swimming up against me, and
as it struck my side, I beat at it savagely, though I smiled at my
foolish fear the next moment, for it was one of the brandy-kegs washed
out of the boat. But horror still seemed to hold me, as I waded on
farther and farther, till once more the water began to deepen, and the
ooze at the bottom grew softer; so I stopped, listening to the heavy
rushing of water in front, where the drainage escaped, and washed
heavily down, deepening the tunnel at the foot of the doors; while in
that hollow, cavernous place, growing smaller moment by moment, the
rushing sound was something hideous. Danger in front, for the great
gates might at any time be opened; and danger behind, where the tide was
coming in ceaselessly, and deepening the water around me with its
regular beating throb, minute by minute. Thoughts of the past and
present seemed to surge through my brain, so that I grew bewildered, and
had any chance of escape presented itself I could not have seized it,
though I could not but tell myself that escape was impossible. A few
minutes--ten, twenty, thirty perhaps, and the black darkness seemed to
be growing blacker.
"I must be free," I muttered; and dragging Hodson's handkerchief from
his neck, I bound it to my own, and then making them fast beneath his
arms, felt among the woodwork till I could find a place where I could
pass them through, so that I could secure him from slipping down, or
being swept away by the ebbing and flowing of the water.
I was not long in finding a place; but then the handkerchiefs were not
long enough, and I had to add one from my pocket; then I left the poor
fellow quite insensible and half-hanging from one of the timbers. And
now I waded about, searching for the mouth of the air-pipe, in the hope
of shouting up it for succour, since I felt convinced that the tide
would effectually fill the tunnel, while the very thought of the gates
being opened half-maddened me; and heedless now of who might hear me, so
that they brought succour, I hunted aimlessly about, yelling and
shrieking for aid.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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