Historical fiction; India -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Thugs (Indic criminal group) -- Fiction
By dawn the next morning I was with Cheetoo. The sahoukars had
collected the whole of the money, by subscriptions among themselves
and collections from the town; and the whole was distributed fairly,
I must say, among the Pindharees. Each duffadar bore away the share
of his duffa, and they knew too well the risk they would run if they
defrauded any man of his just due. A few hours elapsed, and after a
hurried meal, every man was on his horse, and the Lubhur departed to
seek fresh plunder in the country before them. Yet before he set out,
Cheetoo promised, in consequence of the ready payment of the sum he
received, that in every future expedition he might undertake, the town
of Oomraotee should be exempted from contributions; and he kept his
word. Oomraotee was never again plundered, and a large body of troops,
which were stationed there afterwards, effectually deterred small and
straggling parties from surprising it as we had done.
Onwards we dashed; I, at the head of my band, who had now implicit
confidence in me, caracoled along on my gallant horse, with a heart as
light and happy as the unlimited freedom of action I possessed could
make it. No thought of care intruded, and I was spared the pain of
seeing the villages we passed through (from each of which we levied at
much as we could, which was instantly laden on the Shootur camels that
accompanied us,) burned or plundered, and the inoffensive inhabitants
subjected to the cruel tortures of the men in the rear, who were often
disappointed of booty.
We halted at Karinjah; a few soldiers who were in the town made a
feeble defence, and wounded a few of my men as we rushed into the
place; but they were soon killed or dispersed; and, as a warning to
other villages, it was given up to sack and ruin. I could never bear
the sight of wanton cruelty, and I repaired to my place in the camp:
shortly afterwards I could see, from the bright blaze which rose from
different parts of the village almost simultaneously against the clear
gray evening sky, that it was doomed to destruction. Rapidly the fire
spread, while the shouts of the Pindharees engaged in their horrid
work, and the screams of the inhabitants--those of the women were
fearfully shrill and distinct--made a fit accompaniment. But it was
a work in which the Pindharees delighted; order, which never existed
save when there was no excitement, was completely at an end, and any
attempt to have checked the mad riot which was going on would have been
attended most likely with death to the interferer. My own Thugs, too,
sat around me, for a Thug is not savage, and they had no inclination to
join in the excesses.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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