Chapter Twenty Nine

The Company had in those days many silk factories. There was such a factory at Shibgram. Mr. Donnewerth was the factor, that is, the chief, of the same. Good provision was then made for the defence of these factories. Mr. Donnewerth had thus by some means contrived to save his life. But he had been constrained to send his wife and daughters away to Calcutta, and he himself had been hard pressed by the Children. At this season Captain Thomas had brought two or four companies of soldiery into that province.

Now certain Chuars, Haris, Doms, Bagdis, and other wild folk, seeing the boldness of the Children, had themselves taken heart to plunder other men's goods. These fell upon Captain Thomas's supplies. Cart-loads of good ghi, flour, fowls, and rice were going for Captain Thomas's troops; and seeing this, the Dom and Bagdi rabble could not master their greed. They attacked the carts, but after two or four thrusts from the muskets in the hands of Captain Thomas's sepoys, they fell back.

Captain Thomas sent forthwith a report to Calcutta to the effect that, with one hundred and fifty-seven sepoys, he had this day defeated fourteen thousand seven hundred rebels. Among the rebels, two thousand one hundred and fifty-three were slain, and one thousand two hundred and thirty-three wounded. Seven had been taken prisoner. Only this last item was true. Captain Thomas, deeming that he had won a second Blenheim or Rossbach, twirled his moustache and beard and walked about in fearless ease.

And he counselled Mr. Donnewerth, saying: "Why now, the rebellion is put down; do thou fetch thy wife and children from Calcutta." Mr.

Donnewerth answered: "That shall be; do thou abide here ten days, let the country grow somewhat more settled, and I will fetch wife and children." In Mr.

Donnewerth's house there were mutton and fowls of the choicest; the cheese also was most excellent. Wild fowl of many sorts graced his table. The bearded cook was a very Draupadi; wherefore, with no further word, Captain Thomas took up his abode there.

Meanwhile within Bhabananda's heart there was a low-burning fury; he was musing, "When shall I strike off the head of this Captain Thomas Sahib Bahadur, and earn the title of a second Sambarari?" That the Englishman had come for the deliverance of India, the Children did not at that time understand. How should they understand? The English of Captain Thomas's own day did not know it either. It was as yet only in the mind of Providence. Bhabananda was bethinking him: "This brood of demons I will utterly destroy in one day; let them gather, let them grow a little careless; we will hold off awhile." Wherefore they held off awhile. Captain Thomas Sahib, untroubled now, gave himself to the praises of Draupadi.

The Sahib Bahadur loved the chase exceedingly, and would now and again sally forth to hunt in the forests near Shibgram. One day, with Mr. Donnewerth, mounted, and with sundry beaters, Captain Thomas went forth hunting. Truth to say, Thomas Sahib was of singular boldness, peerless even among Englishmen for might and valour. That dense forest was dreadful with tigers, buffaloes, and bears. The beaters, having come far, refused to go further, saying: "There is no path within; we can go no further." Mr. Donnewerth, too, in that forest had fallen in with so fearful a tiger that he likewise was unwilling to advance. All of them desired to turn back. Captain Thomas said: "Ye turn back; I shall not turn." So saying, he plunged into the dense forest.

In truth, there was no path within the forest. The horse could not enter. But the Sahib loosed his horse, took his musket upon his shoulder, and entered alone into the forest. Entering, he searched here and there for tiger, but no tiger did he see. What then did he see? Beneath a great tree, girdled about with the flowering creepers and full-blown blossoms, sat — who? A young Sannyasi, of such beauty that the forest was made bright. The full-blown flowers seemed to grow more fragrant in the neighbourhood of that heavenly form. Captain Thomas Sahib was struck with wonder; and after wonder came wrath. The Captain knew the native tongue passing well, and said, "Who art thou?"

The Sannyasi said, "I am a Sannyasi."

The Captain said, "Thou art a rebel."

Sannyasi. What is that?

Captain. I will shoot thee dead with a bullet.

Sannyasi. Shoot.

The Captain was in some doubt whether or no to shoot, when of a sudden, with the swiftness of lightning, the young Sannyasi fell upon him and snatched the musket from his hand. The Sannyasi then flung off the deer-skin from the breast, and with one pull tore off the matted locks; and Captain Thomas Sahib beheld a wondrous fair woman's form. The beauteous one, laughing, said: "Sahib, I am a woman; I strike no man. I would ask thee one thing: Hindu and Mussulman are at strife; wherefore art thou in the midst? Get thee home."

Sahib. Who art thou?

Shanti. Thou seest, a Sannyasini. Of those with whom thou art come to make war, the wife of one.

Sa. Wilt thou abide ever at my side?

Sh. What? As thy concubine?

Sa. As a wife thou mayest abide, but marriage there will be none.

Sh. I, too, have a question. In our house there was a red monkey, which lately died; the cage stands empty. If I put a chain about thy waist, wilt thou dwell in that cage? In our garden right goodly martman plantains grow.

Sa. Thou art a very spirited woman; in thy courage I am well pleased. Come thou to my side. Thy husband shall fall in the war. What then will become of thee?

Sh. Then let there be this compact between thee and me. The war must come to pass within a day or two. If thou conquer, then I confess I will become thy concubine, if I yet live. And if we conquer, then wilt thou come into our cage and play the monkey and eat plantains?

Sa. Plantains are excellent eating. Are there any now?

Sh. There, take thy musket. Whoever yet held speech with so wild a race!

And Shanti, flinging down the musket, departed laughing.