“The river washes along the front of the old fort, and soprotects it, but on the sides and behind there are many doors, andthese had to be guarded, of course, in the old quarter as well as inthat which was actually held by our troops. We were short-handed,with hardly men enough to man the angles of the building andto serve the guns. It was impossible for us, therefore, to station astrong guard at every one of the innumerable gates. What we didwas to organize a central guardhouse in the middle of the fort, andto leave each gate under the charge of one white man and two orthree natives. I was selected to take charge during certain hours ofthe night of a small isolated door upon the south-west side of thebuilding. Two Sikh troopers were placed under my command, andI was instructed if anything went wrong to fire my musket, whenI might rely upon help coming at once from the central guard.
As the guard was a good two hundred paces away, however, andas the space between was cut up into a labyrinth of passages andcorridors, I had great doubts as to whether they could arrive intime to be of any use in case of an actual attack.
“Well, I was pretty proud at having this small command givenme, since I was a raw recruit, and a game-legged one at that. Fortwo nights I kept the watch with my Punjaubees. They were tall,fierce-looking chaps, Mahomet Singh and Abdullah Khan byname, both old fighting men, who had borne arms against us atChilian wallah. They could talk English pretty well, but I could getlittle out of them. They preferred to stand together, and jabber allnight in their queer Sikh lingo. For myself, I used to stand outsidethe gateway, looking down on the broad, winding river and onthe twinkling lights of the great city. The beating of drums, therattle of tomtoms, and the yells and howls of the rebels, drunkwith opium and with bang, were enough to remind us all night ofour dangerous neighbors across the stream. Every two hours theofficer of the night used to come round to all the posts to makesure that all was well.
“The third night of my watch was dark and dirty, with a smalldriving rain. It was dreary work standing in the gateway hourafter hour in such weather. I tried again and again to make mySikhs talk, but without much success. At two in the morning therounds passed and broke for a moment the weariness of the night.
Finding that my companions would not be led into conversation, Itook out my pipe and laid down my musket to strike the match. Inan instant the two Sikhs were upon me. One of them snatched myfirelock up and levelled it at my head, while the other held a greatknife to my throat and swore between his teeth that he wouldplunge it into me if I moved a step.
“My first thought was that these fellows were in league withthe rebels, and that this was the beginning of an assault. If ourdoor were in the hands of the Sepoys the place must fall, and thewomen and children be treated as they were in Cawnpore. Maybeyou gentlemen think that I am just making out a case for myself,but I give you my word that when I thought of that, though I feltthe point of the knife at my throat, I opened my mouth with theintention of giving a scream, if it was my last one, which mightalarm the main guard. The man who held me seemed to know mythoughts; for, even as I braced myself to it, he whispered: ‘Don’tmake a noise. The fort is safe enough. There are no rebel dogs onthis side of the river.’ There was the ring of truth in what he said,and I knew that if I raised my voice I was a dead man. I could readit in the fellow’s brown eyes. I waited, therefore, in silence, to seewhat it was that they wanted from me.Listen to me, Sahib,’ said the taller and fiercer of the pair, theone whom they called Abdullah Khan. ‘You must either be with usnow, or you must be silenced forever. The thing is too great a onefor us to hesitate. Either you are heart and soul with us on youroath on the cross of the Christians, or your body this night shallbe thrown into the ditch and we shall pass over to our brothers inthe rebel army. There is no middle way. Which is it to be—deathor life? We can only give you three minutes to decide, for the timeis passing, and all must be done before the rounds come again.
How can I decide?’ said I. ‘You have not told me what youwant of me. But I tell you now that if it is anything against thesafety of the fort I will have no truck with it, so you can drivehome your knife and welcome.
It is nothing against the fort,’ said he. ‘We only ask you to dothat which your countrymen come to this land for. We ask youto be rich. If you will be one of us this night, we will swear to youupon the naked knife, and by the threefold oath which no Sikhwas ever known to break, that you shall have your fair share of theloot. A quarter of the treasure shall be yours. We can say no fairer.’
“ But what is the treasure then?’ I asked. ‘I am as ready to berich as you can be if you will but show me how it can be done.You will swear, then,’ said he, ‘by the bones of your father, bythe honor of your mother, by the cross of your faith, to raise nohand and speak no word against us, either now or afterwards?’I will swear it,’ I answered, ‘provided that the fort is notendangered.Then my comrade and I will swear that you shall have aquarter of the treasure which shall be equally divided among thefour of us.’There are but three,’ said I.
No; Dost Akbar must have his share. We can tell the tale toyou while we await them. Do you stand at the gate, MahometSingh, and give notice of their coming. The thing stands thus,Sahib, and I tell it to you because I know that an oath is bindingupon a Feringhee, and that we may trust you. Had you been alying Hindoo, though you had sworn by all the gods in their falsetemples, your blood would have been upon the knife and yourbody in the water. But the Sikh knows the Englishman, and theEnglishman knows the Sikh. Hearken, then, to what I have tosay.