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
"Hitch that block to a halyard, youngster," said the man.
Desmond was on the point of refusing; the man, he thought, might at
least have apologised: but reflecting that a refusal would entail a
complaint to the captain, and subsequent punishment, he bit his lips,
fastened the block, and went on his way.
"’Tis my belief ’twas no accident," said Bulger afterwards. "I may be
wrong, but Parmiter bears a grudge against you. And he and that there
Mr. Diggle is too thick by half. I never could make out why Diggle
diddled you about that supercargo business; he don’t mean you no
kindness, you may be sure; and when you see two villains like him and
Parmiter puttin’ their heads together, look out for squalls, that’s what
I say."
Desmond was inclined to laugh; the idea seemed preposterous.
"Why are you so suspicious of Mr. Diggle?" he said. "He has not kept his
promise, that’s true, and I am sorry enough I ever listened to him. But
that doesn’t prove him to be an out-and-out villain. I’ve noticed that
you keep out of his way. Do you know anything of him? Speak out
plainly, man."
"Well, I’ll tell you what I knows about him." He settled himself
against the mast, gave a final polish to his hook with holy-stone, and,
using the hook every now and then to punctuate his narrative, began:
"Let me see, ’twas a matter o’ three years ago. I was bosun on the
_Swallow_, a spanker she was, chartered by the Company, London to
Calcutta. There was none of the doldrums that trip, dodged ’em fair an’
square; a topsail breeze to the Cape, and then the fust of the monsoon
to the Hugli. We lay maybe a couple of months at Calcutta, when what
should I do but take aboard a full dose of the cramp, just as the
_Swallow_ was in a manner of speakin’ on the wing. Not but what it
sarved me right, for what business had I at my time of life to be
wastin’ shore-leave by poppin’ at little dicky birds in the dirty slimy
jheels, as they call ’em, round about Calcutta! Well, I was put ashore,
as was on’y natural, and ’twas a marvel I pulled through--for it en’t
many as take the cramp in Bengal and live to tell of it. The Company,
I’ll say that for ’em, was very kind; I had the best o’ nussin’ and
vittles; but when I found my legs again there I was, as one might say,
high and dry, for there was no Company’s ship ready to sail. So I got
leave to sign on a country ship, bound for Canton; and we dropped down
the Hugli with enough opium on board to buy up the lord mayor and a
baker’s dozen of aldermen.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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