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
"How did it happen? I heard the firing. Tell me; it cannot be so bad
as that. Sure something can be done!"
"Nothing, nothing; we did all we could. ’Twas little; would that Drake
had heeded our advice! But I am rejoiced to see you on the road to
recovery, dear boy; ’twould have been another nail in my coffin to know
that you had lost your life in doing a service for me. I thank God for
that, from the bottom of my heart."
He pressed Desmond’s hand affectionately.
"But tell me, sir; I want to know what has happened. How came you to be
wounded? Sure I am strong enough to hear now; it will do me no harm."
"It cuts me to the heart, Desmond, but you shall know. I was absent when
you were carried to my house--searching for my dear ones. But Dr. Gray
tended you; alas! the good man is now a prisoner. I returned three days
after, driven back from up the river by the advance of the Nawab’s army.
I was worn out, distraught; not a trace had I found of my dear wife; she
had vanished; nor of my daughter; nor even of my peons; all had gone.
And there was trouble enough in Calcutta, for me and for all. ’Twas the
very day I returned that news came of Siraj-uddaula’s approach. And a
letter from his chief spy was intercepted, addressed to Omichand,
bidding him escape while there was yet time and join the Subah. That
seemed to Mr. Drake clear proof that Omichand was in league with our
enemies, and he had him arrested and thrown into the Fort prison. But
Mr. Drake never acts till ’tis too late. He gave orders next to arrest
Krishna Das. The man barricaded himself in his house and beat our peons
off, till Lieutenant Blagg and thirty Europeans drove in his gates. They
found a vast quantity of arms collected there. They stormed Omichand’s
house also, where three hundred armed domestics made a stout fight
against ’em. When our men got in--’tis a horrid story--the head jamadar
with his own hands stabbed all his master’s women and children, to
prevent ’em falling into our hands, and then set fire to the place.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account