Gil the Gunner - George Manville Fenn (people reading books .TXT) 📗

As I saw the two attendants waiting there, and by the light of a lamp caught sight of a glittering uniform wonderfully like my ideas as given to the rajah in conversation, I felt as if I must retreat and go back to the other tent and announce my determination, but I had several thoughts to combat now—shame and inclination among others, for I felt as if I could go back to the rajah and argue with him again; and I tried to convince myself that wearing the clothes spread out before me need make no difference. I should no doubt be armed, and that would help me in my escape; besides, he had promised me that I should go with him only as a friend.

To sum up, I was compelled to own that resistance was out of the question, and I had better appear before these people dressed in a way worthy of a British officer than reduced to the slight, well-worn shirt and trousers I had persisted in wearing all through my sojourn in the tent.

“It’s of no use,” I muttered; “and I must make a virtue of necessity.”

As I said this, I turned to Salaman, who eagerly began to hand me the various articles of attire; and in spite of my determination to be calm and stoical, I could not help feeling a glow of satisfaction as my eyes lit upon Russia leather boots, with gold spurs, a handsomely braided and corded tunic, helmet with handsome plume and puggaree of glittering gold-embroidered muslin wound lightly round, after the fashion of a slight turban.

And as I put on article after article, I began to marvel at the accuracy of the fit until I felt that the rajah must have given instructions for the clothes to be made exactly like the cut and torn uniform I had worn when I was made prisoner.

I could not help it, for I was still a boy, and one of the youngest officers in the Company’s service: a warm glow of satisfaction ran through me. I forgot the pain in my arm as I passed it through the sleeve of the loose tunic, and buttoned it across my breast, which seemed to swell as I drew myself up, feeling as if, in spite of the Eastern cut of my uniform, I was an English officer once more.

I had turned to the second man, who was holding my gauntlet gloves and helmet, when Salaman produced something I had not before seen, and I flushed a little more with pleasure, for it was a magnificent cartouch-box and cross-belt, which I felt must have belonged to the rajah; and while I was hesitating about passing the belt over my head, Salaman forestalled me, and then drew back as if to admire me. Then, looking at me with a peculiar smile, he passed his hands behind a purdah, and produced the gorgeously jewelled tulwar and sheath which the rajah had offered me before.

I shrank from it, for it seemed like a bond to link me to the rajah’s service, but Salaman fastened the magnificent belt, and, for the life of me, I could not refrain from drawing the flashing blade from its sheath, and holding it quivering in my trembling hand, from which it sent a thrill right to my heart.

“If it is a bond between us forced upon me,” I thought, “this can cut us apart;” and at this I thrust it back into its sheath, allowed Salaman to alter the buckle a little, and then took the helmet and gloves, putting both on, and involuntarily turning to see if there was a looking-glass.

Vanity? Well, perhaps so; but what lad of my years would not have done the same?

But there was no glass. I had to be contented by seeing myself in imagination with my attendants’ eyes as they drew back and gazed at me as proudly as if my appearance was entirely their work.

“Ah!” exclaimed Salaman. “Now my lord looks indeed my lord. Who could call him sahib when he is like that?”

I winced at the man’s flattery, and yet it was hardly that, and I laughed to myself as I felt that it was the clothes they were admiring and not the wearer.

“If the holy man could see my lord now,” said Salaman, in a whisper, lest his words should be heard in the next tent, “he would not dare to curse again.”

These words made me wince once more; and in imagination I saw poor Dost in his ragged fakir’s garb staring at me wildly in disappointment because I was going away. Worse still, that busy imagination called up the face of Brace, pointing scornfully at my gay unspecked attire, and asking me whether it would not have been more honourable to have clung to the torn and stained uniform which was mine by right.

But these musings were cut short by Salaman and his assistant drawing back the curtains over the tent door and admitting a flood of light, which half startled me, and I turned to Salaman, asking if one of the tents was blazing.

“No, my lord; it is the light of the torches the men carry.”

The next minute I entered the other tent, determined to carry myself erect, and to be firm in spite of my ambiguous position; and before I had taken a couple of steps forward in the well-lit scene of our last conversation, the rajah rose quickly, scanned me from top to toe, and then his eyes flashed with satisfaction as he strode to meet me with extended hands.

“Hah!” he ejaculated; “my people will be proud of their lord’s friend.”

I was silent as I stood there, proud and pleased, and yet full of mental pain, while he scanned me once more, and ended by buckling on his own sword, placing his helmet upon his head, and offering me his hand as the curtains were thrown back, and he led me forth into a blaze of light, spread by at least a couple of hundred torches, which flashed from the weapons of horse and foot, and poured on the gorgeous housings of the three elephants, two of which stood near bearing the occupants of their howdahs, while behind was the dense shadowy leafage of the trees, throwing up the wonderful scene with its vivid play of colour, and then looking black as night beneath the boughs.

A wild shout greeted us as we advanced slowly; and then, at a sign, the huge elephant was led forward to go down upon its knees before its master, who led me to its side.

“Go first, Gil,” he said.

“No,” I replied quietly; and I drew back for him to lead the way.

Another wild shout broke forth at this, and I saw that the rajah looked pleased as he stepped lightly up; and as soon as he was in the howdah, bent down and held out his hand.

“Don’t forget your wound,” he said, and I was glad to grasp his hand as I mounted, and the next minute I was by his side.

Then for the moment, as I felt the huge elephant heave itself up, it was like starting upon a tiger-hunt, but the likeness ceased directly, as, preceded by about fifty horsemen, and a score of torch-bearers in their front, and another score between the advance-guard and our elephant’s head, we moved out of the opening, the other two elephants following, with torch-bearers on either side, and the rest of the horsemen of the great escort taking their places as the glittering procession wound among the trees, and then meandered toward the plain which I had so often sadly watched, longing for strength and liberty.

The rajah was very silent for a time, and it struck me that he was leaving me to my own thoughts, so that I might be impressed by the martial spectacle, as I looked back from time to time at the wild barbaric pageant, with the torches in a long train, lighting up the dark faces of the rajah’s followers, flashing from their arms, and sending back a ruddy cloud of smoke which formed like a canopy above our heads. It was impossible to keep down a feeling of proud exultation, and I could not for the time being think of anything else but the night march across what spread out like an endless plain, while the stars above us spangled what looked like a vast dome of purple black.

I was used to the motion of an elephant, and, after my long inaction, enjoyed the swaying of the howdah as the monster of his kind shuffled along at a great rate, keeping the footmen at a sharp run, and the horses at a gentle trot; and, as I listened to the jingle of the accoutrements, I could not help wishing that I had been mounted on my Arab, gripping the saddle between my knees, instead of being seated there.

About this I asked myself what I should have done.

The only answer that would come was: clap my spurs to his sides, and make him fly over the plain; and in imagination I saw myself tearing over the wide space, pursued by a cloud of sowars and mounted chiefs.

And then I sighed, for I knew that escape would have been impossible, and also that I was too weak even then to sit a horse for long.

“Tired, Gil?” said the rajah, as he heard my sigh.

“Yes,” I said; “I suppose so. It is an exciting time, after being a prisoner so long.”

“Hardly a prisoner,” he said, with a little laugh. “Only a wounded man.”

“Have we very far to go?” I asked.

“We shall be nearly two hours yet, but the people expect us; and after we have passed through the forest that lies right before us, you will be able to see the lights of the city. We are rather late.”

There was another silence, broken at last by another inquiry from the rajah as to my being weary.

“Shall I make them walk?” he said, showing his sympathy and consideration.

“Oh no,” I said in protest. “I am not so weary as that.”

I forced myself to talk to him, and he seemed pleased, conversing eagerly, sometimes