One of Clive's Heroes: A Story of the Fight for IndiaStrang, Herbert
History
One of Clive's Heroes: A Story of the Fight for India
Strang, Herbert
Adventure stories; British -- India -- Juvenile fiction; India -- History -- 18th century -- Juvenile fiction
For two hours longer they pushed on with all the speed of which the
jaded beasts were capable. Every now and again Desmond looked anxiously
back, hoping against hope that they would not be pursued. But he knew
that Diggle had recognized him, and being prepared for the worst, he
began to rack his brains for some means of defence. Misfortune seemed
to dog him. Two of the oxen collapsed. It was necessary to distribute
the loads of their hackeris among the others. The march was delayed,
and when the convoy was again under way, its progress was slower than
ever.
It had, indeed, barely started, when in the distance Desmond spied a
horseman cantering towards them. A few minutes revealed him as Diggle.
He rode up almost within musket-shot, then turned and trotted back.
What was the meaning of his action? Desmond, from his position near the
foremost hackeri, could see nothing more. But, a few yards ahead of
him, to the right of the track, there was a low artificial mound,
possibly the site of an ancient temple, standing at the edge of a
nullah, its top some ten or twelve feet above the surrounding plain.
Hastening to this he gained the summit, and, looking back, saw a
numerous body of men on foot advancing rapidly from the quarter whence
the horseman had ridden. In twenty minutes they would have come up with
the convoy. He must turn at bay.
He glanced anxiously around. He was in the midst of a dry, slightly
undulating plain, the new-sown fields awaiting the rains to spring into
verdure. Here and there were clumps of trees--the towering palmyra with
its fan-shaped foliage, the bamboo with its feathery branches, the
plantain, throwing its immense leaves of vivid green into every
fantastic form. There was no safety on the plain. But below him was
the nullah, thirty feet deep, eighty yards wide, soon to be a swollen
torrent dashing towards the Hugli, but now dry. Its sides were in parts
steep, and unscalable in face of determined resistance. In a moment
Desmond saw the utmost of possibility.
Running back to the convoy, he turned its head towards the mound, and,
calling every man to the help of the oxen, he dragged the carts one by
one to the top. There he caused the beasts to be unyoked, and placed
the hackeris, their poles interlocked, so as to form a rough
semicircular breastwork around the summit of the mound. For a moment he
hesitated in deciding what to do with the cattle. Should he keep them
within his little entrenchment? If they took fright they might stampede
and do mischief; in any case they would be in the way, and he resolved
to send them all off under charge of such of the drivers as were too
timid to remain. He noticed that the Babu was quivering with alarm.
"Surendra Nath," he said, "this is no place for you. Slip away quietly;
go towards Calcutta; and if you meet Mr. Merriman coming in response to
my message, tell him the plight we are in and ask him to hasten to our
help."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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