The Great White Hand; Or, the Tiger of Cawnpore: A story of the Indian MutinyMuddock, J. E. (Joyce Emmerson)
History
The Great White Hand; Or, the Tiger of Cawnpore: A story of the Indian Mutiny
Muddock, J. E. (Joyce Emmerson)
Anglo-Indian fiction; India -- History -- Sepoy Rebellion, 1857-1858 -- Fiction; Kanpur (India) -- Fiction
“We must stop here,” whispered the guide, as she drew Harper and Martin
into the shadow of a buttress. “A few yards farther on is a gate, but
we can only hope to get through it by stratagem. I am unknown to the
guard. This dress will not betray me. I will tell them that I live on
the other side of the river, and that I have been detained in the city.
I will beg of them to let me out. You must creep up in the shadow of
this wall, ready to rush out in case I succeed. The signal for you to
do so shall be a whistle.” She displayed a small silver whistle as she
spoke, which hung around her neck by a gold chain.
She walked out boldly now, and was followed by the two men, who,
however, crept along stealthily in the shadow of the wall. They stopped
as they saw that she had reached the gate. They heard the challenge
given, and answered by Haidee. In a few minutes a flash of lightning
revealed the presence of two Sepoys only. Haidee was parleying with
them. At first they did not seem inclined to let her go. They bandied
coarse jokes with her, and one of them tried to kiss her. There was
an inner and an outer gate. In the former was a door that was already
opened. Through this the two soldiers and Haidee passed, and were lost
sight of by the watchers, who waited in anxious suspense. Then they
commenced to creep nearer to the gateway, until they stood in the very
shadow of the arch; but they could hear nothing but the wind and rain,
and the occasional thunder. The moments hung heavily now. Could Haidee
have failed? they asked themselves. Scarcely so, for she would have
re-appeared by this time. As the two men stood close together, each
might have heard the beating of the other’s heart. It was a terrible
moment. They knew that their lives hung upon a thread, and that if
this devoted woman failed, nothing could save them. Still they did not
lose hope, though the suspense was almost unendurable. Each grasped
his pistol firmly, to be used as a club if occasion required. The
termination of what had verily seemed an hour to them, but in reality
only five minutes, brought the welcome signal--the whistle was blown.
“You first, Harper,” said Martin.
They darted from their hiding-place and rushed through the door; a
Sepoy tried to bar the passage, but was felled by a blow from Harper’s
pistol; in another moment they were outside the walls--Haidee was
waiting for them.
“Speed!” she cried, leading the way.
The alarm was already being spread. A deep-toned gong, that could
be heard even above the howling wind, was warning the sentries that
something had happened.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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