N. Francis Xavier
Part XXIII, (Continued from last week)
Aves Island in hove into view as the whaler made a sharp turn to port. The thickly wooden island did not present any suitable landing place for a boat. But Hemraj knew there was a small patch of beach on the other side. The men pulled on the oars till the boat rounded a bluff. Before them, on the starboard side was a nice sloping beach of white, glittering sand. The water was crystal clear, an emerald green. The men jumped into the water and hauled the boat high on to the beach, then dragged it into a clump of bushes. With practiced hands they set up the camp in the clearing beyond the beach. A fire was lit; a big vessel placed on it, and rice was soon boiling. The two large fish caught at the mouth of the inlet were cleaned and coated with spices, ready for frying. Dal was boiling in another smaller bowl.
After a hearty meal the men sprawled on the cool sand. They can rest here for at least a couple of days, before setting out on what would be the last leg of their epic journey.
Hemraj estimated they could hit the mainland coast in about six days in the prevailing weather conditions. But he could not predict where they would make landfall. It could be anywhere between the land of the Tamils and the Bengalis. Most of the coastal region is controlled by the British. There would be surveillance. The newly laid telegraph lines would make identification easier for the district authorities. They should make good use of the railway line to disperse quickly in different directions. They should not repeat the mistakes of those who escaped earlier but were recaptured and brought back to the Andamans within months. Their biggest mistake had been going to their hometown as soon as they reached the mainland.
As the sunset over the bay a hushed silence descended on the island. Except for the chirping of the crickets and the buzz of the mosquitoes there was no sound at all. The men dug a pit, threw in some driftwood and lit a fire. Sprawled over the soft sand they were in an exuberant mood. Hemraj remembered the stories Mr. Portman used to tell them, of ancient sailors who sailed home after a great war, but had to wander for ten years, shipwrecked on many islands, meeting strange monsters and witches and finally reaching home.
“I wish the British are driven out of our country, sooner or later”, Hemraj started. “We’re afraid of returning to our own country for fear of recapture by these goras who came from outside”.
“I wish they’d never come”, Nekram, who hardly opens his mouth, said. “They are very bad people; worse than out Zamindars. But they have the power, and weapons. They are ruled by one Rani. We’re ruled by so many princes, and most of them are stooges of the British.
There was a brief silence. Kursun took a branch from the fire and lit his cheroot.
“Not all the British are bad”, a voice spoke up suddenly.
All heads turned towards Bhaman Singh, sitting propped up against a fallen tree trunk. “There were many who fought on our side during the Mutiny”, he said.
Everyone knew that Bhaman was a sepoy in the Native Infantry and saw action in many places before he was captured and sent to the Andamans.
“I too heard of it, from none other than Capt. Wimberley. He too sympathized with the cause of the mutineers. Especially the summary executions in which many innocents were hanged”, Sheobrat piped in.
“I have seen it, and knew that person, but you must promise never to reveal his name to the British in case you are recaptured”, Bhaman said.
“By God, we shall never” all answered in one voice.
“He was a Sergeant Major of a regiment of Highlanders, a man named Gordon. Tall, well-built, handsome, and a true leader of men. He was also a crack shot and artillery expert.
“Like most Englishmen he liked fair play. He knew that the East India Company was looting the country. Many people in England opposed it, but their Rajas supported it because they used to get a share of the loot.
“Gordon saab was often seen in the company of the sepoys sharing his thoughts. I was a young recruit that time, and would sit with the others listening to their conversations.
“When the Mutiny broke out I was in Delhi. I took part in the battle of BadlikiSerai, in which Gordon and another white man were fighting against their own men, their own Highlanders.
“The rebels saw the advancing British and opened a fierce cannonade on them from vantage points in the Serai. Muskets, cannons and guns of all caliber poured shot and shell against the British. Almost every shot found its mark, playing havoc among the advancing columns of the British. The British were amazed at the range and accuracy of the rebel guns. The technique of using the modern ordnance, they thought, was as yet unknown to the native soldiers. What they did not know was that a British artillery non-commissioned officer was personally directing the fire, checking the loading, elevation and firing of the guns.
The men listened with rapt attention. There was no other sound except the occasional hooting of a distant owl from the forest.
“In the battle Gordon’s companion fell. We were forced to retreat. We knew that Delhi was destined to fall. At the head of the British was the redoubtable Brigadier General Nicholson. He was fearless, riding into the thick of the battle and cutting down many rebels with his sword. People started calling him the butcher of Delhi.
“On the day Delhi fellNicholson was in the front line. He was not aware death awaited him at the hands of his own countryman. No one would ever know that it was Gordon saab who fired the fatal shot that killed Nicholson a few days later. He took shot from a distance of a thousand yards, a moving target, and hit him. Poor Nicholson lies buried in a cemetery in Delhi, killed in the hour of victory.
“The death of Nicholson was a great blow to the British. But they got Delhi, and we were pushed further and further towards the east. Gordon continued to lead the rebels, along with
“DoodhnathTiwari also told me that a white officer joined the rebels on the day Frederic Cooper, the notorious Deputy Commissioner of Amritsar executed 282 sepoys of the 26th Native Infantry Battalion and dumped their bodies down a well near Ajnala”, said, Bisheshwar, who was busy tending to the fire and roasting some fish that were caught in the evening.
“Yes, such reprehensible acts turned many British to the side of the rebels. Many cried at the mass executions and resigned their commission. But there’s more about Gordon. I’ll tell you tomorrow, when we take our last break before we set out again. Good night friends”, Bhaman Singh said as he curled up to sleep.
“Good night Bhamanbhai, don’t forget to tell us the rest of the story tomorrow, please”, the others said and they all searched for a comfortable place to sleep. (To be continued….)
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