In Clive's Command: A Story of the Fight for IndiaStrang, Herbert
History
In Clive's Command: A Story of the Fight for India
Strang, Herbert
Clive, Robert Clive, Baron, 1725-1774 -- Fiction; India -- History -- British occupation, 1765-1947 -- Fiction
He stepped over the soft sand towards the trees and was lost to sight.
The bombardment had now ceased, and though he heard a confused noise from
the direction of the fort, there was no sound from the town, and he
concluded that the people had fled either into the fort or away into the
country. It appeared at present that the whole stretch of land between
the town and the fort was deserted.
He had not walked far when he was startled by hearing, as he fancied, a
stealthy footstep following him. Gripping in his right hand the pistol he
had brought as a precaution, and with the left loosening his sword in its
scabbard, he faced round with his back to the wall of a shed in which
Angria's ropes were made, and waited, listening intently. But the sound,
slight as it was, had ceased. Possibly it had been made by some animal,
though that seemed scarcely likely: the noise and the glare from the
burning buildings must surely have scared away all the animals in the
neighborhood. Finding that the sound was not repeated, he went on again.
Some minutes later, his ears on the stretch, he fancied he caught the
same soft furtive tread: but when he stopped and listened and heard
nothing, he believed that he must have been mistaken, and set it down as
an echo of his own excitement.
Stepping warily, he picked his way through the darkness, faintly
illuminated by the distant glow of the conflagration. He skirted the
dockyard, and drew nearer to the walls of the courtyard surrounding the
fort, remembering how, nearly twelve months before, he had come almost
the same way from the jetty with the decoy message from Captain Barker.
Then he had been a source of amusement to crowds of natives as he passed
on his way to the palace; now the spot was deserted, and but for the
noises that reached him from distant quarters he might have thought
himself the sole living creature in that once populous settlement.
He had now reached the outer wall, which was separated from the fort only
by the wide compound dotted here and there with palm trees. It was clear
that no force, whether of the Pirate's men or of Ramaji Punt's, held the
ground between the shore and the fort. All the fighting men had without
doubt been withdrawn within the walls. His mission was accomplished.
It had been his intention to make his way back by a shorter cut along the
outer wall, by the west side of the dockyard, until he reached the shore
near the jetty. But standing for a moment under the shade of a palm tree,
he hesitated to carry out his plan, for the path he meant to follow must
be lit up along its whole course by a double glare: from the blazing
buildings inside the fort, and from the burning gallivats in the dockyard
and harbor.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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