Gil the Gunner by George Manville Fenn (e book reader free .TXT) 📖

I should have thought that they were leaving the place because the English were advancing. But though I sat at the window and strained my ears, there was no distant sound of firing, and I was getting into a very despairing mood, when my spirits revived again just before sunset, for all at once there was the sound of a gun; faint, distant, but unmistakably the report of a field-piece; and as I held my breath and listened, there was another and then another.

I knew the sound at once as coming from a troop of horse artillery, for the firing was regular; and I was so sanguine that I immediately set it down to Brace’s troop.

“Oh, if I could only escape!” I thought; and my ideas went at once to the disguise and the hangings to be used as a rope. If I could only get down into the court, I trusted to my good fortune to find a way through some other window, and thence to an unwatched opening.

How to manage it? I was so conspicuous a figure in the uniform I wore that I felt that I dared not go like that, while to obtain the dress of one of the servants was impossible.

“I shall have to escape as I am,” I thought, and I went down into the sleeping-room, and laid the sword ready. It was the magnificent tulwar the rajah had given me, and as I looked at the flashing jewels upon the hilt, I felt some compunction in taking it; but making up my mind to return it after I had escaped, feeling, as I did, the necessity for possessing a weapon, I laid it behind a purdah, where I could quickly catch it up.

The next thing was to select one of the silken curtains, which I could divide longwise, and tie the ends together. They would be quite enough to enable me to reach the ground; and there was a ring on one side of the window strong enough to bear my weight, I felt.

It was nearly dark by the time I had made those plans, which were interrupted by pauses, to listen to the distant firing away toward where the sun set. That was to be my direction, if I could get out of the town, and I was calculating my chances of escape when a happy thought struck me—to drape myself in a light curtain, and loosen the pugaree about my helmet.

But the next minute I felt that there was no need, for my uniform would be sufficient to command respect among the rajah’s troops, if I backed it up with plenty of coolness and decision. The people, as a rule, knew that I was the rajah’s friend, and expected that I should take some command. They could not all know, I argued, that I had refused to turn renegade; and gathering confidence now, as the darkness increased, I felt that if once I could get out of the palace, all I had to do was to be haughty and overbearing with the people; to assume for the time the position the rajah had offered, and trust to my confidence to carry all before me.

I had reached this point, and was still listening to the firing, when it occurred to me that I had better try and throw Salaman off his guard.

To do this I went into the room where I partook of my meals, and summoned him.

He entered so quickly that I knew he must have been close to the curtain, and I looked at him curiously to try and make out whether his face displayed any alarm or anxiety respecting the advance of the English force, but he looked perfectly calm.

“Bring a light, and some more fruit,” I said; and as soon as I had spoken I thought of how foolish my last request was, for I was not in the habit of eating much fruit.

He bowed, and was leaving, when I stopped him.

“Is there any news of the fight going on?” I said, as carelessly as I could.

“Yes, my lord; messengers have come in. His highness is driving the English sahibs right away into the far country.”

I should have liked to say I did not believe it, but I could not, for the gradual dying away of the firing agreed with his words. Then, as I said no more, he left the room, to return directly with a lamp, and some fruit was borne in by one of the attendants.

I waited till they had gone, and then slowly went to the curtain-covered opening, and looked through to see that Salaman was sitting down talking to the officer of the guard; and satisfied that now was my time, I walked quickly back and secured the curtain which I bore into my sleeping-room, where it was all dark, having determined to descend from there if I could find a place to secure the end of the curtain-rope.

But previous to twisting it up, I cautiously looked out of the window, and drew back in despair; for there, just beneath me, were the men of the guard slowly pacing the place, each bearing a lanthorn, as if to take special care that I did not escape that way, and I saw at a glance that, even if I could descend the rope, it would be impossible to cross the court, and in my despair I seated myself upon my couch to think.

This way was impossible. It was just as impossible to try and get out by the door, for it was strongly guarded.

“There is only one way,” I said to myself, angrily. “I must get the dress of one of the men. But how?”

I could see no way, for I had no money to offer a bribe, and the possibility of escaping grew more and more hopeless.

“It is of no use to try,” I said, half aloud. “I may just as well accept my fate. Ny Deen will never let me go.”

But the idea of giving way irritated me to such an extent, and was so bitterly contemptible that I leaped up, seized and buckled on the sword, and for the minute had some wild idea of getting down into the court, and cutting my way through the guards.

I could take them by surprise, I thought; but the next minute I was forced to grant the fact that directly after they would recover and take me by surprise in a way that might quite put an end to further ventures on my part. As soon as I had reached this point of reasoning, I went once more to the window, and looked down to see if the guards were still there.

I had full evidence directly, for there they all were, and as fully on the alert as men would be who knew that their heads would answer for a prisoner’s escape.

“I must wait my opportunity,” I said bitterly, as I turned away, after seeing one of the guards go by beneath my window, when there was a faint, rustling noise, which made me turn in time to see something dark at the window, whose feet rested for a moment lightly on the window-sill before it sprang into the room, and darted behind one of the curtains.

I was so much startled that I half-drew my sword as I gazed at the curtain, which was barely visible, the only light being that which came from the lamps in the next room, and a trifle from the window as the lanthorns, carried by the guard in the court, moved here and there.

“No, no, sahib,” came in a faint whisper, which relieved me, for at that moment I had been ready to fancy it was some curious wild beast.

“Dost!” I whispered back, as I crept softly to the curtain.

“Yes, sahib. But look! Did the men see me come in?”

I peered out of the window, and saw that the guard were marching slowly to and fro, with their lanthorns swinging.

“No; they have seen nothing,” I whispered; and then I passed through into the next room, crossed it, and made sure that Salaman was not coming.

“It is all safe,” I said, as I returned. “How did you manage to get up?”

“It was impossible, sahib,” he said, hardly above his breath. “I could not get near for the guard.”

“Then how did you manage?” I said.

“I came over the roof, sahib, and let myself down by a cord.”

“Then we can escape that way,” I whispered.

“Is the sahib strong enough to climb the rope?”

A pang of misery shot through me as I involuntarily applied my right hand to my wounded arm.

“No,” I said.

“Then I must pull the sahib up,” said Dost, calmly. “We ought to go soon.”

“Pst!” I whispered, and I stepped to the window, leaned out, and seemed to be studying the sounds outside, for there was the faint rustle of a curtain, and a light step crossing the next room.

Directly after I heard Salaman’s voice.

“Did my lord call?”

“Eh? Call? No,” I said, coming from the window, and trying to command my voice, as I walked toward where he stood in the open doorway. “I can’t hear any firing now.”

“No, my lord; the battle must be over, and at any time his highness will be back.”

I made some remark, but what it was I cannot tell now, and went on into the lighted room, noticing that he glanced suspiciously at my sword, but I appeared not to notice it, and went to the window of that room, while Salaman went back.

“He has had strict orders to keep on watching me,” I said to myself; and I had hardly thought this, than, to my horror, I heard the regular tramp of feet, and the officer and four men marched into the next room, where I heard them moving about.

I was going to rush into the sleeping-room to warn Dost, when Salaman appeared.

“My lord will not be angry with his servant,” he said. “It is his highness’s commands that you should be watched carefully, and they are searching the rooms.”

“Searching the rooms?” I said aloud.

“Yes, my lord. I am not to blame.”

Just then the officer entered bearing a lanthorn, and his four men came behind.

He bowed to me respectfully, and then made a sign to his followers, who carefully searched the room—a simple task, for all that was needed was to look behind the hangings.

My heart felt in my mouth, as people say, for the officer led the way now to my bed and the bath-room, where poor Dost was certain to be discovered if he had not succeeded in making his escape.

Salaman followed the guard, and I sat listening for the first cry of excitement, but none arose, and I breathed freely as the officer came back, lanthorn in hand, followed by his men, to salaam to me again, and pass out to his station by the far door while Salaman hung back. “My lord has offended his highness, who is angry. That is why the search is made.”

I did not answer—I could not; and the man bowed and went out, while I stepped quickly to the window of the bedroom, at which Dost appeared directly after—a dark shadowy figure, and leaped down.

“We must go at once, sahib,” he whispered. “It is so dark up here that the guard in the court can see nothing. I shall go up on to the roof, and lower the rope. The sahib will make it quite fast round beneath his arms, and then tug once, and step on to the window-sill. He will then trust to me, and I shall draw him up.”

“But can you, Dost?” I said nervously.

“The sahib may believe me. I am very strong.”

As he spoke, he placed his hands on my waist, and lifted me up with the greatest ease, setting me down again lightly.

“Now, sahib; ready?”

I could just dimly see him step to the window, and I felt that he must have seized a rope, up which he passed with