Chapter Thirty Eight

At this hour Thomas's cannon arrived upon the right. Then the Children's array was utterly broken and shattered, nor was there any hope left for any to escape with life. The Children fled wheresoever they could. Jibananda and Dhirananda essayed by every means to restrain them and to gather them once more, but in nowise could they prevail. At that moment a great cry arose: "To the bridge, to the bridge! Cross over! Else shall ye be drowned in the river. Slowly, with your faces still set toward the English, get ye to the bridge!"

Jibananda looked, and beheld Bhabananda before him. Bhabananda said, "Jibananda, lead them to the bridge; there is no other safety." Then, falling back slowly step by step, the Children's host moved toward the bridge. But as they reached the bridge, and great numbers of the Children pressed at once into its narrow way, the English cannon found their occasion. The bridge was swept clean with shot. The Children's host began to perish.

Bhabananda, Jibananda, Dhirananda were together. By the fury of one cannon a terrible slaughter of the Children was being wrought. Bhabananda said, "Jibananda, Dhirananda, come — with whirling swords let we three seize that cannon." Then the three, with swords whirling, slew the gunners about that piece.

Then other Children came to their aid. The cannon fell into Bhabananda's hand. Having taken the cannon, Bhabananda mounted upon it and stood. Clapping his hands he cried, "Say ye — Bande Mataram!" All cried, "Bande Mataram." Bhabananda said, "Jibananda, let us turn this cannon and grind the fellows into flour for fritters." The Children laid hands together and turned the cannon.

Then the cannon thundered, calling, as it seemed, in the Vaishnava's ear, "Hari, Hari." Many a sepoy was slain thereby.

Bhabananda hauled that cannon to the bridge-head and set it there, saying, "Do ye two range the Children's host in line and lead them across the bridge; I alone will guard this gateway — leave with me a few gunners to ply the piece." Twenty picked Children remained with Bhabananda.

Then countless Children crossed the bridge and, by the command of Jibananda and Dhirananda, passed in line to the further shore. Bhabananda alone, with the help of twenty Children, slew with that single cannon a great multitude of the foe — but the host of the Yavanas came on like waves heaved up by an inundation! Wave upon wave, wave upon wave! — they hemmed Bhabananda about, beat upon him, and well-nigh overwhelmed him as a drowning man. Yet Bhabananda, untiring, unconquerable, fearless, with stroke upon stroke of the cannon, made havoc of their numbers.

The Yavanas fell upon him as breakers driven by the storm; but the twenty Children, holding the cannon at the bridge-head, kept it closed. They died and yet died not — the Yavana could not gain entrance to the bridge. Heroes invincible were they, lives imperishable. Taking advantage of the respite, the Children's host crossed band by band to the further side. Had the bridge been held but a little while longer, all the Children would have passed across — when of a sudden, from whence one knew not, a new cannon spake: "Boom! Boom! Bum! Bum!" Both armies for an instant stayed their fighting and looked: whence now this cannon?

They saw that from out of the wood certain great cannon, plied by native gunners, were issuing forth. Issuing forth, that mighty line of artillery, belching smoke from seventeen mouths, rained fire upon the company of Hay Sahib. Wood, river, and hill alike re-echoed with the dread sound. The Yavana host, wearied with the day's battle, shuddered in fear of life. Under that rain of fire the Telinga, the Mussulman, and the Hindustani began to flee. Only a few white soldiers stood their ground to die.

Bhabananda was watching the play. Bhabananda said, "Brother, the shaven-pates are breaking; come, let us fall upon them once again." Then the Children's host, like a stream of ants, came pouring back over the bridge in fresh ardour and dashed forward to fall upon the Yavanas.

Suddenly they were upon them. The Yavanas had no leisure for further battle — as the wave of Bhagirathi had borne away that boastful, mountain-like, frenzied elephant, so the Children swept the Yavanas before them. The Yavanas saw — behind them the foot-soldiers of Bhabananda, before them the cannon of Mahendra. Then was the ruin of Hay Sahib come upon him. Nothing now availed — strength, valour, courage, craft, training, pride, all were swept away. Foujdari, Imperial, English, native, foreign, dark and fair, soldier upon soldier fell prostrate upon the ground.

The host of the heretics fled. With the war-cry "Mar, mar!" Jibananda, Bhabananda, Dhirananda pursued the heathen rear.

The Children took their cannon from them; many an Englishman and sepoy were slain. Seeing that ruin was at hand, Captain Hay and Watson sent word to Bhabananda: "We yield ourselves all to you; slay no more living thing." Jibananda looked upon Bhabananda's face.

Bhabananda said within himself, "It cannot be — I must die this day." Then, lifting his hand on high, Bhabananda cried with a loud voice the name of Hari and shouted, "Mar! Mar!"

Not one creature more was spared — at the last, in one place, some twenty or thirty white soldiers gathered together, resolved upon yielding not, and fought a most desperate fight. Jibananda said, "Bhabananda, our day is won; there is no further need; save these few, none other liveth. Spare them their lives and come, let us return." Bhabananda said, "While yet one liveth, Bhabananda turneth not. Jibananda, I swear it to thee — stand thou apart and look on; alone will I slay these few Englishmen."

Captain Thomas understood Bengali, and understanding, he said unto the English soldiers, "Englishmen! I am as one already dead. Keep ye the honour of old England. By the oath of Christ I charge ye — first slay me, and then slay these rebels."

A bullet hummed past; an Irishman had fired his musket at Captain Thomas. Pierced through the forehead, Captain Thomas gave up his life. Then Bhabananda cried aloud: "My Brahma weapon hath failed of its aim! Where is the Partha, the Vrikodara, the Nakula, the Sahadeva that shall save me at this hour? Behold — like a tiger smitten by the arrow, the white man hath sprung upon me. I am come to die. Is there any Child that will die with me?"

First came Dhirananda forward, after him Jibananda — with them ten, fifteen, twenty, fifty other Children. Bhabananda, looking upon Dhirananda, said, "Hast thou too come to die with us?"

Dhi. "Why — is death the leasehold of any one man?" So saying, Dhirananda smote a white soldier and wounded him.

Bha. Not so; yet if thou diest thou shalt no more pass thy days gazing on the faces of wife and son!

Dhi. Speakest thou of Kalika? Hast thou yet not understood?— (Dhirananda slew the wounded white man.)

Bha. Nay — (At this moment, by a stroke from one of the white soldiers, Bhabananda's right arm was severed.)

Dhi. How can I, that I should speak such things to a pure spirit like thine? I had gone forth as a spy sent by Satyananda.

Bha. How is this? Doth the Maharaj mistrust me? (Bhabananda was now fighting with one hand.) Dhirananda, defending him as he fought, said, "All those words that passed between thee and Kalyani, he hath heard with his own ears."

Bha. How could that be?

Dhi. He was himself there at that time. Be wary! (Bhabananda, smitten by another white soldier, struck him back in turn.) He was teaching Kalyani the Gita; even then thou camest in. Beware! (Bhabananda's left arm too was now severed.)

Bha. Bear him the tidings of my death! Tell him — I was no traitor.

Dhirananda, fighting on with eyes filled with tears, said, "That he knoweth. Remember the words of blessing he spake last night. And he hath bidden me say: 'Keep thou by Bhabananda; he shall die this day. At his death tell him — I bless thee; in the other world thou shalt attain unto Vaikuntha.'"

Bhabananda said, "Victory to the Children, brother! At my death sound thou once more 'Bande Mataram' in mine ear!"

Then by the command of Dhirananda the battle-frenzied Children all together, with great might, sang "Bande Mataram." Thereat double strength entered into their arms. In that dread moment the remnant of the white men were slain. Upon the field of battle there was now no enemy left.

In that same moment Bhabananda, chanting "Bande Mataram" upon his lips, meditating in his heart upon the feet of Vishnu, gave up his life.

Alas! Beauty of woman, charm of form! In this world fie upon thee!