Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 108 — page 2: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

2 x..__— Meantime the Resident holds up his hand to command silence, and an officer reads out the sentence of the Viceroy at Calcutta, that ‘‘the Rajah of Krishnapoor, for high crimes and mis- demeanors, be deposed from his kingdom and blown from the cannon’s mouth in the public — of Krishnapoor.” he doomed bad aoe smiles bitterly as he hears the r read, first in Hindoostanee, then in English, and still more bitterly curls his lip when the Resident asks in Hindoostanee: ** Prisoner, have Pt any cause to show why this sentence should not be executed at once?’ The Rajah laughs aloud as if in scorn as he answers, in good English, but strained and pe- dantic: ‘‘Does my former secretary imagine that the Rajah of Titinapeor will condescend to ad- dress epithets of appreciation or requests for the exercise of clemency to a person whom he has raised from a beggar’s position? I am here. Had you not deceived me by pretended friendship you would never have entered m ——_ —- ae ee ee ae ee eae ee ——— eapital while a man was alive to defend it.” You have belied me to the viceroy, for the sake of my wealth; but I have taken precautions, and all you will have is the worth of my gar- ments. Lam happy to give you the hangman’s fee, my excellent friend.” Then turning fiercely on the English artillery- men, he cried: “ Load the gun! Will you keep me waiting all day?’ The Resident is ghastly pale while the prisoner speaks; but a covert smile is on the face of more than one staff officer as they hear the Hin- doo prince, in his labored English, revile his executioner. The Resident makes a silent sig- nal to the corporal of the gun, who immediate- ly gives the word in a subdued tone, unlike the usual hoarse shout of a British non-commission- ed officer: * Load with powder! Loan!” Instantly the six statues round the nine- pounder start into vigorous life, rushing at the gun like madmen, brandishing rammers, run- ning to and from the limber, till the flannel wder- is in its place behind a heavy aouble wad, and the men back in their old sta- tions. Then the corporal and sergeant, looking very pale, advance to the Rajah, who has drawn out a mger cent jeweled watch and is consulting it with apparent interest. The prince remarks with the greatest suavity : “Sergeant, [am glad tosee you. Iam glad they put you here, for you will do your uty properly. Please do not burt me with the cords more than necessary, and accept this watch as a trifle from me.” The sergeant grows paler than ever as he takes the watch and mutters with dry lips: ‘God help your honor to glory!” The Rajah turns to the corporal, still smil- ing. f My friend, your detachment is not as quick asit should be, I have seen the artillerymen of my guard load in three seconds less time than you took. But then they had a Yankee for captain, and I am told that the Yankees can always beat you Englishmen. Is that—” ‘Fre HIM UP!” interrupts the voice of the Resident, in a perfect shout. His face, lately 80 pale, is now purple with anger. Tie him up and blow him to pieces, the black traitor |” There is a sort of shudder among the officers, as he . They are not unused to these hor- rible executions, but there seems to be some- thing about this which shocks even men who have followed the bloody track of Outram. More than one scowls openly at the Resident, who affects not to see it, and continues: “Do — duty, sergeant, and turn in that watch my head-clerk, after the execution. You understand?’ The Irish sergeant salutes stiffly, with a mut- “Yes, sir.” As for the Rajah, he only laughs, as careless- ly as ever, as the two non-commissioned offi- cers, not urgently, lead him to the muzzle of the and place him with his back against it, while they attach his arms, with long cords, to the cheeks of the gun-carriage. Me The hight of man and gun, the position in which he is secured, cause him to stand nearly erect, inclining a little back, his face turned di- rectly to the dent. The time has come, and even the stolid artil- oe ge Rae their lips in expectation of the terrible drama to be enacted, Only the : doomed pone: of all the assemblage, looks as calm as if he were witnessing a play Then the Resident dismounts close to him and motions back the gun-detachment. The bystanders retire out of hearing, and the Resi- dent says, in low, hurried tones: « Reflect, dasa. I can save you, now. Tell me the secret, and I will see your sentence commuted.” The Rajah laughs aloud. “Why, youare a greater fool then I thought. You cur, my secret is safe with Effie and the hee te gl i EL LL LL LE A LLL LLL! LLL LOL LALLA LLL AOE ON a ae The Duke of 2 a a —e SS ee It is the last wild defiance of impotence againstinjustice, and even the Resident feels the insult through all his armor of greed. He starts k and raises his hand as if to strike, but desists in very shame before an au- dible hiss from the officers. Then he motions forward the gun-party, and steps aside, watching the doomed prince with malignant satisfaction. The corporal takes the linstock in hand, trem- bling like a leaf, and all fall back behind the axle of the carriage. The Rajah looks proudly before him, and cries aloud, in English: ‘Soldiers, your chief is a cowardly assassin and thief, who—” ‘* Fire /” almost shrieks the Resident. _ The corporal lowers the port-fire on the prim- ing. And then— The Bishop of Calcutta enlarged his diocese that year by sending a new missionary to Krishnapoor to convert the Pagan Hindoos to the religion of love and forgiveness. CHAPTER II. 1877 BRIGHT shines the sun over the rkling waves of the Arabian Sea, through which the stanch ship Benares, of the P. & O. 8. 8. Co’s line* is plowing her steady, old-fashioned way. The Benares plied from Bombay to Suez when first the P. & O. 8.8. Co. had a local habitation and a name, and she continues her voyage up the Mediterranean ever since M. de Lesseps has opened a way for her through the isthmus. Under the striped-awning of the quarter-deck, scattered about on camp-chairs, with abun- dance of fans, are the passengers, a few ladies returning from India, with a number of fur- loughed officers and one or two civilians. Quite a large group of men, with two of the ship’s officers, are gathered in an admiring cir- cle around two ladies in the coolest part of the quarter-deck. The ladies are Anglo-Indians; one can see that at a glance. There isa lan- oy insolent air about them that only be- ongs to the Englishwoman in India, with her fifty black servants, more or less. The nearest approach to this liar airof which Americans are capable might have been seen in a rich New Orleans Creole, thirty years ago, under the slavery regime. The oldest of the ladies now in question is of uncertain age. She owns to twenty-five, and has quite forgotten her birthday, though her hair is still as brown as ever, banged and friz- zed into the latest style of “lunatic fringe,” while her manners (when not addressing an in- ferior) are kittenish in the extreme, This, ladies and gentlemen, is the Honorable Lorelia Lawton, sister to the distinguished Sir Lumley Lawton, whose services in India have lately been rewarded with a baronetcy—though Sir pong Bo not carefor the honor; his elder brother, Lord Loughborough, being childless and consumptive. The young lady by her side, pale and beau- tiful as a Greek statue, is her niece, og A daugh- ter of Sir Lumley, and the toast of half the messes in India, as the ‘* Flower of Calcutta.” ‘* Helen, my love,” begins aunt Lorelia, in her kittenish way, ‘‘I really must protest against these afternoon levees onsuch fearfully hot days. We are expected to hold our own against these wicked men, who are practicing witty sayings all the morning, when we’ve hardly strength to speak at all— Fan harder, pig. Are you asleep?” The last words are not in ea. ag but deliv- ered in Hindoostanee with much energy to the patient black punkah-wallah behind her. Like many other Anglo-Indian ladies, the Honorable Lorelia keeps her Hindoostanee for abusive pur- ,and knows very little of the language ut how to scold. The young lady by her side smiles in a lan- guid, weary manner. “Why not let them talk, aunty? It amuses them, you know.” There is a listlessly insolent air about Helen Lawton that comes of too much petting and flattery; for she bas been accustomed, ever since she was fifteen, to look on men, especially officers, as a sort of upper servants for her whims. She is not a bad girl by any means, for she is naturally kind and gentle, but the gentlest may be spoiled by irresponsible power. “Ah, Miss Helen, could ye be as cruel as that?” says a rich oleaginous voice. ‘“*‘ Amuses us! And haven’t I been trying for two mortal hours to amuse your beautiful self?” The Honorable Lorelia strikes in with her usual un giggle. “Why, Capeatn O’Shea! And I thought you were trying to please me.” ‘‘ And why not?’ asked the Irishman, a stout, ae pacer ero nic in the braided frock of an Officer of the Control Department (once Com- missariat). ‘‘ Sure I’m like the highwayman in the play, Miss Lawton, that could be happy with either. anes and you are cheated og, coward, liar; | *Peninsular and Oriental Steamship Company’s Line, running from England to Bombay via Suez. Diamonds. fst shes i sss MA Tn ee — ~~ — + ‘Go away, you horridimmoral man. There’s no believing you Irishmen, any more than the French, You're all the same deceiving set.” “ Ah, now, Miss Lawton, don’t be classin’ us with the French and all other foreigners. We're nearer to ye than the Yankees, anyway, and ye don’t abuse them.” ‘Because they say something when they speak, Captain O’Shea,” remarks the younger lady in her usual tone of languid disdain; and there is a general laugh at O’Shea’s expense, in which all join but a tall foung fellow, who is sitting on a stool at Miss Helen’s feet. This youth has a keen, handsome face, with those clear-cut, rather sh features, which would stamp him anywhere for an American. O’Shea reddens perceptibly through his sun- burnt mask, and seems a little at a loss for a reply. It is the American himself, of whom the stout officer has always been jealous, who comes to his rescue with the quiet retort: ‘Thanks for the compliment. But we can hardly call anything good which is rude. Cap- tain O’Shea has one fault common to all Irish- men: he is too good-natured to shine in pure sarcasm.” As he speaks, he rises from his lowly seat and moves away forward among the crew, saying to the Lrishman as he passes: ‘*Come and have a cheroot, captain.” The Hon, Lorelia giggles with great delight as the two stroll forward, though her niece’s face had flushed violently. The elder lady is too fond of admiration not to enjoy seeing her beautiful relative snubbed. The two gentlemen are soon amicably en- aged in burning the fragrant incense of the merican weed, rolled into the form of che roots, near the port paddle-box. O’Shea, who has been disposed to dislike the American, on the len, Pag ects ganuse heme he is not one of Ours,” has been comple conquered by th behavior of the latter. . . . apy “* It’s lovely weather we have, Mr. Hart,” he remarks, as a signal of amity. Clarence Hart casts a glance seaward. ‘* We shall have a change soon, and a bad one at that,” he answers, gravely. He had struck his math, and was looking out over the port quarter toward the south-east as he spoke. O’Shea’s eyes, following his, saw on the hori- zon a small bank of sian that looked like dis- tant land. ‘Did you never see such a cloud as that be- fore, Captain O’Shea?” asked Hart, as he light- ed his cheroot. ‘“*Bedad, and why not?’ was the counter- question, ‘‘ Clouds are common enough, on me conscience,” _ “Then look up there,” rejoined Hart, point- te up beside the mizzen-topsail-yard, where a little white speck of vapor began tc be visible. ‘* Did you ever see a cloud like that?” O’Shea cocked his eye at it. _ “It’s growing, by the Besos he remarked, in a tone of interest. ‘‘ We’ll havealittle shade ais this oe - a@ sun,” ‘ More than we wish,” replied Hart, gravely. ““You’re a landsman, O'Shea, or youd iow what that means. We'll havea typhoon on us before sunset, or I never saw one.” As he spoke, O’Shea became aware that there was a commotion on deck. e Officers came forward quietly, but rapidly, with grave faces and the crew bustled about, while a number o men went aloft and began to send down the light yards. ——— CHAPTER ITI. at late oa TYPHOON, N less than two minutes the speck of O’Shea had seen by the mizzen-topeail. vane to grown into a black mass of vapor, with dull coppery reflections along its upper ed bendinic from the zenith almost = e fast that had first arisen on the horizon. Besides this, the cloud-bank on the south-east- ern horizon was rising steadily, like a chain of black and blue mountains with snow-clad peak behind which incessant red flashes and the rol of thunder showed that a terrible storm was a ven the lady passengers began t was something coming sy mar the He Bes the por i ough the captain and officers put os en <e aces and made their preparations he first intimation they had of the comi peril was when the men ed an to ere off the uarter-deck awning, and the steward to carry the ag Og down below. The Hon. Lorelia saw the latter functionary displace her favorite lap-dog with a curt, “ Beg pardon, my lady,” and vanish down the com- panionway, whereupon she arose in great in- dignation, calling to her Indian butler: Kitmuggar ! Kitmuggar! Bring back that chair instantly, for poor eh Do you hear?” But, to her surprise, the Hindoo had vanish- ed; and not only that, but a couple of sailors had carried off her own and her niece’s seats in the first moment of her indignation, so that the quarter-deck was empty of chairs; while the captain was calling out some unintelligible or. Gomic ders to the crew, and the mates were h ES ( I00 ——_—