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
"'Tis only by the mercy of the Almighty I'm here today," he said
solemnly. "I saw what 'twould be as soon as the door of that Black Hole
was locked, and me and some others tried to force it. 'Tweren't no good.
Mr. Holwell--he's a brave man, an' no mistake--begged an' prayed of us
all to be quiet; but Lor' bless you, he might ha' saved his breath. 'Twas
a hot night; we soon began to sweat most horrible an' feel a ragin'
thirst. We took off most of our clothes, an' waved our hats to set the
air a-movin'; which 'twas hard enough work, 'cos we was packed so tight.
I en't a-goin' to tell you all the horrors o' that night, sir; I'd like
uncommon to forget 'em, though I don't believe I never shall. 'Twas so
awful that many a poor wretch begged of the Moors outside to fire on 'em.
Worst was when the old jamadar put skins o' water in at the window. My
God! them about me fought like demons, which if I hadn't flattened myself
against the wall I should ha' been crushed or trodden to death, like most
on 'em. For me, I couldn't get near the water; I sucked my shirt sleeves,
an' 'tis my belief 'twas on'y that saved me from goin' mad. A man what
was next me took out his knife an' slit a vein, 'cos he couldn't bear the
agony no longer. Soon arter, I fell in a dead faint, an' knowed no more
till I found myself on my back outside, with a Moor chuckin' water at me.
They let me go, along with some others; and a rotten old hulk I was,
there en't no mistake about that. Why, bless you, my skin come out all
boils as thick as barnacles on a hull arter a six months' voyage, all
'cos o' being in sich bad air without water. And then the fever came
aboard, an' somehow or other I got shipped to the mounseers' hospital at
Chandernagore, which they was very kind to me, sir; there en't no denyin'
that. I may be wrong, but I could take my oath, haffidavy, an' solemn
will an' testament that a mounseer's got a heart inside of his body arter
all, which makes him all the better chap to have a slap at if you come to
think of the why an' wherefore of it."
"But how came you on board the Tyger?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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