The Tiger of Mysore: A Story of the War with Tippoo SaibHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
History
The Tiger of Mysore: A Story of the War with Tippoo Saib
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
India -- History -- Mysore War, 1799 -- Fiction; Tipu Sultan, Fath 'Ali, Nawab of Mysore, 1753-1799 -- Juvenile fiction
"'Tis forty-six years back, and I was but a boy of twelve; but six
years later I was here, for our rajah was on the side of the English,
although Tripataly was, and is now, under the Nabob of Arcot. But my
lord had many causes of complaint against him, and when he declared
for the French, our lord, who was not then a rajah, although chief of
a considerable district, threw in his lot with the English; and, when
they triumphed, was appointed rajah by them, and Tripataly was made
almost wholly independent of the Nabob of Arcot. At one time a force
of our men was here, with four companies of white troops, when it was
thought that Dupleix was likely to march against us; and I was with
that force, and so learned all about the fighting here."
The next day the party arrived, late in the evening, at Tripataly. A
large number of men, with torches, received them in front of the
palace; and, on entering, Mrs. Holland was warmly received by the
Rajah's wife, who carried her off at once to her apartments, which she
did not leave afterwards, as she was greatly fatigued by the two long
days of travel.
Dick, on the contrary, although he had dozed in the carriage for the
last two or three hours of the journey, woke up thoroughly as they
neared Tripataly. As soon as they entered the house, the Rajah called
his two sons, handsome, dark-faced lads of twelve and thirteen.
"This is your cousin, boys," he said. "You must look after him, and
see that he has everything he wants, and make his stay as pleasant as
you can."
Although a little awed by the, to them, tall figure, they evinced
neither shyness or awkwardness, but, advancing to Dick, held out their
hands one after the other, with grave courtesy. Their faces both
brightened, as he said in their own language:
"I hope we shall be great friends, cousins. I am older and bigger than
you are, but everything is new and strange to me, and I shall have to
depend upon you to teach me everything."
"We did not think that you would be able to talk to us," the elder,
whose name was Doast Assud, said, smiling. "We have been wondering how
we should make you understand. Many of the white officers, who come
here sometimes, speak our language, but none of them as well as you
do."
"You see, they only learn it after they come out here, while I learnt
it from my mother, who has talked to me in it since I was quite a
little boy; so it comes as naturally to me as to you."
In a few minutes, supper was announced. The two boys sat down with
their father and Dick, and the meal was served in English fashion.
Dick had already become accustomed to the white-robed servants, at the
hotel at Madras, and everything seemed to him pleasant and home-like.
"Tomorrow, Dick," his uncle said, "you must have your first lesson in
riding."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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