A Far Horizon (21 page)

‘Why has Rai Durlabh not yet done away with the nawab? What are we to do?’ The Governor grew petulant.

‘Let us evacuate with the treasure,’ Manningham said, for now reality pressed hard upon them all.

The Chief Magistrate voiced his worst fears to the Council of War. ‘If we evacuate Calcutta, I fear it is possible all may be lost. Our homes may be fired and our fort commandeered. We may then be forced to live in our own town upon Siraj Uddaulah’s terms. In victory he may prove even less reasonable. We must leave the option of evacuation until the very last. At that time we can try and bargain our way out.’ Holwell spoke firmly, but beneath his words he saw events spiralling unstoppably towards him.

In the secret missives now going backwards and forwards at an accelerated rate between Fort William and the commander, Rai
Durlabh still indicated that he would soon successfully carry out his plan. Every moment Fort William waited for news of the nawab’s dispatch.

‘Unless Rai Durlabh does something before morning, it would appear at least one battle must be fought,’ Mackett announced, his voice turning up at the end in panic.

‘A further message has been sent to the commander,’ Holwell wearily informed them.

Everyone now had trouble containing their impatience with Rai Durlabh. The last reply received from him had urged Fort William to prepare for the possibility of a short battle. If he was unable to act decisively before such an event, Rai Durlabh assured Fort William, he would persuade the nawab to attack at Perrin’s Redoubt, a spot he knew was well fortified, which would be to the Hatmen’s advantage.

‘Let us hope he will soon do the needful. I suspect the commander is waiting for a moment in battle when confusion will be at its height and the nawab will be careless. I suspect also that the commander will see no great damage is done us. It will be a staged battle,’ the Chief Magistrate tried to sound hopeful.

‘Nevertheless, a battle is a battle. Had we known it would come to this we could already have begun bargaining with the nawab. Instead, we have sat around uselessly just awaiting the intervention of Rai Durlabh. I fear now we are hanging upon the word of an untrustworthy schemer.’ The Governor was unable to control his anxiety.

In the silence that followed the Governor’s words, the sounds of the militia drilling on the parade ground came clearly to them all. Shouted orders and the clunk of muskets echoed about the Council chamber. Those half-caste Portuguese and Armenians from the town who had volunteered for duty knowing nothing of military life were awkward with their weapons. It was found necessary to drill them constantly if some degree of proficiency was to be obtained. This was not the case with the Company’s men or those who had volunteered from the Settlement or been drawn from shipping upon the Hoogly,
who were all familiar with weaponry. And the band of Dutch mercenaries who had been persuaded to join them must be disciplined to control their recklessness. From wherever they had come, this influx of volunteers now swelled the garrison’s force to five hundred and fifteen men.

‘Are we sure attack will be at dawn?’ Frankland queried.

‘That is the way of Indian armies. Fighting will stop between noon and three, to allow each man to eat and sleep. It is ill mannered in the eyes of the Moors not to observe this siesta. All fighting ceases at six in the evening until the following dawn,’ the Chief Magistrate confirmed.

‘The
Prince
George
with all its cannon is ready to fire from the Hoogly should we need it.’ Drake had ordered the war ship to sail up river and it had arrived before Fort William the previous day.

‘Of course, Fort William will be in no danger. The battle will be in the town. Should things get out of hand, we will wait no longer to evacuate,’ the Chief Magistrate assured the Council of War.

*

The following morning, dawn broke with its usual magnificence. At the palisades and in the fort, in the redoubt and in the trenches across the denuded Park, the men of Fort William waited for the nawab to attack at the expected hour. Dawn came and went. The aubergine shadows grew lighter and faded at last. Flocks of parrots flew about screeching. The jackals returned to the jungle and the adjutant birds opened red-rimmed eyes in search of the day’s first morsels. There was no sound from the enemy. In the heat, the Hatmen and their army waited, facing a wall of coconut palms fronting the impenetrable jungle. Soon the sun spurted fire more viscous than any cannon and heat rose shimmering from the ground. Men began to faint. The Dutch mercenaries and the Portuguese sepoys demanded a return to Fort William.

At the very moment they threatened to lay down their arms, the call of the muezzin rose suddenly from the enemy camp and floated through the jungle. The voice climbed steadily upon the hot air until
it reached its zenith. There it stayed for some seconds, neither wavering nor falling. The sweet purity of the sound was such that everybody listened. There was something terrifying in such beauty, as if the voice of God were heard. Suddenly it stopped, and for a split second there was silence. Then, as if the world had broken apart, a wild battle cry came from the nawab’s great army. A first wave of riflemen streamed out of the jungle, pennants flying, to form a line two hundred yards long. The Hatmen levelled their muskets. The Indians took up position, some lying, some kneeling, some standing behind, all without any cover. The Hatmen let fire at once and were relieved to find the returning fire not only ragged but harmless. Then, unexpectedly, a cannon ball crashed out of the jungle. It whistled over the Hatmen’s heads to score a direct hit on Perrin’s Redoubt. Smoke, dust, rubble and the cries of wounded men suddenly filled the air. Sunlight streamed through the redoubt’s paltry walls, the dead lay in bloody heaps. From the depths of the jungle came an immediate commotion of wildlife. Birds rose from the trees in squawking clouds, jackals howled, hysterical monkeys fled their habitat showing yellow teeth.

The enemy screamed in triumph. They now ran at the Ditch firing wildly, flinging themselves into the sluggish water, scrambling out the other side for a final assault. At that moment the
Prince
George
fired its first shots from the river. The aggressive boom from out of nowhere and the great spurts of dirt as each cannon ball landed had everyone confused. One moment the enemy was preparing for assault; the next the air was alive with flying bodies and limbs. Those left alive wasted no time in rushing back into the cover of the jungle. A thick fog of black smoke hung upon the hot air. It was twenty minutes past ten.

Soon the enemy regained some courage and returned for a further skirmish. The Fort William men in Perrin’s Redoubt fought bravely. If an enemy hand gripped the base of a window it was sliced off. If a face appeared before them it was immediately run through. The fighting went on until noon. In Fort William the gunfire had been
plainly heard and events just as plainly observed. Overwhelmed by the unexpected success, Holwell threw himself into the subject of strategy, the adrenaline pounding through his veins. While Captain Minchin sulked in the background, low on courage and advice, the garrison turned for leadership to the Chief Magistrate.

The distant sight of the redoubt in all its shambles convinced Holwell that a change of plan was needed for the afternoon. He ordered an eighteen-pounder cannon drawn up to Bagh Bazaar, the great market area of Black Town. Here the Fort William soldiers would be hidden while having a clear view of the Ditch. If this cannon, plus the men in the damaged redoubt and the
Prince
George
on the river all opened fire at a given signal, the enemy would be attacked from three sides at once. It was not the habit of Indian armies to look in more than one direction at a time. And better still, the Chief Magistrate decided, Fort William would not observe the etiquette of waiting out the nawab’s siesta until three o’clock. They would attack at two fifteen.

At the appointed time, oxen, horses and soldiers having dragged the great cannon the two miles to Bagh Bazaar, the enemy were surprised as intended. Cannonball after cannonball crashed down into the jungle from three separate sides. Firing continued for over an hour; no sound of defence was heard. This unnatural silence was because, unbeknown to Fort William, a lucky shot had smashed two cannon, blown up several kegs of powder and killed two of the nawab’s French officers who were directing proceedings. Siraj Uddaulah’s thirty thousand now refused to fight, sitting terrified amongst their dead. Two elephants, driven mad by the noise, broke their chains and stampeded out of the jungle to stumble into the Ditch amongst the dead and wounded. Vultures collected to wheel overhead. The smell of blood had also reached the jackals, who stuck their heads out of the cover of the jungle, braving daylight and crowds. Behind the screen of trees, sounds of retreat were heard.

Within Fort William the Council of War was jubilant. Lethargy
was thrown aside. The unexpected victory had taken them all by surprise.

‘We should not allow ourselves the luxury of jubilation so early in the day,’ the Chaplain warned, looking about the table of the Council chamber. He had produced some bottles of his best claret in a sudden swell of generosity. At certain bald moments in the last few days the Reverend Bellamy had forced himself to face the fact that he might not survive the siege. Was it not right then to drink his best wines and leave the worst to posterity?

‘The main assault, we are told by our spies, is set for the day after tomorrow.’ Holwell exchanged a glance with Drake.

‘By then perhaps the nawab will be dead, if we are to believe Rai Durlabh,’ Frankland insisted.

‘Rather than fight tomorrow, the enemy will prepare themselves for the main battle,’ Drake observed.

A novel idea had struck the Chief Magistrate in the middle of his claret, and he voiced it to the table carefully, weighing each word as he spoke. ‘I think, in order that we may more clearly see the enemy’s movements, and also to deprive them of good cover, we need to rid ourselves of Black Town.’

‘How is this to be done?’ Manningham frowned, unable like everyone else to follow the Chief Magistrate’s line of reasoning.

‘It will have to be fired,’ the Chief Magistrate answered. There was an immediate buzz of confusion in the Council chamber.

‘But the natives still populate the place,’ the Chaplain worried.

‘Most have run into the jungle; the rest will follow their example as soon as the fire starts. The sacrifice of a few thatched huts is preferable to the destruction of Calcutta proper,’ the Chief
Magistrate
announced, clear now in his mind of the necessity of his plan.

‘We do not want the fire to result in unnecessary killings,’ Bellamy frowned, remembering once more the slaughter in Omichand’s house.

‘We are in a difficult position. Some sacrifice must be risked for the greater good,’ the Chief Magistrate argued.

It did not take long for a consensus to be reached at the table. The firing of Black Town was agreed upon and an order was immediately given. Yet the houses of White Town, clustered so closely about the fort, were still ignored as a potential danger.

Unbeknown to the Council of War, Siraj Uddaulah had at that same moment issued an identical order. He too had no use for Black Town. It impeded his vision of the fort, and the grand houses of White Town stood ready to provide any cover he needed.

*

Rai Durlabh entered the great pavilion of Siraj Uddaulah. The scarlet tent, sixty feet long and thirty feet high, was secured by gold pillars and weighed down with ornaments encrusted with jewels. Precious carpets covered the floor. In the midst of this splendour sat the nawab, a rope of pearls slung over a vest of chain mail.

‘You have sent the message? Still they trust your word?’ the prince enquired when Rai Durlabh stood before him.

‘They wait for my direction.’

‘They have the river and will run to their boats. They will take the treasure with them.’ Siraj Uddaulah clenched his fist at the thought.

‘The Hatmen will sit where they are hoping their God with my help will deliver them. When they find themselves cornered like rats in a trap, only then they will run to their boats. We shall soon recover the treasure. But the greatest treasure of all will be Fort William itself,’ Rai Durlabh advised. Siraj Uddaulah rewarded him with a faint smile.

Later, as he left the tent, he looked up into the moonless sky. If the rains held off he had no doubt they could soon be within the fort. With the Young Begum’s arrest it had been necessary to play a different role. It was important nothing was rushed, each step had to be considered. He had no doubt the young nawab would eventually destroy himself with his hot-headed antics. Rai Durlabh felt no need to risk his own life in power games: he had only to bide his time. Sooner or later, all that he wished would be his. He walked the short distance to his own handsome tent, where a small portion of
Omichand’s Garden had been set aside for his enjoyment. The sawing of crickets filled his ears and the smell of the river came to him as he walked along. The moon had withdrawn from the world to begin its journey of transformation. When once again it was reborn, on what order of things would it shine? wondered Rai Durlabh. Mankind made plans, more fragile than a spider’s web, but all things were in God’s hands. Men were never in control of events, however hard they tried. Instead, events controlled the life of men. Rai Durlabh found new equilibrium with this thought. He sat down on a bench. The smell of jasmine filled the dark sky.

A
t first the dire happenings across the Ditch in White Town did not disturb Black Town’s day. It was noticed that lanes were clogged by a large number of departing families pushing overloaded carts. It was also noted that beggars immediately commandeered the many huts standing suddenly empty, but the true danger of events was not comprehended. The barber in the lanes near Jaya had vanished, and men complained there was no one to clean their ears or trim a moustache. The snake charmer and a group of acrobats no longer pestered passers-by. Some of the stalls had closed their shutters. The sandal man and the oil-lamp man were amongst the many who had disappeared. The fruit man and the spice vendor sat before diminishing piles of mechandise. Eventually nobody could deny that there was a lessening clamour, a slowing of trade, a thinning of crowds. Apprehension built slowly until it was like dry kindling, waiting only for a spark. Finally, most people who remained in Black Town did so at the ready, cooking utensils and other necessities tied up in carrying cloths. The old men stretched out on string beds under the trees talked in worried tones, ready to flee when the moment came. Stocks of rice and
dhal
were low. The itinerant vegetable woman now included some fruit and pulses in her basket and continued to pester Jaya.

‘Here is a good
chunna
dhal
and also sweet limes. Rice and
dhal
are now like gold; everyone is hoarding. The Hatmen are taking everything into their hive and closing their gates. They are leaving nothing for Black Town people.’ The vegetable woman offered the
dhal
for inspection to Jaya.

‘Always you are bringing me the same rotten things. See here, each bit of
dhal
is like a honeycomb. It has already fed an army of maggots.’ Jaya pushed the pulses away.

‘Aiee, Bibiji, nowadays who will care? Where will you get fine
dhal
? Only show me and I too will buy from there.
Dhal
is
dhal
once it is cooked; it will taste the same. I am not charging; it is a gift for the
Devi.
All I want in return is
darshan
,’ the vegetable woman pleaded.

Every day Jaya’s hut was crowded. It was known now as the Devi Ashram. People came from all ends of Black Town to pay homage to the Goddess. Those who believed She had come for a purpose at a critical moment in time remained unconcerned by events across the Ditch and the worrying swirl of gossip. Each day people collected about Jaya’s hut, bringing offerings of fruit, a handful of almonds, a cup of rice or a few chillies. Those who could gave money. Many of the women and children who arrived each day were the families of the half-caste Portuguese sepoys of the Fort William garrison. Without their men, and beset with anxiety, these women found sanctuary in the Devi Ashram. A hut next to Jaya’s had fallen empty in the exodus and the women devotees took it upon themselves to transform this into the ashram kitchen. All offerings of food were turned over to them. It had been agreed in the ashram that meals must be provided for the regular crowd of disciples, of whom some were sick or maimed. Whatever their condition, they had trudged across Black Town to the God Woman. Others insisted on carrying water from the well as a service to the
Devi
, or set themselves the task of sweeping clean the God Woman’s hut. Some families took advantage of the number of vacant huts nearby and moved into these, saving themselves a daily trek. In this way there was now established a large circle of devotees about Jaya’s hut.

At the very nucleus of the Devi Ashram Sati sat supreme. Even before the sun came up she awoke to sounds of the faithful gathering, of shifting feet and muted voices or the crying of a child. Then there arose the smell of cooking and the clank of pans. She ate the meal they served her and then Pagal opened the door. He had assumed the role of her attendant. For the rest of the day the faithful streamed through at regulated times. She sat silently while they touched her feet, and then gave her blessing over bowed heads. Govindram and Mohini directed the progress of things. With Omichand in prison and business slow, Govindram had many empty hours to his day, and was glad to take charge of the organisation. Mohini took charge of the needs of the women and children and Jaya governed the kitchen. Pagal, the albino, had proved himself indispensable, obeying willingly all commands. The Devi Ashram had already evolved a rhythm to its day. In the midst of growing turmoil it remained a pool of tranquillity. Its sudden birth in Black Town was whispered of in awe.

Even when the great cloud of dust that was Siraj Uddaulah and his thirty thousand came to settle upon Calcutta, the impact was negligible upon the Devi Ashram. Those who resided in its circle of huts maintained expressions of beatitude that nothing seemed to stir. When the departing crowds trundled past with carts of belongings and asked if they felt no trepidation, they replied as one, ‘The Goddess will provide.’

Only Jaya, viewing the rolling cloud of dust, and tasting on her lips the first gritty particles, ran to secure the top of her water jar and drape a length of muslin over her window. This last precaution was useless, for immediately the sun was up, Pagal opened the door to the faithful and a continuous swirl of dust. It was towards evening, as the women devotees began preparing the evening meal, that Pagal, chewing tobacco outside the hut, saw the first wisps of smoke.

Soon, fired by the nawab and fired again by the Hatmen, Black Town was burning well. The closely packed huts, their thatched roofs dried by the sun, blazed up. Smoke billowed thickly and flames shot
out. The fire quickly found momentum. The narrow lanes of Black Town were suddenly choked by stampeding crowds, behind them raced the holocaust. It reached out to touch a child’s hair, drawing into its depths without discrimination geriatrics and newborn kittens, beggars and a moneylender who had paused to urinate. The old men who had gossiped under the trees were forced to abandon their string beds to the fire. Women left laundry and frying onions, stopping only to snatch up babies. Those who could jumped into the Hoogly, but they were few, for the fire blew landwards, cutting Black Town off from the river. Many jumped headlong into wells and died in consequence. The terror was added to by the nawab’s men, who swept down upon the burning town, hacking at the fleeing crowds, plundering where they could. The dead and dying clogged the streets, slaughtered by soldiers or trampled in the stampede, suffocated by the smoke.

In the Devi Ashram there was panic at Pagal’s alarm. Those who queued for
darshan
or an evening meal turned on their heels and ran. Only the most devoted stayed near the God Woman, hearts beating in their throats, aware of the danger of each lost moment. Govindram grew flustered and began to shout; Mohini clung to Jaya. The wives of Fort William’s Portuguese sepoys clutched their children and began a hysterical debate. Although the fire had not yet reached the Devi Ashram, the smoke swirled densely, making people cough, and their eyes smart. Only Sati sat silent. Durga had appeared suddenly in the late afternoon, as if aware of trouble. She lay along the rafters under the thatch, chin upon her hand, observing the crowd. Sati kept her eyes upon her. Durga would tell her what to do.

One of the wives of the Portuguese sepoys pushed through the crowd until she stood before Sati. ‘All the women of White Town are inside the fort. Their men already were there for fighting. So quietly quietly in the night they went inside, thinking we would not know. We too have a right to be in there. Our husbands also are fighting for the Hatmen.’

Another woman spoke up. ‘Haa! They seek only to protect
themselves and their White Town. Our Black Town they are burning down for their convenience. Whether we live or die they care nothing. From one side came Siraj Uddaulah’s men with their torches, and from the other came the Hatmen also with big torches. Everyone can bear witness to this.’ There were cries of approval at this speech.

‘Let us go to the fort. Why should our husbands fight for them if they care nothing for us?’ the first woman demanded.

‘Then let us hurry,’ said Govindram. ‘Inside the fort we will be safe.’ There was new panic in the ashram as the heat of the fire drew nearer.

‘Let us go,’ Sati announced abruptly. One moment Durga had sat on the rafters; the next she was no longer there. It was clear to Sati that Durga had directed the sepoys’ wives to advise them. As Sati rose, devotees immediately crowded about her like a hive of bees protecting their queen.

In this awkwardly bunched formation, the Devi Ashram began the journey to Fort William, moving amoeba-like about its precious nucleus. Smoke enveloped them, fingers of flame reached out towards them, hordes of terrified, fleeing people pushed against them. Roofs collapsed at their feet, fiery chunks of timber barred their path. The panic of flailing limbs and shouts and screams was deafening. Slowly, the Devi Ashram pushed forward, women holding their babies close, young children carrying younger siblings upon their backs. The albino and his family clung to each other and kept a firm hold on Sati’s veil. Jaya struggled with the ashram’s cooking utensils, trundling them before her in a small barrow. At one point the flames and the commotion became so bad that it seemed the barrow must be abandoned, but they pushed on, heads down against the smoke and pandemonium, as if they battled against a storm. Heat scorched lungs, smoke blinded eyes, but still they pushed on.

Eventually they crossed the Ditch and found themselves on The Avenue. Fort William stood before them. They had entered another world. The fire was suddenly left behind as if a door had closed on it.
Here, in White Town, the dusk descended gracefully, lit by Black Town’s fiery sky. It was immediately clear that others besides themselves in Black Town had had the idea of reaching the fort. The Avenue was crowded with people all heading towards the garrison. As the crowd drew nearer Fort William, the Hatmen were seen looking down from the ramparts in consternation.

The first of the Black Town crowd to reach the fort were met with drawn swords. When the argument grew heated and forced entry was attempted, the great gates swung shut on them. Word of this rippled back through the crowd, now grown to a threatening size. Then, the wives of the black Portuguese sepoys inside the fort grew strident and, announcing the presence of the ashram to the crowd, began to push their way forward. People drew back in respect when they heard of the God Woman’s presence. Still moving in a circuitous manner about their precious nucleus, the Devi Ashram arrived as one before the gates of Fort William. Sati, Jaya, Govindram and Mohini looked up at the fort with mixed feelings. The albino and his family drew back in awe. Only the wives of the Portuguese sepoys planted themselves fearlessly before the gate and began to argue with the guards. They shook their fists at the Hatmen, who still stood at the ramparts. The rattling of bangles on angry wrists rose ominously in the air. Soon, knowledge of the women’s presence reached the ears of their husbands. On the parade ground, the soldiers threatened mutiny if their wives were not given refuge. They laid down their muskets and refused to fight, standing with folded arms. For some time debate raged, the women screaming on one side of the wall, the soldiers adamant on the other. Then the furious crowd suddenly overwhelmed the guards and burst through the gates of Fort William. They scrambled up the steps, spilling into the parade ground. The Devi Ashram were amongst the first to enter.

In spite of the excitement of an imminent reunion with their husbands, the sepoy’s wives still moved in a protective formation about the God Woman, with the other devotees. People jostled past them, but the Devi Ashram climbed the steps cautiously, aware of
their extraordinary status. In their midst Sati looked up at Governor’s House, remembering the high-ceilinged rooms and the bird on the candelabra. Did Mrs Drake hover behind the tatties, staring down at them? Sati scanned the windows of the Governor’s apartment. For a brief moment a pale face appeared in the failing light, but she could not be sure who it was.

For a while, once they had entered the fort, the people of Black Town seemed confused by their unexpected transposition. Many had observed the walls of Fort William for a lifetime and wondered at the world within. Few had business inside and even fewer aspired to enter the Hatmen’s enclave. It had been thought by Black Town that the Hatmen’s hive, shut away by high walls and mounted cannon, shaped and sustained by incomprehensible perceptions, must be as powerfully different as the world of gods was different from the world of men. It was a surprise to find this was not so. As they burst through the gates into the parade ground, as they staked out space upon which to settle, as they coughed out the acrid smoke from their lungs, the people of Black Town looked about furtively and found no reason for the Hatmen’s disavowal of them. Fort William was not paved with gold, nor did the Hatmen breathe fire or show forked tongues. And as muskets could not be spared for use upon them, the Hatmen must for once bow to Black Town demands.

The old men who had gossiped under the trees and had recently watched their string beds burn now gathered together again in Fort William to survey their new location. The unexpected transition made the old men brave; they strutted about dropping snide remarks. The presence of the God Woman in their midst shored up their courage further. It was as they had always thought. Beneath their woollen hair and stiff, thick clothes, the Hatmen were insignificant men, no different from themselves. They climbed to the ramparts of Fort William and observed the world with the Hatmen’s eyes. All about them the jungle flexed its muscle, hiding unknown terrors in its depths. And from its edge the Black Town world grew densely, like a colony of termites that would undermine foundations.
The old men scratched their heads and for the first time wondered if the Hatmen lived more in fear than arrogance.

It could be said, the men reasoned, that Fort William had been built upon the Hoogly’s banks not so much to facilitate trade as to be ready for escape. With only a push, Fort William would topple into the Hoogly. The old men’s laughter echoed across the parade ground. They swaggered about, pleased with themselves, confirming the sudden reversal of things. Soon the mutinous Portuguese sepoys arrived with rations for their families and something more for the Devi Ashram.