The Essential William Makepeace Thackeray Collection. William Makepeace Thackeray

salt or fresh; nor hot rowls or cowld!"

      "In the name of Heaven!" said Mrs. Van, growing very pale, "what is there, then?"

      "Ladies and gentlemen, I'll tell you what there is now," shouted I. "There's

      "Two drumsticks of fowls, and a bone of ham. Fourteen bottles of ginger-beer," &c. &c. &c.

      And I went through the whole list of eatables as before, ending with the ham-sandwiches and the pot of jelly.

      "Law! Mr. Gahagan," said Mrs. Colonel Vandegobbleschroy, "give me the ham-sandwiches--I must manage to breakfast off them."

      And you should have heard the pretty to-do there was at this modest proposition! Of course I did not accede to it--why should I? I was the commander of the fort, and intended to keep these three very sandwiches for the use of myself and my dear Belinda. "Ladies," said I, "there are in this fort one hundred and twenty- six souls, and this is all the food which is to last us during the siege. Meat there is none--of drink there is a tolerable quantity; and at one o'clock punctually, a glass of wine and one olive shall be served out to each woman: the men will receive two glasses, and an olive and a fig--and this must be your food during the siege. Lord Lake cannot be absent more than three days; and if he be--why, still there is a chance--why do I say a chance?--a CERTAINTY of escaping from the hands of these ruffians."

      "Oh, name it, name it, dear Captain Gahagan!" screeched the whole covey at a breath.

      "It lies," answered I, "in the powder magazine. I will blow this fort, and all it contains, to atoms, ere it becomes the prey of Holkar."

      The women, at this, raised a squeal that might have been heard in Holkar's camp, and fainted in different directions; but my dear Belinda whispered in my ear, "Well done, thou noble knight! bravely said, my heart's Goliah!" I felt I was right: I could have blown her up twenty times for the luxury of that single moment! "And now, ladies," said I, "I must leave you. The two chaplains will remain with you to administer professional consolation--the other gentlemen will follow me upstairs to the ramparts, where I shall find plenty of work for them."

      CHAPTER VII: THE ESCAPE

      Loth as they were, these gentlemen had nothing for it but to obey, and they accordingly followed me to the ramparts, where I proceeded to review my men. The fort, in my absence, had been left in command of Lieutenant Macgillicuddy, a countryman of my own (with whom, as may be seen in an early chapter of my memoirs, I had an affair of honour); and the prisoner Bobbachy Bahawder, whom I had only stunned, never wishing to kill him, had been left in charge of that officer. Three of the garrison (one of them a man of the Ahmednuggar Irregulars, my own body-servant, Ghorumsaug above named) were appointed to watch the captive by turns, and never leave him out of their sight. The lieutenant was instructed to look to them and to their prisoner; and as Bobbachy was severely injured by the blow which I had given him, and was, moreover, bound hand and foot, and gagged smartly with cords, I considered myself sure of his person.

      Macgillicuddy did not make his appearance when I reviewed my little force, and the three havildars were likewise absent: this did not surprise me, as I had told them not to leave their prisoner; but desirous to speak with the lieutenant, I despatched a messenger to him, and ordered him to appear immediately.

      The messenger came back; he was looking ghastly pale: he whispered some information into my ear, which instantly caused me to hasten to the apartments where I had caused Bobbachy Bahawder to be confined.

      The men had fled;--Bobbachy had fled; and in his place, fancy my astonishment when I found--with a rope cutting his naturally wide mouth almost into his ears--with a dreadful sabre-cut across his forehead--with his legs tied over his head, and his arms tied between his legs--my unhappy, my attached friend--Mortimer Macgillicuddy!

      He had been in this position for about three hours--it was the very position in which I had caused Bobbachy Bahawder to be placed--an attitude uncomfortable, it is true, but one which renders escape impossible, unless treason aid the prisoner.

      I restored the lieutenant to his natural erect position; I poured half-a-bottle of whisky down the immensely enlarged orifice of his mouth; and when he had been released, he informed me of the circumstances that had taken place.

      Fool that I was! idiot!--upon my return to the fort, to have been anxious about my personal appearance, and to have spent a couple of hours in removing the artificial blackening from my beard and complexion, instead of going to examine my prisoner--when his escape would have been prevented. O foppery, foppery!--it was that cursed love of personal appearance which had led me to forget my duty to my general, my country, my monarch, and my own honour!

      Thus it was that the escape took place:- My own fellow of the Irregulars, whom I had summoned to dress me, performed the operation to my satisfaction, invested me with the elegant uniform of my corps, and removed the Pitan's disguise, which I had taken from the back of the prostrate Bobbachy Bahawder. What did the rogue do next?--Why, he carried back the dress to the Bobbachy--he put it, once more, on its right owner; he and his infernal black companions (who had been won over by the Bobbachy with promises of enormous reward) gagged Macgillicuddy, who was going the rounds, and then marched with the Indian coolly up to the outer gate, and gave the word. The sentinel, thinking it was myself, who had first come in, and was as likely to go out again--(indeed my rascally valet said that Gahagan Sahib was about to go out with him and his two companions to reconnoitre)--opened the gates, and off they went!

      This accounted for the confusion of my valet when I entered!--and for the scoundrel's speech, that the lieutenant had JUST BEEN THE ROUNDS;--he HAD, poor fellow, and had been seized and bound in this cruel way. The three men, with their liberated prisoner, had just been on the point of escape, when my arrival disconcerted them: I had changed the guard at the gate (whom they had won over likewise); and yet, although they had overcome poor Mac, and although they were ready for the start, they had positively no means for effecting their escape, until I was ass enough to put means in their way. Fool! fool! thrice besotted fool that I was, to think of my own silly person when I should have been occupied solely with my public duty.

      From Macgillicuddy's incoherent accounts, as he was gasping from the effects of the gag and the whisky he had taken to revive him, and from my own subsequent observations, I learned this sad story. A sudden and painful thought struck me--my precious box!--I rushed back, I found that box--I have it still. Opening it, there, where I had left ingots, sacks of bright tomauns, kopeks and rupees, strings of diamonds as big as ducks' eggs, rubies as red as the lips of my Belinda, countless strings of pearls, amethysts, emeralds, piles upon piles of bank-notes--I found--a piece of paper! with a few lines in the Sanscrit language, which are thus, word for word, translated:-

      "EPIGRAM. (On disappointing a certain Major.)

      "The conquering lion return'd with his prey, And safe in his cavern he set it; The sly little fox stole the booty away, And, as he escaped, to the lion did say, 'AHA! don't you wish you may get it?'"

      Confusion! Oh, how my blood boiled as I read these cutting lines. I stamped,--I swore,--I don't know to what insane lengths my rage might have carried me, had not at this moment a soldier rushed in, screaming, "The enemy, the enemy!"

      CHAPTER VIII: THE CAPTIVE

      It was high time, indeed, that I should make my appearance. Waving my sword with one hand and seizing my telescope with the other, I at once frightened and examined the enemy. Well they knew when they saw that flamingo-plume floating in the breeze--that awful figure standing in the breach--that waving war-sword sparkling in the sky--well, I say, they knew the name of the humble individual who owned the sword, the plume, and the figure. The ruffians were mustered in front, the cavalry behind. The flags were flying, the drums, gongs, tambourines, violoncellos, and other instruments of Eastern music, raised in the air a strange barbaric melody; the officers (yatabals), mounted on white dromedaries, were seen galloping to and fro, carrying to the advancing hosts the orders of Holkar.

      You see that two sides of the fort of Futtyghur (rising