In furthest Ind : $b The narrative of Mr Edward Carlyon of the honourable East India Company's serviceGrier, Sydney C.
General
In furthest Ind : $b The narrative of Mr Edward Carlyon of the honourable East India Company's service
Grier, Sydney C.
British -- India -- Fiction; East India Company -- Fiction; India -- Fiction
This I did, though still in an extreme confusion of mind, and the
troop of sailors gathered round me, and, keeping close together,
pushed through the crowd, swaggering mightily, and using their fists
not a little, and reviling the Portugals in good round English for not
making a way for them. Thus we passed through the crowd, that was now
thronging every street and bridge that led from the burning-place, and
pouring into the city itself. Prisoners and tipstaves and nobles and
officers and godfathers were all pressed and thwacked together, and
all ran and cried to take refuge in the fortress, and to shut the
gates on the Morattys. Now all this seemed very greatly to divert the
honest fellows that had me in charge, so that I heard them laughing
and jesting among themselves as if the whole matter were but a play.
But when at last we got clear of the bridges and causeys, and come to
the place where a ship’s boat was moored with two men left in her,
they stopped for a moment, and mounted upon a great pile of timber
that lay hard by for to see better. Then as they became quiet, looking
and hearkening, there seemed to be borne to me upon the air the sound
of fighting, and a great cry, as of rage or victory, that was in no
Christian tongue, but had the sound of--
“_Hoor! Hoor! Mohawdio!_”[79] and this we heard again and again.
Then he that seemed the chief of the seamen swore a great oath, and
came down from the wood-pile with a pale face, for, “On my life” (says
he), “the Morattys are really there.”
“And why not there, sir?” says I. “Sure that is what the people have
been crying all the time.”
“Ay,” says he, “but they wan’t there until now. We raised a false
alarm for to get your honour away safely.”
“Then how came the Morattys?” I asked, with much amazement.
“Nay, that you must ask of their father the devil, for I can’t tell,”
says he.
But I preferred to ascribe this marvel rather to the direction of
Almighty God, who, knowing, as I have no doubt, that the confusion
raised by a false alarm should not suffice for to convey me away to a
place of safety, used the designs of the Morattys to bring ’em to that
spot at the very time they were needed.
The sailors would willingly have stayed long watching the fight, but
their leader called them away, and we rowed down the river in the
boat, I being laid in the bottom and covered with a sail. So at last
we come to a ship, and when we went on board of her, I seemed to
myself to have seen her before, but so confused was I in my
intellectuals that I could neither recollect when nor how. Then the
master carried me into his cabin, and poured out for me a dram of
cordial water, and bade me drink it, and thereafter slapped me on the
back and demanded of me whether I had forgot my old friends. But I
could only gaze upon him bewildered, and answer nothing.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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