On The Irrawaddy:

A Story of the First Burmese War

By G. A. Henty

Illustrated by W. H. Overend.

Preface.

With the exception of the terrible retreat from Afghanistan,
none of England's many little wars have been so fatal--in
proportion to the number of those engaged--as our first expedition
to Burma. It was undertaken without any due comprehension of the
difficulties to be encountered, from the effects of climate and the
deficiency of transport; the power, and still more the obstinacy
and arrogance of the court of Ava were altogether underrated; and
it was considered that our possession of her ports would assuredly
bring the enemy, who had wantonly forced the struggle upon us, to
submission. Events, however, proved the completeness of the error.
The Burman policy of carrying off every boat on the river, laying
waste the whole country, and driving away the inhabitants and the
herds, maintained our army as prisoners in Rangoon through the
first wet season; and caused the loss of half the white officers
and men first sent there. The subsequent campaign was no less fatal
and, although large reinforcements had been sent, fifty percent of
the whole died; so that less than two thousand fighting men
remained in the ranks, when the expedition arrived within a short
distance of Ava. Not until the last Burmese army had been scattered
did the court of Ava submit to the by no means onerous terms we
imposed.

Great, indeed, was the contrast presented by this first invasion
of the country with the last war in 1885, which brought about the
final annexation of Burma. Then a fleet of steamers conveyed the
troops up the noble river; while in 1824 a solitary steamer was all
that India could furnish, to aid the flotilla of rowboats. No worse
government has ever existed than that of Burma when, with the boast
that she intended to drive the British out of India, she began the
war. No people were ever kept down by a more grinding tyranny, and
the occupation of the country by the British has been an even
greater blessing to the population than has that of India.

Several works, some by eyewitnesses, others compiled from
official documents, appeared after the war. They differ remarkably
in the relation of details, and still more in the spelling of the
names both of persons and places. I have chiefly followed those
given in the narratives of Mr. H. H. Wilson, and of Major
Snodgrass, the military secretary to the commander of the
expedition.

Chapter 1: A New Career.

A party was assembled in a room of an hotel in Calcutta, at the
end of the year 1822. It consisted of a gentleman, a lady in deep
mourning, a boy of between fourteen and fifteen, and two girls of
thirteen and twelve.

"I think you had better accept my offer, Nellie," the gentleman
was saying. "You will find it hard work enough to make both ends
meet, with these two girls; and Stanley would be a heavy drain on
you. The girls cost nothing but their clothes; but he must go to a
decent school, and then there would be the trouble of thinking what
to do with him, afterwards. If I could have allowed you a couple of
hundred a year, it would have been altogether different; but you
see I am fighting an uphill fight, myself, and need every penny
that I can scrape together. I am getting on; and I can see well
enough that, unless something occurs to upset the whole thing, I
shall be doing a big trade, one of these days; but every half penny
of profit has to go into the business. So, as you know, I cannot
help you at present though, by the time the girls grow up, I hope I
shall be able to do so, and that to a good extent.

"I feel sure that it would not be a bad thing for Stanley. He
will soon get to be useful to me, and in three or four years will
be a valuable assistant. Speaking Hindustani as well as he does, he
won't be very long in picking up enough of the various dialects in
Kathee and Chittagong for our purpose and, by twenty, he will have
a share of the business, and be on the highway towards making his
fortune. It will be infinitely better than anything he is likely to
find in England, and he will be doing a man's work at the age when
he would still be a schoolboy in England.

"I have spoken to him about it. Of course, he does not like
leaving you, but he says that he should like it a thousand times
better than, perhaps, having to go into some humdrum office in
England."

"Thank you, Tom," Mrs. Brooke said with a sigh. "It will be very
hard to part with him--terribly hard--but I see that it is by far
the best thing for him and, as you say, in a monetary way it will
be a relief to me. I think I can manage very comfortably on the
pension, in some quiet place at home, with the two girls; but
Stanley's schooling would be a heavy drain. I might even manage
that, for I might earn a little money by painting; but there would
be the question of what to do with him when he left school and,
without friends or influence, it will be hopeless to get him into
any good situation.

"You see, Herbert's parents have both died since he came out
here and, though he was distantly related to the Earl of Netherly,
he was only a second cousin, or something of that kind, and knew
nothing about the family; and of course I could not apply to
them."

"Certainly not, Nellie," her brother agreed. "There is nothing
so hateful as posing as a poor relation--and that is a connection
rather than a relationship. Then you will leave the boy in my
hands?"

"I am sure that it will be best," she said, with a tremor in her
voice, "and at any rate, I shall have the comfort of knowing that
he will be well looked after."

Mrs. Brooke was the widow of a captain in one of the native
regiments of the East India Company. He had, six weeks before this,
been carried off suddenly by an outbreak of cholera; and she had
been waiting at Calcutta, in order to see her brother, before
sailing for England. She was the daughter of an English clergyman,
who had died some seventeen years before. Nellie, who was then
eighteen, being motherless as well as fatherless, had determined to
sail for India. A great friend of hers had married and gone out, a
year before. Nellie's father was at that time in bad health; and
her friend had said to her, at parting:

"Now mind, Nellie, I have your promise that, if you should find
yourself alone here, you will come out to me in India. I shall be
very glad to have you with me, and I don't suppose you will be on
my hands very long; pretty girls don't remain single many months,
in India."

So, seeing nothing better to do, Nellie had, shortly after her
father's death, sailed for Calcutta.

Lieutenant Brooke was also a passenger on board the Ava, and
during the long voyage he and Nellie Pearson became engaged; and
were married, from her friend's house, a fortnight after their
arrival. Nellie was told that she was a foolish girl, for that she
ought to have done better; but she was perfectly happy. The pay and
allowances of her husband were sufficient for them to live upon in
comfort; and though, when the children came, there was little to
spare, the addition of pay when he gained the rank of captain was
ample for their wants. They had been, in fact, a perfectly happy
couple--both had bright and sunny dispositions, and made the best
of everything; and she had never had a serious care, until he was
suddenly taken away from her.

Stanley had inherited his parents' disposition and, as his
sisters, coming so soon after him, occupied the greater portion of
his mother's care, he was left a good deal to his own devices; and
became a general pet in the regiment, and was equally at home in
the men's lines and in the officers' bungalows. The native language
came as readily to him as English and, by the time he was ten, he
could talk in their own tongue with the men from the three or four
different districts from which the regiment had been recruited. His
father devoted a couple of hours a day to his studies. He did not
attempt to teach him Latin--which would, he thought, be altogether
useless to him--but gave him a thorough grounding in English and
Indian history, and arithmetic, and insisted upon his spending a
certain time each day in reading standard English authors.

Tom Pearson, who was five years younger than his sister, had
come out to India four years after her. He was a lad full of life
and energy. As soon as he left school, finding himself the master
of a hundred pounds--the last remains of the small sum that his
father had left behind him--he took a second-class passage to
Calcutta. As soon as he had landed, he went round to the various
merchants and offices and, finding that he could not, owing to a
want of references, obtain a clerkship, he took a place in the
store of a Parsee merchant who dealt in English goods. Here he
remained for five years, by which time he had mastered two or three
native languages, and had obtained a good knowledge of
business.

He now determined to start on his own account. He had lived
hardly, saving up every rupee not needed for actual necessaries
and, at the end of the five years he had, in all, a hundred and
fifty pounds. He had, long before this, determined that the best
opening for trade was among the tribes on the eastern borders of
the British territory; and had specially devoted himself to the
study of the languages of Kathee and Chittagong.

Investing the greater portion of his money in goods suitable for
the trade, he embarked at Calcutta in a vessel bound for
Chittagong. There he took passage in a native craft going up the
great river to Sylhet, where he established his headquarters; and
thence--leaving the greater portion of his goods in the care of a
native merchant, with whom his late employer had had
dealings--started with a native, and four donkeys on which his
goods were packed, to trade among the wild tribes.

His success fully equalled his anticipations and, gradually, he
extended his operations; going as far east as Manipur, and south
almost as far as Chittagong. The firm in Calcutta from whom he had,
in the first place, purchased his goods, sent him up fresh stores
as he required them; and soon, seeing the energy with which he was
pushing his business, gave him considerable credit, and he was able
to carry on his operations on an increasingly larger scale. Sylhet
remained his headquarters; but he had a branch at Chittagong,
whither goods could be sent direct from Calcutta, and from this he
drew his supplies for his trade in that province.

Much of his business was carried on by means of the waterways,
and the very numerous streams that covered the whole country, and
enabled him to carry his goods at a far cheaper rate than he could
transport them by land; and for this purpose he had a boat
specially fitted up with a comfortable cabin. He determined, from
the first, to sell none but the best goods in the market; and thus
he speedily gained the confidence of the natives, and the arrival
of his boats was eagerly hailed by the villagers on the banks of
the rivers.

He soon found that money was scarce; and that, to do a good
business, he must take native products in barter for his goods; and
that in this way he not only did a much larger trade, but obtained
a very much better price for his wares than if he had sold only for
money; and he soon consigned considerable quantities to the firm in
Calcutta and, by so doing, obtained a profit both ways. He himself
paid a visit to Calcutta, every six months or so, to choose fresh
fashions of goods; and to visit the firm, with whom his dealings,
every year, became more extensive. But, though laying the
foundations for an extensive business, he was not, as he told his
sister, at present in a position to help her; for his increasing
trade continually demanded more and more capital, and the whole of
his profits were swallowed up by the larger stocks that had to be
held at his depots at Sylhet, Chittagong, and at the mouths of the
larger rivers.

Twice since he had been out he had met his sister at Calcutta,
and when she came down after her husband's death, and heard from
Tom's agents that he would probably arrive there in the course of a
fortnight, she decided to wait there and meet him. He was greatly
grieved at her loss, and especially so as he was unable to offer
her a home; for as his whole time was spent in travelling, it was
impossible for him to do so; nor indeed, would she have accepted
it. Now that her husband was gone, she yearned to be back in
England again. It was, too, far better for the girls that she
should take them home. But when he now offered to take the boy she
felt that, hard as it would be to leave Stanley behind, the offer
was a most advantageous one for him.

The boy's knowledge of Indian languages, which would be of
immense advantage to him in such a life, would be absolutely
useless in England and, from what Tom told her of his business,
there could be little doubt that the prospects were excellent.
Stanley himself, who now saw his uncle for the first time, was
attracted to him by the energy and cheeriness of manner that had
rendered him so successful in business; and he was stirred by the
enterprise and adventure of the life he proposed for him. More than
once, in the little-frequented rivers that stretched into Kathee,
his boats had been attacked by wild tribesmen; and he had to fight
hard to keep them off. Petty chiefs had, at times, endeavoured to
obstruct his trading and, when at Manipur, he had twice been
witness of desperate fights between rival claimants for the throne.
All this was, to a boy brought up among soldiers, irresistibly
fascinating; especially as the alternative seemed to be a seat in a
dull counting house in England.

He was, then, delighted when his mother gave her consent to his
remaining with his uncle; grieved as he was at being parted from
her and his sisters. The thought that he should, in time, be able
to be of assistance to her was a pleasant one; and aided him to
support the pain of parting when, a week later, she sailed with the
girls for England.

"I suppose you have not done any shooting, Stanley?" his uncle
asked.

"Not with a gun, but I have practised sometimes with pistols.
Father thought that it would be useful."

"Very useful; and you must learn to shoot well with them, and
with fowling-piece and rifle. What with river thieves, and dacoits,
and wild tribes--to say nothing of wild beasts--a man who travels
about, as I do, wants to be able to shoot straight. The straighter
you shoot, the less likely you are to have to do so. I have come to
be a good shot myself and, whenever we row up a river, I constantly
practise--either at floating objects in the water, or at birds or
other marks in the trees. I have the best weapons that money can
buy. It is my one extravagance, and the result is that, to my
boatmen and the men about me, my shooting seems to be marvellous;
they tell others of it, and the result is that I am regarded with
great respect. I have no doubt, whatever, that it has saved me from
much trouble; for the natives have almost got to believe that I
only have to point my gun, and the man I wish to kill falls dead,
however far distant."

Two days after the departure of Mrs. Brooke, her brother and
Stanley started down the Hoogly in a native trader.

"She is a curious-looking craft, uncle."

"Yes; she would not be called handsome in home waters, but she
is uncommonly fast; and I find her much more convenient, in many
ways, than a British merchantman."

"Is she yours, uncle?"

"No, she is not mine, and I do not exactly charter her; but she
works principally for me. You see, the wages are so low that they
can work a craft like this for next to nothing. Why, the captain
and his eight men, together, don't get higher pay than the
boatswain of an English trader.

"The captain owns the vessel. He is quite content if he gets a
few rupees a month, in addition to what he considers his own rate
of pay. His wife and his two children live on board. If the craft
can earn twenty rupees a week, he considers that he is doing
splendidly. At the outside, he would not pay his men more than four
rupees a month, each, and I suppose that he would put down his
services at eight; so that would leave him forty rupees a month as
the profit earned by the ship.

"In point of fact, I keep him going pretty steadily. He makes
trips backwards and forwards between the different depots; carries
me up the rivers for a considerable distance; does a little trade
on his own account--not in goods such as I sell, you know, but
purely native stores--takes a little freight when he can get it,
and generally a few native passengers. I pay him fifteen rupees a
week, and I suppose he earns from five to ten in addition; so that
the arrangement suits us both, admirably.

"I keep the stern cabin for myself. As you see, she has four
little brass guns, which I picked up for a song at Calcutta; and
there are twenty-four muskets aft. It is an arrangement that the
crew are to practise shooting once a week, so they have all come to
be pretty fair shots; and the captain, himself, can send a
two-pound shot from those little guns uncommonly straight.

"You will be amused when you see us practising for action. The
captain's wife and the two boys load the guns, and do it very
quickly, too. He runs round from gun to gun, takes aim, and fires.
The crew shout, and yell, and bang away with their muskets. I take
the command, and give a few pice among them, if the firing has been
accurate.

"We have been attacked, once or twice, in the upper waters; but
have always managed to beat the robbers off, without much
difficulty. The captain fires away, till they get pretty close; and
I pepper them with my rifles--I have three of them. When they get
within fifty yards, the crew open fire and, as they have three
muskets each, they can make it very hot for the pirates. I have a
store of hand grenades and, if they push on, I throw two or three
on board when they get within ten yards; and that has always
finished the matter. They don't understand the things bursting in
the middle of them. I don't mean to say that my armament would be
of much use, if we were trading along the coast of the Malay
Peninsula or among the Islands, but it is quite enough to deal with
the petty robbers of these rivers."

"But I thought that you had a boat that you went up the rivers
in, uncle?"

"Yes; we tow a rowboat and a store boat up, behind this craft,
as far as she can go; that is, as long as she has wind enough to
make against the sluggish stream. When she can go no further, I
take to the rowboat. It has eight rowers, carries a gun--it is a
twelve-pounder howitzer--that I have had cut short, so that it is
only about a foot long. Of course it won't carry far, but that is
not necessary. Its charge is a pound of powder and a ten-pound bag
of bullets and, at a couple of hundred yards, the balls scatter
enough to sweep two or three canoes coming abreast and, as we can
charge and fire the little thing three times in a minute, it is all
that we require, for practical purposes.

"It is only on a few of the rivers we go up that there is any
fear of trouble. On the river from Sylhet to the east and its
branches in Kathee or, as it is sometimes called, Kasi, the country
is comparatively settled. The Goomtee beyond Oudypore is well
enough, until it gets into Kaayn, which is what they call
independent. That is to say, it owns no authority; and some
villages are peaceable and well disposed, while others are savage.
The same may be said of the Munnoo and Fenny rivers.

"For the last two years I have done a good deal of trade in
Assam, up the Brahmaputra river. As far as Rungpoor there are a
great many villages on the banks, and the people are quiet and
peaceable."

"Then you don't go further south than Chittagong, uncle?"

"No. The Burmese hold Aracan on the south and, indeed, for some
distance north of it there is no very clearly-defined border. You
see, the great river runs from Rangoon very nearly due north,
though with a little east in it; and extends along at the back of
the districts I trade with; so that the Burmese are not very far
from Manipur which, indeed, stands on a branch of the Irrawaddy, of
which another branch runs nearly up to Rungpoor.

"We shall have big trouble with them, one of these days; indeed,
we have had troubles already. You see, the Burmese are a great and
increasing power, and have so easily conquered all their neighbours
that they regard themselves as invincible. Until the beginning of
the eighteenth century, the Burmese were masters of Pegu; then the
people of that country, with the help of the Dutch and Portuguese,
threw off their yoke. But the Burmese were not long kept down for,
in 1753, Alompra--a hunter--gathered a force round him and, after
keeping up an irregular warfare for some time, was joined by so
many of his countrymen that he attacked and captured Ava, conquered
the whole of Pegu and, in 1759, the English trading colony at
Negrais were massacred.

"This, however, was not the act of Alompra, but of the treachery
of a Frenchman named Levine, and of an Armenian; who incited the
Burmese of the district to exterminate the English--hoping, no
doubt, thus to retrieve, in a new quarter, the fortunes of France,
which in India were being extinguished by the genius of Clive. The
English were, at the time, far too occupied with the desperate
struggle they were having, in India, to attempt to revenge the
massacre of their countrymen at Negrais.

"Very rapidly the Burman power spread. They captured the
valuable Tenasserim coast, from Siam; repulsed a formidable
invasion from China; annexed Aracan, and dominated Manipur, and
thus became masters of the whole tract of country lying between
China and Hindustan. As they now bordered upon our territory, a
mission was sent in 1794 to them from India, with a proposal for
the settlement of boundaries, and for the arrangement of trade
between the two countries. Nothing came of it, for the Burmese had
already proposed, to themselves, the conquest of India; and
considered the mission as a proof of the terror that their advance
had inspired among us.

"After the conquest by them of Aracan, in 1784, there had been a
constant irritation felt against us by the Burmese; owing to the
fact that a great number of fugitives from that country had taken
refuge in the swamps and islands of Chittagong; from which they,
from time to time, issued and made raids against the Burmese. In
1811 these fugitives, in alliance with some predatory chiefs,
invaded Aracan in force and, being joined by the subject population
there, expelled the Burmese. These, however, soon reconquered the
province. The affair was, nevertheless, unfortunate, since the
Burmese naturally considered that, as the insurrection had begun
with an invasion by the fugitives in Chittagong, it had been
fomented by us.

"This was in no way the fact. We had no force there capable of
keeping the masses of fugitives in order; but we did our best, and
arrested many of the leaders, when they returned after their
defeat. This, however, was far from satisfying the Burmese. A
mission was sent, to Ava, to assure them of our friendly
intentions; and that we had had nothing whatever to do with the
invasion, and would do all we could to prevent its recurrence. The
Burmese government declined to receive the mission.

"We, ourselves, had much trouble with the insurgents for,
fearful of re-entering Burma after their defeat, they now carried
on a series of raids in our territory; and it was not until 1816
that these were finally suppressed. Nevertheless, the court of Ava
remained dissatisfied; and a fresh demand was raised for the
surrender of the chiefs who had been captured, and of the whole of
the fugitives living in the government of Chittagong. The Marquis
of Hastings replied that the British government could not, without
a violation of the principles of justice, deliver up those who had
sought its protection; that tranquillity now existed, and there was
no probability of a renewal of the disturbances; but that the
greatest vigilance should be used, to prevent and punish the
authors of any raid that might be attempted against Aracan.

"A year later a second letter was received, demanding on the
part of the king the cession of Ramoo, Chittagong, Moorshedabad,
and Dacca; that is to say, of the whole British possessions east of
the Ganges. Lord Hastings simply replied that if it was possible to
suppose that the demand had been dictated by the King of Ava, the
British government would be justified in regarding it as a
declaration of war. To this the Burmese made no reply. Doubtless
they had heard of the successes we had gained in Central India, and
had learned that our whole force was disposable against them.

"Three years ago the old king died, and a more warlike monarch
succeeded him. Since 1810 they have been mixed up in the troubles
that have been going on in Assam, where a civil war had been
raging. One party or other has sought their assistance, and
fighting has been going on there nearly incessantly and, two months
ago, the Burmese settled the question by themselves taking
possession of the whole country.

"This has, of course, been a serious blow to me. Although
disorder has reigned, it has not interfered with my trading along
the banks of the river; but now that the Burmese have set up their
authority, I shall, for a time anyhow, be obliged to give up my
operations there; for they have evinced considerable hostility to
us--have made raids near Rungpoor, on our side of the river, and
have pulled down a British flag on an island in the Brahmaputra. We
have taken, in consequence, the principality of Cachar under our
protection--indeed its two princes, seeing that the Burmese were
beginning to invade their country, invited us to take this
step--and we thus occupy the passes from Manipur into the low
country of Sylhet."

"I wonder that you have been able to trade in Manipur, uncle, as
the Burmese have been masters there."

"I am not trading with the capital itself, and the Burmese have
been too occupied with their affairs in Assam to exercise much
authority in the country. Besides, you see, there has not been war
between the two countries. Our merchants at Rangoon still carry on
their trade up the Irrawaddy; and in Assam, this spring, the only
trouble I had was that I had to pay somewhat higher tolls than I
had done before. However, now that Cachar is under our protection,
I hope that I shall make up for my loss of trade, in Assam, by
doing better than before in that province."

"I thought you called it Kathee, uncle?"

"So it is generally named but, as it is spoken of as Cachar in
the proclamation assuming the protectorate, I suppose it will be
called so in future; but all these names, out here, are spelt
pretty much according to fancy."

While this conversation had been going on, the boat had been
running fast down the river, passing several European vessels
almost as if they had been standing still.

"I should not have thought that a boat like this would pass
these large ships," Stanley said.

"We have a good deal to learn in the art of sailing, yet," his
uncle replied. "A great many of these Indian dhows can run away
from a square-rigged ship, in light weather. I don't know whether
it is the lines of their hulls or the cut of the sails, but there
is no doubt about their speed. They seem to skim over the water,
while our bluff-bowed craft shove their way through it. I suppose,
some day, we shall adopt these long sharp bows; when we do, it will
make a wonderful difference in our rate of sailing. Then, too,
these craft have a very light draft of water but, on the other
hand, they have a deep keel, which helps them to lie close to the
wind; and that long, overhanging bow renders them capital craft in
heavy weather for, as they meet the sea, they rise over it
gradually; instead of its hitting them full on the bow, as it does
our ships. We have much to learn, yet, in the way of ship
building."

The trader had his own servant with him, and the man now came up
and said that a meal was ready, and they at once entered the cabin.
It was roomy and comfortable, and was, like the rest of the boat,
of varnished teak. There were large windows in the stern; it had a
table, with two fixed benches; and there were broad, low sofas on
each side. Above these the muskets were disposed, in racks; while
at the end by the door were Tom Pearson's own rifles, four brace of
pistols, and a couple of swords. Ten long spears were suspended
from the roof of the cabin, in leather slings. The floor, like the
rest of the cabin, was varnished.

"It looks very comfortable, uncle."

"Yes; you see, I live quite half my time on board, the rest
being spent in the boat. My man is a capital cook. He comes from
Chittagong, and is a Mug."

"What are Mugs, uncle?"

"They are the original inhabitants of Aracan. He was one of
those who remained there, after the Burmese had conquered it, and
speaks their language as well as his own. I recommend you to begin
it with him, at once. If things settle down in Assam, it will be
very useful for you in arranging with the Burmese officials. You
won't find it very easy, though of course your knowledge of three
or four Indian tongues will help you. It is said to be a mixture of
the old Tali, Sanscrit, Tartar, and Chinese. The Tartar and Chinese
words will, of course, be quite new to you; the other two elements
will resemble those that you are familiar with.

"I talk to the man in Hindustani. He picked up a little of it at
Chittagong, and has learned a good deal more, during the two years
that he has been with me; and through that you will be able to
learn Burmese."

A week later the dhow entered the harbour. Stanley had passed
most of his time in conversation with Khyen, Tom's servant. The
facility his tongue had acquired in the Indian languages was of
great benefit to him, and he speedily picked up a good many Burmese
sentences.

For the next six months he continued, with his uncle, the work
the latter had carried on; and enjoyed it much. They sailed up the
sluggish rivers, with their low, flat shores, in the dhow; towing
the rowboat and the store boat behind them. The crews of these
boats lived on board the dhow until their services were required,
helping in its navigation and aiding the crew when the wind dropped
and sweeps were got out.

The villages along the banks were for the most part small, but
were very numerous. At each of these the dhow brought up. There
was, in almost all cases, sufficient water to allow of her being
moored alongside the banks and, as soon as she did so, the natives
came on board to make their purchases and dispose of their produce.
In addition to the European and Indian goods carried, the dhow was
laden with rice, for which there was a considerable demand at most
of the villages.

As soon as he had learned the price of the various goods, and
their equivalent in the products of the country, Stanley did much
of the bartering; while his uncle went ashore and talked with the
head men of the village, with all of whom he made a point of
keeping on good terms, and so securing a great portion of the trade
that might, otherwise, have been carried by native craft.

Three times during the six months the dhow had gone back to
Calcutta, to fetch fresh supplies of goods and to take in another
cargo of rice; while the trader proceeded higher up the river, in
his own boats. While on the voyage, Stanley always had the rifle
and fowling piece that his uncle had handed over, for his special
use, leaning against the bulwark, close at hand; and frequently
shot waterfowl, which were so abundant that he was able to keep not
only their own table supplied, but to furnish the crew and boatmen
with a considerable quantity of food. They had had no trouble with
river pirates, for these had suffered so heavily, in previous
attacks upon the dhow, that they shunned any repetition of their
loss. At the same time every precaution was taken, for, owing to the
intestine troubles in Cachar and Assam, fugitives belonging to the
party that happened, for the time, to be worsted, were driven to
take refuge in the jungles near the rivers; and to subsist largely
on plunder, the local authorities being too feeble to root them
out. The boats, therefore, were always anchored in the middle of
the stream at night and two men were kept on watch.

To the south as well as in the north, the trading operations
were more restricted; for the Burmese became more and more
aggressive. Elephant hunters, in the hills that formed the boundary
of the British territory to the east, were seized and carried off;
twenty-three in one place being captured, and six in another--all
being ill treated and imprisoned, and the remonstrances of the
Indian government treated with contempt by the Rajah of Aracan. It
was evident that the object of the Burmese was to possess
themselves of this hill country in order that they might, if they
chose, pour down at any time into the cultivated country round the
town of Ramoo.

"There is no doubt, Stanley," said his uncle one day, "we shall
very shortly have a big war with the Burmese. The fact that these
constant acts of aggression are met only by remonstrances, on our
part, increases their arrogance; and they are convinced that we are
in mortal terror of them. They say that in Assam their leaders are
openly boasting that, ere long, they will drive us completely from
India; and one of their generals has confidently declared that,
after taking India, they intend to conquer England. With such
ignorant people, there is but one argument understood--namely,
force; and sooner or later we shall have to give them such a hearty
thrashing that they will be quiet for some time.

"Still, I grant that the difficulties are great. Their country
is a tremendous size, the beggars are brave, and the climate, at
any rate near the sea coast, is horribly unhealthy. Altogether it
will be a big job; but it will have to be done, or in a very short
time we shall see them marching against Calcutta."

Chapter 2: The Outbreak of War.

On the last day of September, 1823--just a year after Stanley
had joined his uncle--the dhow sailed into Chittagong; which had
now taken the place of Sylhet as the traders' chief depot, the
latter place being too near the Burmese, in Assam, for him to care
about keeping a large stock of his goods there. He went ashore as
soon as the dhow cast anchor, Stanley remaining on board.

"The fat is all in the fire, Stanley," Tom Pearson said, when he
returned. "The Burmese have attacked and killed some of our troops,
and it is certain that the government cannot put up with that."

"Where was it, uncle?"

"Down at the mouth of the Naaf. As you know, that is the
southern boundary of the province, and there was a row there in
January. One of our native boats laden with rice was coming up the
river, on our side of the channel, when an armed Burmese boat came
across and demanded duty. Of course, our fellows said they were in
their own waters, whereupon the Burmese fired upon them and killed
the steersman. There were reports, then, that bodies of Burmese
troops were moving about on their side of the river, and that it
was feared they would cross over and burn some of our villages.
Accordingly, our guard at the mouth of the river was increased to
fifty men, and a few of these were posted on the island of
Shapuree.

"This island lies close to our shore and, indeed, the channel
between can be forded at low water. It has always formed part of
the province of Chittagong, and there has never been any question
raised by the Burmese as to this. However, the Viceroy of Aracan
called upon our resident here to withdraw the guard, asserting the
right of the King of Ava to the island.

"Since then letters have passed to and fro, but I hear that the
Burmese have settled the question by landing on Shapuree. One night
last week they attacked our post there, killed and wounded four of
the sepoys, and drove the rest off the island. The Indian
government have put up with a great deal, rather than engage in so
costly and difficult an operation as a war with Burma, but it is
impossible that we can stand this."

The Indian government, however, used every endeavour to avert
the necessity for war; although the Rajah of Aracan lost no time in
writing a letter to the government of Calcutta, stating that he had
occupied the island of Shapuree, and that unless they submitted
quietly to this act of justice, the cities of Dacca and
Moorshedabad would be forcibly seized. In order, however, to
postpone, at any rate, the outbreak of war, the government of
Bengal resolved to give the court of Ava an opportunity to withdraw
from the position taken up. They therefore acted as if the attack
on the guard at Shapuree had been the action of the Viceroy of
Aracan alone, and addressed a declaration to the Burmese
government, recapitulating the facts of the case, pointing out that
Shapuree had always been acknowledged by Burma as forming part of
the province of Chittagong, and calling upon the government to
disavow the action of the local authorities. The Burmese considered
this, as it was in fact, a proof that the government of India was
reluctant to enter upon a contest with them; and confirmed Burma in
its confident expectation of annexing the eastern portions of
Bengal, if not of expelling the English altogether.

In the meantime, Shapuree had been reoccupied by us. The
Burmese--after driving out the little garrison--had retired and,
two months after the attack, two companies of the 20th Native
Infantry arrived by sea, from Calcutta, and landed there. A
stockade was built, and two six-pounders placed in position.
Another company was stationed on the mainland, and the Planet and
three gunboats, each carrying a twelve-pounder, were stationed in
the river.

The Burmese at once collected large bodies of troops, both in
Aracan and Assam. The government of Bengal made preparations to
defend our frontier, and especially the position in the north, as
an advance of the Burmese in this direction would not only threaten
the important towns of Dacca and Moorshedabad, but would place the
invaders in dangerous proximity to Calcutta. Accordingly, a portion
of the 10th and 23rd Native Infantry, and four companies of the
Rungpoor local force, were marched to Sylhet; and outposts thrown
forward to the frontier.

Seeing that the Burmese operations would probably commence in
the north, Tom Pearson had, after completing his arrangements at
Chittagong, sailed north to remove his depots from Sylhet, and
other places that would be exposed to an attack from that
direction. They reached Sylhet the first week in January. By this
time Stanley, from his constant conversation with his uncle's
servant, had come to speak Burmese as fluently as the Indian
languages. He was now nearly sixteen, tall for his age, and active
but, owing to the hot climate and the absence of vigorous exercise,
he was less broad and muscular than most English lads of his
age.

They found on landing that news had arrived, two days before,
that a powerful army of Burmese had entered Cachar, from Manipur,
and had defeated the troops of Jambhir Sing; that 4000 Burmese and
Assamese had advanced from Assam into Cachar, and had begun to
stockade themselves at Bickrampore, at the foot of the Bhortoka
Pass; and that the third division was crossing into the district of
Jyntea, immediately to the north of Sylhet. There was a complete
panic in the town, and the ryots were flocking in from all the
surrounding country, with their families and belongings; and were
making their way down the country, in boats, to Dacca.

"I am afraid, Stanley, there is an end of trade, for the
present. What we see here is, doubtless, taking place all over
Cachar; and it would be just as bad down at Chittagong. It is a
heavy blow, for I have done remarkably well this year, and was
building up the foundations for a good business. No doubt, when
this trouble is over. I shall be able to take it up again; and it
may be, if we thrash the Burmese heartily, which we are sure to do
in the long run, it may even prove a benefit. Still, there is no
doubt that it is a very bad business for me. However as, just at
present, there is nothing whatever to be done, I propose, as soon
as the goods are all on board, to take a holiday, and go out and
have a look at the fighting."

"You will take me with you, uncle?" Stanley asked eagerly.

"Certainly, lad. We don't mean to do any fighting ourselves, but
only to look on; and it may be that, after it is over, you may be
able to make yourself useful, if they want to ask questions of any
Burmese prisoners."

"You think that there is no chance of their beating us?"

"I should think not, though of course there is no saying; still,
I don't think these fellows will be able to stand against our
troops. Of course, they have no idea, whatever, of our style of
fighting, and have never met any really formidable foes; so that I
imagine we shall make pretty short work of them. However, as we
shall be mounted--for I will hire a couple of horses, there have
been plenty of them driven into the town--we shall be able to make
a bolt of it, if necessary. Of course, we will take our rifles and
pistols with us."

The goods were not placed on board the dhow, but in what was
called the store boat; as the trader had determined to take up his
abode in his rowboat, which could move about much faster than the
dhow; and to allow the captain of that craft to make a good thing
of it, by taking down to Dacca as many of the fugitives as she
would hold.

Finding that the Burmese division that had entered Jyntea was
intrenching itself, at a few miles' distance, Major Newton, the
officer commanding on the Sylhet frontier, concentrated his force
at Jatrapur, a village five miles beyond the Sylhet boundary. Tom
Pearson had introduced himself to Major Newton, and asked
permission to accompany his force; saying that his nephew would be
able, if necessary, to communicate with the Burmese either before
or after the action, and that both would willingly act as
aides-de-camp. The offer was accepted with thanks, and they rode
out with him, on the evening of the 16th of January, 1824, to
Jatrapur.

At one o'clock in the morning the troops were roused, and
marched an hour later. At daybreak they came in sight of the
stockade, and a few shots were at once fired upon the advanced
guard by the Burmese. A portion of their force was lying in a
village hard by.

Major Newton at once divided his command into two bodies. One of
these was led by Captain Johnston against the front of the
stockade. The other, under Captain Rowe, attacked the village
adjoining. The Burmese stationed there gave way, after a very faint
resistance. They were accustomed to rely always on stockades; and
this attack upon them, when not so protected, shook them at once.
Those in the stockade, however, made a resolute resistance.

Captain Rowe, after gaining possession of the village, and
seeing the occupants in full flight, moved his force to aid the
other division; and the Burmese, dispirited by the defeat of their
countrymen, and finding themselves attacked on two sides, gave way
and fled, leaving a hundred dead behind them; while on the British
side but six sepoys were killed.

The Burmese fled to the hills, at a speed that rendered pursuit
hopeless by the more heavily-armed troops; and the fugitives soon
rallied, and effected their junction with the division advancing
from Manipur. After the action Major Newton returned to Sylhet, and
a few days later Mr. Scott, who had been appointed commissioner,
arrived there and, advancing to Bhadrapur, opened communications
with the Burmese. As, however, it became evident that the latter
were only negotiating in order to gain time to intrench themselves
near Jatrapur, to which they had returned, he again placed the
matter in the hands of the military commanders.

The Burmese force amounted to about six thousand men. They had
erected strong stockades on each bank of the river Surma, and had
thrown a bridge across to connect them. Captain Johnston advanced
with a wing of the 10th Native Infantry, a company of the 23rd
Native Infantry, and a small party of men of a local corps. Small
as was this force, he divided it into two parties. One of these,
under Captain Rowe, crossed the river; and then both moved against
the enemy. The Burmese opened fire as they advanced, but the sepoys
marched gallantly forward, and drove the enemy out of their
unfinished intrenchments at the point of the bayonet. The Assam
division retreated hastily to the Bhortoka Pass, while the Manipur
force stockaded itself at Doodpatnee.

The Assam division was first attacked, and the stockade carried
at the point of the bayonet. Lieutenant Colonel Bowen, who now
commanded, then moved against the position at Doodpatnee. This was
very strong. Steep hills covered the rear; while the other faces of
the intrenchments were defended by a deep ditch, fourteen feet
wide, with a chevaux de frise of pointed bamboos on its outer edge.
Although the position was attacked with great gallantry, it was too
strong to be captured by so small a force; and they were obliged to
withdraw to Jatrapur, with the loss of one officer killed and four
wounded, and about one hundred and fifty sepoys killed and
wounded.

However, their bravery had not been without effect, for the
Burmese evacuated their stockade and retreated to Manipur, leaving
Cachar free from its invaders. Thus, in less than three weeks, the
Burmese invasion of the northern provinces had been hurled back by
a British force of less than a tenth of that of the invaders.

Stanley and his uncle had been present at all these engagements
and, in the absence of any cavalry, had done good service in
conveying messages and despatches; and the lad had several times
acted as interpreter between the officers and Burmese prisoners.
Both received letters from the commissioner, thanking them for the
assistance that they had rendered.

"That last affair was unfortunate, Stanley; and it is evident
that these stockades of theirs are nasty places to attack, and that
they ought to be breached by guns before the men are sent forward
to storm them. However, as the Burmese have gone, our repulse does
not matter much.

"Well, I felt sure that we should thrash them, but I certainly
gave them credit for having a great deal more pluck than they have
shown. As it is, if there is nothing fresh takes place here, the
natives and little traders will soon be coming back from Dacca, and
business will be better than before; for the Burmese have been
talking so big, for the last three years, that no one has bought
more than would just carry him on; while now they will be more
inclined to lay in good stocks of goods.

"Tomorrow we will start for Chittagong. You see, I have a
considerable store there; and there is a chance of much more
serious fighting, in that quarter, than this little affair we have
seen. The Governor of Aracan has, all along, been the source of
troubles; and we may expect that he will cross into the province at
the head of a large force, and may do an immense deal of damage,
before we can get enough troops there to oppose him."

Descending the river they coasted along until they arrived,
early in March, at Chittagong. They found that great alarm reigned
there. In January, Bandoola, the greatest military leader of the
Burmese, who was known to have been one of the most strenuous
supporters of the war policy at the court of Ava, had arrived at
Aracan and taken the command of the troops collected there, and had
brought with him considerable reinforcements.

A wanton outrage that had been committed by the Burmese showed
how intent they were upon hostilities. Owing to the unhealthiness
of the islet of Shapuree, the sepoys stationed there had been
withdrawn; and the Company's pilot vessel, Sophia, was ordered to
join the gunboats off that island. Four deputies from the Burmese
court arrived at Mungdoo, on the opposite shore; and these invited
the commander of the Sophia to come on shore, in order that they
might talk over with him, in a friendly way, the situation of
affairs. He unsuspectingly accepted their invitation and landed,
accompanied by an officer and some native seamen. The party were at
once seized and sent prisoners to Aracan, where they were detained
for a month, and then sent back to Mungdoo.

This wanton insult was followed by a formal declaration of war,
by the government of India; and a similar document was issued by
the court of Ava. The force at Sylhet was reinforced, and that in
Chittagong increased. It consisted of a wing of the 13th and of the
20th Native Regiments, and a battalion of the 23rd, with a local
levy, amounting in all to some 3000 men. Of these a wing of the
23rd, with two guns, and a portion of the native levies were posted
at Ramoo, which was the point most threatened by an invasion from
Aracan.

It was in the north that hostilities first commenced, a force
moving into Assam and driving the Burmese before them. Several
sharp blows were dealt the enemy and, had it not been for the
setting in of the wet season, they would have been driven entirely
out of Assam.

"I think, Stanley," his uncle said, after he had been a short
time at Chittagong, "you had better go up to Ramoo, and see about
matters there. Of course, until the Burmese move we cannot say what
their game is likely to be; but it will be as well to get the
stores ready for embarkation, in case they should advance in that
direction. If they do so, get everything on board at once; and you
can then be guided by circumstances. As the dhow came in yesterday,
I can spare both our boats; and shall, of course, ship the goods
here on board the big craft. Even if the Burmese come this way, I
have no fear of their taking the town; and shall, of course, lend a
hand in the defence, if they attempt it. You can do the same at
Ramoo, if you like.

"I was chatting with Colonel Shatland yesterday. He tells me
that a large fleet has been collected, and that an expedition will
be sent to capture Rangoon so, in that case, it is likely that
Bandoola and his force will march off in that direction.

"I think government are wrong. It will be impossible for the
troops to move, when the wet season once sets in; and they will
lose a tremendous lot of men from sickness, if they are cooped up
in Rangoon. They had very much better have sent a few thousand men
down here, to act on the defensive and repel any attempted
invasion, until the rains are over; when they could have been
shipped again, and join the expedition against Rangoon. It seems to
me a mad-headed thing, to begin at the present time of the year. We
have put up with the insults of the Burmese for so long that we
might just as well have waited for the favourable season, before we
began our operations in earnest."

Accordingly, on the following day Stanley started south for
Ramoo and, on arriving there, took charge of the trading
operations. Shortly after, meeting Captain Noton--who commanded
there--in the street, he recognized him as an officer who had been
stationed at the same cantonment as his father; and whom he had,
four years previously, known well.

"You don't recognize me, Captain Noton," he said. "I am the son
of Captain Brooke, of the 33rd."

"I certainly did not recognize you," the officer said, "but I am
glad to meet you again. Let me think; yes, your name is Stanley,
and a regular young pickle you used to be. What on earth are you
doing here? Of course, I heard of your poor father's death, and was
grieved, indeed, at his loss. Where is your mother? She is well, I
hope."

"She went back to England with my sisters, two months after my
father's death. I joined my uncle, her brother. He is a trader, and
carries on business in the district between here and Sylhet,
trading principally on the rivers; but of course the war has put a
stop to that, for the present. We saw the fighting up in the north,
and then came down to this district. He has remained at Chittagong,
and I am in charge of goods here. I speak Burmese fairly now and,
if I can be of any use to you, I shall be very glad to be so. There
is not much business here; and the Parsee clerk, who is generally
in charge, can look after it very well. I acted as interpreter with
the troops in the north, and have a letter from Mr. Scott, the
commissioner, thanking me for my services."

"I remember you used to be able to talk four or five of the
native languages, but how did you come to pick up Burmese?"

"From a servant of my uncle's. We thought that there would be
sure to be war, sooner or later; and that, after it was over, there
would be a good chance of profitable trade on the Burmese rivers. I
had no great difficulty in learning it from my uncle's man, who was
a native of Aracan."

"I have no doubt you will find it very useful. What a big fellow
you have grown, Stanley; at least, as far as height is concerned.
Let me see. How old are you, now?"

"I am past sixteen," Stanley replied. "I have had several
touches of fever--caught, I suppose, from the damp on the
rivers--but I think that I am pretty well acclimatized, now. I know
I don't look very strong, but I have not had much active exercise
and, of course, the climate is against me."

"Very much so. I wonder that you have kept your health as well
as you have, in this steamy climate.

"I am going to the mess room, now. You had better come and lunch
with me, and I will introduce you to the other officers. We are
very strong in comparison to the force for, counting the assistant
surgeon, there are ten of us."

"I shall be very glad, sir," Stanley said. "I have certainly
been feeling rather lonely here; for I know no one, and there is
very little to do. During the last year, I have often gone up one
of the rivers by myself; but there has always been occupation
while, at present, things are at a standstill."

"I tell you what, Brooke, if you would like it, I can appoint
you interpreter. There is not one of us who speaks this Mug
language--which is, you know, almost the same as Burmese--and the
officers in charge of the native levy would be delighted to have
some one with them who could make the fellows understand. I can
appoint you a first-class interpreter. The pay is not very high,
you know; but you might just as well be earning it as doing
nothing, and it would give you a sort of official position and, as
the son of a British officer, and my friend, you would be one of
us."

"Thank you very much, Captain Noton. I should like it immensely.
Should I have to get a uniform?"

"There will be no absolute necessity for it; but if you get a
white patrol jacket, like this, and a white cap cover, it will
establish you in the eyes of the natives as an officer, and give
you more authority. Oh, by the way, you need not get them, for one
of our lieutenants died, the other day, of fever. His effects have
not been sold, yet; but you may as well have his patrol jackets and
belts. We can settle what you are to pay for them, afterwards. It
will only be a matter of a few rupees, anyhow."

They now arrived at the house that had been taken for the use of
the officers. On entering, Captain Noton introduced him to the
others and, as several of these had at various times met his
father, in cantonments or on service, he was heartily welcomed by
them and, at luncheon, they listened with great interest to his
accounts of the fighting, in Cachar, with the Burmese.

"I fancy we shall find them more formidable, here, if they
come," Captain Noton said. "Bandoola has a great reputation, and is
immensely popular with them. From what you say, a considerable
proportion of the fellows you met up there were Assamese levies,
raised by the Burmese. I grant that the Burmese, themselves, do not
seem to have done much better; but they would never have conquered
all the peoples they have come across, and built up a great empire,
if there had not been good fighting stuff in them. I have no doubt
that we shall thrash them, but I don't think we shall do it as
easily as our troops did in the north."

The time now passed pleasantly with Stanley. He had, after
thinking it over, declined to accept payment for his services; for
this would have hindered his freedom of action, and prevented his
obeying any instructions that his uncle might send him. He
therefore joined as a volunteer interpreter, and was made a member
of the officers' mess. He was specially attached to the native levy
and, soon acquiring their words of command, assisted its officers
in drilling it into something like order.

Early in May a Burmese division, 8000 strong, crossed the Naaf
and established itself at Rutnapullung, fourteen miles south of
Ramoo. As soon as Captain Noton learned that the Burmese had
crossed the river, he sent news of the fact to Chittagong, with a
request that reinforcements should be at once sent to him; and then
moved out with his force from Ramoo, to ascertain the strength of
the enemy. The Burmese were seen upon some hills, where they were
constructing stockades. The small British force advanced against
them, drove them off the hills and, following them, prepared to
attack them in the plain beyond. The guns, however, had not come
up; partly owing to the cowardice of the elephant drivers, and
partly to the fact that it was found that several of the essential
parts of the guns had been left behind.

Without their assistance to clear the way, Captain Noton felt
that it would be imprudent to attack so great a force; and
therefore fell back to Ramoo. Here he was joined by three companies
of the 20th Native Infantry, bringing up his force to close upon a
thousand; of whom about half were sepoys, and the rest native
levies. Had any energy, whatever, been shown by the officer in
command of Chittagong, in sending up reinforcements--which he could
well have spared, now that the point of attack by the Burmese had
been made clear--Captain Noton might have taken the offensive, in
which case serious disaster would have been avoided, and the
Burmese would have been driven back across the Naaf. None, however,
came and, on the morning of the 13th of May, the enemy appeared on
the hill east of Ramoo, being separated from the British force by
the river of the same name.

There was some difference of opinion, among the officers, as to
whether it would be better to maintain a position outside the town,
or to retreat at once; but the belief that reinforcements might
arrive, at any hour, caused Captain Noton to determine to keep in
the open, and so to cover the town as long as possible.

On the evening of the 14th, the Burmese came down to the river
as if to cross it; but retired when the two six-pounder guns opened
fire upon them. That two small guns should produce such an effect
confirmed the British officers in their opinion that the Burmese,
although they might defend stockades well, were of little use in
the open. The next morning, however, the enemy effected the passage
of the river farther away and then, advancing, took possession of a
large tank surrounded by a high embankment.

Captain Noton placed his force in an enclosure, with a bank
three feet high. His right flank was protected by the river; and a
small tank, some sixty paces in front, was occupied by a strong
picket. On his left, somewhat to the rear, was another tank, and at
this the native levies were placed. The main position was held by
the sepoys, with the two six-pounders. As the Burmese advanced, a
sharp fire was opened upon them; but they availed themselves of
every irregularity of the ground, and of cover of all kinds, and
threw up shelter banks with such rapidity that the fire was, by no
means, so effective as had been expected.

During the day news came that the left wing of the 23rd Native
Infantry had left Chittagong on the 13th and, as it should arrive
the next day, Captain Noton determined to hold his ground; though
the Burmese continued to press forward, and a good many men, as
well as two or three officers, had been wounded by their fire. At
nightfall, a consultation was held. The reinforcements were
expected in the morning and, although the native levies had shown
signs of insubordination, and evidently could not be relied upon to
make a stand, if the Burmese attacked in earnest, it was resolved
to retain the position.

During the night, the Burmese pushed forward their trenches. A
heavy fire was maintained on both sides during the day, but it was
with considerable difficulty that the officers in command of the
levies kept the men from bolting.

"Things look very black," Captain Pringle said to Stanley, when
the firing died away, at nightfall. "Reinforcements should have
been here, today. It is scandalous that they should not have been
pushed forward, at once, when we asked for them. Still more so
that, when they once started, they should not have come on with the
greatest possible speed. I doubt whether we shall be able to hold
these cowardly curs together till tomorrow. If they bolt, the
sepoys will be sure to do so, too; in fact, their position would be
altogether untenable, for the Burmese could march round this flank
and take them in rear.

"I wish to Heaven we had two or three companies of white troops,
to cover a retreat. There would be no fear of the sepoys yielding
to a panic, if they had British troops with them; but when they are
outnumbered, as they are now, one can hardly blame them if they
lose heart, when the enemy are ten times their strength, and will
be twenty to one against them, if our fellows here bolt."

The next morning, the Burmese had pushed up their trenches to
within twelve paces of the British lines, and a tremendous fire was
opened. At nine o' clock, in spite of the efforts of their officers
to keep them steady, the native levies bolted; and the officers
with them dashed across the intervening ground towards the main
body. One of them fell dead, and two others were wounded. Stanley
was running, when he fell headlong, without a moment's thought or
consciousness.

The Burmese occupied the tank as soon as the levies had
abandoned it, and their fire at once took the defenders of the main
position in flank. A retreat was now necessary, and the sepoys drew
off in good order but, as the exulting Burmans pressed hotly upon
them, and their cavalry cut off and killed every man who fell
wounded from their ranks, they became seized with a panic. In vain
their officers exhorted them to keep steady. Reaching a rivulet,
the men threw down their rifles and accoutrements as they crossed
it, and took to headlong flight.

The little group of officers gathered together, and fought to
the end. Captains Noton, Truman, and Pringle; Lieutenant Grigg,
Ensign Bennet, and Maismore the doctor were killed. Three officers,
only, made their escape; of these, two were wounded.

The fugitives, both natives and sepoys, continued their flight;
and when, two or three days later, they straggled into Chittagong,
it was found that the total loss in killed and missing amounted to
about two hundred and fifty. Those taken prisoners numbered only
about twenty. All these were more or less severely wounded, for no
quarter had been given. They had, in the pursuit, been passed over
as dead; and when, after this was over, they were found to be
alive, they were spared from no feeling of humanity, but that they
might be sent to Ava, as proofs of the victory obtained over the
British. The number actually found alive was greater, but only
those were spared that were capable of travelling.

Among these was Stanley Brooke. He had remained insensible,
until the pursuit had been discontinued. A violent kick roused him
to consciousness and, sitting up, he found that half a dozen
Burmese were standing round him. His first action, on recovering
his senses, was to discover where he was wounded. Seeing no signs
of blood on his white clothes, he took off his cap and passed his
hand over his head; and found that the blood was flowing from a
wound just on the top, where a bullet had cut away the hair and
scalp, and made a wound nearly three inches long, at the bottom of
which he could feel the bone.

Looking up at the Burmese, he said, in their own language:

"That was a pretty close shave, wasn't it?"

Two or three of them laughed, and all looked amused. Two of them
then helped him to his feet; and the group, among whom there were
some officers, then took him some distance to the rear, where he
was ordered to sit down with three wounded sepoys who had been
brought in.

Chapter 3: A Prisoner.

The little group of prisoners received several additions, until
the number mounted up to twenty. The spot where they were placed
was close to the bank of the river and, as all were suffering
severely from thirst, Stanley asked and obtained permission from
the guard to fetch some water. He first knelt down and took a long
drink; then he bathed his head and, soaking his handkerchief with
water, made it into a pad, placed it on the wound, and put his cap
on over it. Then he filled a flask that he carried, and joined his
companions. These were permitted to go down, one by one, to the
river to drink and bathe their wounds.

Stanley had already learned, from them, all they knew of what
had happened after he had been stunned by the bullet. Two of them
had crossed the rivulet, before being wounded; and these said that
they believed all the white officers had been killed, but that they
thought most of the troops had got away.

"It is more than they deserved," Stanley said indignantly. "I
don't say much about the Mugs. They had very little drill or
discipline and, naturally, were afraid of the Burmese, who had long
been their masters; but if the sepoys had kept together under their
officers, they might all have escaped, for the Burmese would never
have been able to break their ranks."

"Some of the officers had been killed, and most of them wounded,
before the retreat began, sahib," one of the sepoys said
apologetically, "and they were ten to one against us."

"Yes, I know that; but you who had fought before should have
known well enough that, as long as you kept together, you could
have beaten them off; and they would have been glad enough to have
given up the pursuit, at last. No doubt they all wanted to have a
share in the plunder of Ramoo."

"What do you think that they are going to do with us,
sahib?"

"From what they said as they brought me here, I think that we
shall be sent to Ava, or Amarapura. They lie close together, and
the court is sometimes at one place and sometimes at the other.
What they will do with us when we get there, I don't know. They may
cut off our heads, they may put us in prison; anyhow, you may be
sure that we shall not have a pleasant time of it.

"All we have to hope for is that the capture of Rangoon, by our
fleet, may lower their pride and bring them to treat for terms. It
sailed nearly six weeks ago from Calcutta, and was to have been
joined by one from Madras and, allowing for delays, it ought to
have been at Rangoon a fortnight since, and would certainly capture
the place without any difficulty. So possibly by the time we reach
Ava we shall find that peace has been made.

"Still, the Burmese may not consider the loss of Rangoon to be
important, and may even try to recapture it--which you may be sure
they won't do, for I heard at Chittagong that there were some
twenty thousand troops coming; which would be quite enough, if
there were but good roads and plenty of transport for them, to
march through Burma from end to end."

In the evening food was brought to the prisoners and, talking
with some of the Burmese who came up to look at them, Stanley
learned that Bandoola himself had not accompanied the force across
the Naaf, and that it was commanded by the rajahs who ruled the
four provinces of Aracan. Upon the following morning the prisoners
were marched away, under a strong guard. Six days later they
reached the camp of Bandoola. They were drawn up at a distance from
the great man's tent. He came down, accompanied by a party of
officers, to look at them. He beckoned to Stanley.

"Ask him if he is an officer," he said to an interpreter,
standing by his side.

The man put the question in Hindustani. Stanley replied, in
Burmese:

"I am an officer, your lordship, but a temporary one, only. I
served in the Mug levy, and was appointed for my knowledge of their
tongue."

"How is it that you come to speak our language?" Bandoola asked,
in surprise.

"I am a trader, your lordship, but when our trade was put an end
to, by the outbreak of the war, I entered the army to serve until
peace was made. I learned the language from a servant in the
service of my uncle, whose assistant I was."

The Burmese general was capable of acts of great cruelty, when
he considered it necessary; but at other times was kindly and good
natured.

"He is but a lad," he said to one of his officers, "and he seems
a bold young fellow. He would be useful as an interpreter to me,
for we shall want to question his countrymen when we make them all
prisoners. However, we must send him with the others to Ava, as he
is the only officer that we have taken; but I will send a message
to some of my friends, at the court, asking them to represent that
I consider he will be useful to me; and praying that he may be kept
for a time and treated well, and may be forwarded to me, again,
when I make my next move against the English."

The following day the prisoners started under the escort of
twenty soldiers, commanded by an officer of some rank, who was
specially charged to take them safely to Ava. It was a fortnight's
march to the Irrawaddy. Until they neared the river the country was
very thinly populated but, when they approached its banks, the
villages were comparatively thick, standing for the most part in
clearings in a great forest. On the march the Burmese officer
frequently talked with Stanley, asked many questions about England
and India; and was evidently surprised, and somewhat sceptical, as
to the account the lad gave him of the fighting strength of the
country. He treated him with considerable indulgence, and sent him
dishes from his own table.

When not talking with him, Stanley marched at the head of the
little party of prisoners--all of whom were sepoys, no quarter
having been given to the native levies. Of an evening, Stanley
endeavoured to keep up the sepoys' spirits by telling them that
probably, by this time, the British expedition had arrived at
Rangoon, and captured it; and that peace would most likely follow,
and they might be exchanged for any Burmese who fell into the hands
of the English.

When they reached a village on the banks of the river the
population, on seeing them, came round and would have maltreated
them; had not the officer interfered, and said he had Bandoola's
orders to carry them safely to the court, and that anyone
interfering with them would be severely punished. The head man of
the village bent low, on hearing the general's name.

"I ask your pardon, my lord. The prisoners shall not be touched.
But have you heard the news?"

"I have heard no news," the officer said.

"It arrived here yesterday, my lord. The barbarians have had the
audacity to sail up, with a great fleet of ships, to Rangoon. They
had vessels of war with them and, though our forts fired upon them,
they had so many cannon that we could not resist them, and they
have captured the town. This happened a fortnight since."

The officer stood thunderstruck at what appeared, to him, to be
an act of audacious insolence. However, after a moment's pause, he
said wrathfully:

"It is of little matter. The town was weak, and in no position
for defence; but a force will soon go down to sweep these
barbarians away. Now, get ready your war galley, as soon as
possible."

Each village on the river was compelled, by law, to furnish a
war galley for the king's service whenever it might be required.
These carried from fifty to a hundred men, and some three hundred
of these boats were always available for service, and constituted
one of the strongest divisions of the fighting force of the Burman
empire. The village was a large one, and in half an hour the crew
of the galley were on board and, rowing forty oars, started up the
river.

"What think you of this news?" the officer said, beckoning to
Stanley to take his place in front of him. "These men must be mad,
to tempt the anger of the Lord of the Golden Stool, the mighty
Emperor. Had you heard aught of this?"

"I heard but a vague rumour that a fleet had been collected, but
I heard nothing for certain as to its destination."

"It is madness," the officer repeated. "We shall sweep them into
the sea. How many of them are there, do you think?"

"As to that I can say little, my lord. I only heard a report
that some ships and troops were to sail--some from Madras and some
from Calcutta--but of the number of the men and ships, I know
nothing for certain."

"They have taken evil council," the officer said, gravely. "I
have heard that they gained some slight advantage, in Cachar; but
there they had but irregular troops to meet, largely Assamese, who
are but poor cowards. This little success must have turned their
heads. They will now have our regular forces to deal with, and
these will number a hundred thousand--or twice as many, if
necessary. Think you that the handful that would be transported in
ships can stand against such a host?"

"There may be more than you think, my lord. Many of the ships
will be very big, much bigger than those that trade with Rangoon;
and some of them will carry as many as five hundred men."

"Even so," the officer said scornfully; "if there were
twenty-five such ships, or even fifty, the force would be as
nothing to us. They will have to take to their vessels, as soon as
our army approaches."

"It may be so, sir; but I think that they will scarce go without
fighting. I would represent to you that, although much fewer in
numbers than your army which attacked us, at Ramoo, the troops made
a stout fight of it; and that they fought steadily, until the Mugs
ran away. After that, from what I hear, I admit that they fled
shamefully. But the troops that come to Rangoon will be better than
those were, for there will be white regiments among them; and
though these may, as you say, be overpowered with numbers and
destroyed, I do not think that you will see them running away."

"And you think that they will really venture to withstand
us?

"I think that they will endeavour to do so."

"Why, there will scarce be an occasion for fighting," the
officer said, disdainfully. "They were mad to come; they are
madder, still, to come now. The rainy season is just at hand. In
another week it will be upon us. The rivers will spread, the flat
country will be a marsh. Even we, who are accustomed to it, suffer.
In places like Rangoon fever and disease will sweep them away and,
when the dry season comes and our troops assemble to fight them,
there will be none left. They will die off like flies. We shall
scarce capture enough to send as prisoners to the emperor."

Stanley felt that, in this respect, the Burman's prophecies were
but too likely to be fulfilled. He knew how deadly were the swamp
fevers to white men; and that in spite of his comfortable home on
board the dhow and boat, he had himself suffered although, during
the wet season, his uncle made a point of sailing along the coast,
and of ascending only rivers that flowed between high banks and
through a country free from swamps. He remembered that his uncle
had spoken, very strongly, of the folly of the expedition being
timed to arrive on the coast of Burma at the beginning of the wet
season; and had said that they would suffer terribly from fever
before they could advance up the country, unless it was intended to
confine the operations to the coast towns, until the dry season set
in.

It would indeed have been impossible to have chosen a worse time
for the expedition but, doubtless, the government of India thought
chiefly of the necessity for forcing the Burmese to stand on the
defensive, and of so preventing the invasion of India by a vast
army. Unquestionably, too, they believed that the occupation of
Rangoon, and the stoppage of all trade, would show the court of Ava
that they had embarked in a struggle with no contemptible foe; and
would be glad to abate their pretensions, and to agree to fair
terms of peace.

The Bengal force that had been embarked consisted of two British
regiments--the 13th and 38th--a battalion of native infantry, and
two batteries of European artillery, amounting in all to 2175 men.
The Madras force--of which one division was sent on at once, the
other was to follow shortly--consisted of the 41st and 89th
Regiments, the Madras European regiment, seven battalions of native
infantry, and four batteries of artillery, amounting to 9300 men;
making a total of 11475 fighting men, of whom nearly five thousand
were Europeans. In addition to the transports, the Bengal force was
accompanied by a flotilla of twenty gun-brigs and as many
row-boats, each armed with an eighteen-pounder; the Larne and
Sophia sloop, belonging to the Royal Navy; several of the Company's
cruisers; and the steamboat Diana. General Sir A. Campbell was
appointed to the chief command, and Colonel M'Bean, with the rank
of Brigadier General, commanded the Madras force.

The Bengal squadron sailed from Saugur in the middle of April;
and reached the rendezvous, Port Cornwallis, in the Andaman
Islands, at the end of the month. The Madras first division sailed
at the same time, and joined them a few days later; and the whole
force, under the escort of H. M. frigate Liffey and the Slaney,
sloop of war, left Port Cornwallis on the 5th of May, and arrived
on the 9th at the mouth of the Irrawaddy.

Forces were detached for the capture of the islands of Chuduba
and Negrais. On the 10th the fleet entered the river and anchored
within the bar and, on the following morning, proceeded with the
flood tide up to Rangoon, the Liffey and the Larne leading the way.
A few shots were fired as they went up the river; but the Burmese
were taken wholly by surprise, the idea that the English would
venture to invade them never having entered their minds.

There was considerable disappointment on board the fleet, when
Rangoon came into sight. It was situated on the north bank of the
main branch of the river, thirty miles from the sea. It extended
about nine hundred yards along the bank, and was six or seven
hundred yards wide, at its broadest part. Beyond the town were some
suburbs, outside the palisade that inclosed it. The palisades were
ten or twelve feet high, strengthened by embankments of earth
thrown up against them, on the inner side. One face of the defences
ran along the river bank, while the others were protected by a
shallow creek communicating with the river. The town itself
consisted, for the most part, of miserable and dirty hovels; and of
a few official buildings of larger size.

At twelve o'clock the Liffey anchored abreast of the principal
battery, close to the water gate; the transports being ranged in a
line in rear of her. A proclamation had been sent on shore, on the
previous day, giving assurances of protection to the people at
large, and to all who should offer no resistance.

When the guns of the fleet were loaded, a pause ensued. The town
was evidently incapable of offering resistance, and it was hoped
that it would capitulate. The Burmese were seen standing at their
guns, but they also remained inactive, apparently paralysed at the
appearance of this great fleet of vessels--of a size hitherto
undreamt of by them--and the threatening guns pointed towards them.
However, they were at last goaded, by the orders and threats of
their officers, to open fire upon the ships.

The frigate at once replied with a broadside. In a very few
minutes, every gun on shore was silenced, and the Burmese fled in
confusion from their works. As soon as they did so, the signal for
disembarkation was made. The troops crowded into the boats, which
rowed for the shore; and the soldiers entered the town without
resistance, and found it completely deserted.

The whole of the population had been driven out by the governor
on the previous day and, according to Burmese custom, the men had
all been formed into a levy, while the women and children were held
under guard, as hostages for their husbands and fathers--their
lives being forfeited in case of desertion, or cowardice, by their
male relations.

The foreigners in the town had all been seized. They were few in
number, consisting of some eight or ten British traders and
American missionaries. These, after being fettered, were taken to
the Custom House prison. They were brought up and tried, early on
the morning of the attack, and were accused of having arranged the
assault on the town. They naturally urged that, if they had had the
least knowledge that it was going to be made, they would have left
the place in time. But the Burmese at once condemned them to death,
and they were taken back to the prison to be executed.

The sentence was not carried out. The Burmese had intended to
execute them on the walls, in sight of their countrymen; and the
authorities had all assembled at the prison for the purpose when,
fortunately, a shot from the first broadside fired passed through
the building, causing an instant stampede. The chiefs at once left
the city; and the prisoners, heavily chained, were marched some
distance into the country. A party of British troops were, however,
pushed forward in advance of the town, as soon as it was occupied;
and the guard, in alarm for their own safety, placed the prisoners
in a house and made off; and a patrol found them there, on the
following morning, and brought them into the town.

The great pagoda, standing two miles and a half from the town,
was at once occupied as an advanced position by the British. It
stood upon a conical hill, rising seventy-five feet above the
plain. The area on the top was somewhat over two acres; and in the
centre rose the pagoda, three hundred and thirty-eight feet
high.

Every boat on the river was found to have been removed. In spite
of proclamations promising good treatment, none of the inhabitants
returned to the town, being prevented from doing so by the Burmese
authorities and troops. No stores whatever had been found and, till
the end of the wet season, the army had to depend entirely upon the
fleet for provisions; and remained cooped up in the wretched and
unhealthy town, suffering severely from fever and malaria.

The boat in which Stanley and the other prisoners were conveyed
was changed at every village going up the river, as the officer was
carrying the despatches from Bandoola to the court. A flag was
hoisted as the boat came in sight of a village. This was the signal
that another was required and, within two or three minutes of their
arrival, the prisoners, their guard and officer were on their way
again.

Thus they proceeded, night and day and, in four days, arrived at
Ava. Leaving the prisoners in charge of the guard, the officer at
once proceeded to the palace. In an hour guns were fired, drums
beat, and the bells of the pagodas rung, to give notice to the
population that a great victory had been won over the English, and
their army annihilated, by Bandoola and his valiant troops. This
obliterated the impression produced by the news that had arrived, a
few days previously, of the landing at Rangoon; and there were
great rejoicings among the population.

An officer from the palace presently came down to the boat, and
the prisoners were marched through the streets to a jail, amid the
jeers of the mob. Stanley was surprised at the meanness of the
town; the great majority of the houses being built of bamboo, and
thatched with grass, and having a very poor appearance. The public
buildings and the houses of the great officers were constructed of
planks, and tiled; but were heavy and tasteless, and it was only
upon the innumerable pagodas, in and around the town, that any care
seemed to have been bestowed.

He had wondered much at the numerous pagodas that they had seen,
near every town and village, as they passed up; but the officer had
informed him that these were all private property, and that it was
considered the most meritorious of actions to erect one;
consequently every man who had means to do so built a pagoda, large
or small in proportion to the sum that he could bestow upon it. On
Stanley's remarking upon the great number that were in ruins, the
officer replied that it was considered so much more meritorious an
action to build a pagoda than to repair one that, after the death
of the founder, they were generally suffered to fall into
decay.

For some days the prisoners were taken out, every day, and
marched about the town for some time, so as to afford the
population ocular proof of the victory gained by Bandoola. The
place in which they were confined was small and filthy but, at the
end of a week, Stanley was taken out and placed in a room by
himself; and here the officer who had had charge of him paid him a
visit, an hour or two later.

"I have expressed to the court," he said, "the wishes of the
general, and have had permission accorded for you to receive
different treatment from the others; partly because you are an
officer, but principally because the general thinks that you may be
made useful to him. I have informed the officer of the prison that
you are to be at liberty to walk about in the city, when you
please; but that to protect you from violence, an officer and two
soldiers are to accompany you, so long as you may think such a
precaution necessary. I have ordered a dress of our fashion to be
brought to you as, otherwise, you could not go into the streets
without being mobbed."

Stanley expressed his gratitude to the officer for obtaining
these indulgences, and the latter replied:

"I acted upon the orders of the general, but it has been a
pleasure to me; for I see that you are a young man of merit, and I
have learned much from you about your people during the journey;
and have seen that, foolish as they have been to undertake to match
themselves against us, there are yet some things that might be
learned from them; and that, if they had remained in their island,
many months' journey away from here, they might have been worthy of
our friendship."

A short time after the officer had left, a soldier brought up
some food of a very much better nature than that with which Stanley
had been hitherto supplied. Half an hour later, the dress arrived.
It was that of a Burmese officer of inferior grade; and consisted
of a tunic of thick cloth, coming down to the knees; leathern sword
belt; a sort of tippet resembling that of an English coachman, with
three layers of cloth thickly quilted; and a leathern helmet going
up to a point in the centre, with a flap to protect the neck and
ears. With it were worn tight-fitting stockings of cloth, and low
shoes.

Presently an officer came in.

"I am ordered to go out with you, once a day, at whatever hour
you may desire. I am a relative of the officer who brought you
here, and he has requested me to look after your safety."

"I am much obliged to you, sir," Stanley said, "and shall be
glad, indeed, to go out to see the city. Your kinsman has kindly
sent me a dress; but if I am not to be noticed, it will be
necessary for me to stain my face and hands, somewhat."

"That I have thought of," the officer said, "and have brought
with me some dye which will darken your skin. It would be worse
than useless for you to dress as a Burman, unless you did so; for
it would seem even more singular, to the people in the streets,
that a white man should be seen walking about dressed as an
officer, than that a white prisoner should be taken through the
streets under a guard.

"I am ready to go out with you now, if you wish it."

"I shall be ready in a few minutes," Stanley replied and, on
being left alone, at once changed his attire and stained his face
and hands.

He had just finished when the officer returned. He smiled and
said:

"There is no fear of your being suspected, now; and you might
really go about safely without a guard, unless you were to enter
into conversation with anyone. You speak the language very well,
but your accent is not quite the same as ours, here, though in
Aracan it would pass unremarked."

As they went out from the prison, the officer told two soldiers
who were waiting there to follow, at a distance.

"Do not approach us," he said, "unless I call you up."

The houses were not constructed in continuous rows, but were
very scattered, each house having its inclosure or garden. The
population was very small, in comparison to the area occupied by
the town. This was divided into two parts--the inner and outer
town. The whole was surrounded by a brick wall, five miles and a
half in circumference, some sixteen feet high and ten feet in
thickness, strengthened on the inside by a great bank of earth. The
inner town was inclosed by a separate wall, with a deep ditch on
two sides, the river Irrawaddy on the third, and a tributary river
on the fourth.

A considerable portion of the inclosed area was occupied by the
royal quarter; containing the palace, the court of justice, the
council chamber, arsenal, and the houses of the ministers and chief
officials. This was cut off from the rest by a strong and
well-built wall, twenty feet high, outside which was a stockade of
the same height. The total population of Ava was but 25,000.

The officer did not take Stanley to the royal quarter, observing
that it was better not to go there as, although he had leave to
walk in the town, it might give offence were he to show himself
near the palace; but after going through the wall, they visited two
or three of the markets, of which there were eleven in the
town.

The markets consisted of thatched huts and sheds, and were well
supplied with the products of the country. Here were rice, maize,
wheat, and various other grains; sticks of sugar cane, tobacco,
cotton, and indigo; mangoes, oranges, pineapples, custard apples,
and plantains were in abundance; also peacocks, jungle fowl,
pigeons, partridges, geese, ducks, and snipes--but little meat was
on sale, as the Burman religion forbids the killing of animals for
food. Venison was the only meat allowed to be sold in the markets;
but there were lizards, iguanas, and snakes, which were exposed
freely for sale; and there were large quantities of turtle and
tortoise eggs, which had been brought up from the delta.

Stanley saw that there had really been no great occasion for him
to stain his skin, as the people were, for the most part, lighter
in colour than the Hindoos. Many of the men had, however, stained
their faces to a darker colour; and all were tattooed, more or
less. Men, women, and children were all smoking; and frequently,
when both hands were required for any purpose, thrust their cigars
into the large holes bored in the lobes of their ears. Both men and
women were somewhat short in stature, but squarely built and
muscular and, in the majority of cases, inclined to be fat.

The men wore a sort of kilt, consisting of a double piece of
cloth, wrapped round the body and falling to the knee. Over this
was a loose tunic, with sleeves open in front. The headdress was a
scanty white turban.

The dress of the women was somewhat similar to that of the
Hindoos, consisting of a single garment like a sheet wrapped round
the body, fastening under the arms and falling to the ankles. Those
of the upper classes were more elaborate. The rank among the women
was distinguished, so Stanley's guide pointed out to him, by the
manner in which the hair was plaited and twisted, and by the
ornaments in it.

The men, like the women, wore their hair long but, while the men
wore theirs in a knot at the top of the head, the women gathered it
in at the back. Their faces were broad at the cheekbones, but
narrowed in sharply, both at the forehead and chin. The narrow and
oblique eyes showed the relationship between the Burmese and their
Chinese neighbours. They seemed to Stanley a light-hearted, merry
people, going about their business with much chatter and laughter;
and the sound of musical instruments could often be heard, inside
the houses. Several men, in bright yellow garments, mingled with
the crowds in the market. These were priests, the officer told him;
and it would be a mortal act of sacrilege, were anyone else to wear
that colour.

Stanley remarked upon seeing so few soldiers, and the officer
told him that there was no regular army in Burma. Every man capable
of carrying arms was obliged to serve in case of war but, with the
exception of the king's bodyguard, and a very small body of men who
were police, rather than soldiers, there was no force permanently
kept up. Every man was expected to know something of military duty,
and all were able to build stockades. From the fact that the flesh
of wild fowl formed one of the principal articles of food, the
peasantry throughout the country were all accustomed to the use of
the gun, and were fair marksmen.

"But you yourself are an officer," Stanley said.

"At present, yes; but tomorrow I may return to my land. It is
the same with the highest minister. One day he may be a trader but,
if recommended to the king as one possessing ability, straightway
he is chosen to be a high official. If he does not please the king,
or fails in his duties, then the next day he may be selling cloth
in the bazaar again.

"Everything is at the will of the king. Nobody is born with
fortune or rank, for everything belongs to the king and, at a man's
death, all goes back to him. Thus everyone in the land has an equal
chance. In war the bravest becomes a general, in peace the
cleverest is chosen as a councillor."

Walking about, Stanley soon found that there were a great
variety of dialects talked in the streets, and that the language of
the Burmese of the coast, of the natives of Pegu and the central
province, and of those from districts bordering on the Shan states
or the frontiers of China, differed as widely as those of the most
remote parts of Great Britain did from each other. This being so,
he was convinced that there would be no difficulty, whatever, in
passing as a native, without attracting any observation or inquiry,
so far as the language went.

His features and, still more, the shape of his face might,
however, be noticed by the first comer, in the daytime. He thought,
indeed, that a little tinge of colour in the corner of the eyes, so
as to lengthen their appearance and give an oblique cast to them,
would make a difference. The general shape of the head was
unalterable, but the Burmese nose and mouth did not differ very
greatly from the European; except that the nostrils were smaller
and, in shape, were round rather than oval.

For three weeks he continued the same life, and then the Burmese
officer, with whom he had now become very friendly, said when he
entered one morning:

"You must not go out today. There is news that your people have
made two forward marches. The first was against a stockade, which
they took, and killed many of our men; the other time they marched
out four or five miles, had a fight with our troops, and again
killed many. These things have angered the king and the people. Of
course it is nothing, for our troops are only beginning to
assemble; but it is considered insolent in the extreme, and the
king's face is darkened against your countrymen. Four of the
prisoners have been taken out this morning and publicly executed
and, if the news of another defeat comes, I fear that it will be
very dangerous, even for you."

"What had I best do, my friend?"

"I would fain save you, for we have come to know each other; and
I see that there is much good in your ways, though they differ
greatly from ours. Were I to take you out, as usual, you might be
killed in the streets; were you to slip away and escape, I should
assuredly be put to death; but if in any way I can help you, I
would fain do so. My relation who brought you up here left, a
fortnight since, to rejoin Bandoola; so his influence cannot serve
you.

"I do not say that you might not escape from this prison--since
you are not, like the others, confined in a dungeon--but I see not
what you could do, or where you could go. Were you to disappear,
orders would be sent down the river to every village, and every
passing craft would be examined, and you would be sure to be
detected; while it would be well-nigh impossible to travel the
country on foot, for it is but thinly inhabited. There are often
very long distances between the villages, and much of the country
is swamp and forest, without paths; for the village trade goes by
the river, and they have little communication with each other.

"I know that, from what you say, you think that your troops will
beat ours, even when we assemble in large numbers. Were this so, I
fear that there would be little chance of your life being spared.
Were it not for that, I should say that, Bandoola having
recommended you, you would be in no danger here, and had better
remain until peace is made.

"What think you, yourself?"

"It is very difficult to reply, at once," Stanley said, "but I
thank you greatly for your offer to befriend me, in any way you
can. I do not say that I had not thought of escape, for I have of
course done so. But it seemed to me a thing in the distance; and
that, at any rate until the rains were over and the rivers had
sunk, it would be useless to attempt it. I see, now, that it will
be safest for me to try without delay. If you will come in again,
this afternoon, I will tell you what I have thought of."

"I will do so; and I, myself, will try to think how best the
matter can be managed. We must remember that the great thing is for
you to find concealment, for the present. After the search for you
has been made for some time, it will die away; and it will then be
the easiest plan for you to make your way down the river."

Chapter 4: A Ruined Temple.

After the officer left him, Stanley sat thinking for a long
time. He himself inclined strongly towards the river; but he saw
that, at present, the difficulties would be very great. The war
boats were passing up and down, and bodies of troops were being
carried down in large craft. In every village the men, he knew,
were assembling and drilling. Even in Ava he could see the
difference in the population, the proportion of men to women having
markedly decreased since his arrival.

As to the journey by land, it appeared to him impossible. He
was, too, altogether without money and, whether by water or land,
it would be necessary to go into the villages to buy provisions.
Indeed, money would have been almost useless, for there was no
coined money in Burma; payments being made in lead, for small
amounts, or in silver for large ones--the quantity necessary being
cut off from small sticks or bars, or paid in filings.

It seemed to him that the best thing would be to take to the
forest, for a time; and endeavour to subsist upon wild fruits or,
if these were not to be found there, to go out into the fields and
orchards at night, and so manage to hold on for a few weeks. His
friend told him that, in the forests along the principal lines of
route to the capital, were many bad characters--persons who had
committed crime and fled from justice. Some were cultivators who,
having been unable to pay their taxes, had deserted their land and
taken to the woods. All committed depredations, and traders coming
into the town from the Shan states, or from the country where
rubies and emeralds were found, always travelled in caravans for
mutual protection. At times levies were called out, and many of
these marauders were killed.

Stanley, then, had hit upon nothing definite when the officer
returned in the afternoon and, in reply to the latter's question,
he acknowledged at once that the only thing he could see was to
take to the forest, until the active search for him had ceased.

"You would find it difficult to maintain yourself. I have
thought of a better way than that. I am acquainted with a Phongee,
who lives in a temple in a lonely spot, four miles away. He is a
good man, though somewhat strange in his habits; and I feel sure
that, on my recommendation, he would take you in. There would be
little chance of your being discovered there. You could not go
dressed as you are, but must disguise yourself as a peasant; though
it might be well to retain your present attire, which may be useful
to you, afterwards. I fear that you will fare badly with him, in
the way of food; there will be enough to eat, but it will be of the
simplest."

"So that there is enough to keep life together, it matters
little what it is."

"Then that is settled.

"Now, about making your escape from here. Your door is closely
barred, at night; and there is no window save those four little
holes, high up in the wall, which scarce a bird could get
through."

"I could cut through the thatch above," Stanley said, "if I had
but something that I could stand upon to do so. There are some
bamboos lying just at the bottom of the steps. With these and some
cord I might make a sort of ladder, and should then be able to get
at the thatch."

"I will bring you some cord, tomorrow, for that and to let
yourself down to the ground. Then I will arrange where to meet you,
and will guide you out of the town and take you to the priest. I
will bring a disguise for you, and some stain for your body and
arms for, as a peasant, you would be naked to the waist. I can
think of nothing better."

"I thank you most heartily," Stanley said, "and trust that you
may get into no trouble for the kindness that you have shown
me."

"There is no fear of that, my friend. No one will know that I
have been away from the town. I am greatly afraid that this will be
all that I shall be able to do for you; for I am told that I am to
go down the river with the next batch of troops, which will start
in three days. I have only been informed of it since I saw you this
morning. Had it not been for you I should have been glad; for it is
in war time, only, that one can obtain honour and promotion."

"I am sorry that you are going, sir. I shall miss your kindness,
sorely; but I can understand your desire to go to the front. It is
the same with us; when there is a war, every officer and soldier
hopes that his regiment will be sent there. However, I shall see
you again.

"Has Bandoola's army moved yet?"

"No; nor do I think that it will do so. It is a long march down
to Rangoon from Ramoo; and I believe that he will remain where he
is, until he sees how matters go at Rangoon. As soon as your people
are driven out, he will be joined by a great army, and will march
to Dacca. There our troops from the north will join him; and then
he will go to India, we think."

"I fancy," Stanley said with a smile, "if he waits until we are
turned out from Rangoon, his stay at Ramoo will be a long one."

The next day the officer brought several yards of strong cloth,
such as was worn by the peasants; a piece of muslin to make the
circular band that was worn by the lower class, instead of a
complete turban; and a lot of horse hair to be worn on the top of
the head.

"Now," he said, "strip to the waist, and I will dye your body. I
have dyes of two colours here; one for the skin, and the other to
draw lines on the face, so as to make you look older; and with this
I can also imitate tattoo marks on your chest and shoulders. Here
is a long knife, such as everyone wears, and here is the cord.

"As soon as it is getting dark you must carry up two of the
bamboo poles, taking care that no one observes you do so. There is
seldom anyone in the courtyard. I have had the knife sharpened, and
it will cut through the thatch, easily enough. When you get away,
walk straight to the market that lies nearest to us. I will be at
its entrance. It will take you, I suppose, two hours to make your
ladder and get out. You cannot begin until the guard closes your
door. You tell me he never comes in."

"No, he brings the last meal an hour before sunset. I generally
sit on the top of the steps, till he comes up to lock the door,
which is about nine o'clock; and I do not see him again until he
unbars the door in the morning. I should not think that it will
take as long as two hours to make the ladder, and cut the thatch;
at any rate, by eleven I ought to join you.

"I suppose the gates are open."

"Oh, yes! They are never closed, though of course they would be,
if an enemy were near. There is no guard anywhere."

After staining Stanley's skin, the officer waited a quarter of
an hour for it to dry thoroughly; and then proceeded to draw lines
on his face, across the forehead, and from the corners of his eyes;
and then spent nearly an hour in executing rough tattoo marks on
his body and arms.

"This dye is very good, and will last for weeks before it begins
to fade. I will bring with me another bottle, tonight, so that you
can at least re-dye your skin.

"Here is some wax. You must turn your hair up from the neck, and
plaster it in its place with it. The turban will prevent anyone
seeing how short the hair is. Here is a little bottle of black dye,
with which you had better colour it, before fixing it with the
wax."

Stanley's hair had not been cut for some time before he had been
captured by the Burmese and, in the two months that had since
elapsed, it had grown very long; and could therefore be turned up
as the officer suggested. Putting on his usual garments, he sat at
his place, at the door of the cell, until the guard brought up his
evening meal. Having eaten this, he dyed his hair and, half an hour
later, turned it up, plastering it with wax, and tied a bit of
fibre round where the turban would come.

By this time it was getting dusk. He sat at the door at the top
of the steps, until he saw that the courtyard was deserted; the
guard at the gate having gone outside, to enjoy the coolness of the
air. Then he ran down the steps, took two bamboo poles about ten
feet in length, and two short pieces of the same wood no thicker
than his finger and, hurrying up the steps with them, laid them
down against the side of the room. Then he went to the steps again,
and sat there until he saw the guard coming across to fasten his
door; when he went in and, as soon as he heard the bars put up,
began his preparations.

First he lashed the short pieces across the ends of the two
bamboos, so as to keep them a foot apart; then he put ratlines
across, and soon had the ladder completed. He made up his clothes
into a bundle, wrapped the rough cloth round his waist, adjusted
the knot of horse hair on the top of his head, and fastened it
there with wax. He wound the turban round below, and his disguise
was complete.

Fixing the ladder against the wall he climbed it, and it was not
long before he cut a hole through the thatch of sufficient size to
pass out. The work had taken him longer than he had expected, for
it had to be done in absolute darkness; however, he was sure that
he was well within his time. Fastening the end of the rope to one
of the bamboo rafters, he descended the ladder and picked up his
bundle; then climbed up again, got halfway out of the hole, and
listened intently. Everything was quiet in the street and, in
another minute, he stood on the ground.

When he turned into the principal street, there were still many
people about. Sounds of music and singing came from the windows,
for the Burmese are very fond of music, and often pass the whole
night in playing and singing. There was no risk whatever of
detection now, and he stepped briskly along until he came to the
open space, with its rows of little thatched huts. Here he paused
for a minute, and the officer stepped out from behind a house and
joined him.

"I was not sure at first that it was you," he said. "Your
disguise is excellent. You had better follow me, now, until we get
beyond the busy streets."

Keeping some twenty yards behind his guide, Stanley went on
until, after nearly half an hour's walking, they passed through a
gate in the city walls. He now closed up to the officer and, after
another half-hour's walk across a cultivated country, they entered
a forest. The ground now rose steadily and, after keeping on for
two miles, they emerged from the trees at the top of a hill. The
space had been cleared of timber, but it was nearly covered with
bushes and young trees. In the centre were the ruins of a temple,
that had evidently existed long before the Burmese dynasty occupied
the country, and had been erected by some older race. It was
roofless; the walls had, in places, fallen; and the ruins were
covered with vegetation.

The Burman ascended some broken steps, entered the temple, and
crossed to one of the opposite corners. A dim light was burning in
a small apartment, which had been roofed with thatch. A man was
lying, dressed, on a heap of leaves at one side. He started up as
the officer entered.

"Who is it who comes here at this hour?" he asked.

"Thekyn," the officer answered.

"I am glad to see you," the Phongee said, "whatever may bring
you here. You have not fallen into trouble, I hope?"

"In no way, good priest. I am starting, in two days, down the
river to fight the barbarians; but before I go, I want you to do me
a favour."

The Phongee smiled.

"Beyond naming you in my prayers, Thekyn, there is but little
that a hermit can do for any man."

"Not so, in this case," the officer said. "I have one here with
me who needs rest, and concealment. I would rather that you did not
ask who he is. He has done no crime, and yet he is in danger; and
for a month, maybe, he needs a shelter. Will you give it him, for
my sake?"

"Assuredly I will," the priest said. "Your father was one of my
dearest friends, in the days when I dwelt in the city. I would
gladly do all in my power for his son, and this is but a small
thing that you ask. Let him enter."

Stanley went in. The priest took down the little lamp, from a
shelf on which it stood, and held it near the lad's face. Then he
turned, with a smile, to Thekyn:

"The painting is but clumsily done," he said, "though maybe it
would pass without close examination. He is a stranger, and comes
of a race unknown to me but, as you said, it matters not to me who
he is; suffice that he is a friend of yours. He is welcome to a
share of my shelter, and my food; though the shelter is rough, and
the food somewhat scanty. Of late few, indeed, have sought me for,
as I hear, most of the men have gone down to the war."

"I have brought you some food," the officer said; for Stanley
had observed that he also carried a bundle, a larger one than his
own. "Here is a supply of rice, that will last for some time; and
this, with your offerings, will suffice to keep things going. My
friend is not, like you, bound by his religion not to take life;
and I know that snakes are very plentiful round here."

Snakes had formed a frequent article of his diet, since he had
been captured; and Stanley had lost the repugnance to them that he
at first felt, so the prospect of their forming the staple of his
food was not disagreeable to him. It would also afford him some
employment to search for and kill them.

"I shall be well content," he said, "with anything that I can
get, and trust that I shall be no burden upon you."

"You will assuredly be none," the priest replied. "Here must be
at least thirty pounds of rice which, alone, would keep two men
alive for a month. As regards the snakes, though I may not kill
them, I may eat them when killed; and indeed, there are few things
better. In truth, I should not be sorry to have some of the
creatures out of the way; for they swarm round here so thickly that
I have to pay great heed, when I walk, lest I step upon them."

"Have you been troubled with robbers, of late, father?" Thekyn
asked.

"They trouble me not at all," the priest said. "Men come,
sometimes. They may be robbers, or they may not. I ask no
questions. They sometimes bring fruit and other offerings, and I
know that I need not fear them. I have nought to lose, save my
life; and he would be indeed an evil man who would dare to lift his
finger against a priest--one who harms not anyone, and is ready to
share what food he has with any man who comes to him hungry."

"Well, father, I will say goodbye. I must be back to the city
before men are about, as I would not that my absence should be
discovered."

"Peace be with you, my son. May you come back safe from the
wars. My prayers will be said for you, night and morning.

"Be in no uneasiness as to your friend. If any should ask me
about my companion, I shall reply that he is one who has undertaken
to rid me of some of the snakes, who dispute the possession of this
place with me."

Thekyn motioned to Stanley to come outside the hut with him and,
when he did so, handed to him a small but heavy bag.

"This is lead," he said. "You will need it, when you start on
your journey down the country. There are eight pounds of it and,
from what you have seen in the market, you will know how much food
can be got for a small amount of lead. I would that I could do more
for you, and assist your flight."

"You have done much indeed, very much and, should I regain my
friends, I will endeavour to do as much by one of your countrymen,
for your sake. I hope that, when this war is over, I may meet you
again."

"I hope so," the Burman said warmly. "I cannot but think that
you will succeed in getting away."

"My son," the old priest said, when Stanley returned to his
cell, "I am going to my prayers. I always rise at this hour, and
pray till morning; therefore you may as well lay yourself down on
these leaves. There is another cell, like this, in the opposite
corner of the temple. In the morning you can cut boughs, and roof
it like this; and make your bed there. There is no room for
another, here; and it will doubtless be more pleasant for you to
have a place to yourself, where you can go and come as you like;
for in the day women come up to consult me, and ask for my
prayers--but mind how you enter it for the first time as, like as
not, there will be snakes sheltering there."

Stanley lay awake for a time, listening to the monotonous voice
of the priest as he repeated his prayers; but his senses soon
wandered, and he slept soundly till daybreak.

His first step was to cut a stout stick, and he then proceeded
to the other cell, which was partially blocked up with stone from
the fallen roof. It took him two hours to carry this stuff out, and
he killed no less than nine snakes that he disturbed in his work.
The prospect of sleeping in a place so frequented was not a
pleasant one, especially as the cell had no door to it; and he
resolved at once to erect some sort of bed place, where he might be
beyond their reach. For this purpose he cut two poles, each three
or four inches longer than the cell. One end of each he sharpened,
and drove in between the interstices of the stone, at a distance of
some two feet and a half apart and four feet from the ground. The
other ends he hammered with a heavy stone against the opposite
wall, until they would go down no farther. Then he split up some
more wood and lashed strips, almost touching each other, underneath
the two poles, by the aid of some strong creepers. Then he filled
up the bed place, between the poles, with dry leaves.

One end of the bed was some inches higher than the other. This
was immaterial, and he felt satisfied that even the craftiest snake
could not reach him.

As to the roof, he was by no means particular about it. In this
part of Burma the rainfall is very small, the inundations being the
effect of heavy rains in the distant hill country which, as they
come down, raise the level of the rivers, in some cases, as much as
eighteen feet, and overflow the low-lying country.

Before beginning to construct the bed, he had carried the snakes
into the Phongee; after first cutting off their heads which, as he
knew, the Burmans never touch.

"This is good, indeed, my son," the priest said. "Here we have
our breakfast and dinner. I will boil some rice, and fry four of
them for breakfast."

The bed was but half completed, when he heard the priest sound a
bell. It was doubtless used as a call to prayer. However, Stanley
rightly conjectured that, in this case, it was a summons to a meal;
and was soon seated on the ground by the side of the priest. Little
was said at breakfast, which Stanley enjoyed heartily.

"So my friend Thekyn is starting for the wars. What think you of
it, my son? Shall we easily overpower these barbarians? We have
never met them in war before and, doubtless, their methods of
fighting are different from ours."

"Quite different. Their men are trained as soldiers. They act as
one man, while the Burmese fight each for himself. Then they have
cannon with them, which they can drag about quickly, and use with
great effect. Although they are few, in comparison with the armies
going down to attack them, the latter will find it very difficult
work to turn them out of Rangoon."

"Do you think that they will beat us, then?"

"That I cannot say, but I should not be surprised if it were to
prove so."

"The Burmese have never been beaten yet," the priest said. "They
have been victorious over all their enemies."

"The Burmese are very brave," Stanley agreed, "but, hitherto,
they have only fought against people less warlike than themselves.
Now they have to deal with a nation that has made war a study, and
which always keeps up a large army of men who are trained to fight,
and who spend all their time in military exercises. It is not that
they are stronger than the Burmese, for the Burmese are very strong
men; but only that men who are trained to act together must,
necessarily, possess a great advantage over those who have had no
such training--who simply take up arms for the occasion and, when
the trouble is over, return to their homes and lay them by, until
called out to fight again.

"Besides, their weapons are better than yours; and they have
many cannon which, by practice, they can load and fire very
quickly; and each of which, when the armies are near each other,
can fire fifty or sixty bullets at once."

"I have heard a strange story that the barbarians have a ship
without sails, with a great chimney that pours out quantities of
black smoke, and a wheel on each side and, as the wheels move
round, the vessel can go straight up the river against the tide,
even if the wind is blowing strongly down."

"It is true, father, there are many such ships; but only two or
three that have made the long voyage across stormy seas to
India."

"It is wonderful how these men can force fire to be their
servant, and how it can make the wheels of the ship to move
round."

"That I cannot tell you, father. I have never seen one of these
vessels, though I have heard of them."

The priest said no more, but evidently fell into a profound
meditation; and Stanley, getting quietly up, returned to his work.
The priest came in, just as he had completed his bed.

"That is well," he said, looking at it approvingly. "I myself,
although I know that, until my time has come, no creature can harm
me, cannot resist a shudder when I hear one rustling amid the
leaves of my bed; for they come in, although some of my friends
have had a door placed to exclude their entry at night. I wander
but little from my cell, and always close the door after me; but
they enter, sometimes, when I am meditating, and forgetful of
earthly matters, and the first I know of their presence is the
rustling of the leaves in the bed, at night. Were I as strong in
faith as I should be, I would heed it not. I tell myself so; but my
fear is stronger than my will, and I am forced to rise, turn up the
leaves with a stick until I find them, and then I open the door and
eject them, with as much gentleness as may be."

"I should get no sleep at all," Stanley said. "I don't think
that even a door would make me feel any safer, for I might forget
to shut it, sometimes. Tomorrow, father, I will wage war with them,
and see if I cannot decrease their numbers considerably."

Stanley's first task was to clear the bushes away from the court
of the temple; and this, after several days' hard work, he carried
out; although he soon saw that by so doing he would not diminish
the number of the snakes, for the greater portion of the area was
covered with blocks of fallen stone, among which the reptiles found
an impenetrable shelter. The clearance effected, however, was so
far useful that, while the creatures were before altogether hidden
from sight by the bushes, they could now be killed when they came
out to bask in the sun on the uncovered stones; and he could, every
day, destroy a dozen or more without the slightest difficulty.

Ten days after he had finished the work, he heard the sound of
men's voices and, peeping out, saw a Burmese officer with a party
of eight armed men going to the Phongee's cell. It was possible
that they might have come on other business, but it was more
probable they had come in search of him. Some of the women who had
come up to the hermit had seen him at work; and might have
mentioned, on their return, that the priest had a man at work
clearing away the bushes. The matter might have come to the ears of
some officer anxious to distinguish himself, and the idea that this
was the prisoner for whom a search was being made occurred to
him.

Stanley shrank back into his cell, took up the bundle of clothes
that served as his pillow, got on to the bed and, standing on it,
was able to get his fingers on to the top of the wall. He hoisted
himself up, made his way through the boughs of the roof, and
dropped on to the ground outside. Then he went round by the back of
the temple, until he stood outside the priest's cell, and could
hear the voices within without difficulty.

"Then you know nothing whatever of this man?"

"Nothing whatever," he replied. "As I have told you, he came to
me and asked for shelter. I gave him such poor assistance as I
could, as I should give it to anyone who asked me. He has been no
burden upon me, for he has killed enough snakes for my food and his
own."

"You know not of what part he is a native?"

"Not at all; I asked him no questions. It was no business of
mine."

"Could you form any idea from his speech?"

"His speech was ours. It seemed to me that it was that of a
native of the lower provinces."

"Where is he now?"

"I know not."

"You say that, at present, he is away."

"Not seeing him in front, I thought he had gone out; for he
comes and goes as he pleases. He is not a hired servant, but a
guest. He cut down the bushes here, in order that he might more
easily kill the snakes; for which, indeed, I am thankful to him,
not only for the food that they afford, but because they were in
such abundance, and so fearless, that they often came in here,
knowing that they had naught to fear from me."

"Then you think that he will return soon?"

"As he told me not of his intention of going out at all, I
cannot say. He is away, sometimes, for hours in the forest."

"Well, in any case, we shall watch here until his return. It may
be that he is some idle fellow, who prefers killing snakes to
honest work; but it may also be that he is the escaped prisoner of
whom we are in search."

"I hear little of what passes in the town," the priest said,
quietly. "News would disturb my meditations, and I never question
those who come here to ask for my prayers. I have heard of the
escape of no prisoner."

"It was a young English officer who got away. There has been a
great stir about it. Every house in the town has been searched, and
every guard boat on the river has been warned to allow no boat to
pass, without assuring themselves that he is not on board."

"This was a brown man, like ourselves, clad only in a petticoat
of rough cloth, like other peasants."

"He may have dyed his skin," the officer said. "At any rate, we
will stay until he returns, and question him. Two of my men shall
take their places just inside the entrance, and seize him as he
enters. Has he arms?"

"None, save his knife and the stick with which he kills the
snakes. It may be that he has seen you coming hither and, if he has
committed any crime, he would flee, and not return here at
all."

"If he does not come back before it is the hour when I must
return to the town, I shall leave four men to watch for him; and
they will wait here, if it is for a week, until he comes back
again."

"You can do as you please," the priest said, "only I pray you
withdraw your men from the neighbourhood of this cell. I would not
that my meditations were disturbed by their talk. I have come
hither for peace and quietness, and to be apart from the world and
its distractions."

"You shall not be disturbed," the officer said respectfully, and
Stanley heard a movement of feet, and then the closing of the
door.

Thinking it probable that the officer might make a search round
the temple, he at once made off into the wood behind the temple. As
soon as he was well among the trees, he exchanged his cloth for the
disguise he had worn in the town and, folding it up to be used as a
blanket at night, he went further into the wood, sat down, and
proceeded to think what his next step had best be. It was evident
that he could not return to the temple for the present; and it was
clear, also, that the search for him was still maintained, and that
it would not be safe to attempt to descend the river. He regretted
that he had been obliged to leave the place without saying goodbye
to the priest, and again thanking him for the shelter that he had
given him; but he was sure that, when he did not return, the old
man would guess that he had caught sight of the officer and his
party entering the temple, and had at once fled. Had he not known
that the guard would remain there, he would have waited until they
returned to the town, and would then have gone in and seen the
priest; but as they would remain there for some days, he thought it
was as well to abandon all idea of returning, as the suspicions
that he might be the man sought for would be heightened by his
continued absence, and the watch might be continued for a long
time, on the chance of his coming back.

He concluded that, at any rate, his best course would be to
endeavour to make his way for a considerable distance down the
country; and then to try and get a boat. He knew that the country
near the river was comparatively thickly populated, and that the
distances between the villages were not great, so that he would
find no great difficulty in purchasing provisions. The dress he had
brought with him was not altogether unfavourable for such a
purpose, as he could easily pass as a sub-officer, whose duty it
was to inquire whether the villages had each sent all their
able-bodied men to the war. The only drawback to it would be that,
if instructions for his arrest had been sent down to the villages
along the road, as well as those by the river, they would have
probably been directed to specially look for one clad in such
attire. However, it would be open to him, at any moment, to take to
his peasant's disguise again.

He at last determined to make a start and, by nightfall, had
traversed several miles through the great forest stretching along
by the side of the Panlaung river. He had asked many questions of
his friend the officer, as they went up to the temple, as to the
roads. He was told that there was one running almost due south to
Ramuthayn, by which he could travel down to Rangoon, by way of
Tannoo. This, however, would take him a long distance from the main
river, and he decided that he would presently strike the road that
ran about halfway between the hills and the Irrawaddy. He would
follow that for a time, and would try and strike the river
somewhere between Meloun and Keow-Uan.

Below this point there was a network of rivers, and but few
villages, and the country was swampy and unhealthy. He infinitely
preferred the risks of the descent by the river to those by road;
and it seemed to him that, if he could but obtain possession of one
of the small native fishing boats, he could drop down at night,
unnoticed, as the width of the river at Ava was upwards of a
thousand yards and, below that town, often considerably exceeded
that breadth.

When it became too dark to proceed further, he sat down at the
foot of a tree. He regretted that he had no means of lighting a
fire; and determined that, at any risk, he would obtain the means
of doing so at the first village that he came to--for he knew that
there were both tigers and leopards in the jungles. He thought,
however, that they were not likely to be numerous, so near the
capital; and the old priest had never alluded to them as a source
of danger though, indeed, it had never occurred to him to ask.

In the morning he continued his way. He had gone but a mile when
he heard a sudden scream in the wood, a short distance to his left.
Feeling sure that it was a human being, in great fear or pain, he
drew his knife and ran, at the top of his speed, in the direction
of the cry; thinking that it might be some man, or woman, attacked
by the robbers of the forest.

Suddenly he came upon a small open space, some twenty yards in
diameter. He hesitated, when his eyes fell on a group in the
centre. Two men were lying on the ground, and a leopard stood with
a paw on each of them. They had guns lying beside them, and a fire
was burning close by. He guessed that the animal had sprung from a
tree, one of whose boughs extended almost as far as the centre of
the opening. Probably it had killed one of the men in its spring
for, at the moment when he saw the animal, it was licking the blood
from the shoulder of the man on whom its right paw rested. The
other was, as far as Stanley could see, unhurt.

His tread in the light Burmese shoes had been almost noiseless;
and the leopard, which was keeping up a low growling, and whose
back was towards him, had apparently not noticed it. He hesitated
for a moment, and then decided to endeavour to save the man who was
still alive. Creeping up stealthily, he gave a sudden spring upon
the leopard, and buried his knife to the hilt in its body, just
behind the shoulder.

With a terrible roar, it rolled over for a moment, and then
struggled to its feet. The time had been sufficient for Stanley to
pick up and cock one of the guns and, as the leopard turned to
spring at him, he aimed between its eyes and fired. Again the beast
rolled over, and Stanley caught up the other gun, thrust the muzzle
within a foot of its head, and fired. The leopard gave a convulsive
quiver, and lay dead.

Chapter 5: With Brigands.

Stanley uttered an involuntary hurrah as the leopard expired;
and at the sound the Burman, who had been lying motionless, leapt
to his feet. He looked at the leopard, and then at his rescuer, and
exclaimed in a tone of astonishment:

"You have slain the beast alone, and with no weapon but your
knife!"

"No," Stanley replied; "I began the fight with my knife, only;
but caught up one of those guns when I wounded him, and fired as he
charged me. Then I finished him with the other."

"Comrade," the Burman said, "you have done a great deed, with
courage. I, who am esteemed no coward, would never even have
thought of attacking that great leopard with but a knife, and that
to save the life of a stranger."

"I saw the guns lying on the ground. Had it not been for that, I
should not have dared to attack the leopard, for it would have been
certain death."

"Certain death, indeed. But tell me, first, how you did it. It
seems to me well nigh a miracle."

"I was passing along, not far distant, when I heard your cry,"
Stanley said. "Thinking that it was some person in distress, I ran
hither, and saw you both lying, with the leopard's forepaws upon
you. The beast's back was turned to me and, as it was growling, it
had not heard my approach. Seeing the guns lying there--and having
no doubt that they were loaded--I stole up, sprang suddenly on the
leopard, and drove my knife into it behind the shoulder. The blow
rolled it over, and gave me time to pick up the gun. The rest was
easy."

The man, without a word, examined the body of the leopard.

"It is as you say," he said. "It was well struck, and would
probably have been fatal; but the animal would have torn you in
pieces before he died, but for the guns.

"Well, comrade, you have saved my life; and I am your servant,
so long as I live. I thought all was over with me. The leopard, as
it sprang, threw its full weight on my comrade, here. We had just
risen to our feet; and the blow struck me, also, to the ground. I
raised that cry as I fell. I lay there, immovable. I felt the
leopard's paw between my shoulders, and heard its angry growlings;
and I held my breath, expecting every moment to feel its teeth in
my neck.

"I had but one hope, namely, that the beast would carry off my
comrade--who, I was well assured, was dead--to the jungle to devour
him, and would then come back to fetch me. I managed to breathe
once, very quietly, when I felt a movement of the leopard and,
hearing a low sound, guessed that he was licking my comrade's
blood; but slightly as I moved, the leopard noticed it, and stood
straight up again over me. I dared not breathe again, but the time
had come when I felt that I must do so, though I was sure that it
would be the signal for my death.

"Then I knew not what had happened. There was a sharp pain as
the leopard's claws contracted, and then there was a loud roar, and
its weight was removed from me. Then I heard it snarl, as if about
to spring. Then came the sound of a gun, a fall, and a struggle;
and then the sound of another gun. Then I heard your shout, and
knew the beast was dead.

"Now, sir, what can I do for you? Shall I first skin the
leopard?"

"I care not for the skin," Stanley said. "It would be of no use
to me."

"Then, with your permission, I will take it off, and keep it as
long as I live, as a remembrance of the narrowest escape that I
ever had."

"Is your comrade dead?"

"Yes," the man replied. "The leopard struck him between the
shoulders as you see; and the force of the blow, and the weight of
the spring, must have killed him instantaneously."

"Then I will take his sword, gun, and cartridges."

So Stanley undid the sword belt, and buckled it round him; put
the bandolier of cartridges over his shoulders; and took up the gun
and reloaded it, while the man was at work skinning the leopard.
This operation the man performed with great speed. It was evidently
one that he had done before. As soon as the beast was flayed, he
rolled up the skin and placed it on his shoulder.

"You are an officer, sir?" he asked.

"No; I am a fugitive."

While he had been watching the man, Stanley had debated over
whether he should confide in him; and thought that, after the
service he had rendered him, he could do so with safety.

"I am an Englishman--I was captured by Bandoola, at Ramoo, and
sent a prisoner to Ava. I have escaped, and want to make my way
down to Rangoon; but I heard that orders had been sent along the
river to arrest me, and I do not, at present, know how to make my
way down."

"Come with me," the man said. "I have friends in the forest,
some distance from here. They will receive you gladly, when I tell
them what you have done for me; and you will be safe until you
choose to go. We are outlaws but, at present, we are masters of the
forest. The government has its hands full, and there is no fear of
their disturbing us."

Stanley thought over the matter, for a minute or two. Doubtless
it was a robber band that he was asked to join, but the offer
seemed to promise safety, for a time.

"I agree," he said, "so that you do not ask me to take part in
any deeds of violence."

"About that, you shall do as you like," the man said; "but I can
tell you that we make good hauls, sometimes. Our difficulty is not
to capture booty, but to dispose of it.

"Have you a turban? For that helmet of yours is out of place, in
the woods. The rest of your dress has nothing peculiar about it,
and would attract no attention."

"I have a turban. I have been, lately, in the dress of a
peasant. The cloth I wore lies fifty yards away; I dropped it as I
ran. It will be useful to cover me at night, if for nothing
else."

Stanley exchanged the helmet for the turban that he had before
worn, and fetched the cloth.

"Will you bury your companion?" he said.

"It would be useless. He will sleep above ground, as well as
below and, if we are to reach my comrades tonight, it is time for
us to be moving."

They at once set out. After five hours' walking, they came upon
the river Myitnge, the tributary that falls into the Irrawaddy at
Ava. It was some four hundred yards across. The Burman walked along
its banks for a short distance, and then pulled from a clump of
bushes a small boat, that was just capable of carrying two. He put
it in the water. They took their seats, and paddled across to the
other side; where he carefully concealed it, as before.

"That is our ferry boat," he said. "It is not often used, for
our headquarters are in the great forest we shall presently come
to; but it is as well when, occasionally, parties are sent out to
hunt us, to have the means of crossing to the other side."

Another two hours' walking, through cultivated fields, brought
them to the edge of the forest.

"Here you are as safe as if you were in Rangoon," the Burman
said. "In another hour we shall reach my comrades. As a rule, we
change our headquarters frequently. At present there is no question
of our being disturbed; so we have settled ourselves, for a
time."

"Why were you and your comrade on the other side of the
river?

"His village lies five miles beyond that forest," the man said.
"At ordinary times, he dared not venture there; but he thought
that, at present, most of the able men would be away, and so he
could pay a visit to his friends. He asked me to accompany him and,
as I had nothing better to do, I agreed to go. A convoy of traders,
too strong to be attacked, had passed down from the hill country
the morning before we started. There was not much probability that
anyone would come again, for a few days."

"They bring down rubies from there, do they not?"

"The mines are the property of the emperor," the man said, "and
the gems are sent down, once every two months, under a strong
guard; but for all that, many of the traders bring rubies down from
there--of course, secretly. The men who work the mines often
conceal stones that they come upon, and sell them for a small sum
to the traders; besides, sometimes the peasants pick them up
elsewhere--and these, too, make haste to sell them for anything
that they can get. We do not care for them much, for it is a risky
business going down to Ava to sell them; and the traders there,
knowing that, at a word from them, we should be arrested and most
likely executed, will give us next to nothing for them. We prefer
silver and lead for money; and garments, arms, and set jewels.

"Each man takes his share of what is captured and, when we have
enough, we go home to our villages. A pound of silver, or two or
three pounds of lead, are generally quite enough to buy the
goodwill of the head man of the village. We give out that we have
been working on the river, or in Ava, since we left; and everyone
knows better than to ask questions."

In another hour, they reached the encampment. It was now dusk,
and some five-and-twenty men were sitting round a great fire. A
number of leafy arbours had been constructed in a circle beyond
them.

"What, returned so soon!" one of the men said, as Stanley's
guide came near enough for the firelight to fall on his face; "but
where is Ranji, and whom have you brought here--a new recruit?"

"Not exactly, Parnik, but one to whom I have promised shelter,
for a while. Ranji is dead. I should have been dead, too, and
eaten; had it not been for my comrade, here. Here is the skin of
the beast who slew Ranji and, when I tell you that the leopard
stood with one paw on me, you may guess that my escape was a narrow
one."

"The brute was a large one," one of the other men said, as
Meinik--for such was the name of Stanley's companion--unrolled and
held the skin up. "I see it had a bullet between the eyes, and
another just behind the ear; and there is a knife cut behind the
shoulder. It must have been hot work, when it came to knives, with
a beast of that size."

"Give us some food, and cocoa; we have eaten nothing today, and
have walked far. When we have fed, I will tell you my story."

The Burman's recital of the adventure with the leopard excited
great applause, and admiration, from his comrades.

"'Tis wonderful," one said, "not so much that our new comrade
should have killed the leopard, though that was a great feat; but
that, armed only with a knife, he should attack a beast like this,
to save the life of a stranger. Truly I never heard of such a
thing. Has he all his senses?"

Meinik nodded. He had received permission from Stanley to say
who he was. Stanley had consented with some reluctance, but the man
assured him that he could trust his companions, as well as himself;
and that it was much better to tell the truth, as it would soon be
seen that his features differed altogether from their own and that,
therefore, he was some strange person in disguise.

"He is in his senses," he said, "but he does not see things as
we do. He is one of those English barbarians who have taken
Rangoon, and against whom our armies are marching. He was captured
at Ramoo; and sent by Bandoola, as a prisoner, to Ava. He has made
his escape and will, in a short time, go down the river; but at
present the search is too hot for him. So you see that he is, like
ourselves, a fugitive."

"What is his age?" one of the men asked, after a silence, during
which they all gazed at the newcomer.

"He is but a lad, being as he tells me between sixteen and
seventeen; but you see his skin is stained, and his face marked, so
as to give him the appearance of age."

"If the men of his race are as brave as he is, Meinik, our
troops will truly have harder work than they think to drive them
into the sea. Does he speak our tongue?"

"Yes," Stanley answered for himself. "I have been more than two
years in the province of Chittagong, and learned it from one who
was in our service."

"And would many of your people risk their lives in the way you
did, for a stranger?"

"Certainly. Many men constantly run risks as great to save
others."

"One life is all a man has," the Burman said. "Why should he
give it for a stranger?"

"I don't think that we stop to think of that," Stanley said. "It
seems to us natural that if we see another in danger of his life,
we should try to save it; whether it is a man or woman, whether it
be from fire or from any other fate."

"You must be a strange people," the Burman said gravely, "and I
should scarce have credited it, had I not heard that you had done
it, yourself. But it is wonderful; and you, too, a lad who has not
yet come to his full strength.

"We should be glad to have such a man for our comrade, my
friends. Whether he be Burman or English matters little. He has
risked his life for one of us; and he is our brother as long as he
likes to stay with us."

There was a warm exclamation of assent, round the circle; and
Stanley felt that he had no cause for uneasiness, as long as he
remained with them. In the evening the men sang many songs and, at
their request, Stanley sang some English ones, choosing some with
lively airs. The Burmese were much pleased and surprised at these,
and joined merrily in the chorus.

Half a dozen of them then set to work with their knives, cut
down some saplings and boughs, and constructed for Stanley an
arbour similar to the others; and he lay down well satisfied with
the results of his adventure, and feeling that he could remain with
these merry fellows, criminals though they might be, until it would
be safe to make his way down the river.

In the morning the men started early, leaving him in charge of
the fire. They went off in parties of four or five, to watch the
various roads leading to the capital; two or three of them, dressed
as peasants, going to towns where travellers would halt, so as to
gain information as to any party coming down. When they gathered
again, at dusk, one party only had had any success. They had met
six merchants coming down with horses laden with spices, indigo,
and cotton. These had offered no resistance, and they had taken as
much as they could carry, and then allowed them to go on with the
rest of their goods. There was a general feeling of regret that the
party had not been more numerous; and some expressions of anger, at
the spies on the road by which the traders had come, for not
letting them know beforehand, so that they could have placed their
whole force there and carried away all the goods.

"These are the things that suit us best," Meinik said to
Stanley. "You see, one can go down with a parcel of cinnamon or
pepper, or a bag of dyes, or fifty pounds of cotton into the town;
and sell it in the market, at a fair and proper price. Of course,
one dresses one's self as a small cultivator; and there is no
suspicion, whatever, that all is not right.

"We shall keep a sharp lookout for the men, as they come back
again, and relieve them of the silver or goods they may have taken
in exchange; that is, if they come by the same road--but it is more
likely that, after their adventure today, they will choose some
other, or take a guide and travel by village tracks. No doubt they
think that they have got off easily, for they have not lost more
than a quarter of their goods. It is war time now, and there is no
fear of a force being sent against us; but usually we do not take
so much as a quarter of the merchandise. Were they to lose
everything, they would make complaints; and then we should have a
force sent up against us, and be obliged to move away, for a time.
But as it is, they are so pleased with getting the greater part of
their goods safe to market that they do not care to make a fuss
about it; for they might have to pay the court officials, and
others, more than the value of the goods lost."

"They do not often resist, then?"

"Not often. If a man loses his goods, he can gather more again;
but when his life has gone, everything has gone. Besides, as a rule
we take care that we are so strong that they see, at once, that
resistance would be hopeless. Sometimes they bring armed guards
with them. These are men who make it their business to convoy
traders down, when the times are troubled. Sometimes we have fights
with these but, as a rule, we seldom attack them unless we are so
strong that they do not dare to oppose us. Still, we do have fights
sometimes, for these Shan guards are brave fellows. Their convoys
are generally rich ones, for it would not pay small traders to hire
men to protect them.

"In times of peace, we seldom stop long in one neighbourhood
for, when it once becomes known what road we are lying near, they
come along in parties too strong to be attacked and, as it matters
little to us where we live, we move away perhaps a hundred miles,
and then settle on another line of traffic. We have not been here
long; we were last down by Tannoo, and did well for a long time
there; until at last the governor raised all the villagers, and
hunted the woods, and we found that we had to leave. I expect we
shall stay here some time, now. There is no fear of troops being
sent out, and we can afford not to press too hardly on travellers;
for we have done so well, of late, that we could separate and
return to our homes, each with a good store of booty. Half our
number did leave, when we came up from the south; and more of us
would go, if it were not for this order that everyone shall join
the army. It is much pleasanter to live here, free to do as we
like, than to be driven down like a herd of beasts, to fight.
Besides, we have no quarrel with your people. It was the officials
at Aracan who began it; let them fight, if they like."

Stanley remained a fortnight with the band. At the end of that
time, they heard that a party of thirty traders were coming down
together, and that they had with them ten armed guards. This, they
no doubt supposed, was ample protection for, as the band generally
worked in such small parties, it was believed that there were but a
few outlaws in the forest. All the band went out, and returned in
the evening, laden with spoil. Two or three of them were wounded,
but not severely.

"So you had resistance today, Meinik."

"It lasted only for a minute," the man said. "As soon as they
saw how strong we were, the guard were glad enough to put up their
swords and let us bind them hand and foot, while we searched the
merchants. As you see, we have made a good capture, though we have
not seized more than a fifth of what they brought down with them;
but it will take them some time to pack their bales again, for we
searched everything thoroughly, and made all the merchants strip,
and searched their clothes and their hair."

"What did you do that for?"

"Well, it was this way. I said to my comrades, as we went along
this morning:

"'The Englishman is going to leave us, in a day or two. I have
not forgotten what I owe him, and should like to make him a
present. I propose that we search all the party thoroughly, today.
From what we heard, some of them come from the ruby country, and
are pretty sure to have gems concealed about them, or in their
baggage. I propose that all the stones we find we will give to our
friend.'

"They all agreed at once for, as you know, they all like you;
and rubies, as I told you, are of little use to us, for we cannot
dispose of them without great risk. So they did as I proposed, and
had good fortune. Twelve out of the number had gems hidden about
them, and some of them a good lot. You need not hesitate to take
them, for you may be sure that they bought them, for next to
nothing, from poor fellows who had risked their lives to hide
them.

"There they are. We have not looked at them, but just emptied
the parcels into this bag, as we found them. Of course, they are
all rough stones. You must take them as a present, from all of us;
and as a proof that a Burman, even if he is but a robber, is
grateful for such a service as that you rendered him."

Stanley felt that he could not refuse a gift so offered, even
though the goods were stolen. As Meinik said, the gems were of
little use to the robbers, since they were afraid to try and
dispose of them; and their owners had themselves broken the law in
having purchased them, and had doubtless given sums bearing no
proportion to their real value. Therefore he thanked Meinik very
heartily; and also, after they had had their meal, the rest of the
band, who made very light of the matter.

The things were useless to them, they said. If it had been
silver, or even lead, it would have been different; but to
endeavour to sell rubies they had to risk their lives. The goods
that they had got that day would fetch them far more money than the
rubies, and could be sold without difficulty and, as soon as the
war was over and they could go down to their villages, the band
would break up. They had enough silver and lead hidden away to keep
them for years, even if they never did any work, whatever.

"What do you do with it, when you get back?"

"We hide it. It would never do to enter a village with ten or
twelve pounds' weight of silver, and three or four times as much
lead, for the headman might take it into his head to have us
searched. So we generally dig a hole at the foot of a tree, in some
quiet spot; and take, perhaps, a pound of silver and two or three
of lead with us. A gift of half that silver is enough to convince
the headman that we are honest fellows, who have been working hard
since we went away; and from time to time we can go to our store
and get what we want from it, and can build a house and marry, and
take up a field or two, and perhaps become headmen ourselves,
before very long."

"Well, I am sure I wish you all well," Stanley said. "You have
all been very kind to me, since I joined you; and I shall be glad
to think of you all as settled quietly down in your villages,
rather than as remaining here when, some day or other, you might
all be captured and harm come to you."

The next morning Stanley started with Meinik, who was a native
of a small village on the river, some forty miles below Ava, and
who had resolved to accompany him down to Rangoon.

"I shall be able to get a boat and some nets, for a pound or two
of lead. If we are hailed, I can do the talking; and can land and
buy provisions, if wanted. I have arranged with my comrades to take
my share of the silver and lead we have stored up, at once; for it
is likely that they will also have gone to their homes before I
shall have returned, and we have changed everything into money,
except what we took yesterday."

Before starting Stanley was again dyed, and the tattoo marks
imitated--far more carefully than before, three or four of the men
operating upon him, at once. His face was almost entirely covered
with these marks. Some liquid was applied that extracted the colour
from his eyebrows, and left them snow white. Some of his hair was
similarly treated and, looking at himself in a pool of water,
Stanley did not in the slightest degree recognize himself; and felt
certain that no one would suspect him of being the young English
captive.

Resuming his peasant's cloth, he took a hearty farewell of the
band and started with Meinik. The latter carried a bundle, slung on
his gun. It contained some clothes, and did not look heavy; but in
the centre were two parcels that weighed some forty pounds. Stanley
carried a bundle with his other clothes, and several pounds of
rice.

Two days' walking took them to Meinik's village. Once out of the
forest they travelled at night, and reached the village just as the
people were astir. The place consisted of ten or twelve huts, and
Meinik created quite an excitement among the few people who
inhabited it. These consisted of two or three old men, some women,
and children.

"Where have you been for the last year and half, Meinik, if I
may ask?"

"Working near Ava," he said; "but as I should have to go to war
if I had remained there, I thought that I would come back, and see
how you all were. I have saved a little money, and may settle down;
but whether here or elsewhere I have not yet made up my mind."

"You will have to go to the war," one of the old men said.
"There is scarce a day that one of the war canoes does not stop
here, to see if there are any able-bodied men. They have taken
eight, and they will assuredly take you."

"Then I shall get a boat," he said, "and take to fishing. The
war cannot last long, and I shall do my best to keep out of the way
of the war canoes, until it is over. If any of you have a boat to
sell, I will buy it."

"I will sell you mine," the old man said. "Both of my sons have
been taken to the war, and I am too old to work it myself. It is a
good one; my sons made it only last year.

"Whom have you with you?"

Stanley had remained a short distance off, while Meinik was
talking to his friends.

"He is an old man I joined along the road," he said. "He is a
skilful fisherman; and he has agreed to go with me, if I can get a
boat.

"Is there an empty hut?"

"Yes, six of them. Of course, when the men were taken they
carried off the wives and children, as usual, as hostages for their
conduct."

Meinik nodded. He felt no surprise, as it was the custom in
Burma to hold the women and children of all the men going to the
war, as guarantees that their husbands would not desert or show
cowardice in battle. In either event their relatives would be, at
once, put to death.

"My companion is tired," he said. "We walked all night, so we
will cook some food and he will sleep."

They at once took possession of one of the empty huts, which was
just as it was left by its proprietor. One of the women brought a
brand or two from her hearth. An earthen cooking pot was filled
with water and placed above it, and a few handfuls of rice dropped
in. Two or three snakes, cut up into small pieces, and some pepper
pods were added; and then Meinik went out, talked to his
acquaintances, and arranged for the purchase of the boat. Stanley
watched the fire.

In an hour, Meinik returned.

"The boat is a good one," he said, "and the nets in fair order.
I have bought them for two pounds of lead; and have promised that,
when the war is over and the man's sons return, it is to be free to
them to buy it back, at the same price."

After eating their meal, they both lay down and slept until late
in the afternoon. Then Meinik bought an earthenware pot, and a flat
slab of the same material for making a fire on; some peppers and
capsicums, and a little cinnamon and nutmeg; a basket of mangoes,
and some tobacco. As soon as it became dusk, they took their places
in the boat, Meinik carrying down two or three faggots of wood.

The boat was a canoe, hewn out of a pine log. It would have
carried four people comfortably, and there was plenty of room for
them both to lie down at full length. It was very light, the wood
having been cut away until it was little thicker than cardboard.
This was the almost universal method of construction: even the war
canoes, that would carry sixty paddlers--sitting two by two on a
bench--and thirty soldiers, being hewn from great single logs of
teak. The nets were stowed one, at each end. In the middle was the
fireplace, on which the brands of the fire had already been laid.
Near it were the faggots and stores.

Meinik and Stanley sat on the nets, each with a paddle. The
former had hidden the greater portion of his store of money in the
ground, before entering the village. As soon as they had fairly
started, Stanley said:

"Had we not better get rid of the fire, Meinik? Its light would
draw attention to us."

"That matters little," the Burman replied. "There are not likely
to be war canoes about at night, and I expect that most of them
will have gone down the river. People fish either by night or by
day and, even if a war canoe came along, they would not trouble
about it for, of course, many men too old to go to the war remain
here, and go on fishing. People cannot starve because there is
fighting. The old men and women must cultivate the fields and fish,
or both they and the people of the towns would starve.

"Many even of the young men do not go. They keep away from their
villages during the day, and work in the fields; and the headmen
shut their eyes, for they know that if the fields are not
cultivated, the people cannot pay their share of the taxes.

"Still, it is as well to be on the safe side. When the fire has
burnt low we will lay a cloth over the top of the boat, so that the
glow of the embers will not be seen."

They kept their course near the middle of the river; partly
because the current there was stronger, partly because any war
canoes that might be coming up would keep close to one bank or the
other. They kept on their way until there was a faint gleam of
light in the sky; and then paddled into the shore, chose a spot
where some bushes drooped down into the water and, forcing the
canoe in behind these, so as to be entirely concealed from the
sight of any passing boat, cooked some food and, having eaten their
breakfast, lay down and slept until evening.

Night after night the journey was continued. Their supply of
food was ample to last them; and there was, therefore, no occasion
to stop at any village to purchase more. The river, at the point
where they started, was about two miles wide; but at some points it
was double that width, while at others it contracted to little over
a mile. Its level was much lower, now, than it had been when
Stanley ascended it, two months before. Sometimes at night they
towed one of their nets behind them, and obtained an ample supply
of fish for their wants.

Each night they made, as Stanley calculated, about forty miles
and, after ten days' travel, they came to the point where the great
river divided, one small arm running down to Rangoon; another
descending to Bassein, and then falling into the sea at Cape
Negrais; while a large proportion of the water found its way down
by innumerable branches between the Rangoon and Bassein rivers.

For the last two or three days they had been obliged to observe
great caution for, below Prome, there were numbers of boats all
going down the river laden with men and stores. These, however,
only travelled by day; and the canoe was always, at that time,
either floating in the shelter of bushes, or hauled up on the bank
at spots where it could be concealed from view by thick growths of
rushes.

"We shall never be able to get down to Rangoon by water," said
Meinik. "The river will be crowded with rowboats near the town; and
there will be no chance, whatever, of making our way through them.
At the next village we come to, I will go in and learn the news.
Your countrymen may have been driven out by this time and, in that
case, there will be nothing to do but to travel north on foot,
until we reach Chittagong."

"I have no fear that we shall be driven out, Meinik."

This conversation had occurred on the night when they had passed
the point of division of the two arms of the river. They had caught
a larger supply of fish than usual and, as soon as the boat was
laid up, Meinik started along the bank, with a number of them, for
the nearest village. He returned in two hours.

"It is well I landed," he said, "for the point where the greater
portion of our people are gathered is Henzawaddy, only some fifteen
miles further on.

"You were right; your people have not been driven out. A large
number of our troops are down near Rangoon but, in the fighting
that has taken place, we have gained no advantage. Your people
marched out at the end of May, carried a stockade; and advanced to
Joazoang, and attacked some villages defended by stockades and
carried them, after having killed a hundred of our men. Then a
great stockade on a hill near the river, three miles from
Rangoon--which our people thought could not be taken, so strongly
was it protected--was attacked. The guns of your people made a
great gap in a stockade a mile in front of it. Two hundred men were
killed, and also the commander.

"Then your people marched on to the great stockade at
Kemmendine. Your troops, when they got there, saw how strong it was
and were afraid to attack it. They lay down all night, close to it;
and we thought we should destroy them, all when they attacked in
the morning; but their ships that had come up with them opened
fire, at daybreak. As the stockades were hidden from the sight of
those on the river, we had thought that the ships could do nothing;
but they shot great balls up into the air, and they came down
inside the stockade, where they burst with an explosion like the
noise of a big gun; and killed so many that the troops could not
remain under so terrible a fire, and went away, leaving it to your
people to enter the stockade, without fighting."

Chapter 6: Among Friends.

"It certainly seems to me," Stanley said, when he heard the
Burman's account of the state of things below, "that it will not be
possible for us to go any further, by water."

"It would be very dangerous," Meinik said. "It is certain that
all the men in this part of the country have been obliged to go
with the army and, even were we both natives, and had no special
reason for avoiding being questioned, we should be liable to be
seized and executed at once, for having disregarded the orders to
join the army. Assuredly we cannot pass down farther in our boat,
but must take to the land. I should say that we had best get spears
and shields, and join some newly-arrived party."

"But you forget that, though my disguise as a native is good
enough to mislead anyone passing us on the road, or in the dusk
after sunset, I should certainly attract attention if travelling
with them, by day."

"I forgot that. I have grown so accustomed to seeing you that I
forget that, to other people, your face would seem strange; as it
at first did to me, in the forest. Indeed you look to me now like
one of ourselves; but were we to join a band, someone would be sure
to ask questions concerning you, ere long. What, then, do you think
we had best do?"

"From what I heard of the country from one of your comrades, who
is a native of this province, it would be impossible for us, after
crossing the river, to make our way down on the opposite side,
since the whole country is swampy and cut up by branches of the
Irrawaddy. On this side there are few obstacles of that kind but,
on the other hand, we shall find the country full of troops going
down towards Rangoon. Your comrade told me that the hills that we
saw to the east, from the forest at Ava, extended right down into
Tenasserim; and were very high, and could not be traversed, for
that no food could be obtained, and that tigers and wild animals
and other beasts abounded. But he said that the smaller hills that
we crossed on the way to your village--which he called the Pegu
Yoma hills--some of whose swells come down to the bank, extend all
the way down to the sea between the Irrawaddy and the Sittang
rivers; and that, from them, streams flowed to one river or the
other. Therefore, if we could gain that range, we should avoid the
swamp country, altogether.

"A few miles back we passed a river coming in from the east and,
if we follow that up as far as there is water, we shall be among
the hills. He said that there were no mountains at all, there; but
just rounded hills, with many villages and much cultivated ground,
so there ought to be no difficulty in making our way along. We
shall be able to gather food in the fields; or can go into villages
and purchase some, for the men will all be away. Besides, we can
get spears and shields, and can say that having been away from home
on a journey--when the men were all ordered to war, we returned too
late to go with the rest of the villagers, and are making our way
down to join them. Many others must be doing the same, and the
story will be likely enough.

"In that way we can get down till we are close to the troops
round Rangoon, and must then take our chance of getting through
them."

"That seems better than the other way," Meinik said. "There is
such a river as you speak of, above Sarawa. We can paddle back
tonight, and hide near the town; then I can go there in the
morning, and buy a couple of spears and shields, and get some more
rice and other things. We have plenty of ammunition for our guns;
which we may want, if we meet any wild beasts."

"You don't think that there will be any danger in your going in
there, Meinik? Of course, there is no absolute occasion for us to
have spears and shields, as we have guns."

"We ought to have shields," Meinik replied, "and it were better
to have spears too, and also for us to carry axes--everyone carries
an axe in war time, for we always erect stockades and, though a
very poor man may only have his knife, everyone who can afford it
takes an axe. Most people have such a thing, for it is wanted for
cutting firewood, for clearing the ground, for building houses, and
for many other things; and a Burman must be poor, indeed, who does
not own one."

"By all means, then, get them for us, Meinik; besides, we may
find them useful for ourselves."

They now lay down and slept until evening; and then started up
the river again, keeping close in under shadow of the bank and, two
hours before daylight, concealed the canoe as usual, at a spot two
miles above Sarawa. Meinik started at daybreak, and returned three
hours later with two axes, spears, and shields.

That night they turned into the river running to the east and,
for four nights, paddled up it. The country was now assuming a
different character, and the stream was running in a valley with
rising ground--from a hundred to a hundred and fifty feet high--on
each side, and was narrowing very fast. Towards morning on the
fifth day the river had become a small stream, of but two or three
feet deep; and they decided to leave the boat, as it was evident
that they would be able to go but a short distance further.

"We may as well hide her carefully," Stanley said. "It is
certainly not likely that we shall want her again, but there is
never any saying and, at any rate, there is no great trouble in
doing it."

They cooked a meal and then started at once, so as to do a few
hours' walking before the sun became high. They determined to keep
on eastward, until they reached the highest point of the dividing
ridge between the two main rivers, and then to follow it southward.
The country was now well cultivated, and they had some trouble in
avoiding the small villages dotted thickly about, as the course
they were following was not the one they would take if making
straight to join the army. They slept for three or four hours in
the heat of the day; and then, pushing on, found themselves before
sunset on what seemed to them the highest point of the divide. To
the right they could see the flat country stretching towards the
Irrawaddy, to the left the ground was more sharply undulating. Two
miles away was a stream of fair size, which they judged to be the
river that runs down to Pegu, and afterwards joins the Rangoon
river below the town.

Stanley thought that the hill on which they stood was some five
hundred feet above the low country they had left. A great part of
the hills was covered with trees although, at the point where they
had made their way up, the hillside was bare. They went on until
they entered the forest, and there set to work to chop firewood.
Meinik carried a tinderbox, and soon had a fire blazing, and by its
side they piled a great stock of wood.

"I do not know that there are any leopards so far south as
this," he said, "but at any rate it will be safer to keep a big
fire blazing. I never used to think much about leopards but, ever
since I had that great beast's foot upon my back, I have had a
horror of them."

The next morning they continued their journey south, going along
boldly and passing through several villages.

"You are late for the war," an old man said, as they went
through one of them.

"I know we are," Meinik replied, "but we were away with a
caravan of traders when the order came; and so, instead of going
down the river, we have had to journey on foot. But we shall be
there in time. From what we have heard, there has not been much
fighting, yet."

"No; the white barbarians are all shut up in Rangoon. We have
not attacked them in earnest, but we shall soon do so and,
moreover, they will soon be all starved, for the country has been
swept clear of all cattle for twenty miles round, the villages
deserted, and everything laid waste; and we hear that half their
number are laid up with sickness, and that a great number have
died. I wish that I were younger, that I, too, could help to
destroy the insolent foes who have dared to set foot on our sacred
soil."

There was no need for haste, now, and they travelled by easy
stages until, by the smoke rising from different parts of the
forest, they knew that they were approaching the spot where the
Burmese forces lay around Rangoon and, indeed, could see the great
pagoda rising above the surrounding country. They had heard, at the
last villages through which they had passed, that there had been an
attack made upon the pagoda on the 1st of July. On that day the
Burmese, in great force, had moved down in a line parallel to the
road between the pagoda and the town, along which a considerable
number of our troops were encamped. They had advanced until within
half a mile of Rangoon, then had changed front and attacked the
British position near the town. They occupied a hill near our line,
and opened fire from there with jingals and small cannon; but two
British guns firing grape soon silenced their guns, and a Madras
regiment charged the hill and recaptured it.

This entirely upset the plan of the Wongee in command of the
Burmese. The signal for the whole of the army to attack was to have
been given, as soon as their left had broken through the British
line, and had thus cut off all the troops on the road leading to
the pagoda from the town. Seeing that this movement had failed, the
general did not give the signal for the general attack, but ordered
the troops to fall back. He had been recalled in disgrace to Ava;
and a senior officer, who arrived just after the battle, assumed
the command. He at once set to work to make a very strong stockade
at Kummeroot, five miles from the great pagoda; and also fortified
a point on the river above Kemmendine--the stockade that had been
captured by the British--and intended from this point to send down
fire rafts to destroy the British shipping and, at the same time,
made continuous attacks at night on the British lines.

The rains at this time were falling incessantly, and the Burmese
did not think that the British would be able to move out against
them. The position on the river was connected with that at
Kummeroot by strong stockades; and the Burmese general was
convinced that, if an attack was made, it could be easily defeated.
However, eight days after the repulse of the Burmese first attack,
the vessels came up the river, while a land column moved against
Kummeroot.

The position was a strong one. The river was here divided into
two branches and, on the point of land between these, the principal
stockade was erected and was well provided with artillery; while on
the opposite banks of both rivers other stockades with guns were
erected, so that any attack by water would be met by the direct
fire from the great stockade, and a cross fire from those on the
banks.

Four ships came up, and the Burmese guns opened upon them, but
the heavy fire from the men-of-war was not long in silencing them;
and then a number of boats full of troops had landed, and stormed
the stockade, and driven out the Burmese. The land column had been
unable to take guns with them, owing to the impossibility of
dragging them along the rain-sodden paths; and the Burmese chiefs,
confident in the strength of their principal post--which was
defended by three lines of strong stockades, one above another--and
in their immensely superior force, treated with absolute contempt
the advance of the little British column--of which they were
informed, as soon as it started, by their scouts thickly scattered
through the woods.

The general, Soomba Wongee, was just sitting down to dinner when
he was told that the column had nearly reached the first stockade.
He directed his chiefs to proceed to their posts and "drive the
audacious strangers away," and continued his meal until the heavy
and rapid musketry of the assailants convinced him that the matter
was more serious than he had expected. As a rule, the Burmese
generals do not take any active part in their battles; but Soomba
Wongee left his tent and at once went towards the point attacked.
He found his troops already retreating, and that the two outer
stockades had been carried by the enemy. He rallied his men, and
himself led the way to the attack; but the steady and continuous
fire of the British rendered it impossible for him to restore
order, and the Burmese remained crowded together, in hopeless
confusion. However, he managed to gather together a body of
officers and troops and, with them, charged desperately upon the
British soldiers. He, with several other leaders of rank, was
killed; and the Burmese were scattered through the jungle, leaving
eight hundred dead behind them.

The fact that ten stockades, provided with thirty pieces of
artillery, should have been captured in one day by the British, had
created a deep impression among the villagers of the
neighbourhood--from whom the truth could not be concealed--and
indeed, all the villages, for many miles round the scene of action,
were crowded with wounded. They told Meinik that the army was, for
a time, profoundly depressed. Many had deserted, and the fact that
stockades they had thought impregnable were of no avail, whatever,
against the enemy, whose regular and combined action was
irresistible, as against their own isolated and individual method
of fighting, had shaken their hitherto profound belief in their own
superiority to any people with whom they might come in contact.

Since that time no serious fighting had taken place. Occasional
night attacks had been made, and all efforts on the part of the
invaders to obtain food, by foraging parties, had proved
unsuccessful. The boats of the fleet had gone up the Puzendown
river, that joined the Rangoon river some distance below the town,
and had captured a large number of boats that had been lying there,
waiting until Rangoon was taken before going up the river with
their cargoes of rice and salt fish; but they had gained no other
advantage for, although the villages were crowded with fugitives
from the town, these were driven into the jungle by the troops
stationed there for the purpose, as soon as the boats were seen
coming up the river.

In some cases, however, the boats had arrived so suddenly that
there had not been time to do this; and the fugitives had been
taken to Rangoon, where it was said they had been very well
treated.

Great reinforcements had now come down from the upper provinces.
Two of the king's brothers had arrived, to take command of the
army; one had established himself at Donabew, the other at Pegu.
They had brought with them numbers of astrologers, to fix upon a
propitious time for an attack; and the king's Invulnerables,
several thousands strong--a special corps, whom neither shot nor
steel could injure--were with them.

About the 6th of August a strong position that had been taken
up, by a force sent by the prince at Pegu, in the old Portuguese
fort of Syriam had been attacked; with orders that the channel of
the Rangoon river should be blocked, so that none of the strangers
should escape the fate that awaited them. The position was a very
strong one. The trees and brushwood round the fort had been cleared
away; wherever there were gaps in the old wall stockades had been
erected; and great beams suspended from the parapet in order that,
if an attack was made, the ropes could be cut and the beams fall
upon the heads of the assailants.

The British had, however, thrown a bridge across a deep creek,
pushed on against the place, and carried it in a few minutes; the
garrison flying, as soon as the assailants gained the ramparts, to
a pagoda standing on a very steep hill, defended by guns, and
assailable only by a very steep flight of steps. The troops,
however, pressed up these fearlessly; and the garrison, discouraged
and shaken by the reports of the fugitives from the lower fort, had
fled as soon as the British arrived at the top of the steps.

Notwithstanding this and other, as successful, attacks upon
their stockades, the Burmese troops now felt confident that, with
their numerous forces, they would be victorious whenever the
astrologers decided that the favourable moment had arrived.

Meinik had ascertained, from the villagers, the name of the
leader and the locality to which the corps belonged that was posted
nearest to Rangoon. As soon as it was dark, he and Stanley entered
the forest. The smoke had served as a guide, to them, as to the
position of the different corps; and they were able to make their
way between these without being questioned. Presently, however,
they came upon a strong picket.

"Where are you going?" the officer in command asked.

"To join the corps of the Woondock Snodee," Meinik replied. "We
were away at Bhanno when the order came, and the rest had gone down
the river before we got to Mew; so we came on by ourselves, not
wishing to fail in our duty."

"You are just in time," the officer said. "The Woondock is a
quarter of a mile away, on the left."

They moved off in that direction; but soon left the track and,
avoiding the camp, kept away until they reached the edge of the
forest. Then they crept forward through the jungle and brushwood,
pausing to listen from time to time and, three times, changing
their course to avoid parties of the Burmese acting as
outposts.

On issuing from the jungle they crawled forward for three or
four hundred yards, so as to be beyond musket shot of the outposts;
and then remained quiet until morning broke. Then they could
perceive red coats moving about, in a small village before which a
breastwork had been thrown up, some four hundred yards away from
them and, getting up to their feet, ran towards it. Several shots
were fired at them, from the jungle behind; and some soldiers at
once appeared at the breastwork. Supposing that the two figures
approaching were Burmese deserters, they did not fire; and Stanley
and his companion were soon among them.

They were soldiers of one of the Bengal regiments; and Stanley,
to their surprise, addressed them in their own language.

"I am an Englishman," he said. "I am one of the prisoners whom
they took, at Ramoo, and have escaped from their hands. Are there
any of your officers in the village?"

"I will take you to them," a native sub-officer said; and
Stanley, in a minute or two, entered a cottage in which four
English officers were just taking their early breakfast,
preparatory to turning out on duty.

"Whom have you got here, jemadar?" one of them asked, in
Bengalee.

Stanley answered for himself.

"I am an Englishman, sir, and have just escaped from Ava."

The officer uttered an exclamation of surprise.

"Well, sir," the senior of them said, as he held out his hand to
Stanley, "I congratulate you on having got away, whoever you are;
but I am bound to say that, if it were not for your speech, I
should not have believed you; for I have never seen anyone look
less like an Englishman than you do."

"My name is Stanley Brooke, sir. I am the son of the late
Captain Brooke, of the 15th Native Regiment."

"Then I should know you," one of the other officers said, "for I
knew your father; and I remember seeing your name in the list of
officers killed, at Ramoo, and wondered if it could be the lad I
knew five or six years ago."

"I recollect you, Captain Cooke," Stanley said. "Your regiment
was at Agra, when we were there."

"Right you are; and I am heartily glad that the news of your
death was false," and he shook hands cordially with Stanley.

"And who is your companion?" the major asked. "Is he an
Englishman, also?"

"No, sir; he is a native. He is a most faithful fellow. He has
acted as my guide, all the way down from the point we started from,
twenty miles from Ava. I could never have accomplished it without
his aid for, although I speak Burmese well enough to pass anywhere,
my face is so different in shape from theirs that, if I were looked
at closely in the daylight, I should be suspected at once. I could
never have got here without his aid."

"How was it that he came to help you, sir?" Major Pemberton
asked. "As far as we can see, the Burmese hate us like poison. Even
when they are wounded to death, they will take a last shot at any
soldiers marching past them."

"I happened to save his life from a leopard," Stanley said,
"and, truly, he has shown his gratitude."

"Jemadar," the major said, "take that man away with you. See
that he is well treated. Give him some food, of course. He will
presently go with this officer to the general."

Stanley said a few words in Burmese to Meinik, telling him that
he was to have food, and would afterwards go with him to the
general; and he then, at the invitation of the officers, sat down
with them to breakfast. While eating it, Stanley told them
something of his adventures. After the meal was over, the major
said:

"You had better go with Mr. Brooke to the general, Captain
Cooke. I cannot well leave the regiment.

"We can let you have an outfit, Mr. Brooke; though we are, most
of us, reduced pretty well to our last garments. What with the
jungle and what with the damp, we have nearly all arrived at the
last state of dilapidation; but I am sure the general would like to
see you in your present disguise."

"It makes no difference to me, sir," Stanley said, with a laugh.
"I am so accustomed to this black petticoat, now, that I should
almost feel strange in anything else. I am afraid this dye will be
a long time before it wears itself out. It is nearly three weeks
since I was dyed last, and it has faded very little, yet."

"You need not take your arms, anyhow," Captain Cooke said. "You
will attract less attention going without them, for it will only be
supposed that you are one of the natives who have been brought in
by the boats."

Meinik was sitting on the ground, contentedly, outside the
cottage, the jemadar standing beside him.

"Have you had any food, Meinik?" Stanley asked.

The man nodded.

"Good food," he said.

"That is all right. Now, come along with us. You can leave your
weapons here--they won't be wanted."

Meinik rose and followed Stanley and Captain Cooke. There were
houses scattered all along the roadside. These were now all
occupied by officers and troops, and there were so many of them
that it had not been necessary to place any of the men under
canvas--an important consideration, during the almost continuous
rain of the last three months.

"Why, Cooke, I did not know that you talked Burmese," an officer
standing at one of the doors remarked, as the officer came along,
chatting with Stanley.

"You don't know all my accomplishments, Phillipson," the captain
laughed, for the idea that there existed such a thing as a Burmese
peasant who could talk English had not occurred to the other. "I am
taking him to the chief, to show off my powers;" and passed on,
leaving the officer looking after him, with a puzzled expression on
his face.

On their arrival at Sir Archibald Campbell's headquarters,
Captain Cooke sent in his name and, as the general was not at the
moment engaged, he was at once shown in; followed by Stanley,
Meinik remaining without.

"Good morning, sir. I see you have brought in a deserter," the
general said.

"He is not a deserter, sir. He is an escaped prisoner, who has
made his way down from Ava through the enemy's lines.

"This is Mr. Brooke. He was serving as an officer with the
native levy, at Ramoo, and was reported as killed. However, he was
fortunately only stunned and, being the only officer found alive,
was sent by Bandoola as a prisoner to Ava. I may say that he is a
son of the late Captain Brooke, of the 15th Native Infantry."

"You are certainly wonderfully disguised," the general said;
"and I congratulate you heartily on your escape. I should have
passed you by as a native without a second glance though, now that
I am told that you are an Englishman, I can see that you have not
the wide cheekbones and flat face of a Burman. How did you manage
to make your way down?"

"I travelled almost entirely by night, sir; and I had with me a
faithful guide. He is outside. I don't think that I should ever
have got down without him, though I speak Burmese well enough to
pass--especially as the language differs so much, in the different
districts."

"Is he a Burman?"

"Yes, general."

"Have you arranged with him for any particular sum for his
services? If so, it will of course be paid."

"No, sir; he came down simply in gratitude for a service I
rendered him. I do not know whether he intends to go back; but I
hope that he will remain here, with me."

"I have brought Mr. Brooke here, sir," Captain Cooke said, "at
the request of the major; thinking that you might like to ask him
some questions as to the state of things in the interior."

"I should like to have a long talk with Mr. Brooke," the general
said; "but unless he has any certain news of the date they intend
to attack us, I will not detain him now. The first thing will be
for him to get into civilized clothes again.

"By the way, poor young Hitchcock's effects are to be sold this
morning. I should think that they would fit Mr. Brooke very
well.

"Let me see. Of course, your pay has been running on, since you
were taken prisoner, Mr. Brooke."

"I am afraid, sir, that there is no pay due," Stanley said. "I
happened to be at Ramoo at the time, looking after some goods of my
uncle, who carries on a considerable trade on the coast; and as I
talk the language, and there were very few who did so, I
volunteered to act as an officer with the native levy. I preferred
to act as a volunteer, in order that I might be free to leave, at
any time, if I received an order from my uncle to join him at
Chittagong.

"I could give an order on him, but I do not know where he is to
be found. I have with me some uncut rubies; though I have no idea
what they are worth, for I have not even looked at them yet; but
they should certainly be good security for 50 pounds."

"We can settle that presently, Mr. Brooke. I will write an order
on the paymaster for 500 rupees; and we can talk the matter over,
afterwards. I am afraid that you will have to pay rather high for
the clothes, for almost everyone here has worn out his kit; and Mr.
Hitchcock only joined us a fortnight before his death, so that his
are in very good condition. Of course, they are all uniform--he was
on my staff--but that will not matter. You could hardly be going
about in civilian clothes, here.

"I shall be very glad if you will dine with me, at six o'clock
this evening. Have a talk with your man before that, and see what
he wants to do. If he is a sharp fellow, he might be very useful to
us."

The general wrote the order on the paymaster, and Captain Cooke
took Stanley across to the office and obtained the cash for it.
Making inquiry, he found that the sale was to come off in a quarter
of an hour.

"I will do the bidding for you, if you like, Brooke," Captain
Cooke said. "I dare say you would rather not be introduced,
generally, in your present rig."

"Much rather not, and I shall be much obliged by your doing
it."

"All right. I will make your money go as far as I can. Of
course, the poor fellow brought no full-dress uniform with him, or
anything of that sort."

"You will find me here with my Burman," Stanley said. "We will
stroll round the place for half an hour, and then come back here
again."

There was very little to see in the town. Meinik was astonished,
when they mounted the river bank and had a view of the ships lying
at anchor. For a time he was too surprised to speak, never having
seen anything larger than the clumsy cargo boats which made a
voyage, once a year, up the river.

"It is wonderful!" he said at last. "Who would have thought of
such great ships? If the emperor could but see them, I think that
he would make peace. It is easy to see that you know many things
more than we do. Could one go on board of them?"

"Not as I am, at present, Meinik; but when I get English clothes
on again, and rid myself from some of this stain, I have no doubt I
shall be able to take you on board one of the ships-of-war.

"And now, will you let me know what you are thinking of doing? I
told the general what service you had rendered me, and he asked me
what you were going to do. I told him that, as yet, I did not know
whether you were going to stay here, or go back again."

"Are you going to stay here?"

"I think so--at any rate, for a time. I do not know where the
uncle I have told you about is, at present. At any rate, while this
war is going on he can do very little trade, and can manage very
well without me."

"As long as you stay here, I shall stay," the Burman said. "If I
went back, I should have to fight against your people; and I don't
want to do that. I have no quarrel with them and, from what I see,
I am not so sure as I was that we shall drive you into the sea. You
have beaten us, whenever you have fought; and I would rather stay
with you, than be obliged to fight against you.

"Not many men want to fight. We heard that in the villages, and
that those who have not got wives and children held, as hostages
for them, get away from the army and hide in the woods.

"You will be a great man now and, if you will let me stop, I
will be your servant."

"I will gladly keep you with me, Meinik, if you are willing to
stay; and I am sure that you will be better off, here, than out in
the woods, and a good deal safer. At any rate, stay until after
your people make their next attack. You will see then how useless
it is for them to fight against us. When we can attack them in
their stockades, although they are ten to one against us, and drive
them out after a quarter of an hour's fighting; you may be sure
that in the open ground, without defences, they will have no chance
whatever.

"I hope they will soon get tired of fighting, and that the court
will make peace. We did not want to fight with them--it was they
who attacked us but, now that we have had all the expense of coming
here, we shall go on fighting till the emperor agrees to make
peace; but I don't think that we shall ever go out of Rangoon,
again, and believe that we shall also hold the ports in Tenasserim
that we have captured."

"The emperor will never agree to that," Meinik said, shaking his
head positively.

"Then if he does not, he will see that we shall go up the river
to Ava and, in the end, if he goes on fighting we shall capture the
whole country; and rule over it, just as we have done the greater
part of India."

"I think that would be good for us," the man said
philosophically. "It would not matter much to us to whom we paid
our taxes--and you would not tax us more heavily than we are
now--for as we came down you saw many villages deserted, and the
land uncultivated, because the people could not pay the heavy
exactions. It is not the king--he does not get much of it--but he
gives a province, or a district, or a dozen villages to someone at
court; and says, 'you must pay me so much, and all that you can get
out of it, besides, is for yourself;' so they heap on the taxes,
and the people are always in great poverty and, when they find that
they cannot pay what is demanded and live, then they all go away to
some other place, where the lord is not so harsh."

"I am sure that it would be a good thing for them, Meinik. The
people of India are a great deal better off, under us, than they
were under their native rulers. There is a fixed tax, and no one is
allowed to charge more, or to oppress the people in any way.

"But now we must be going. I said that I would be back at the
place we started from, in half an hour."

Chapter 7: On The Staff.

Captain Cooke had done his best, previous to the beginning of
the auction, to disarm opposition; by going about among the
officers who dropped in, with the intention of bidding, telling
them something of Stanley's capture, adventures, and escape; and
saying that the general had, himself, advised him to obtain an
outfit by buying a considerable portion of the young officer's
kit.

"I have no doubt that he will put him on his staff," he said.
"From his knowledge of the country, and the fact that he speaks the
language well, he would be very useful and, as he has gone through
all this from serving as a volunteer, without pay, I hope you
fellows won't run up the prices, except for things that you really
want."

His story had the desired effect; and when Captain Cooke met
Stanley, he was able to tell him that he had bought for him the
greater portion of the kit, including everything that was
absolutely necessary.

"Are there any plain clothes?" Stanley asked, after thanking him
warmly for the trouble he had taken.

"No. Of course, he left everything of that sort at Calcutta. No
one in his senses would think of bringing mufti out with him,
especially to such a country as this."

"Then I shall have to go in uniform to the general's," Stanley
said, in a tone of consternation. "It seems to me that it would be
an awfully impudent thing, to go in staff uniform to dine with the
general, when I have no right whatever to wear it."

"Well, as the general advised you himself to buy the things, he
cannot blame you for wearing them; and I have not the least doubt
that he is going to offer you a staff appointment of some
sort."

"I should like it very much, as long as the war lasted, Captain
Cooke; but I don't think that I should care about staying in the
army, permanently. You see, my uncle is working up a very good
business. He has been at it, now, seven or eight years; and he was
saying the last time that I was with him that, as soon as these
troubles were over, and trade began again, he should give me a
fourth share of it; and make it a third share, when I got to
twenty-one."

"Then you would be a great fool to give it up," Captain Cooke
said, heartily. "A man who has got a good business, out here, would
have an income as much as all the officers of a regiment, together.
He is his own master, and can retire when he likes, and enjoy his
money in England.

"Still, as trade is at a standstill at present, I think that it
would be wise of you to accept any offer that the general might
make to you. It might even be to your advantage, afterwards. To
have served on Campbell's staff will be an introduction to every
officers' mess in the country; and you may be sure that, not only
shall we hold Rangoon in future, but there will be a good many more
British stations between Assam and here than there now are; and it
would be a pull for you, even in the way of trade, to stand on a
good footing everywhere."

"I quite see that," Stanley agreed, "and if the general is good
enough to offer me an appointment, I shall certainly take it."

"You have almost a right to one, Brooke. In the Peninsula lots
of men got their commissions by serving for a time as volunteers;
and having been wounded at Ramoo, and being one of the few
survivors of that fight; and having gone through a captivity, at no
small risk of being put to death the first time that the king was
out of temper, your claim is a very strong one, indeed. Besides,
there is hardly a man here who speaks Burmese, and your services
will be very valuable.

"Here are fifty rupees," he went on, handing the money to
Stanley. "It is not much change out of five hundred; but I can
assure you that you have got the things at a bargain, for you would
have had to pay more than that for them, in England; and I fancy
most of the things are in very good condition, for Hitchcock only
came out about four months ago. Of course the clothes are nothing
like new but, at any rate, they are in a very much better state
than those of anyone who came here three months ago.

"I have ordered them all to be sent to my quarters where, of
course, you will take up your abode till something is settled about
you; which will probably be this evening. In that case, you will
have quarters allotted to you, tomorrow."

"Thank you very much. I shall devote the best portion of this
afternoon to trying to get rid of as much of this stain as I can,
at least off my face and hands. The rest does not matter, one way
or the other, and will wear off gradually; but I should like to get
my face decent."

"Well, you are rather an object, Stanley," he said. "It would
not matter so much about the colour, but all those tattoo marks
are, to say the least of it, singular. Of course they don't look so
rum, now, in that native undress; but when you get your uniform on,
the effect will be startling.

"We will have a chat with the doctor. He may have something in
his medicine chest that will at least soften them down a bit. Of
course, if they were real tattoo marks there would be nothing for
it; but as they are only dye, or paint of some sort, they must wear
themselves out before very long."

"I will try anything that he will give me. I don't care if it
takes the skin off."

On returning to the quarters of Captain Cooke, Stanley was
introduced to the other officers of the regiment; among them the
doctor, to whom he at once applied for some means of taking off the
dye.

"Have you asked the man you brought down with you?" the surgeon
said. "You say that he put it on, and he may know of something that
will take it off again."

"No; I have asked him, and he knows of nothing. He used some of
the dye stuffs of the country, but he said he never heard of anyone
wanting to take the dye out of things that had been coloured."

"If it were only cotton or cloth," the doctor said, "I have no
doubt a very strong solution of soda would take out the greater
portion of the dye; but the human skin won't stand boiling water.
However, I should say that if you have water as hot as you can bear
it, with plenty of soda and soap, it will do something for you. No
doubt, if you were to take a handful or two of very fine sand, it
would help a great deal; but if you use that, I should not put any
soda with the water, or you will practically take all the skin off,
and leave your face like a raw beef steak; which will be worse than
the stain and, indeed, in so hot a sun as we have, might be
dangerous, and bring on erysipelas. So you must be very careful;
and it will be far better for you to put up with being somewhat
singular in your appearance, for a bit, than to lay yourself up by
taking any strong measures to get rid of it."

After an hour spent in vigorous washing, and aided by several
rubs with very fine sand, Stanley succeeded, to his great
satisfaction, in almost getting rid of the tattoo marks on his
face. The general dye had faded a little, though not much; but that
with which the marks had been made was evidently of a less stable
character, and yielded to soap and friction.

Before he had concluded the work two trunks arrived and, finding
that his face was now beginning to smart a good deal, he abstained
for the time from further efforts; and turned to inspect his
purchases, with a good deal of interest. The uniforms consisted of
two undress suits; one with trousers, the other with breeches and
high boots, for riding. There was also a suit of mess jacket,
waistcoat, and trousers; three suits of white drill; half a dozen
white shirts for mess, and as many of thin flannel; and a good
stock of general underclothes, a pair of thick boots, and a light
pair for mess. There was also the sword, belt, and other
equipments; in fact, all the necessaries he would require for a
campaign.

Before beginning to dress, he began to free his hair from the
wax with which it had been plastered up. He had obtained from the
doctor some spirits of turpentine and, with the aid of this, he
found the task a less difficult one than he had expected and, the
regimental barber being sent for by Captain Cooke, his hair was
soon shortened to the ordinary length.

"You will do very well, now," the major said, as he went down
into the general room. "You have certainly succeeded a great deal
better than I thought you would. Of course you look very brown, but
there are a good many others nearly as dark as you are; for between
the rain showers the sun has tremendous power, and some of the
men's faces are almost skinned, while others have browned
wonderfully. I am sure that many of them are quite as dark as
yours. So you will pass muster very well."

Before beginning to wash and change, Stanley had given Meinik
the clothes he had carried down with him; and when he went out to
take a short look round before tiffin--for which the servants were
already laying the cloth--he found the man, now looking like a
respectable Burman, standing near the door. He walked slowly past
him, but the man did not move--not recognizing him, in the
slightest degree, in his present attire.

Then Stanley turned and faced him.

"So you don't know me, Meinik."

The Burman gave a start of surprise.

"Certainly I did not know you, my lord," he said. "Who could
have known you? Before you were a poor Burmese peasant, now you are
an English lord."

"Not a lord at all, Meinik. I am simply an English officer, and
dressed very much the same as I was when your people knocked me on
the head, at Ramoo."

"I know your voice," Meinik said; "but even now that I know it
is you, I hardly recognize your face. Of course, the tattoo marks
made a great difference, but that is not all."

"I think it is the hair that has made most difference, Meinik.
You see, it was all pulled off the brow and neck, before; and it
will be some time before it will grow naturally again. I had great
trouble to get it to lie down, even when it was wet; and it will
certainly have a tendency to stick up, for a long time.

"The dress has made a good deal of alteration in you, too."

"They are very good clothes," Meinik said. "I have never had
such good ones on before. I have had money enough to buy them; but
people would have asked where I got it from, and it never does to
make a show of being better off than one's neighbour. A man is sure
to be fleeced, if he does.

"What can I do for my lord?"

"Nothing, at present, Meinik. I am going to lunch with the
officers here, and to dine with the general, and sleep here.
Tomorrow I daresay I shall move into quarters of my own.

"You had better buy what you want, for today, in the market. I
don't know whether it is well supplied but, as we saw some of your
people about, there must be food to be obtained."

"They gave me plenty to eat when I came in," he said, "but I
will buy something for supper.

"No, I do not want money, I have plenty of lead left."

"You had better take a couple of rupees, anyhow. There are sure
to be some traders from India who have opened shops here, and they
won't care to take lead in payment. You must get some fresh muslin
for your turban; and you had better close it up at the top, this
time. It will go better with your clothes."

Meinik grinned.

"I shall look quite like a person of importance. I shall be
taken for, at least, the headman of a large village."

He took the two rupees and walked off towards the town, while
Stanley went in to luncheon. There were a good many remarks as to
his altered appearance.

"Do you know, Brooke," one of the young lieutenants said, "I did
not feel at all sure that Cooke was not humbugging us, when he
introduced you to us, and that you were not really a Burman who had
travelled, and had somehow learned to speak English extraordinarily
well."

"Clothes and soap and water make a wonderful difference,"
Stanley laughed, "but I shall be a good many shades lighter, when
the rest of the dye wears off. At any rate, I can go about, now,
without anyone staring at me."

After tiffin, Stanley had to tell his story again, at a very
much greater length than before.

"You certainly have gone through some queer adventures," the
major said, when he had finished his relation; "and there is no
doubt that you have had wonderful luck. In the first place, if that
bullet had gone half an inch lower, you would not have been one of
the four white survivors of that ugly business at Ramoo; then you
were lucky that they did not chop off your head, either when they
first took you, or when they got you to Ava. Then again, it was
lucky that Bandoola sent a special message that he wanted you kept
as an interpreter for himself, and that the official in charge of
you turned out a decent fellow, and aided you to make your
escape.

"As to your obtaining the services of the man you brought down
with you, I do not regard that as a question of luck. You saved the
man's life, by an act of the greatest bravery--one that not one man
in ten would perform, or try to perform, for the life of a total
stranger. I hope that I should have made the effort, had I been in
your place; but I say frankly that I am by no means sure that I
should have done so.

"The betting was a good twenty to one against its being done
successfully. If the brute had heard your footstep, it would have
been certain death and, even when you reached him, the chances were
strongly against your being able to strike a blow at the animal
that would, for a moment, disable him; and so give you time to
snatch up one of the guns--which might not, after all, have been
loaded.

"It was a wonderfully gallant action, lad. You did not tell us
very much about it yourself but, while you were getting the dye
off, I got hold of one of the traders here, who happened to be
passing, and who understood their language; and with his assistance
I questioned your fellow, and got all the particulars from him. I
say again, it was as plucky a thing as I have ever heard of."

A few minutes later an orderly came in with a note from the
general, asking the major and Captain Cooke also to dine with him
that evening. Stanley was very pleased that the two officers were
going with him, as it took away the feeling of shyness he felt, at
the thought of presenting himself in staff uniform at the
general's.

Sir Archibald Campbell put him at ease, at once, by the kindness
with which he received him. Stanley began to apologize for his
dress, but the general stopped him, at once.

"I intended, of course, that you should wear it, Mr. Brooke. I
am sure that you would not find a dress suit in the camp. However,
we will make matters all right, tomorrow. Judging from what you
said that, as you cannot join your uncle at present, you would be
willing to remain here, your name will appear in orders, tomorrow
morning, as being granted a commission in the 89th, pending the
arrival of confirmation from home; which of course, in such a case,
is a mere form. You will also appear in the orders as being
appointed my aide-de-camp, in place of Mr. Hitchcock, with extra
pay as interpreter.

"No, do not thank me. Having served as a volunteer, taken part
in a severe action, and having been wounded and imprisoned, you had
almost a right to a commission. After dinner, I hope that you will
give us all a full account of your adventures; it was but a very
slight sketch that I heard from you, this morning."

The general then introduced Stanley to the other members of his
staff.

"If you had seen him as I saw him, this morning," he said, with
a smile, "you certainly would not recognize him now. He was naked
to the waist, and had nothing on but the usual peasant attire of a
piece of black cloth, reaching to his knees. I knew, of course,
that the question of costume would soon be got over; but I own that
I did not think that I should be able to employ him, for some
little time. Not only was his stain a great deal darker than it is
now, but he was thickly tattooed up to the eyes, and one could
hardly be sending messages by an aide-de-camp so singular in
appearance; but I see that, somehow, he has entirely got rid of the
tattoo marks; and his skin is now very little, if at all, darker
than that of many of us, so that I shall be able to put him in
harness at once."

After dinner was over and cigars lighted, Stanley told his story
as before, passing over lightly the manner in which he had gained
the friendship of the Burman. When he had finished, however, Major
Pemberton said:

"With your permission, general, I will supplement the story a
little. Mr. Brooke has told me somewhat more than he has told you,
but I gained the whole facts from his guide's own lips."

"No, major, please," Stanley said colouring, even under his dye.
"The matter is not worth telling."

"You must permit us to be a judge of that, Mr. Brooke," the
general said, with a smile at the young fellow's interruption of
his superior officer.

"I beg your pardon, Major Pemberton," Stanley stammered in some
confusion. "Only--"

"Only you would rather that I did not tell about your struggle
with the leopard. I think it ought to be told, and I am pretty sure
Sir Archibald Campbell will agree with me," and Major Pemberton
then gave a full account of the adventure in the forest.

"Thank you, major. You were certainly quite right in telling the
story, for it is one that ought to be told and, if Mr. Brooke will
forgive my saying so, is one of those cases in which it is a
mistake for a man to try to hide his light under a bushel.

"You see, it cannot but make a difference in the estimation in
which we hold you. Most young fellows would, as you did, have
joined their countrymen when threatened by a greatly superior enemy
and, again, most would, if prisoners, have taken any opportunity
that offered to effect their escape. Therefore, in the brief
account that you gave me, this morning, it appeared to me that you
had behaved pluckily and shrewdly, and had well earned a
commission, especially as you have a knowledge of the language. You
simply told me that you had been able to render some service to the
Burman who travelled down with you, but such service might have
been merely that you assisted him when he was in want, bound up a
wound, or any other small matter.

"Now we find that you performed an act of singular courage, an
act that even the oldest shikaree would have reason to be proud of.
Such an act--performed, too, for a stranger, and that stranger an
enemy--would, of itself, give any man a title to the esteem and
regard of any among whom he might be thrown, and would lead them to
regard him in an entirely different light to that in which they
would otherwise have held him.

"I think that you will all agree with me, gentlemen."

"Certainly."

There was a chorus of assent from the circle of officers. His
narrative had, as the general said, shown that the young fellow was
possessed of coolness, steadiness, and pluck; but this feat was
altogether out of the common and, as performed by a mere lad,
seemed little short of marvellous.

"You will, of course, have Hitchcock's quarters," the
quartermaster general said to Stanley, as the party broke up. "It
is a small room, but it has the advantage of being water tight,
which is more than one can say of most of our quarters. It is a
room in the upper storey of the next house. I fancy the poor
fellow's card is on the door still. The commissariat offices are in
the lower part of the house, and they occupy all the other rooms
upstairs; but we kept this for one of the aides-de-camp, so that
the general could send a message at once, night or day."

"Of course I shall want a horse, sir."

"Yes, you must have a horse. I will think over what we can do
for you, in that way. There is no buying one here, unless a field
officer is killed, or dies.

"By the way, Hitchcock's horses are not sold, yet. They were not
put up, yesterday. I have no doubt that some arrangement can be
made about them, and the saddlery."

"That would be excellent, sir. As I told the general this
morning, I have some rubies and other stones. I have no idea what
they are worth. They were given me by those men I was with, in the
forest. They said that they were very difficult to dispose of, as
the mines are monopolies of government so, when my man Meinik
proposed it, they acceded at once to his request, and handed a
number of them over to me.

"I have not even looked at them. There may be someone, here, who
could tell me what they are worth."

"Yes, I have no doubt some of those Parsee merchants, who have
lately set up stores, could tell you. I should only take down two
or three stones to them, if I were you. If they are really
valuable, you might be robbed of them; but I am rather afraid that
you will not find that they are so. Brigand fellows will hardly
have been likely to give you anything very valuable."

"I don't think that they looked at them, themselves; they were
the proceeds of one day's attack on a number of merchants. They
found them concealed on them, and they were so well satisfied with
the loot they got, in merchandise that they could dispose of, that
I doubt whether they even opened the little packages of what they
considered the most dangerous goods to keep; for if they were
captured, and gems found upon them, it would be sufficient to
condemn them, at once."

"Do you speak Hindustani? If not, I will send one of the clerks
with you."

"Yes, sir; and three or four other of the Indian languages."

"Ah! Then you can manage for yourself.

"When you have seen one of these Parsees, come round to my
office. I shall have seen the paymaster by that time, and have
talked over with him how we can arrange about the horses. I should
think that the best way would be to have a committee of three
officers to value them, and the saddlery; and then you might
authorize him to receive your extra pay as interpreter, and to
place it to Hitchcock's account. You will find your own staff pay
more than ample, here; as there are no expenses, whatever, except
your share of the mess."

"Thank you very much, indeed, Colonel."

In the morning, Stanley took one of the little parcels from the
bag and opened it. It contained thirty stones, of which twenty were
rubies, six sapphires, and four emeralds. They seemed to him of a
good size but, as they were in the rough state, he had no idea what
size they would be, when cut.

There were three of the Parsee merchants. The first he went to
said, at once, that he did not deal in gems. The next he called on
examined the stones carefully.

"It is impossible to say, for certain," he said, "how much they
are worth until they are cut, for there may be flaws in them that
cannot be detected. Now, if I were to buy them like this, I could
not give more than a hundred rupees each. If they are all flawless,
they would be worth much more; but it would be a pure speculation,
and I will not go beyond that sum."

Stanley then visited the third store. The trader here inspected
them a little more carefully than the last had done, examined them
with a magnifying glass, held them up to the light; then he weighed
each stone and jotted down some figures. At last, he said:

"The stones are worth five thousand rupees. If they are
flawless, they would be worth double that. I will give you five
thousand myself or, if you like, I will send them to a friend of
mine, at Madras. He is one of the best judges of gems in India. He
shall say what he will give for them, and you shall pay me five
percent commission. He is an honest trader; you can ask any of the
officers from Madras."

"I will accept that offer, if you will make me an advance of
fifteen hundred rupees upon them; and will pay you, at the rate of
ten percent per annum, interest till you receive the money for
them."

The Parsee again took the gems, and examined them carefully.

"Do you agree to take the jeweller's offer, whatever it is?"

"Yes; that is to say, if it is over the five thousand. If it is
under the five thousand, I will sell them to you at that sum."

"I agree to that," the man said. "But do not fear; if the two
largest stones are without a flaw, they alone are worth five
thousand."

"Let us draw up the agreement, at once," Stanley said.

And, accordingly, the terms were drawn up, in Hindustani, and
were signed by both parties. The Parsee then went to a safe,
unlocked it, and counted out the rupees, to the value of 150
pounds. These he placed in a bag, and handed them to Stanley who,
delighted at the sum that he had obtained for but a small portion
of the gems, went to the quartermaster general's office.

"We have just finished your business," Colonel Adair said, as he
entered. "Major Moultrie, the paymaster, Colonel Watt, and myself
have examined the horses. I know that Hitchcock paid sixty pounds
apiece for them, at Calcutta. They are both Arabs, and good ones,
and were not dear at the money. Our opinion is that, if they were
put up to auction here, they would fetch 40 pounds apiece; and that
the saddle and bridle, holsters, and accoutrements would fetch
another 20 pounds. There are also a pair of well-finished pistols
in the holsters. They were overlooked, or they would have been put
up in the sale yesterday. They value them at 8 pounds the brace; in
all, 108 pounds.

"Will that suit you? The major will, as I proposed, stop the
money from your pay as a first-class interpreter--that is, two
hundred and fifty rupees a month--so that, in four months and a
half, you will have cleared it off."

"I am very much obliged to you, Colonel; but I have just
received an advance of fifteen hundred rupees, on some of my gems
which the Parsee is going to send to a jeweller, of the name of
Burragee, at Madras."

"I congratulate you, for I hardly hoped that they would turn out
to be worth so much. Burragee is a first-rate man, and you can rely
upon getting a fair price from him. Well, that obviates all
difficulty.

"By the way, I should recommend you to get a light bedstead and
bed, and a couple of blankets, at one of the Parsee stores. Of
course, you did not think of it, yesterday, or you might have
bought Hitchcock's. However, I noticed in one of the Parsees' shops
a number of light bamboo bedsteads; which are the coolest and best
in a climate like this. If you lay a couple of blankets on the
bamboos, you will find that you don't want a mattress."

"I don't know what my duties are, sir, or whether the general
will be wanting me."

"He will not want you, today. Anyhow, he will know that you will
be making your arrangements, and moving into your quarters.

"By the way, Hitchcock brought a syce with him. You must have a
man for your horses, and I have no doubt he will be glad to stay on
with you."

Two hours later Stanley was installed in his quarters--a room
some twelve feet long by eight wide. A bed stood in one corner.
There was a table for writing on, two light bamboo chairs, and an
Indian lounging chair. In the corner was a small bamboo table, on
which was a large brass basin; while a great earthenware jar for
water stood beside it, and a piece of Indian matting covered the
floor.

He learned that the staff messed together, in a large room in
the next house; and that he would there get a cup of coffee and a
biscuit, at six in the morning, breakfast at half-past eight, lunch
and dinner; so that he would not have to do any cooking, whatever,
for himself. He had given Meinik a small sum to lay out in cooking
pots and necessaries for his own use.

The syce had gladly entered his employ. Stanley had inspected
the horses which, although light to the eye, would be well capable
of bearing his weight through a long day's work. They were
picketed, with those of the general and staff, in a line behind the
house devoted to the headquarters. After lunch he went into the
general's, and reported himself as ready for duty.

"I shall not want you this afternoon, Mr. Brooke. Here is a plan
showing the position of the different corps. You had better get it
by heart. When it gets cooler, this afternoon, I should advise you
to ride out and examine the position and the roads; so that even at
night you can, if necessary, carry a message to any of the
regiments. The Burmese are constantly creeping up and stabbing our
sentries, and sometimes they attack in considerable force. When
anything like heavy firing begins, it will be your duty to find out
at once what is going on; and bring me word, as it may be necessary
to send up reinforcements.

"In the morning it will be your duty to examine any prisoners
who have been taken during the night, and also natives who have
made their way into the town; in order to ascertain whether any
date has been fixed for their next attack, and what forces are
likely to take part in it. You can make your man useful at this
work.

"By the way, I will tell Colonel Adair to put him down on the
list of the quartermaster's native followers. He need not do
anything else but this. But it is likely that the natives will
speak more freely to him than they would to a white officer, and he
may as well be earning thirty rupees a month, and drawing rations,
as hanging about all day, doing nothing."

Thanking the general, Stanley took the plan and, going back to
his quarters, studied it attentively. He told Meinik of the
arrangement that had been made for him, with which the Burman was
much pleased. Thirty rupees a month seemed a large sum to him, and
he was glad that he should not be costing Stanley money for his
food.

Three hours later one of his horses was brought round, and he
started on his ride through the camp. There were two roads leading
through the town to the great pagoda. Both were thickly bordered by
religious houses and pagodas--the latter, for the most part, being
in a state of dilapidation. Houses and pagodas alike had been
turned into quarters for the troops, and had been invaluable during
the wet season.

The terrace of the great pagoda was occupied by the 89th
Regiment and the Madras Artillery. This was the most advanced
position, and was the key of the defence. Leaving his horse in
charge of his syce, at the foot of the pagoda hill, Stanley went up
to the terrace and soon entered into conversation with some of the
British officers; who at once recognized him as having been, that
morning, put in orders as the general's aide-de-camp. As he was
unknown to everyone, and no ship had come in for some days, there
was naturally much curiosity felt as to who the stranger was who
had been appointed to a commission, and to the coveted post of
aide-de-camp, in one day.

After chatting for two or three minutes, they conducted Stanley
to the colonel's quarters, a small building at the foot of the
pagoda.

"This is Mr. Brooke, Colonel, the gentleman who was gazetted to
us, this morning."

"I am glad to see you, Mr. Brooke; but I should be more glad,
still, if you had been coming to join, for we have lost several
officers from sickness, and there are others unfit for duty. When
did you arrive?"

"I arrived only yesterday morning, sir. I came here in disguise,
having made my way down from Ava."

"Oh, indeed! We heard a report that a white man had arrived, in
disguise, at the lines of the 45th Native Infantry; but we have had
no particulars, beyond that."

"I was captured at Ramoo, sir, while I was acting as an officer
of the native levy. Fortunately I was stunned by the graze of a
musket ball and, being supposed dead, was not killed; as were all
the other officers who fell into the hands of the Burmese. Their
fury had abated by the time I came to myself, and I was carried up
to Ava with some twenty sepoy prisoners. After a time I made my
escape from prison, and took to the forest; where I remained some
weeks, till the search for me had abated somewhat. Then I made my
way down the country, for the most part in a fishing boat,
journeying only at night, and so succeeded in getting in here.
Fortunately I speak the Mug dialect, which is very closely akin to
the Burmese."

"Well," the colonel said, "I hope that you will consider the
regiment your home; though I suppose that, until the campaign is at
an end, you will only be able to pay us an occasional visit. You
are lucky in getting the staff appointment. No doubt your being
able to talk Burmese has a great deal to do with it."

"Everything, I think, sir. The general had no one on his staff
who could speak the language and, unless he happened to have with
him one of the very few men here who can do so, often had to wait
some time before a prisoner could be questioned."

He remained chatting for half an hour, and then rode back to the
town; taking the other road to that which he had before
traversed.

Chapter 8: The Pagoda.

Two days later a prisoner was captured, when endeavouring to
crawl up the pagoda hill--having slipped past the outposts--and was
sent into headquarters. Stanley questioned him closely; but could
obtain no information, whatever, from him. Telling him to sit down
by the house, he placed a British sentry over him.

"Keep your eye," he said, "on the door of the next house. You
will see a Burman come out. You are to let him talk with the
prisoner, but let no one else speak to him. Don't look as if you
had any orders about him, but stand carelessly by. The fellow will
tell us nothing, but it is likely enough that he will speak to one
of his own countrymen."

"I understand, sir."

Stanley went into his house and told Meinik what he was wanted
to do.

"I will find out," Meinik said confidently and, a minute or two
later, went out and strolled along past the prisoner. As he did so
he gave him a little nod and, returning again shortly, saluted him
in Burmese. The third time he passed he looked inquiringly at the
sentry, as if to ask whether he might speak to the prisoner. The
soldier, however, appeared to pay no attention to him; but stood
with grounded musket, leaning against the wall, and Meinik went up
to the man.

"You are in bad luck," he said. "How did you manage to fall into
the hands of these people?"

"It matters not to you," the Burman said indignantly, "since you
have gone over to them."

"Not at all, not at all," Meinik replied. "Do you not know that
there are many here who, like myself, have come in as fugitives,
with instructions what to do when our people attack? I am expecting
news as to when the soothsayers declare the day to be a fortunate
one. Then we shall all be in readiness to do our share, as soon as
the firing begins."

"It will be on the fourth day from this," the Burman said. "We
do not know whether it will be the night before, or the night
after. The soothsayers say both will be fortunate nights; and the
Invulnerables will then assault the pagoda, and sweep the
barbarians away. The princes and woongees will celebrate the great
annual festival there, two days later."

"That is good!" Meinik said. "We shall be on the lookout, never
fear."

"What are they going to do to me. Will they cut off my
head?"

"No, you need not be afraid of that. These white men never kill
prisoners. After they are once taken, they are safe. You will be
kept for a time and, when our countrymen have destroyed the
barbarians and taken the town, they will free you from prison.

"There are some of the white officers coming. I must get away,
or they will be asking questions."

As he walked away, the sentry put his musket to his shoulder and
began to march briskly up and down. A moment later the general
stepped up to him.

"What are you doing, my man? Who put you on guard over that
prisoner?"

"I don't know his name, sir," the sentry said, standing at
attention. "He was a young staff officer. He came to the guard tent
and called for a sentry and, as I was next on duty, the sergeant
sent me with him. He put me to watch this man."

"All right; keep a sharp lookout over him.

"I wonder what Brooke left the fellow here for, instead of
sending him to prison," the general said to Colonel Adair. "We
examined him, but could get nothing out of him, even when I
threatened to hang him."

"I will just run up to his quarters and ask him, sir."

Just as he entered the house, Stanley was coming down the
stairs.

"The general wants to know, Mr. Brooke, why you placed a
prisoner under a guard by his house; instead of sending him to the
prison, as usual?"

"I was just coming to tell him, sir."

"Ah, well, he is outside; so you can tell us both together."

"Well, Mr. Brooke, what made you put a sentry over the man, and
leave him here? The men are hard enough worked, without having
unnecessary sentry duty."

"Yes, sir; I only left him for a few minutes. I was convinced
the man knew something, by his demeanour when I questioned him; and
I thought I might as well try if my man could not get more out of
him than I could. So I put a sentry over him, and gave him
instructions that he was to let a Burman, who would come out of
this house, speak to the prisoner; but that no one else was to
approach him.

"Then I instructed my man as to the part that he was to play. He
passed two or three times, making a sign of friendship to the
prisoner. Then, as the sentry had apparently no objection to his
speaking to him, he came up. At first the man would say nothing to
him, but Meinik told him that he was one of those who had been sent
to Rangoon to aid, when the assault took place; and that he was
anxiously waiting for news when the favourable day would be
declared by the astrologers, so that he and those with him would be
ready to begin their work, as soon as the attack commenced. The
prisoner fell into the snare, and told him that it would be made
either on the night before or on the night of the fourth day from
this; when the Invulnerables had undertaken to storm the pagoda. It
seems that the date was fixed partly because it was a fortunate
one, and also in order that the princes and head officials might
properly celebrate the great annual festival of the pagoda; which
falls, it seems, on the sixth day from now."

"Excellent indeed, Mr. Brooke. It is a great relief to me to
know when the assault is going to take place, and from what point
it will be delivered. But what made you think of the story that the
Burman was one of a party that had come in to do something?"

"It was what Colonel Adair mentioned at dinner, last evening,
sir. He was saying how awkward it would be if some of these natives
who have come in were to fire the town, just as a strong attack was
going on, and most of the troops engaged with the enemy. It was not
unlikely that, if such a plan had been formed, the prisoner would
know of it; and that he might very well believe what my man said,
that some men had been sent into the town, with that or some
similar intention."

"True enough. The idea was a capital one, Mr. Brooke; and we
shall be ready for them, whichever night they come.

"Will you please go across to the guard tent, and tell the
sergeant to send a corporal across to the man on sentry, with
orders to take the prisoner to the jail, and hand him over to the
officer in command there? When you have done that, will you ride
out to the pagoda and inform your colonel what you have discovered?
It will be a relief to him, and to the men for, as the date of the
attack has been uncertain, he has been obliged to largely increase
his patrols, and to keep a portion of his force, all night, under
arms. He will be able to decrease the number, and let the men have
as much sleep as they can, for the next two nights.

"The clouds are banking up, and I am very much afraid that the
rain is going to set in again. They say that we shall have another
two months of it."

After seeing the prisoner marched away, Stanley rode to the
pagoda and, saying that he had come with a message from the
general, was at once shown into the colonel's quarters.

"Any news, Mr. Brooke?"

"Yes, Colonel; the general has requested me to inform you, at
once, of the news that I have obtained from a prisoner; namely
that, either on the night of the 30th or 31st, your position will
be attacked, by the men who are called the Invulnerables."

"We will give them a chance of proving whether their title is
justified," the colonel said, cheerfully. "That is very good news.
The men are getting thoroughly worn out with the extra night duty
caused by this uncertainty. You think that there is no doubt that
the news is correct?"

"None whatever, sir. I could do nothing with the prisoner; but
my Burman pretended to have a mission here, to kick up a row in the
town when the attack began; and the man, believing his story, at
once told him that the attack will be made on the pagoda, by the
Invulnerables, on the early morning of the fourth day from this--or
on the next night--the astrologers having declared that the time
would be propitious, and also because they were very anxious to
have the pagoda in their hands, in order that the princes might
celebrate the great annual festival that is held, it seems, two
days after."

The colonel laughed.

"I am afraid that they will have to put it off for another year.
The general gave no special orders, I suppose?"

"No, sir; he had only just received the news, and ordered me to
ride over at once to you, as he was sure that you would be glad to
know that it would not be necessary to keep so many men on night
duty, for the next two days."

"Thank you, Mr. Brooke. Will you kindly tell the general that I
am very pleased at the news? No doubt he will be up here, himself,
this afternoon or tomorrow."

Stanley rode back fast, and was just in time to escape a
tremendous downpour of rain, which began a few minutes after he
returned. He went in at once to the general's, but was told that he
was engaged with the quartermaster and adjutant generals. He
therefore went into the anteroom where Tollemache, his fellow
aide-de-camp, was standing at the window, looking out at the
rain.

"This is a beastly climate," he grumbled. "It is awful to think
that we are likely to get another two months of it; and shall then
have to wait at least another, before the country is dry enough to
make a move. You were lucky in getting in, just now, before it
began."

"I was indeed," Stanley agreed, "for I had ridden off without my
cloak, and should have been drenched, had it begun two minutes
earlier."

"I saw you gallop past, and wondered what you were in such a
hurry about. Was it like this when you were out in the woods?"

"Not in the least. There is very little rain near Ava; though
the country is a good deal flooded, where it is flat, from the
rivers being swollen by the rains in the hills. We had lovely
weather, all the time."

"I should like to see a little lovely weather here. The last
week has been almost worse than the rain--the steamy heat is like
being in a vapour bath. If it were not that I am on duty, I should
like to strip, and go out and enjoy a shower bath for half an
hour."

Stanley laughed.

"It really would be pleasant," he said. "I don't think that I
gained much by hurrying back, for the gallop has thrown me into
such a perspiration that I might almost as well be drenched by the
rain, except that my clothes won't suffer so much."

"Ah, it is all very well for you," the other grumbled. "Of
course, after once having wandered about in the forest, painted up
like a nigger, you feel cheerful under almost any circumstances;
but for us who have been cooped up, doing nothing, in this beastly
place, it is impossible to look at things cheerfully."

"Have you heard that the enemy are going to attack, on Tuesday
or Wednesday night?"

"No!" the other exclaimed, with a sudden animation. "The general
only came in a quarter of an hour ago and, as he had the two
bigwigs with him, of course I did not speak to him. Is it certain?
How did you hear it?"

"It is quite certain--that is, unless the Burmese change their
mind, which is not likely. The princes want to celebrate the great
annual festival at the pagoda, on Friday; and so the Invulnerables
are going, as they think, to capture it either on Tuesday or
Wednesday night. I have just been up there to tell the colonel.

"As to your other question--how did I learn it--I got it, or
rather my Burman did, from that prisoner we were questioning this
morning. He would not say anything then; but my man got round him
and, believing that he was a spy, or something of that kind, the
prisoner told him all about it."

"Are they only going to attack at the pagoda?"

"That I cannot say; that is the only point that the man
mentioned. I should say that it would only be there."

"Why should it only be there?"

"Because I should imagine that even the Burmese must be
beginning to doubt whether they could defeat our whole force and,
as they particularly wish to occupy the pagoda on Friday, they
would hardly risk an attack on other points, which might end in
disaster while, what with the propitious nature of the day, and the
fact that the Invulnerables have undertaken to capture the pagoda,
no doubt they look upon that as certain."

"I suppose that you are right, Brooke. Well, I do hope that the
general will let us go up to see the fun."

"What, even if it is raining?"

"Of course," the other said, indignantly. "What does one care
for rain, when there is something to do? Why, I believe that, if it
was coming down in a sheet, and the men had to wade through the
swamps waist deep, they would all march in the highest spirits, if
there was the chance of a fight with the Burmans at the end of the
day.

"However, I am afraid that there is no chance of our getting
off, unless the chief goes, himself. There may be attacks in other
places. As you say, it is not likely; but it is possible.
Therefore, of course, we should have to be at hand, to carry
orders. Of course, if he takes his post at the pagoda it will be
all right; though the betting is that we shall have to gallop off,
just at the most interesting moment."

Presently the two officers left the general. The latter's bell
rang, and Stanley went in.

"You saw the colonel, Mr. Brooke?"

"Yes, sir; and he begged me to say that he was extremely glad to
get the news, and much obliged to you for sending it so
promptly."

"There is no occasion for you and Mr. Tollemache to stay here
any longer, now; but at five o'clock I shall ride out to the
pagoda. At any rate, should I want you before then, I shall know
where to send for you."

This was the general order, for in the afternoon there was, when
things were quiet, a hush for two or three hours. The work of the
aides-de-camp was, indeed, generally very light for, as there were
no movements of troops, no useless parades, and very few military
orders to be carried, they had a great deal of time on their hands;
and usually took it by turns to be on duty for the day, the one off
duty being free to pay visits to acquaintances in the various
camps, or on board ship. During the rainy season, however, very few
officers or men went beyond shelter, unless obliged to do so and,
from two till four or five, no small proportion passed the time in
sleep.

Stanley had intended to pay a visit to the Larne; as Captain
Marryat, who had dined at the staff mess on the previous evening,
had invited him to go on board, whenever it might be convenient to
him. The Larne had performed good service, in the operations
against the stockades; and her boats had been particularly active
and successful. Her captain was one of the most popular, as well as
one of the most energetic officers in the service; and was to
become as popular, with future generations, as the brightest of all
writers of sea stories.

However, the day was not favourable for an excursion on the
water. Stanley therefore went back to his room where, divesting
himself of his jacket, he sat down at the open window, and read up
a batch of the last newspapers, from England, that had been lent
him by Colonel Adair.

At five o'clock Meinik came in, to say that his horse was at the
general's door. Stanley hastily put on his jacket and cloak, and
sallied out. The general came down in a few minutes, followed by
Tollemache and, mounting, they rode to the pagoda.

Here Sir Archibald had a talk with the colonel of the 89th, and
the officer commanding the battery of the Madras Artillery. Both
were of opinion that their force was amply sufficient to resist any
attack. The only approach to it from the forest was a long road
between two swamps which, a short distance away, had become lakes
since the wet weather set in.

"Had they taken us by surprise," the colonel said, "some of them
might have got across, before we were quite ready for them, and
might have given us some trouble but, as we shall be prepared, I
don't think that any of them will reach the foot of this hill and,
if they did, none of them would reach this terrace. If an attack
were made from the other side, it would of course be a good deal
more serious, as the ground is firm and they could attack all along
the foot of the hill; but as they cannot get there, until they have
defeated the rest of the army, I consider that, even without the
assistance of the guns, we could hold the hill with musket and
bayonet against any force that they are likely to bring against
us."

"Very well, then; I shall not reinforce you, Colonel. Of course,
we shall keep a considerable number of troops under arms, in case
they should attack all along the line, at the same time that they
make their principal effort here.

"I rather hope that the rain will keep on, until this affair is
over."

The colonel looked surprised.

"I am much more afraid," the general went on, "of fire in the
town, than I am of an attack without. The number of natives there
is constantly increasing. No doubt the greater number of those who
come in are natives of the place, who have managed, since we
cleared out their war galleys from some of the creeks and channels,
to escape from the authorities and to make their way in, either on
foot or in fishermen's boats; but some of them may be sent in as
spies, or to do us harm. I have been having a long talk over it
with Colonel Adair, this afternoon, and he quite agrees with me
that we must reckon on the probability of an attempt to fire the
town. It would be a terrible blow to us if they succeeded, for the
loss of our stores would completely cripple us. They would
naturally choose the occasion of an attack upon our lines for the
attempt for, in the first place, most of the troops will be under
arms and drawn up outside the town; and in the second place the
sight of the place on fire would cause much confusion, would
inspirit our assailants, and necessitate a considerable force being
withdrawn from the field, to fight the fire.

"If the rains continue we need feel no uneasiness, whatever, for
there would be no getting anything to burn; whereas in dry weather,
a man with a torch might light the thatch as fast as he could run
along, and a whole street would be in a blaze in two or three
minutes and, if a wind happened to be blowing, it might make a
sweep of the whole place, in spite of all our efforts."

"I see that, sir. I own that I had never given it a thought,
before."

"I shall come up here, Colonel, unless we obtain sure news,
before the time arrives, that the attack is going to be a general
one; indeed, it is in any case the best place to post myself, for I
can see over the whole country, and send orders to any point where
the enemy may be making progress, or where our men can advance with
advantage. The line of fire flashes will be as good a guide, at
night, as the smoke by day."

"I will get a cot rigged up for you, General, as we don't know
which night it is to be."

"Thank you. Yes, I may just as well turn in, all standing, as
the sailors say, and get a few hours' sleep; for in this climate
one cannot keep at it, night and day, as we had to do in
Spain."

The two aides-de-camp were kept in suspense as to what the
general's intentions were, and it was not until the morning of
Tuesday that he said to them:

"I am going up to the pagoda this evening, Mr. Tollemache; and
you had better, therefore, put some provisions and a bottle of
brandy into your holsters."

At nine in the evening they rode off. The rain had ceased; the
moon was shining through the clouds.

"It will be down by twelve o'clock," Tollemache said. "I should
think, most likely, they will wait for that. They will think that
we shall not be able to take aim at them, in the darkness; and that
they will manage to get to the foot of the hill, without loss."

When they reached the platform in front of the pagoda, their
syces took their horses. Meinik had begged Stanley to let him take
his groom's place on this occasion and, laying aside the dress he
ordinarily wore, assumed the light attire of an Indian syce, and
had run behind the horses with the others. He had a strong desire
to see the fighting, but his principal motive in asking to be
allowed to accompany Stanley was that, although greatly impressed
with what he had seen of the drill and discipline of the white and
native regiments, he could not shake off his faith in the
Invulnerables; and had a conviction that the pagoda would be
captured, and therefore wished to be at hand, to bring up Stanley's
horse at the critical moment, and to aid him to escape from the
assailants.

Fires were burning, as usual, at several points on the terrace.
Two companies were under arms, and were standing well back from the
edge of the platform, so as to be out of sight of those in the
forest. The rest of the men were sitting round the fires. Their
muskets were piled in lines hard by.

When he alighted, the general proceeded to the battery.

"Have you everything in readiness, Major?" he asked the officer
in command.

"Yes, sir. The guns are all loaded with grape and, as it will be
very dark when the moon has set, I have pegged a white tape along,
just under each gun; so that they can be trained upon the causeway,
however dark it may be."

"That is a very good idea," the general said. "There is nothing
more difficult than laying guns accurately in the dark."

The colonel now arrived, a soldier having brought the news to
him, as soon as the general reached the platform.

"I see that you are well prepared to give them a hot reception,
Colonel."

"I hope so, sir. I have a strong patrol out beyond the causeway.
My orders are that they are to resist strongly, for a minute or
two, so as to give us time to have the whole of our force in
readiness here. Then they are to retreat at the double to the foot
of the hill; and then to open fire again, so that we may know that
they are out of the way, and that we can begin when we like. We
have been making some port fires this afternoon, and I have a dozen
men halfway down the hill and, directly the outposts are safely
across, they are to light the port fires, which will enable us to
take aim. These white tapes will be guide enough for the artillery;
but my men would make very poor shooting, if they could not make
out the muzzles of their guns. Anyhow, I don't think that it is
likely that the enemy will get across the causeway, however
numerous they may be."

"I don't think they will, Colonel. Certainly, so far, they have
shown themselves contemptible in attack; and have never made a
successful stand, even for a minute, when we once entered their
stockades, though they defend them pluckily enough until we have
once got a footing inside.

"Still, these fellows ought to fight well tonight for, if they
are beaten, it will be a death blow to their reputation among their
countrymen. Besides, many of them do believe in the power they
claim and, as we have found before now, in India, fanatics are
always formidable."

After taking a look round with the colonel, the general
accompanied him to his quarters; while the two aides-de-camp
remained on the terrace, chatting with the officers; and then,
after a time, went with some of them to the mess tent, where they
sat smoking and talking until midnight, when all went out.

The troops were formed up under arms, and all listened
impatiently for something that would show that the long-delayed
assault would take place that night. At half-past twelve there was
the sound of a shot, which sent an electrical thrill through the
troops. It was followed almost immediately by others. The troops
were at once marched forward to the edge of the platform. A babel
of wild shouts went up at the sound of the first shots, followed by
a burst of firing.

The two aides-de-camp had taken their places close to the
general, who was standing in the gap between the infantry and the
guns; and was looking intently, through his night glasses, at the
forest.

"They are in a dense mass," he said. "I cannot see whether they
are in any regular order, but they are certainly packed a great
deal closer than I have ever before seen them. Those in front have
got lanterns. They are coming along fast."

As yet the enemy were half a mile away, but the lanterns and the
flash of their guns showed their exact position, while the fire of
the outposts was kept up steadily. As the latter fell back along
the causeway, the interval between the two forces decreased; and
then the fire of the outposts ceased as, in accordance with their
orders, they broke into the double.

The uproar of the advancing crowd was prodigious. Every man was
yelling, at the top of his voice, imprecations upon the defenders
of the pagoda; who were standing in absolute silence, waiting
eagerly for the word of command. Suddenly the firing broke out
again at the foot of the hill and, immediately, a bright light shot
up from its face.

The edge of the dense mass of Burmese was now but some fifty
yards from the wall that surrounded the foot of the hill, and the
causeway behind was occupied by a solid mass of men. Then came the
sharp order to the artillerymen, and gun after gun poured its
charge of grape into the crowd while, at the same moment, the
infantry began to fire, by companies, in steady volleys. For an
instant the din of the assailants was silenced, then their shouts
rose again and, after a moment's hesitation, they continued their
advance.

But not for long. None but the most disciplined soldiers could
have advanced under that storm of grape and bullets and, in ten
minutes, they fled in wild confusion, leaving the causeway thickly
covered with the dead. Again and again the British cheers rose,
loud and triumphant; then the infantry were told to fall out, but
the guns continued their fire, until the fugitives were well in the
forest.

Between the shots the general listened attentively, and examined
the country towards the town through his glasses.

"Everything is quiet," he said. "It is probable that, if those
fellows had carried the hill, they would have made a signal, and
there might have been a general attack. As it is, the affair is
over for the night; and the Invulnerables will have some difficulty
in accounting for their failure, and loss.

"Now, gentlemen, we may as well have up the horses, and ride
back. We hardly expected to get away as soon as this."

"Well, Meinik, what do you think of your Invulnerables, now?"
Stanley said, as the Burman, after picketing his horse, came up to
his room to see if he wanted anything, before lying down on his bed
in the passage.

"I don't know," the Burman replied, gravely. "They may be holy
men; and proof, perhaps, against native weapons; but they are no
good against your cannon and muskets. I understand, now, how it is
that you beat us so easily. Your men all stood quiet, and in order;
one only heard the voices of the officers, and the crash as they
fired together.

"Then, your guns are terrible. I have seen ours firing but,
though our pieces are smaller than yours, your men fire five shots
to our one. I stood by while they were loading. It was wonderful.
Nobody talked, and nobody gave orders. Each man knew what he had to
do--one did something and, directly, another did something and,
almost before the smoke of the last shot was out of the gun, it was
ready to be fired again.

"It is clear to me that we have not learnt how to fight, and
that your way of having only a few men, well taught and knowing
exactly what they have to do, is better than ours of having great
numbers, and letting everyone fight as he pleases. It is bad, every
way. The brave men get to the front, and are killed; and then the
others run away.

"You were right. We shall never turn you out of Rangoon, till
Bandoola comes. He has all our best troops with him, and he has
never been beaten. All the troops know him, and will fight for him
as they will not fight for these princes--who know nothing of war,
and are chosen only because they are the king's brothers. When he
comes, you will see."

"No doubt we shall, Meinik; and you will see that, although they
may make a better fight of it than they have done tonight, it will
be just the same, in the end."

For the next two months the time passed slowly. No attacks were
made by the enemy, after the defeat of the assault upon the pagoda.
Peasants and deserters who came in reported that there was profound
depression among the Burmese troops. Great numbers had left the
colours, and there was no talk of another attack.

The troops being, therefore, relieved of much of their arduous
night duty, the English took the offensive. The stockades on the
Dalla river, and those upon the Panlang branch--the principal
passage into the main stream of the Irrawaddy--were attacked and
carried, the enemy suffering heavily, and many pieces of artillery
being captured.

The rains continued almost unceasingly, and the troops suffered
terribly in health. Scarce three thousand remained fit for duty,
and the greater portion of these were so emaciated and exhausted,
by the effects of the climate, that they were altogether unfit for
active operations.

Three weeks after the fight at the pagoda a vessel came up the
river, with a letter from the officer in command of the troops
assembled to bar the advance of Bandoola against Chittagong, saying
that the Burmese army had mysteriously disappeared. It had gone off
at night, so quietly and silently that our outposts, which were but
a short distance from it, heard no sign or movement, whatever. The
Burmese had taken with them their sick, tents, and stores; and
nothing but a large quantity of grain had been found in their
deserted stockades.

The news was received with satisfaction by the troops. There was
little doubt that the court of Ava--finding that their generals had
all failed in making the slightest impression upon our lines, and
had lost vast numbers of men--had at last turned to the leader who
had conquered province after province for it, and had sent him
orders to march, with his whole army, to bring the struggle to a
close. The soldiers rejoiced at the thought that they were at last
to meet a real Burmese army. Hitherto they had generally stood on
the defensive, and had to fight the climate rather than the foe;
and it seemed to them that the campaign was likely to be
interminable.

The march of the Burmese from Ramoo to Sembeughewn, the nearest
point of the river to the former town, must have been a terrible
one. The distance was over two hundred miles, the rains were
ceaseless, and the country covered with jungles and marshes, and
intersected by rivers. No other army could have accomplished such a
feat. The Burmans, however, accustomed to the unhealthy climate,
lightly clad, and carrying no weight save their arms and sixteen
days' supply of rice, passed rapidly over it.

Every man was accustomed to the use of an axe and to the
formation of rafts and, in an incredibly short time, rivers were
crossed, deep swamps traversed on roads made by closely-packed
faggots and, but a few days after hearing that Bandoola had
started, the general learned, from peasants, that the news had come
down that he and a portion of his army had arrived at
Sembeughewn.

Almost at the same time, other parties who travelled down along
the coast reached Donabew, a town on the Irrawaddy, some forty
miles in direct line from Rangoon. This had been named as the
rendezvous of the new army, and to this a considerable proportion
of Bandoola's force made their way direct from Ramoo; it being the
custom of the Burmese to move, when on a march through a country
where no opposition was to be looked for, in separate detachments,
each under its own leader, choosing its own way, and making for a
general rendezvous. Travelling in this manner, they performed the
journey far more rapidly than they could have done moving in one
body, and could better find shelter and food.

Other forces from Prome, Tannoo, and other quarters were known
to be marching towards Donabew. It was soon reported that the
dejected forces around Rangoon had gained courage and confidence,
at the news that Bandoola and his army were coming to their aid,
and that the deserters were returning in large numbers from their
villages. The British sick were sent away in the shipping to Mergy
and Tavoy, two coast towns of which we had taken possession, and
both of which were healthily situated.

The change had a marvellous effect, and men who would have
speedily succumbed to the poisonous exhalations of the swamps round
Rangoon rapidly regained their strength, in their new quarters.

Chapter 9: Victories.

In the meantime, negotiations had been going on with Siam,
between which state and Burma there was the bitterest enmity. It
had been thought that Siam would have willingly grasped the
opportunity to revenge itself for the many losses of territory that
it had suffered at the hands of Burma. This there was no doubt that
it would have been glad to do, but our occupation of several points
on the coast of Tenasserim roused the fears of Siam, and inclined
it to the belief that we might prove an even more dangerous
neighbour than Burma.

The court of Ava had, on its part, also sent urgent messages to
the King of Siam--when misfortunes had, to some extent, lowered its
pride--calling upon him to make common cause with Burma, and to
join it in repelling an enemy who would doubtless be as dangerous
to him as to Burma.

Siam, however, determined to steer a middle course. An army was
assembled, in readiness for any contingency; but Siam believed as
little as Burma, itself, that the British could possibly be
victorious over that power; and feared its vengeance, if she were
to ally herself with us while, upon the other hand, Siam had a long
sea coast, and feared the injury our fleet might inflict upon it,
were it to join Burma. The king, therefore, gave both powers an
assurance of his friendship; and marched his army down to the
frontier of the province of Martaban, which bordered on the great
Salween river on the Tenasserim coast, and lay some two hundred
miles from Rangoon, across the gulf of Martaban.

The intentions of the king being so doubtful, the advance of the
Siamese army in this direction could not be regarded with
indifference by the British. The town of Martaban was the centre of
the Burmese military power in Tenasserim, and the advance towards
it of the Siamese army would place it in direct communication with
that of Burma. On the 13th of October, therefore, a force,
consisting of a wing of the 41st Regiment and the 3rd Madras
Infantry, sailed from Rangoon against the town. The expedition was
delayed by light winds and, when it arrived at the mouth of the
river, found that every preparation had been made for an obstinate
defence. They learned, from a peasant, that strong works had been
erected on every eminence round the town; and that the road from
the coast had been cut, and stockaded.

Approach by this route was impossible, for there were twenty
miles of country to be traversed; and much of this was under water
from the inundations. It was, therefore, determined to go up the
river, although this was so shallow and full of shoals that the
navigation was extremely difficult. At last, after great
labour--incurred by the ships constantly getting ashore--they
succeeded in making their way up to Martaban, and anchored off the
town.

A heavy cannonade was carried on, for some time, between the
ships and the enemy's works. Then the troops were embarked in
boats, which rowed for the shore under a very heavy fire from the
enemy. As soon as they landed, and advanced to attack the
stockades, the Burmese lost heart and hastily retreated; while the
inhabitants received the troops as they entered with the warmest
welcome--for they were, for the most part, natives of Pegu, and
still entertained a deep hatred for the Burmese, because of the
long oppression that they had suffered at their hands.

Throughout the rest of Tenasserim, however; and indeed,
throughout the whole country traversed by the troops later on, the
inhabitants appeared to have entirely forgotten their ancient
nationality, and the conquest of their country by the Burmans; and
to have become completely absorbed by them. Throughout the whole
time that we occupied Martaban, the people gave no trouble whatever
and, indeed, offered to raise a force for service with us, if we
wished it.

At the end of October the rain ceased--to the intense delight of
the troops--and the cold season set in. November was, however, an
exceptionally deadly month--the occasional days of fine weather
drawing up the exhalations from the swamps--and the number of
deaths was greater than they had been at any previous time. There
was, too, no prospect of a forward movement, at present. The
expedition had come unprovided with boats or other means of
transport, making sure that an abundant supply would be obtained,
in a country where the whole trade was carried on by the rivers.
The promptness with which the native authorities had, on the first
appearance of the fleet, sent every boat away, had disappointed
this anticipation and, although the opening of some of the other
rivers had enabled the local fishermen to bring their boats to
Rangoon, where fish were eagerly purchased, the British troops were
still, up to the end of November, without the means of sending a
hundred men up the river, save in the boats of the fleet.

The Indian authorities--believing that, when the Burmese found
themselves impotent to turn us out of Rangoon, the court of Ava
would be glad to negotiate--had not, until the autumn was drawing
to a close, thought of making any preparations to supply the army
with water carriage. They now, however, began to bestir themselves.
Five hundred boatmen were sent from Chittagong, bringing many boats
down with them, and building others at Rangoon. Transports with
draft cattle sailed from Bengal, and a considerable reinforcement
of troops was on its way to join, at the end of December--for all
the natives agreed that no movement could be made, by land, until
the end of January.

In November, even Bandoola's army was obliged to make its
approach by water. Early in that month it was learned that the
Burmese general had given orders for the advance, and preparations
were at once begun to meet what none doubted would be a very
serious attack. The reinforcements had not yet arrived, and the
greatly diminished force was far too small for the length of the
line that had to be defended. Redoubts were therefore thrown up,
pagodas and other buildings were fortified; and two complete lines
of works constructed, from the great pagoda to the city, one facing
east and the other west.

The post at Kemmendine was strengthened, and was supported by H.
M. sloop Sophie, a company's cruiser, and a strong division of
gunboats. The retention of this post was of great importance, as it
barred the river approach to Rangoon, and prevented the enemy
sending down a huge fleet of war galleys and fire rafts to attack
the town, and set fire to the merchant shipping lying off it.

In the last week of November, smoke was seen to rise from many
points in the forest. Many fugitives came in from their villages,
and reported that Bandoola's army were all on their way down the
river; and by the end of the month some sixty thousand men, with a
large train of artillery and a body of cavalry, were assembled
round our position. Of this force, thirty thousand were armed with
muskets. They had with them, too, a great number of jingals. These
little guns carried ball of from six to twelve ounces, and were
mounted on a light carriage, which two men could wheel with ease.
The cannon were carried to the scene of action on elephants. The
cavalry were seven hundred strong, drawn from the borders of
Manipur.

The rest of the army were armed with swords and spears, and
carried implements for stockading and entrenching. The force was
accompanied by a number of astrologers; and by the
Invulnerables--who had, doubtless, satisfactorily explained their
failure to capture the pagoda.

A great semicircle of light smoke, rising from the trees, showed
that the position taken up by Bandoola extended from the river
above Kemmendine to the neighbourhood of Rangoon. On the night of
the 31st, the troops at the pagoda heard a loud and continuous stir
in the forest. It gradually approached and, by morning, great
masses of troops had gathered at the edge of the jungle, within
musket shot of the post. The garrison there were drawn up in
readiness to repel a sudden rush but, just as the sun rose, a din
made by thousands of men engaged in cutting down the trees began,
and it was evident that the Burmese were going to adopt their usual
plan of entrenching themselves behind stockades.

During the time that had elapsed between the repulse of the
Invulnerables and the arrival of Bandoola's army, Stanley's work
was light, and the life dull and monotonous. An hour was spent,
every morning, in examining the fugitives who had, by the retreat
of the Burmese, been enabled to make their way back to the town;
and of women who had escaped from the vigilance of the Burmese
police, and had come in from the villages where they had been held
as hostages for their husbands. Once or twice a week, he went off
with the general to the hospital ship, to inquire into the state of
the sick and to pay a visit to the long line of cots along the main
and lower deck. Almost every day he rode, in spite of the weather,
to one or other of the regimental camps; and soon came to know most
of the officers of the force. His previous experience on the rivers
had done much to acclimatise him, and his health continued
good.

On the evening of the 30th he had, at the general's order,
ridden up to the pagoda. It was considered likely that the attack
would be delivered there in the first place and, at three o'clock
in the morning, when it became evident that a large body of men
were approaching through the forest, he galloped back to Rangoon
with the news and, at five, rode out again with Sir A.
Campbell.

Among the garrison there was much disappointment when the sound
of wood chopping announced that the Burmese did not intend to
attack; but the general, who had been watching the edge of the
jungle through his glasses, lowered them and put them into their
case with an expression of satisfaction.

"I don't want them to attack, Colonel," he said. "If they do,
and we beat them off, we are no nearer the end than before. That
sort of thing might be carried on for months; as long, in fact, as
there remains a man to bring up. What we want is to inflict such a
heavy blow upon them, that even the court at Ava may become
convinced that they cannot hope to drive us out of Rangoon; in
which case they may consent to negotiate, and we may bring the war
to an end.

"Heaven knows that we have suffered enough loss, at present; and
I don't want to have to undertake such a difficult operation as an
advance against Ava. I am glad to see that they have begun to
construct stockades. I do not intend to interfere until they have
completely finished their work, and gained sufficient confidence to
make a general attack on us. Then we shall be able to give them a
heavy lesson.

"Ah, there they are, at work!"

As he spoke, a roar of musketry and artillery broke out suddenly
from Kemmendine, and all eyes were turned in that direction. The
spot was two miles distant, but the forest shut out, alike, the
view of the river and of the works held by us. The exact position,
however, was indicated by the masts of the two war vessels, rising
above the trees.

Soon great wreaths of heavy white smoke rose above the forest,
in and around Kemmendine, shutting out all view. The fire continued
without abatement, and it was evident that the attack was a hot and
determined one. Confident as all felt that the little fort would be
able to defend itself successfully, the great smoke clouds were
watched with some feeling of anxiety; for the garrison was, after
all, but a handful. In momentary intervals of the firing, the yells
and shouts of the natives could be distinctly heard and, once or
twice, after a heavy broadside from the ships of war, the cheers of
the British sailors could be plainly recognized.

After two hours' fighting the din gradually ceased. The clouds
of smoke rolled away, and the masts of the ships became visible,
and the garrison of the pagoda raised three hearty cheers, to tell
the defenders that their successful defence had been watched and
welcomed.

Presently some heavy columns of the enemy issued from the
forest, on the other side of the river; and marched across the
plain to Dalla, which faced Rangoon. They moved with great
regularity and order, led by their chiefs on horseback, their
gilded umbrellas glittering in the rays of the sun. On reaching the
bank of the river opposite Rangoon, they began entrenching
themselves and throwing up stockades and batteries; with the
evident intention of opening fire on the shipping. Soon afterwards
large bodies of men issued from the forest facing the pagoda and,
marching along a slight ridge, that extended from that point to the
creek below Rangoon, took up their position there, and began
entrenching themselves all along the line. Thus the British
position was now completely surrounded; there was, however, no
doubt that the main body of the enemy was still facing the
pagoda.

"We must see what they are doing," the general said. "This is
too important a point for us to allow them to erect a strongly
fortified position, close at hand."

Accordingly, Tollemache was sent down with an order to the 18th
Madras Infantry--supported by a detachment of the 13th Regiment,
under Major Sale--to advance against the enemy in the jungle. The
movements of this force were eagerly watched from the terrace of
the pagoda. At a rapid pace they crossed the intervening ground,
and a rattle of musketry broke out from the jungle as they
approached. The British made no response; but charged, with a
cheer, and were soon lost to sight in the trees. Their regular
volleys could be heard, at short intervals, above the scattered
rattle of the Burmese musketeers; and their cheers frequently rose,
loud and triumphant. In half an hour the red line emerged again
from the jungle, having destroyed the stockades the Burmese had
erected; captured several guns, a quantity of muskets, and
entrenching tools thrown away by the Burmese; and killed a large
number of the enemy.

During the day the enemy made repeated efforts to send fire
rafts down the river from above Kemmendine. These rafts were
constructed of bamboos, upon which were placed great numbers of
earthenware pots, filled with petroleum. These rafts were skilfully
constructed, and made in sections so that, when they drifted
against an anchor chain, they would divide--those on each side
swinging round, so as to envelop the ship on both sides with
fire.

The sailors from the sloops and gunboats rowed up to meet the
rafts and, although a heavy fire was kept up by the enemy, from the
jungles lining the banks, they succeeded in towing most of them
safely to shore; while the rest grounded on a projecting spit, off
Kemmendine.

So diligently did the Burmese work at all points throughout the
day that, by the afternoon, their whole line of circumvallation was
covered with earthworks; behind which they lay, entirely hidden
from sight.

"If they could fight as well as they dig, and build stockades,"
Sir A. Campbell remarked, "they would be one of the most formidable
enemies in the world. No European army ever accomplished the work
of entrenching themselves so speedily as they have done. Their
arrangements have been admirable. Everything has been done without
confusion, and each body has taken up the position allotted to it;
as is evident by the fact that there is no gap in their lines.

"As to Bandoola's tactics, I cannot say so much for them. In the
first place, he has divided his force into two parts, separated by
a river, and incapable of helping each other. In the next place,
great as are his numbers, his lines are far too extended.

"Well, we will let them go on for a time; and then show them the
mistake that they have committed."

Major Sale's reports of the entrenchments were that they
consisted of a long line of holes, each capable of containing two
men. The earth was dug out on one side so as to form a sort of
cave. In this was a bed of straw or brushwood, on which one man
could sleep, while the other watched. Each hole contained a
sufficient supply of rice, water, and even fuel for its inmates.
One line of these holes had been completed, and another was being
dug a short distance in advance.

The Burmese do not relieve their men in the trenches. Those who
occupy the line first made remain there. Fresh men dig and occupy
the next line, and so the advance is continued, until close to the
work to be attacked. The system has the great advantage that a
shell falling into one of these holes only kills its two occupants;
instead of destroying many, as it might do if it fell in a
continuous trench.

In the afternoon the general returned to Rangoon, leaving
Stanley at the pagoda, with orders to ride down should there be any
change of importance. In the evening a considerable force of
Burmese issued from the jungle, and prepared to entrench themselves
near the northeast angle of the pagoda hill. Major Piper therefore
took two companies of the 38th and, descending the hill, drove the
Burmese, in confusion, back to the jungle.

In the morning it was found that the enemy had entrenched
themselves upon some high and open ground, within musket shot of
the north gate of the pagoda. It was separated from the gate by a
large tank; but as their jingals and musketry were able, from the
point they occupied, to sweep the plateau and the huts occupied by
the troops, a party of the 38th and the 28th Madras Infantry went
out, and drove them off. As soon, however, as our troops fell back
the Burmese reoccupied the position and, for the next few days, a
constant skirmishing went on at this point; while an artillery fire
was maintained, by the assailants and defenders, along the whole
line down to Rangoon, and the enemy's batteries at Dalla kept up an
incessant fire on the shipping. Kemmendine was attacked time after
time, and many attempts made to launch fire rafts down the
river.

The work was very harassing for the troops. Night and day they
were expecting an attack in force; and there was a general feeling
of delight when, on the evening of the 4th, orders were issued for
a general movement against the enemy.

The latter had, by this time, brought the greater portion of
their guns up from the jungle, and placed them in their
entrenchments; and it was therefore in the power of the British to
strike a heavy blow. A division of the flotilla of gunboats was
ordered up the creek by the town. These opened a heavy fire upon
the enemy's flank, thus attracting their attention to that point
and, after the cannonade had continued for some little time, the
two columns of attack--the one eight hundred strong, under Major
Sale; the other five hundred, under Major Walker of the Madras
army--issued out. The latter was to attack the enemy facing the
town, the former to force his way through the centre of their
position. He had with him a troop of horse, that had landed only
the previous day.

Major Walker's force was the first to encounter the enemy. Their
resistance was, for a time, obstinate. Major Walker and several
other officers fell, in the attack on the first line of
entrenchments; but the soldiers carried it at the point of the
bayonet and, as the enemy broke and retreated, followed them so
hotly that the works in the rear fell into their hands with but
slight opposition.

Major Sale's column now began its attack on the enemy's centre.
Here the resistance was more feeble and, bursting through the
enemy's lines, the British drove them before them in headlong
flight. Then, turning, they swept along the line of entrenchments;
carrying all before them until they effected a junction with the
other column, which was advancing to meet them. They then drove the
Burmese from every part of their works into the jungle, leaving the
ground behind them covered with dead and wounded.

Except at the point first attacked by Major Walker, the
resistance of the Burmese was very feeble, and the British loss
inconsiderable; and a large number of guns, entrenching tools, and
muskets fell into the hands of the victors. The next day Bandoola
rallied the troops that had been driven from the plain, and
gathered the greatest part of his force in the forest round the
pagoda, where they continued to push forward their works with
unabated energy.

The British had a day of rest given them and, on the 7th,
prepared to attack the enemy at this point. Four columns of attack
were formed, composed of detachments drawn from all the corps of
the army. In the morning a heavy cannonade was opened upon the
jungle; the artillery being assisted by several heavy guns which
had, with great labour, been brought up by the sailors from the
ships to the pagoda. The enemy returned it with a steady fire of
light artillery, jingals, and musketry.

While the firing was still going on, the four columns were
already in motion. One had entered the jungle on the enemy's left,
and another on the right. One of the central columns advanced from
the foot of the pagoda hill, while the 38th Regiment descended the
stairs from the north gate and advanced, one wing on each side of
the tank, against the enemy's entrenchments on the high ground. As
the four columns approached the enemy, our artillery fire
ceased.

The Burmese appeared, for a moment, bewildered at the sight of
their foes advancing against them from so many directions, but they
soon opened a very heavy fire upon the assailants; and kept it up
with undiminished steadiness until our troops, advancing at the
charge, dashed into their entrenchments and drove them headlong
before them into the thick forest behind--where pursuit, which
would at any time have been difficult, was now impossible; the
troops, exhausted by their seven days' and nights' watching, being
wholly incapable of following their active and lightly-armed
enemies.

There now remained but the force at Dalla to cope with and, in
the evening, a force composed of the 89th and 43rd Madras Infantry,
under Colonel Parlby, embarked in boats. The night was dark, and
the troops crossed unobserved. The alarm was not given until the
British actually entered the entrenchments, and opened fire upon
the enemy; who were sitting, unsuspicious of danger, round their
fires. Scarcely any opposition was encountered, and the whole of
the works, with the guns and the stores, were soon in our hands;
while the enemy were flying towards the forest.

In the actions during these three days, the Burmese lost some
5000 men, 240 pieces of artillery of every kind, and a great number
of muskets and vast supplies of ammunition; while the British had
but 50 killed and 300 wounded. Great numbers of Bandoola's men
never rejoined the army, and the whole force was dispersed through
the country.

Bandoola himself was retiring towards Donabew, with but a
remnant of his army, when he met considerable reinforcements on
their way to join him. During his operations he had left a reserve
corps at the village of Kokein, four miles from the pagoda; and
these had been busily entrenching the position, which commanded the
road leading from Rangoon to Donabew. The ground was elevated and,
on his arrival there, Bandoola set his troops--now some 25,000 in
number--to aid in the work. In a marvellously short time the
heights were completely stockaded with trunks of trees; and with a
broad, deep ditch in front. Beyond this were lines of felled trees,
their heads pointing outwards and each branch sharpened--forming a
very formidable abattis--and, believing this to be impregnable,
Bandoola awaited the attack of the British.

As soon as his army had been dispersed, great numbers of
deserters, and of the inhabitants of the villages, poured into
Rangoon. With the deserters were mingled a good many of the troops
sent in by Bandoola, himself, with instructions to fire the town.
In order to lull the suspicions of the British, he caused a report
to be spread that an imperial commissioner from the court of Ava
would arrive, in the course of a few days, to treat for terms of
peace.

The general, however, determined to attack Bandoola before the
commissioner could arrive; as it was evident that better terms
could be obtained, after the total dispersion of the Burmese, than
if their famous general remained, with 25,000 men, in a formidable
position close at hand. He was uneasy at the presence of so large a
number of natives in the town, and the precautions that had been
taken against fire, some time before, were now redoubled. Were one
to break out, not only might the whole of the stores collected for
the advance of the army be destroyed but, if Bandoola had his force
gathered in readiness at the edge of the jungle, he might take
advantage of the confusion that would be caused by the fire, and
rush forward to the attack of the town.

Numbers of troops, and of sailors from the fleet, patrolled the
streets in every direction at night but, in spite of their efforts,
a week after the retreat of Bandoola the dreaded cry of fire was
raised. At a dozen points, on the windward side of the town, fires
had been lighted by incendiaries and, as there was a brisk wind
blowing, the danger was extreme. The drums beat to arms along the
whole of the British lines. Orders had already been issued as to
what was to be done in such an emergency and, while a portion of
the troops lined the trenches, the rest were marched at once to the
town, and formed up between it and the jungle, to repel any attack
that might be made there; leaving the troops quartered in the town,
and the sailors of the fleet to battle with the flames.

For a time it seemed as if the whole place would be swept away
but, by levelling lines of huts, and beating out the flames at the
barrier so formed, their progress was at length checked; but not
until more than half the town had been destroyed. Fortunately this
was the half farthest from the river and--with the exception of the
commissariat stores for the supply of the troops of the Madras
Presidency--the buildings containing the food, ammunition, and
necessaries for the army escaped unharmed.

What had happened once might, however, happen again, in spite of
all precautions. The general therefore determined to attack
Bandoola at once as, were his force once scattered, the motive for
these incendiary fires would cease to operate.

The difficulties were formidable. One or two light field pieces
could, at the most, be taken with the column. They would have to
march by a narrow and winding footpath, through a thick forest,
exposed at any moment to a desperate attack by the enemy. Moreover,
it would be necessary to leave a strong force for the defence of
Rangoon, as Bandoola would be sure to learn, from his spies, of the
intended movement and, having with him men intimately acquainted
with every forest track, could make a rush down upon the town
during the absence of so many of its defenders.

The general felt it imperative, however, to attack without delay
and, early on the morning of the 15th, he moved out with a force of
1500 men against Kokein. They marched without molestation through
the forest and, on reaching its confines, could see the truly
formidable nature of the works that they were to attack. The moment
they issued from the forest, a dropping fire was opened upon them
by parties of the enemy, in flank and rear; and no time was lost in
preparing for the assault.

The 13th Light Infantry and the 18th Madras, with 60 cavalry,
under Brigadier General Cotton, were ordered to move round the
stockade and assault it on the left rear; while the rest of the
troops, some 800 strong, with 100 cavalry under the general
himself, were to attack in front. The enemy's works consisted of a
central entrenchment, connected with two large entrenched stockades
on its flank, but somewhat advanced in front of it.

As soon as the force under General Cotton had gained its
position in the rear of the enemy, a gun was fired, and the whole
force moved forward to the assault.. The Burmans regarded the
attack by so insignificant a force upon their works with such
contempt that they did not, for some time, fire a shot; but
continued chanting a war song, swaying themselves to its cadence,
stamping and beating time with their hands on their breasts.

This delay proved fatal to them. When they opened fire, their
assailants were already close to the ditch and, leaping down into
this, were sheltered from the fire of the defenders. Scaling
ladders were speedily placed and the troops, running up them,
leaped down into the entrenchment. Astounded at this sudden entry
into the works they had deemed impregnable, the Burmese hesitated;
and the assailants, being joined by their comrades from behind,
rushed impetuously upon the enemy.

The column in the rear had greater difficulty--for they had
several strong stockades to carry before they reached the central
work--and lost four officers and eight men killed, and forty-nine
officers and men wounded, in the 13th Regiment alone. Fifteen
minutes after the first shot was fired, the whole of the works were
in our possession and the Burmese, who gathered in a confused mass,
had been decimated by our volleys. They were now in full flight,
many being cut down by the cavalry before they reached the shelter
of the woods. The British troops marched back to Rangoon; while the
Burmese retreated to Donabew, leaving strong posts on the two
rivers leading in that direction.

Their retirement left it free to the country people to return to
Rangoon, and very large numbers came in, including very many of the
villagers who had been forced to fight against us. All had alike
suffered from famine and hardship. Even the women had been
compelled to labour in the work of stockading, and the sufferings
of all had been terrible. The work of rebuilding the town began at
once, and the wooden huts sprang up with great rapidity; markets
were opened and, in a short time, supplies of fish, fruit, game,
and vegetables poured in; sufficient not only for the native
population, but to effect a most welcome change in the diet of the
troops.

As most of the natives were accustomed to the construction and
management of boats, the work of preparing the flotilla by which
the troops were to proceed up the rivers went on rapidly; and
numbers of men were hired as servants and drivers for the
commissariat--with which the force was very insufficiently
supplied, as the natives of India of that class for the most part
refused, on account of their caste prejudices, to engage themselves
for service across the sea. Reinforcements arrived; and Rangoon,
which but six weeks before presented a miserable and deserted
appearance was, towards the beginning of January, a cheerful and
bustling town.

Preparations were being made in other quarters to assume the
offensive. Some 3000 men were driving the Burmese out of Assam; and
a force 7000 strong was marching from Sylhet, to expel them from
Cachar and capture Manipur; while 11,000 men were assembled at
Chittagong, and were advancing into Aracan with the intention of
driving the Burmese from that province--and they meant, if
possible, to cross the mountains and effect a junction with Sir
Archibald Campbell's force. The first part of the operations were
conducted with complete success, and Aracan wrested from Burma; but
it was found impossible to perform the terrible journey across
mountain and swamp, or to afford any aid to the main
expedition.

Chapter 10: The Advance.

But while the preparations for the advance were being made, the
general's aides-de-camp had been kept at work from morning until
night. There were constant communications between the military and
naval authorities, for the expedition was to be a mixed one.
Transports were daily arriving with troops and stores; innumerable
matters connected with the organization, both of the land and water
transport, required to be arranged; and the general himself was
indefatigable in superintending every detail of the work. It had
been settled that the advance could not take place until the second
week in February, as the roads would be impassable until that time,
and the 11th was fixed for the commencement of operations.

Upon the day after his arrival at Rangoon, Stanley had written a
letter to his uncle; giving him a brief account of his adventures,
and stating that he had been appointed one of the general's
aides-de-camp. He said that he should, of course, be guided by his
uncle's wishes; but that now that he had entered on the campaign as
an officer, he should certainly like to remain till the end, when
he would at once resign his commission and rejoin him.

He sent this to his uncle's agent at Calcutta, but received no
answer until the end of December. After expressing his delight at
hearing that Stanley had not, as he had supposed, been killed at
Ramoo, but was now safe and well in the British camp, he went
on:

"I only received your letter this morning, for I have been
moving about from point to point and, owing to the falling off of
trade, had no occasion to go to Calcutta, until now; and was,
indeed, astounded at finding your letter lying for me here, as they
had not forwarded it, having no idea where I was, and knowing that
the chance of any letter sent on reaching me was extremely
small.

"By all means, lad, stop where you are. Trade is improving again
for, now that Bandoola's army has marched away from Ramoo, the
scare among the natives has pretty well subsided. Still, I can
manage very well without you, and it will certainly be a great
advantage to you to serve for a year in the army; and to have been
one of Campbell's aides-de-camp will be a feather in your cap, and
will give you a good position at all the military stations.

"I am very glad, now, that I abstained from writing to your
mother after the battle at Ramoo. I thought it over and over, and
concluded that it was just as well to leave the matter alone for a
time; not that I had the slightest idea, or even a hope, that you
were alive, but because I thought that the cessation of letters
from you would, to some extent, prepare her mind for the blow, when
it came. It would be very improbable that she would see the
gazette, with the list of killed and wounded at Ramoo and, even if
she did so, she would not associate the death of Ensign Brooke in
any way with you. When we have been trading up country, there have
been, once or twice, no means of sending off a letter for a couple
of months and, therefore, she could not have begun to feel
seriously anxious about you before she received your letter from
Rangoon.

"Everyone says that you will not be able to advance until
February; so that, no doubt, this letter will reach you long before
you leave. I hear the losses have been very heavy, from fever; but
I am not anxious about you on that score, for I think that you are
thoroughly acclimatised. I am trying to get a contract for the
supply of a couple of thousand bullocks, for the use of the army;
and as I know all the country so well, from Chittagong to Sylhet,
and can buy below Indian prices, I think that I shall not only get
the contract, but make a very good thing of it, and it may lead to
other matters."

After this, Stanley was hardly surprised when, in the last week
of January, his uncle walked into his quarters. After the first
pleasure of meeting was over, Stanley said:

"I suppose you have got the contract, uncle?"

"I have, lad. I have come down from Ramgur with six dhows,
packed full. I have brought a thousand head down and, directly I
land them, am going back for the remainder; which will be ready for
me by the time I get there.

"I have got hold of an uncommonly good fellow. He was
established as a small trader at Chittagong. His business was
ruined there, and he was glad to accept my offer of a berth; and he
has turned out a very energetic and pushing fellow. He will come
down with the next consignment.

"I myself am going to work my way up along the edge of the
Tipperah forest; and shall pick up another thousand head, by the
time that I get to the Goomtee, and shall send them by water up to
Sylhet; and then go up by land, picking up more on the way. I have
a contract for five thousand to be sent in, a thousand a month, for
the force that is to move against Manipur; while Johnson is to send
another two thousand down here. So you see, for the present the
store business can wait. It is a good line that I have got into. I
shall make a big profit out of it, and have hopes that it will be,
to some extent, permanent; for I can get the cattle so cheap in the
interior, on the rivers we know, that I can ship them to Calcutta
at lower terms than they can buy them in India; and I was as much
as told that, if I carried out my present contracts satisfactorily,
I should get the supply of the troops there. Of course, that would
not be a very great thing of itself but, as I could work it without
trouble in connection with my own business, it would make a
handsome addition to the profits."

"But how about money, uncle?"

"That is all right, lad. I had no difficulty, whatever, in
getting an advance at Calcutta, on the strength of my contract and
upon the guarantee of my agents; so that I am all right, in that
respect."

"I asked, uncle, because I can let you have eighteen hundred
pounds, if you want them."

Tom Pearson looked at him in astonishment.

"Why, what on earth have you been doing--robbing the treasury of
the King of Ava?"

"No, uncle. I had a bag of gems given me, by some Burmese
bandits. When I got down here, I took a few of them to a merchant.
He advanced fifteen hundred rupees on them, and sent them to
Burragee, the jeweller at Madras and, six weeks afterwards, he paid
me another three thousand five hundred. I sent up another batch
and, last week, I got an order from the jewellers for fifteen
hundred pounds; so that I have more than eighteen hundred in hand
now, and I don't think that I have sent more than a third of the
gems away."

"Well, that is a piece of luck, Stanley! Why on earth did the
brigands give you the gems?"

"Well, uncle, they are things that, from what they told me,
there is great difficulty and risk in trying to dispose of. They
are a royal monopoly, and nobody dare buy them or, if they do, will
give next to nothing for them; because of the risk of the
transaction, and because they know that the vendors are in a fix,
and must sell. Besides, there is a strong chance of their handing
over anyone who offers such things to the authorities. That was one
reason why they gave them to me. Then, too, they had made a good
haul of merchandise which was, to them, a great deal more valuable,
as there was no difficulty in disposing of it. Lastly, they had
taken a fancy to me, because I saved one of their comrade's
lives--the man who showed you up here."

"Well, lad, you shall tell me all about it, this evening. I must
be going down to the commissariat yard, to arrange the landing of
my beasts. I came straight to see you, directly I landed. We
dropped anchor here at daybreak."

"I will go with you, uncle. I will run in and see the chief,
first, and get leave off for the day. I have earned a holiday, for
I have been at work pretty well morning, noon, and night for the
last two months. You see, I have not only the duties of
aide-de-camp, but of interpreter; and have helped both the
quartermaster's department and the commissariat in making their
arrangements with the natives. I daresay I shall be able to help to
hurry your business on, quicker than you would be able to get it
done, alone."

The general at once granted Stanley leave, and he went with his
uncle down to the commissariat office, and introduced him to the
senior officer.

"We shall be glad to do all in our power to help you, Mr.
Pearson," the officer said. "We have been expecting your arrival
for the last week. Of course, we heard from Calcutta that you had
the contract for two thousand head; at least half of these were to
be delivered by the tenth of February. We were getting rather
anxious about it. The force will probably want to start, before
that time; and we shall have to victual both the land and water
columns. Of course, I did not know that you were a relation of Mr.
Brooke, or I should have mentioned to him that you were likely to
come."

"I should like to get off as soon as possible," Tom Pearson
said; "for by the time that I get back to Ramgur, the rest of the
cattle will be in readiness for me."

"I will write you an order for four large boats, at once. If you
had come three weeks sooner, you might have been kept waiting some
days; but such a number of native craft have, of late, come down
the rivers that we are enabled to get sufficient for our work."

The officer gave him a note to the one in charge of the landing
arrangements.

"It is lucky that you have come just at this moment," the latter
said. "We have just made our last trip with the baggage of the
47th, and I have six boats disengaged. You may as well take them
all."

The craft in question were some of those that had been
captured--unwieldy craft, that took fish and salt up the river.
They were almost as large as the dhows in which the cattle had been
brought down, but drew very much less water. They were towed off to
the dhows, one by one, by two captured war canoes, each having
thirty rowers. One was taken to each dhow, and the work of
transhipping the cattle began at once. These were in good condition
for, although closely packed, they had been well supplied with food
and water on the way down; and a herdsman with four men under him
had been sent, in each boat, to take care of them, as Tom Pearson
was very anxious that his first consignment should be reported upon
favourably. The animals were all landed in the course of the
afternoon and, with the acknowledgment of their receipt, in
excellent order, in his pocket, the contractor went off again, with
Stanley, to his own dhow.

"I have told them to have everything in readiness to drop down
the river with the tide, tomorrow morning. It will turn just about
sunrise. That is a rare bit of business, Stanley; and I doubt if a
contractor ever got his work through so quickly, before. Of course,
it is principally due to you. They would never have pushed things
through so quickly, had you not gone with me. I thought that very
likely I might be detained here a week, before I could get all the
cattle on shore--and by that time, if all goes well, I shall be at
Ramgur again.

"Now we can have a comfortable evening's talk, which is very
much better than my going to dine with you at mess; for there is a
great deal to hear about, and I daresay that I can give you as good
a dinner as we should have had, on shore."

"A good deal better," Stanley said. "Things have improved
immensely, during the last month; still our mess cook is certainly
not so good as your man and, at any rate, the quiet of your cabin
makes a very pleasant change, after always sitting down with a
large party."

After dinner was over, Stanley gave a full account of his
adventures, from the time that he was taken prisoner.

"You have done wonderfully well for yourself, lad; wonderfully
well. Certainly when you picked up Burmese from my man, we had no
idea that it was ever likely to turn out so useful. I thought that
it would have been an assistance among the Mugs on the coast; and I
had, too, some idea that the war might lead to the opening of a
trade up the Irrawaddy; but it has turned out infinitely more
useful than that. If you could not have spoken Burmese, Bandoola
would never have thought of asking for you to be spared as an
interpreter and, if he had not done so, you would have had your
head chopped off, at Ava.

"Of course that leopard business was the turning point of your
fortunes but, though it has turned out so well, I must say that I
hardly think that you were justified in risking your life in such a
desperate act for a native; who might, for aught you know, be
already dead. Of course, it was a most gallant action; but the
betting was ten to one against your succeeding. However, as it
turned out, it was a fortunate business, altogether. I don't say
that you might not have made your way down to Rangoon, unaided; but
the odds would have been very heavily against it. However, these
rubies were a windfall, indeed."

"Will you take the rest of them, uncle, and sell them at
Calcutta--or shall I send them to Madras, or home to England?"

"I will take them with me to Calcutta, if you like, Stanley. I
don't say that there are better men there than the one you sent to,
at Madras; but I think some of them do a larger business up-country
with the native princes, who don't care what they give for good
gems. At any rate, I will take them there and get them valued by an
expert; and then try two or three of the leading firms, and get
their offers. If these are as high as the value put on them by the
expert, I would send them to England, through my agents, who would
do the best they could for you."

"For us, uncle. Of course, it is all in the partnership
business. You have just got some contracts that will pay well and,
while you have been doing that, I have been getting hold of these
rubies."

"I don't think that that is fair, Stanley," his uncle said,
gravely.

"It seems to me perfectly fair; and besides, the money put into
the business will make a lot of difference, and will certainly pay
me a great deal better than it would in any other way. I sent home
100 pounds for my mother, directly the money came from Calcutta;
and told her that I hoped to be able to send home at least as much,
every year."

"A good deal more, lad, if you like. I calculate these contracts
that I have got will bring in a pound a head so that, by the time
that the war is over, I hope to have cleared 8000 pounds, which
will be about what you will make by your rubies; and when trade
begins again, we shall be in a position to do it on a big scale.
But I still think that it will not be fair to take that money."

"Well, uncle, if you won't take it, I certainly won't have
anything to do with the money that you make, while I am away; so
please don't let us say anything more about it. Shall I give you
that eighteen hundred now; or will you have an order upon the
paymaster, in Calcutta?"

"That would be the best way, if you will have it so, lad. I have
left money with Johnson, at Ramgur, for the next herd that is to
come down here; and have orders from my agent on their agents, at
Dalla, for those that I am going to buy for the Manipur column. So
I don't want the money now and, suppose the dhow were to be lost
going up, the cash might go with it. So, do you get the order. You
had better send it straight to Bothron; and tell him to collect it,
and credit it to my account.

"How long do you think that this business is going to last?"

"It depends how far we have to go before the Burmese decide that
they have had enough of it. At present, the general hope is that,
as soon as we arrive at Prome, they will give in. If they don't we
may have to go up to Ava and, in that case, we may not finish it
until this time next year; for I suppose operations will have to
come to a stop, when the wet season begins again, and we could
hardly reach Ava before that."

"I expect, some day, we shall have to take the whole country,
Stanley. You may frighten the court into submission, when you
approach the capital; but I fancy they will never keep to the terms
that we shall insist upon, and that there will have to be another
expedition. That is generally our way--it was so at Mysore, it has
been so in a dozen other places. When we have done all the work,
and have got them at our mercy, we give them comparatively easy
terms. As soon as they recover from the effects of their defeat,
they set to work again to prepare for another tussle; and then we
have all the expense and loss of life to incur, again, and then end
by annexing their territory, which we might just as well have done
in the first place. It may be all very well to be lenient, when one
is dealing with a European enemy; but magnanimity does not pay when
you have to do with Orientals, who don't care a rap for treaty
engagements, and who always regard concessions as being simply a
proof of weakness.

"There would not be half the difficulty in annexing Burma that
there would be, in the case of a large province in India; for all
the towns, and most even of their villages, lie on rivers, and a
couple of dozen gunboats would suffice to keep the whole country in
order. You will see that that is what we shall have to do, some
day; but it will cost us two or three expeditions to do what might
just as well be done, now."

"Well, uncle, it is nearly twelve o'clock and, as I shall be on
duty at six, I think I had better be going. I wish that you could
have stayed for another two or three days, and paid a visit to the
pagoda and camps. I am very glad that I have had a sight of you
again, though it's a very short one."

"I should be glad to stay another day or two, Stanley; but it is
really of importance for me to get down to Ramgur, as soon as I
can, and send Johnson off with the cattle; for I want to set about
buying the herds for the other column, as quickly as possible. I
think I have left myself a fair margin of time, but there is
nothing like promptitude in delivery, and I want to get a good
name, for future business; and if this affair here is going to last
another twelve-month, regular supplies must be sent up for, as beef
is forbidden by the Burmese religion, they keep no cattle except
for draught purposes, and the army must get their bullocks by
sea."

Five minutes later Stanley was rowed ashore. The next morning he
accompanied the general, and went down to inspect the newly-arrived
cattle.

"They are a capital lot," he said to Stanley, "decidedly the
best that we have had, yet. You see, it is a good deal shorter
voyage, from Ramgur, than from either Calcutta or Madras; and the
animals probably had a much shorter land journey before they were
shipped. Then, too, as your uncle came down himself they were, no
doubt, much better looked after than usual on the voyage. However,
I will take care to mention, when I write next to Calcutta, that
the cattle are far above the average; and I shall be glad if they
will arrange for such further supplies as we may require from the
same source."

"Thank you, sir; that will be a great help to my uncle. Hitherto
he has had very uphill work of it; though he was beginning to get
on very well, when the war put a stop to trade. He knows the whole
country so thoroughly that he can certainly buy up cattle at many
places where no European trader, save himself, has ever
penetrated."

"No doubt, Brooke; and I hope, for your sake, that he will
succeed well in this contracting business. He has certainly made an
excellent start and, as he is first in the field in the country
between Assam and Ramgur, he ought to make a good thing of this
opportunity that has fallen in his way. I know that it takes a long
time to build up a business but, when the foundation is laid, and a
man is quick in taking advantage of an opportunity, he can do as
much in a year as he might do in twenty, without it.

"Now, I am going over to the lines of the 47th, to see how they
have shaken down into them."

This regiment had brought out tents for, as every building was
already occupied, it was necessary that they should be put under
canvas. The general found that everything was arranged in order,
and the encampment certainly presented a pleasing contrast to the
irregular, and often crowded quarters of the troops who had passed
the wet season there. The colonel and three of his officers dined
with the general, that evening; the party being made up of the
military staff, including the two aides-de-camp.

Two days later Stanley, with some of the other members of the
staff, dined at the 47th mess. Stanley was introduced to several of
the officers; and these were specially desirous of making his
acquaintance, as they had learned that he had been a prisoner at
Ava, and could therefore tell them much more than they had hitherto
learned of the country into which they were about to advance.

Among them was a young lieutenant, also of the name of Brooke.
Stanley had, three weeks before, attained the same rank. At the
time that he was appointed to the 83rd, there were already several
death vacancies in the regiment, and disease and fighting had
carried off six more officers. The whole of the ensigns had
consequently obtained their step. At dinner he found himself placed
next to his namesake.

"It is curious, our having the same name," the other remarked,
as he sat down. "It is not a very common one."

"No, I have not met anyone of the same name, before," Stanley
said. "Indeed, until the affair at Ramoo I was nearly three years
trading with an uncle of mine, up the rivers; and was not much in
the way of falling in with white men. But, before that, I had been
with my father in a good many stations in India; but I do not, as
far as I can remember, recollect meeting anyone of the same
name."

"Then your father was in the service, too?"

"Yes. He was a captain in the 15th Native Infantry."

"Indeed," the other said in surprise, "then we are connections.
But I had no idea that Captain Brooke was ever married."

"He was married just after he came out to India," Stanley said;
"so it is likely enough that you would never have heard of it. He
died three years ago, and my mother and sisters are now in England.
What is the connection between us? I have never heard my father
speak much of his family."

"Your father was a cousin of mine--second cousin, I think. I
fancy there was some row between your grandfather and the rest of
the family. I don't know anything about the right or wrongs of it;
for it was, of course, many years before we were born; and I never
heard of your father's existence, until a fortnight before I left
England. Then there were some inquiries made about the family,
owing to various deaths that took place in it. Do you know that
your father was related--distantly of course--to the Earl of
Netherly?"

"I do remember his mentioning it, once. I know he said that it
was a distant connection; and that he knew nothing, whatever, about
the earl or his family."

"Well, curiously enough, it is not so distant, now," the other
said. "I was a pretty distant connection of his. He was childless;
and the family, generally, don't seem to have been prolific. A good
many of them died; and the result was that, the year before I left
England, an uncle of mine succeeded to the title. He has no son,
and my father was his next brother. My father died, two years ago;
and the result is that, to my astonishment, I found that I was next
heir to the title. They wanted me to leave the army, when my
regiment was ordered out to India; but of course I was not going to
do that, for my aunt may die, and my uncle marry again and have
children. Besides, I was not going to leave, anyhow, just as the
regiment was ordered abroad, and might see service.

"However, there was a great hunting by the lawyers in the
genealogical tree; and I know it was decided that, in case anything
happened to me, your father would have been the next heir, had he
been alive. I don't know whether any further inquiries were made,
or whether they ever ascertained that he had married. I don't
suppose there were for, of course, as long as I live the matter is
of no importance.

"So that, as things stand now, if a Burmese bullet puts an end
to my career, you are the next heir to the title."

"You surprise me, indeed," Stanley said. "From the way my father
spoke of the matter, I am sure that he had not the slightest idea
there was any likelihood, whatever, that he would have any chance
of succeeding to the title."

"That I can well imagine, for it was not until a few years ago,
when the deaths of several who stood between him and the succession
occurred, that my uncle regarded his coming into it as a matter
worth thinking about; and of course all our family stood between it
and your father. However, as you see we have dwindled away and, if
I do not get safely through this business, you are the next
heir."

"It is curious news to hear, at a dinner in Burma," Stanley
said, thoughtfully. "At any rate, I can assure you honestly that
the news gives me no particular satisfaction. I suppose it would be
a nice thing, to come in for a peerage; but my prospects out here
are good. I have no intention of staying in the army, after the end
of the war; and am really in partnership with my uncle, with whom I
have been for the last three years in business, which is turning
out very well. I like the life, and have every chance of making
enough to retire on, with ample means. Certainly, I should not like
to come into the title by the death of anyone that I knew."

"That is the fortune of war," the other said, smiling. "We get
our steps by death vacancies. We are sorry for the deaths, but the
steps are not unwelcome.

"By the way, my name is Harry. I know that yours is Stanley. I
vote that we call each other by them. We are cousins, you know, and
I suppose that as you are my heir, you must be my nearest male
relation, at present; so I vote that we call each other by our
Christian names, instead of Brookeing each other, always."

"I shall be very glad to do so," Stanley said, cordially. "I
hope that we shall be close friends, as well as distant
relations."

Then, as there was a momentary lull in the conversation, Harry
raised his voice and said to the colonel:

"A very curious thing has just happened, Colonel. Brooke and
myself have just discovered that we are cousins and, what is still
more curious, that if anything happens to me, he takes my place as
next heir to my uncle, a fact of which he was entirely
ignorant."

"That is certainly a very curious coincidence, Brooke; very
singular. Then you have not met before?"

"I did not even know of his existence, Colonel; and had, indeed,
no idea that Captain Brooke, his father, had been married. The
cousinship is a distant one; but there is no question, whatever, as
to his being next in succession to myself to the peerage."

The discovery excited general interest; and quite turned the
conversation, for the time, from the subject of the war and of
their approaching advance. After dinner was finished, many of the
officers gathered round Stanley, asking him questions about the
nature of the country, and his experiences as a captive in the
hands of the Burmese. Presently Colonel Adair, who had also dined
at the mess, joined the group.

"I suppose, Mr. Brooke," he said, "your newly-found cousin has
told you about his adventure with the leopard?"

"No, Colonel, he has not said anything about a leopard."

"He is grievously afflicted with modesty," the colonel went on;
"and so I will tell it for him, for I think you ought to know that
he is not only able to speak half a dozen languages, but that he is
capable of doing deeds of exceptional gallantry.

"You can go and chat with the colonel, Brooke. He is anxious to
hear your report as to the country, and I will be your trumpeter
here."

Stanley gladly moved away, and entered into conversation with
the colonel of the 47th; while Colonel Adair related his adventures
with the leopard to his cousin, and the officers standing
round.

"By Jove, that was a plucky thing!" Harry Brooke said,
admiringly.

"It was, indeed!" the colonel agreed, as similar exclamations
went round the circle. "I don't think one man in a hundred would
have attacked a leopard with no weapon but a knife, except to save
the life of a comrade; even then, it would be a most desperate
action. I have done a good deal of big-game shooting, in India; but
I am certain that nothing but a strong affection, for a comrade in
the grasp of a leopard, would induce me to risk almost certain
death in the way your cousin did. We should never have heard of it,
if we had not got the details from the man he saved, and who has
since attached himself to him as a servant; and is the man who, as
I daresay he did tell you, served as his companion and guide in
making his way down here. At any rate you see, Brooke, your cousin
is an uncommonly fine young fellow, and you have reason to be proud
of the relationship."

"I feel so, Colonel; and it is really a pleasure to know that,
if one does go down, a thoroughly good fellow will benefit by it,
instead of some unknown person who might be a very objectionable
representative of the family."

For the next three or four days, the bustle of preparations went
on and, on the fifth, a detachment was sent up, with a sloop and
gunboats, to attack an advanced position of the enemy on the Lyne
river. Although the 3000 Burmese, who were posted in a strong
stockade, were supported by thirty-six guns; the works were carried
by storm, with little loss.

The two branches of the Pellang (or Rangoon) river, by which the
force were to advance against Donabew were, on the following day,
reconnoitred for some distance. A number of fire rafts were
destroyed, but the Burmese were too disheartened to offer any
resistance.

To the disappointment of the troops, the general was able to
take with him only a limited force; for the difficulties of
carriage were enormous and, as experience had shown that the
country was likely to be deserted, and devastated, on their
approach; it was, therefore, impossible for the bulk of the army to
be taken on, by land. There were other points, however, where the
troops left behind could be profitably employed. The capture of the
important town of Bassein, on the main branch of the Irrawaddy,
would open the river to the passage of our ships, and put an entire
stop to the trade of Ava.

The force told off for the advance against Donabew was divided
into two columns. The first, 2400 strong--consisting of the 38th,
41st, and 47th Regiments, three native battalions, the troop of
bodyguard; a battery of Bengal horse artillery, and part of the
rocket company--was to march by land.

The second column, which was to proceed by water, was 1169
strong; and it consisted of the 89th Regiment, the 10th Madras
Europeans, and 250 of the 18th Native Infantry; a body of
dismounted artillery, and the rest of the rocket company. This
force was commanded by Brigadier General Cotton. It was to be
carried in a flotilla of sixty-two boats, each armed with one or
two guns; and the boats of all the ships of war at Rangoon, under
the command of Captain Alexander, R. N.

Major Sale was, at the same time, to advance against Bassein;
with 600 men of the 13th Regiment, and the 12th Madras Native
infantry, with some artillery. After occupying the town, he was to
cross the country lying between the two main arms of the Irrawaddy,
and to join the general's force near Donabew.

The rest of the force--nearly 4000 men, chiefly native regiments
and Europeans who had not, as yet, recovered sufficient strength to
take part in field operations--was to remain at Rangoon, under
Brigadier General M'Creigh; who was to form a reserve column, in
readiness to move as directed, as soon as sufficient transport was
collected.

It was to the water force that the capture of Donabew was
intrusted, as it lay upon the opposite bank of the Irrawaddy; while
the general's force was directed against Tharawa, at the junction
of the two main branches of the river. Here they were to be joined
by General Cotton's force, after the capture of Donabew; then,
unless the court of Ava sued for peace, a united advance was to be
made on the important town of Prome.

Chapter 11: Donabew.

Stanley Brooke did not accompany the land column, as the general
said to him, two days before:

"I have been speaking with General Cotton, and he said that he
should be glad if I would attach you to his staff, until the force
unites again. Not one of his staff officers speaks Burmese and,
although he has two or three interpreters with him, it will be
better, if Bandoola sends in an officer offering to surrender, that
he should be met by a British officer.

"In the next place, it may be necessary for him to communicate
with me and, assuredly, with your experience of the country, you
would be able to get through better than anyone else. I do not
apprehend that there would be any great danger, for we know that
every available fighting man has been impressed, by Bandoola; and
the passage of our column will completely cow the villagers lying
between us and the river.

"I suppose," he said, with a smile, "that you have no objection,
since it will save you a long and, I have no doubt, a very
unpleasant march; and you will also obtain a view of the affairs at
the stockades at Pellang and Donabew."

The land column started on the 13th of February, the water
column on the 16th, and the detachment for Bassein sailed on the
following day. Stanley was delighted at being appointed to
accompany the boat column. The march through the country would
present no novelty to him, and it was probable that the land column
would encounter no serious resistance until, after being joined by
General Cotton's force, it advanced against Prome. His horses went,
with those of General Cotton and his staff, under charge of the
syce and Meinik.

The one steamboat kept, at the start, in rear of the great
flotilla of boats so that, in case of any of them striking on a
sandbank, it could at once move to her assistance, and pull her
off. The scene was a very bright one as, in all, upwards of a
hundred craft, of various sizes, proceeded together. In front were
half a dozen gunboats; next to these came the two sloops of war;
followed by the rest of the boats, proceeding in irregular order.
There was very little stream, for the rivers were now quite low
and, although the flat country was still little more than a swamp,
the rains in the hills that supplied the main body of water to them
had long since ceased. The ships' boats were, of course, rowed by
the blue-jackets. The other craft were, for the most part, manned
by natives; though the soldiers on board occasionally lent a
hand.

Two days after starting, the boats destroyed three newly-erected
stockades, that were found unoccupied; and on the 19th reached
Pellang, where three very strong stockades had been erected. A
battery was thrown up next day from which, as well as from the
steamboat and sloops of war, shells were thrown into the stockade;
with such effect that two of the enemy's works were evacuated, as
soon as the troops took the offensive, and the main Pellang
stockade was also abandoned, without resistance. The two smaller
works were destroyed, and a portion of the 18th Madras Infantry was
left here, to maintain communication with Rangoon.

On the 27th the flotilla entered the main stream and, the next
day, the advance came in sight of Donabew. It was another five days
before the whole force was in position, for several of the most
heavily laden craft stuck fast on the sandbanks at the fork of the
river. The next day Donabew was summoned to surrender. Bandoola,
who was at the head of 15,000 men, returned a refusal; which was
given in courteous terms, differing very widely from the haughty
and peremptory language in which all previous communications had
been couched.

The next day a party of the 89th landed on the low-lying ground
between the main stockade and the river and, in spite of the heavy
fire, succeeded in ascertaining the strength and nature of the
defences. The main work was in the form of a parallelogram, about a
mile long, and stood on ground rising above the general level; and
fifty pieces of cannon, of various sizes, were in position on the
river face. Two outworks, constructed of square beams of timber,
with an outer ditch and a thick abbatis, defended the southern face
against an attack from an enemy landing below it.

It was necessary to leave a strong guard on board the flotilla,
lest an attack should be made by war canoes and fire rafts. The
general, therefore, had not more than 600 men available for the
assault. As the enemy's guns completely commanded the river, it was
necessary to land below it; and on the morning of the 7th the
troops were disembarked, with two six-pounder guns and a rocket
detachment. Forming in two columns, they advanced against the lower
of the two covering stockades and, after an exchange of fire with
the enemy, rushed forward and forced an entrance into it; although
the enemy resisted with more resolution than they had, for some
time, shown. 280 prisoners were taken, and the rest of the
defenders fled to the second work.

Two more guns and four mortars were landed and placed in
position and, after the stockades had been shelled for a short
time, a storming party--under Captain Rose--advanced to the
assault. So heavy a fire was opened upon them that the little
column was brought to a standstill, and forced to fall back; with
the loss of its commander, and of Captain Cannon of the 89th, while
most of the seamen with the storming party were either killed or
wounded.

This want of success, against a mere outwork, showed General
Cotton that--with the small force at his disposal--it would be
worse than useless to renew the attack for, were the outwork
carried, the loss would be so great that it would be hopeless to
think of attacking Bandoola's main position. He therefore
determined to abstain from further attack, until reinforced.

"Now, Mr. Brooke," he said, as soon as the troops had been taken
on board the boats again, "I must bring your services into
requisition. This is just the contingency that we thought might
possibly occur. I cannot advance up the river until Donabew is
taken, and I cannot attack the place with the force at my command.
Therefore I will at once write a despatch to General Campbell, for
you to carry. You will be accompanied by the two men of the
bodyguard, who have come with me as orderlies. I shall have no use
for them, here; and three of you, together, need not fear any
molestation from the few people remaining in their villages, and
may be able to cut your way through any of the bands of deserters,
or beaten troops, dispersed over the country."

"Very well, General. I shall also take my Burman, on my second
charger. He may be useful in getting news as to roads from the
natives; who will, as likely as not, fly into the jungle when they
see us approaching. However, there is not much fear of our losing
our way, as it will be along the river, as far as Tharawa."

A boat was at once sent off to the craft carrying the two
orderlies and the horses of the staff. As soon as the despatch was
written, Stanley, after shaking hands with his companions, was also
rowed to the horse barge. This was, at a signal of the general,
taken in tow by the steamer, and piloted to the opposite bank. A
boat, sounding ahead, presently found a spot where there was enough
water for the barge to get alongside the bank. The horses were led
ashore; and Stanley, the two troopers, and Meinik mounted.

The Burmese are poor riders but, during the wet season, Stanley
had often taken Meinik, on his spare horse, when riding about in
the camp; partly because he could trust him to look after the
horses carefully, and in the second place to accustom him to ride
on horseback so as to act, if required, as an orderly. Meinik was
quite of opinion that there would be no risk, whatever, in passing
through villages; but thought it probable that they might fall in
with disbanded troops, as it was known that the land column had,
soon after starting, captured the fort of Mophi; and that its
garrison, between two and three thousand strong, had taken to the
jungle and dispersed.

"Still, master," he said, "I don't think it likely that they
will attack us. They will be expecting no one, and we shall come
upon them by surprise; then they will run into the bushes, thinking
that you must have many more troops behind you. No, it is not
likely that they will have many guns; they would throw them away
when they fled, partly to run faster through the forest, partly
because most of them will be making off to the villages, hoping to
lie concealed until the war is over; while if they had guns in
their hands, it would be known that they were deserters, and they
might be seized and sent across the river to Bandoola, or up to
Prome."

They rode some fifteen miles before dark, and then took up their
quarters in a village. The few old men, women, and children
inhabiting it fled, at their approach; but when Meinik went to the
edge of the jungle, and shouted out loudly that they need not fear,
for that no harm would be done to any of them, and good prices
would be given for food, two or three returned and, finding the
statements to be true, one of them went into the jungle again, and
brought the others back. Fowls and eggs were brought into the hut
that Stanley occupied, and a good supply of grain for the horses
was also purchased. Thus, Stanley was able to avoid breaking into
the small stock of provisions they had brought with them.

The inhabitants of this part of Burma were a tribe known as
Carians. They were the tillers of the soil, and were an industrious
and hardy race. The country was so rich that they not only raised
sufficient for their own wants, but sent large supplies of grain
and rice to Ava. They were very heavily taxed but, as a rule, were
exempt from conscription. Nevertheless they had, on the present
occasion, been forced to labour at the stockades, and in
transporting food for the troops.

Their forest villages were small. They consisted of little huts,
erected either in trees shorn of their branches, or upon very
strong poles. These abodes were only accessible by rough ladders,
formed by nailing pieces of wood across the trees or poles. This
was absolutely necessary, on account of the number of tigers that
infested the forest. The village where they had halted was,
however, built upon the ground; but was surrounded by a strong
stockade. The people assured Stanley that none of the fugitives
from Mophi had come that way.

There had, they said, been many, after Bandoola's defeat; but
they had seen none, of late. They declared that they had far
greater fear of these than they had of the English; for that they
plundered wherever they went and, if they could not obtain enough
to satisfy their expectations, burnt the houses, and often killed
many of the inhabitants. The villagers volunteered to keep watch
all night, at the gate of the stockade; although they said that
there was no fear of anyone approaching, as strangers could not
find their way through the forest, in the dark and, even could they
do so, the fear of tigers would prevent them from making the
attempt. Stanley agreed to pay some of them to watch, but also
stationed one of his own men as sentry, relieving him every three
hours.

An hour after they reached the village, they saw one of the war
boats rowing rapidly up the stream; and had no doubt that it was
bearing a message from Bandoola, saying that he had repulsed the
attack of the British. Beyond hearing the howling of tigers in the
forest, Stanley passed the night undisturbed, except when he went
to change the sentry. Meinik took his share of watching; and
Stanley, himself, relieved him an hour before daybreak.

By the time the sun rose, the horses had been fed and breakfast
taken. After riding some miles, the country became more open.
Cultivated fields succeeded the dense forest. The ground was
higher, and little groups of huts could be seen, wherever a small
elevation rose above the general level. The change was very
welcome, for they were able to travel faster, and there was less
chance of their coming suddenly upon a party of the disbanded
troops.

Presently, just as they reached a larger village than usual, by
the river bank, a thick smoke arose from one of the houses, and
they could hear female screams.

"Come on!" Stanley shouted, to the three men riding behind him.
"See that your pistols are ready to hand, and draw your
swords."

This village was not, like the last, stockaded; being some miles
away from the forest. As they dashed into it, they saw some twenty
Burmese. Two women lay dead, in front of one house; and one of the
men, with a torch, was about to fire another. Absorbed in their own
doings, the Burmese did not notice the coming of the horsemen until
the latter were close to them. Then, with a cry of consternation,
they turned to fly; but it was too late. Stanley cut down the man
who was about to fire the hut, and he and the others then fell upon
the Burmans, with sword and pistol. Six of them were killed. The
rest were pursued but, dashing down to the river, they plunged in,
pistol shots being sent after them.

Stanley remained on the bank, until he saw that they had fairly
started to cross the river, then he re-entered the village. Two or
three frightened people came out from their hiding places, when
Meinik shouted to them that all was safe.

"They have all gone," he said, "you need not fear being
disturbed by them again. See, there are six guns lying in the road;
and you will find plenty of ammunition on those fellows that have
fallen. There are some spears and swords, too. Of course, you can
do nothing if a number of these fellows come; but if there are only
two or three, you and the women ought to be able to dispose of
them. Now we must ride on."

On the third day they arrived at Tharawa, and found that Sir A.
Campbell, who had been assured by the natives that Bandoola had
retreated, had continued his march the day before. The place was so
large that Stanley thought it unsafe for them to sleep there, and
they rode on to a little village, two miles away. Here they were
received with great deference, the passage of the troops the day
before having profoundly impressed the villagers. After waiting
three hours to rest the horses, they again mounted and, riding all
night, arrived in the morning at Yuadit--a village twenty-six miles
from Tharawa--and found the force on the point of starting.

"No bad news, I hope, Mr. Brooke?" the general said, as he rode
up to him.

"I am sorry to say, sir, that my news is not good. Here is the
brigadier's despatch."

"This is unfortunate, indeed," the general said, when he had run
his eye over the document.

"Mr. Tollemache, please to ride along the line, and say that the
column is not to get into motion until further orders."

Colonel Adair and the other officers of the staff had been on
the point of mounting, when Stanley rode up. The general called two
or three of the senior officers to him.

"Cotton can neither take Donabew, nor get past it," he said.
"Here is his despatch. You see, he has lost several officers and a
good many men; and that in the assault on an outlying work, only. I
am afraid that there is nothing for us to do, but go back to his
assistance."

"I am afraid not, sir," Colonel Adair said. "Our supplies are
running short already and, you see, we decided upon filling up all
the carts at Tharawa, where we made sure that we should be met by
the boats. The country round here has been completely stripped, and
it would be a very serious matter to endeavour to advance to Prome,
without supplies. Moreover, we might expect a much more serious
resistance than we have bargained for. The news that Bandoola has
repulsed his assailants--and you may be sure that this has been
exaggerated into a great victory--will restore the spirit of the
Burmese. It is evident that we must turn back, and finish off with
Bandoola before we advance further."

Orders were accordingly sent, to the officers commanding the
various corps, that the column was to retrace its steps and, while
they passed through the village, Stanley related, in much greater
detail than had been given in the despatch, the events of the
attack, and the nature of the defences at Donabew.

The troops marched along with a cheerful mien. It was, of
course, an annoyance to have to plod back along the road they had
before traversed but, upon the other hand, there was a general
satisfaction that they were, after all, to take part in the capture
of Bandoola's last stronghold.

Colonel Adair rode on with the little troop of cavalry. He was
to push forward to Tharawa, and was to offer rewards to the natives
there for every boat brought in. There was little doubt that many
of the fishermen had hauled up their craft into clumps of bushes
and brush wood, to prevent their being requisitioned by Bandoola
and, although it was not likely that a large number would now be
obtained, yet even if but a dozen were found, it would be of
assistance.

The rest of the force reached Tharawa on the following evening,
with the exception of a party left to protect the slow-moving
waggons. They found that nine canoes had been obtained, and that a
considerable portion of the scanty population had been, all day,
employed in cutting bamboos and timber for rafts.

The next morning the troops were all engaged on the same work,
and in the construction of rafts; and at nightfall three hundred
men of the 49th were taken across the river to the town of Henzada,
in case Bandoola, on hearing of the preparations for crossing,
should send a force to oppose the passage. It took four days'
continuous labour to get the little army across, as it was
necessary to make large timber rafts to carry the carts, horses and
bullocks, guns and stores.

Hearing that a force was posted, some fifteen miles away, to
intercept the detachment that was marching from Bassein; Colonel
Godwin, with a party, was sent off that night to endeavour to
surprise it. The Burmese, however, took the alarm before they were
attacked; and scattered in all directions, without firing a shot.
The army marched along the right bank, and arrived before Donabew
on the 25th of March. Communications were opened with General
Cotton's force, below the town; and both divisions set to work to
erect batteries.

The Burmese made several sorties to interrupt the work, and one
of these was accompanied by Bandoola's seventeen elephants. The
troop of cavalry, horse artillery, and the rocket company charged
close up to the elephants; and opened fire upon the howdahs, filled
with troops, that they carried. In a short time most of these and
the drivers were killed; and the elephants--many of which also had
received wounds--dashed off into the jungle, while the infantry
fled back into the stockade, into which a discharge of shells and
rockets was maintained, all day.

The next morning--the 1st of April--the mortar batteries were
completed; and these, and others armed with light guns, kept up a
continuous fire into the enemy's camp. At daybreak on the 2nd, the
heavy guns of the breaching batteries also opened fire and, in a
very short time, the enemy were seen pouring out in the rear of
their works, and making their way into the jungle. As there had
been no idea that they would so speedily evacuate the stockade, no
preparations had been made for cutting them off; and the garrison,
therefore, effected their escape with but little loss.

The troops at once occupied the work, and found large stores of
grain and ammunition there, as well as a great number of guns. From
some of the wounded Burmans, it was ascertained that the evacuation
of the fort was due to the death of Bandoola; who had been killed,
by the explosion of a shell, while watching the operations from a
lookout that had been erected for him, at the top of a lofty tree.
His death had caused the most profound depression among the
garrison. Their leaders in vain endeavoured to reanimate their
courage. The opening of the fire with the heavy guns completed
their discomfiture, and they fled without thought of resistance.
Indeed, the greater part had stolen away during the night.

A portion of the fleet had already passed up beyond the fort,
under a heavy fire; and the rest now came up. The supplies of grain
were renewed and, a guard being left to hold the works, which would
now serve as a base, the army again started up the river--the water
column proceeding to Tharawa, the land force marching back to
Henzada, whence they were carried across the river in the boats.
Here the force was joined by the reserve column from Rangoon,
consisting of several companies of the Royals and the 28th Native
Infantry, with a supply of elephants and carriage cattle which had
arrived from Calcutta.

On the 14th, Yuadit was again reached. No opposition, whatever,
was encountered; indeed, the whole country was deserted, the
inhabitants having been ordered away by the Burmese authorities, as
soon as the fall of Donabew was known. When within four days' march
of Prome, two native officials came in, with a communication to the
effect that the Burmese were ready to treat for peace. As it was
known, however, that reinforcements were on their way down from
Ava, it was evident that this was merely a pretext to gain time;
and the general sent word that, when he arrived at Prome, he would
be ready to open negotiations for peace.

The country through which the army was now passing was very
beautiful. In the far distance on the left, the mountains of Aracan
could be seen; while on the right the country was undulating,
richly cultivated, and broken by clumps of timber, with a
background of the range of hills running along near the Pegu river.
On the 24th the heights of Prome, eight miles away, were visible;
and the flotilla could be seen, lying at anchor a short distance
below the town. Messengers came out that afternoon, to endeavour to
induce the general not to enter it; but a reply was sent that this
was out of the question, that no harm would befall the inhabitants,
and that--as soon as he entered--the general would be ready to
receive any persons qualified to treat for peace.

Some hours before daybreak the army marched forward and, by
sunrise, were close to the town. The position was found to be
extremely strong. Every hill commanding the place had been
fortified, to the very summit. Strong stockades ran in every
direction, and it was evident that a great number of men must have
been engaged, for a long time, in attempting to render the place
impregnable.

Not a soldier, however, was to be found. A native of the place
presently met them, with the news that the governor and troops had
evacuated it, with the exception of a small party who were firing
the town. This story was corroborated by wreaths of smoke, rising
at various points.

The troops pressed forward at the top of their speed. On
entering the town, they found that the native population had all
been forced to leave and, piling their arms, they set to work to
extinguish the flames; which they did not, however, succeed in
doing until nearly half the town was destroyed. Fortunately the
fire was checked before it reached the great magazines of grain,
and other stores, for the army.

The belief that the negotiations had been only pretexts to
arrest the advance of the troops against the town, until the
expected reinforcements arrived, was confirmed by the natives; who
presently came in from hiding places where they had taken refuge,
until their army retired. They said that, as soon as the news came
of the fall of Donabew, fresh levies were ordered to be collected
in every part of Upper Burma; while the whole population of the
province had been employed in adding to the defences of the town,
which had been already very strongly stockaded.

It was a disappointment to the force, which had hoped that the
occupation of Prome would bring about the submission of the court
of Ava; and enable them to be taken down the river in boats, and
embark, before the rainy season again set in. Nevertheless, the
prospect of passing that season at Prome was vastly more pleasant
than if it had to be spent at Rangoon. They were now inland, beyond
the point where the rains were continuous. The town was situated on
high ground, and the country round was open and healthy. Although
for some little distance round the cattle had been driven off, and
the villages destroyed; it was certain that flying columns would be
able to bring in any amount of cattle, before the wet season
began.

For a short time, it was thought that the occupation of Prome
would show the king and court that it was useless to continue the
struggle, any longer; but these hopes were dissipated when it was
known that a further levy of 30,000 men had been called out. The
court, however, was apparently conscious that its commands would no
longer be obeyed with the alacrity before manifested. The early
levies had obeyed the call with cheerfulness; believing in their
invincibility, and confident that they would return home laden with
spoil after driving, without difficulty, the audacious strangers
into the sea. Things, however, had not turned out so. The troops
that had left Ava in high spirits had been routed, with very heavy
losses. Their great general, Bandoola, had been killed; and
fugitives from the army were scattered over the land, bearing with
them reports of the extraordinary fighting powers of these white
enemies, and of the hopelessness of attempting to resist them. The
consequence was that in issuing the order for the new levy a bounty
of twenty pounds, which to the Burmans was a very large sum, was
offered to each man who obeyed the call.

The first step, on the part of the British general, was to send
proclamations through the country; guaranteeing protection to all,
and inviting the population to return to their towns and villages.
The troops were employed in erecting, with the assistance of as
much native labour as could be procured, comfortable huts outside
the town; so that the natives, on returning should find their homes
unoccupied and untouched. It was not long before this excellent
policy had its due effect. As soon as those who first returned sent
the news to their friends, the fugitives came out from their hiding
places in the forests, in great numbers, and returned to the city.
Those whose homes were still standing settled down in them and
resumed their ordinary avocations, just as if their native rulers
were still in authority; while those whose houses had been burned
set to work, with a cheerfulness characteristic of their race, to
re-erect their light wooden dwellings.

So favourable were the reports spread through the country of our
conduct that, in a short time, the population of Prome was
considerably larger than it had been before the advance of our
army. Similar results were speedily manifest throughout the whole
district below the town. From the great forest that covered more
than half of it, the villagers poured out, driving before them
herds of cattle and, in two or three months, the country that had
appeared a desert became filled with an industrious population.
Order was established. The local civil officers were again
appointed to their former posts, but their powers of oppression and
intimidation were abrogated, by the order that no punishment beyond
a short term of imprisonment was to be inflicted on any person,
whatever, until the case had been brought before the British
authorities; and soon the only fear entertained by the people of
the rich district of the lower Irrawaddy was that the British
troops would march away, and leave them again to the oppression and
tyranny of their former masters.

The markets of Prome were abundantly supplied with food of all
sorts and, as everything was liberally paid for, any number of
bullocks were obtainable for, although the Burmese are forbidden by
their religion to kill cattle, and therefore keep them only for
draught purposes, they had no objection to our killing them; or
indeed, to eat the meat, when they could obtain it. Labour of all
kinds was abundant, and great numbers of canoes were constructed
for the purpose of bringing up supplies from the villages on the
river, and for the advance of the force at the end of the wet
season. Until this set in in earnest, small bodies of troops
marched through the forests; driving out the bands that infested
them, and plundered and killed the country people without
mercy.

The general's aides-de-camp had a busy time of it, being
constantly employed in carrying orders to the towns and villages,
in hearing complaints and, in Stanley's case, entering into
agreements for the purchase of cattle and grain. When in Prome, he
spent a good deal of his spare time with his cousin who, having
bought a horse, frequently obtained leave to accompany him on his
excursions on duty. A warm friendship had sprung up between them.
Harry was two years older than Stanley, and had been at Eton up to
the time that he entered the army. He was, however, in manner no
older than his cousin; whose work, for the three years previous to
the outbreak of the war, had rendered him graver and more manly
than a life spent among lads of his own age could have done.

Meinik always accompanied Stanley, wherever he went. He had now,
to the latter's quiet amusement, modified his Burmese costume;
making it look like that of some of the whites and, indeed, he
would have passed without notice as one of the Goa-Portuguese mess
waiters, in his suit of white nankeen. When riding, or on any
service away from the headquarter camp, he was dressed in a suit of
tough brown khaki which he had obtained from one of the traders at
Rangoon. The coat differed but little from that of the suit Stanley
had handed over to him; except that it was somewhat shorter and
without the small shoulder cape and, in fact, resembled closely the
modern regimental tunic. Below he wore knee breeches of the same
material; with putties, or long bands of cloth, wound round and
round the leg, and which possessed many advantages over gaiters. He
still clung to the turban but, instead of being white, it was of
the same colour as his clothes, and was much larger than the
Burmese turban.

"Burmese are great fools," he often said to Stanley. "They think
they know a great deal; they know nothing at all. They think they
are great fighters; they are no good at fighting, for one
Englishman beats ten of them. Their government is no good--it keeps
everyone very poor and miserable. You come here; you know nothing
of the country, and yet you make everyone comfortable. We ride
through the villages; we see everyone rejoicing that they are
governed by the English, and hoping that the English will never go
away again.

"What do you think, sir--will you stay here always? You have had
much trouble to take the country. A great many people have been
ill; a great many died. Now you have got it, why should you go away
again?"

"It is quite certain that we shall not give it all up, Meinik.
It has been, as you say, a troublesome and very expensive business;
and the farther the king obliges us to go up, before he makes
peace, the more he will have to pay, either in money or territory.
Of course, I cannot say what the terms of peace will be; but I
should think that, very likely, we shall hold the country from the
sea up to here, with Aracan and a strip along the sea coast of
Tenasserim."

"That will be good," Meinik said. "I shall never go outside the
English land, again. There will be plenty to do, and a great trade
on the river; everyone will be happy and contented. I should be a
fool to go back to Upper Burma; where they would chop off my head,
if they knew that I had been down to Rangoon when the English were
there."

Chapter 12: Harry Carried
Off.

Early in September, Stanley was sent to purchase cattle from
some of the villages near the foot of the hills and, at the same
time, to make inquiries as to the movements of a large band of
marauders who had been making raids in that neighbourhood. He had
with him four troopers of the bodyguard. Harry Brooke accompanied
him. Although from the healthier situation of Prome, the amount of
illness during the wet season did not approach that which had been
suffered at Rangoon, a great many men were in hospital, and there
were many deaths. Harry had had a sharp attack of fever and, as he
had now recovered, to a certain extent, the medical officer of his
regiment strongly recommended that he should have a change; and he
therefore, without difficulty, obtained his colonel's leave to
accompany Stanley, as the ground would be much higher than that on
the river, and the mere fact of getting away from a camp where so
many deaths took place every day would, in itself, be of great
value.

Stanley's daily journeys were not likely to be long ones, as he
had instructions to stop at all villages; and to see how things
were going on, and whether the people had any complaints to make of
oppression and exaction by their local authorities.

"It is a tremendous pull, your being able to speak the language,
Stanley," Harry said. "If it hadn't been for that, you would have
been stuck at Prome, like the rest of us. Instead of that, you are
always about; and you look as fresh and healthy as if you were at a
hill station, in India."

"Yes, it has been an immense advantage to me, in all ways. Of
course, I should never have got my staff appointment if it had not
been for that.

"By the way, I have not told you that, while you were down with
the fever, the gazette containing the confirmation of my
appointment by the general, and the notice of my commission, dated
on the day of my appointment, came out. I had quite a lump sum to
draw for although, I have been paid as interpreter all along, the
paymaster made a difficulty about my pay as a subaltern, until I
was gazetted regularly; so I have quite a large sum coming to me,
on my pay and allowances. I don't know how you stand for cash but,
if you are short at all, I can let you have anything that you
want."

"I have got really more than I know what to do with, Stanley. I
bought an uncommonly good native horse, as you know, six weeks ago;
and I am going to ride him for the first time now but, really, that
is almost the first penny that I have spent since we left Rangoon.
There is nothing to buy here except food and, of course, that is a
mess business. I had an idea that this was a rich country but, so
far, one has seen nothing in the way of rich dress materials, or
shawls, or carpets, or jewelry that one could send home as
presents. Why, in India I was always being tempted; but here it is
certainly the useful, rather than the ornamental, that meets the
eye."

"I saw some nice things at Ava but, of course, all the upper
classes bolted as we came up the country; and the traders in rich
goods did the same. Are you going to take a servant with you,
Harry? I don't think that there is any occasion to do so, for
Meinik can look after us both, well enough."

"Yes, I am thinking of taking my native, the man I hired just
after I got here. He is a very good fellow, and made himself very
useful, while I was ill. I picked up a tat for him, yesterday, for
a few rupees. I know that your man would do very well for us both
but, sometimes, when you make a village your headquarters and ride
to visit others from it, I may not feel well enough to go with you;
and then he would come in very handy, for he has picked up a good
many words of English. Your man is getting on very well, that
way."

"Yes; he was some time before he began for, of course, he had no
occasion for it; but now that he has taken to what he considers an
English costume, and has made up his mind that he will never settle
down again under a Burmese government, he has been trying hard to
pick up the language. I found that it was rather a nuisance at
first when, instead of telling him what was wanted in his own
language, I had to tell him in English, and then translate it for
him. However, he does understand a good deal now and, whenever he
has nothing else to do, he is talking with the soldiers. Of course,
from his riding about so much with me, he is pretty well known,
now; and as he is a good-tempered, merry fellow, he makes himself
at home with them and, if the campaign lasts another six months, I
think he will speak very fair English."

"I fancy that you will have to make up your mind that he is a
permanency, Stanley. I am sure he intends to follow you, wherever
you go; whether it is to England, India, or anywhere else."

"I sha'n't be sorry for that, Harry; certainly not as long as I
am out here. In the first place, he is really a very handy fellow,
and ready to make himself useful, in any way; then there is no
doubt that he is greatly attached to me, and would go through fire
and water for me. A man of that sort is invaluable to anyone
knocking about as I shall be, when the war is over and I take up
trading again. His only fault is that he is really too anxious to
do things for me. Of course, when I am on duty there is nothing
much he can do; but if I am sitting in a room, he will squat for
hours in the corner and watch me. If my cheroot gets low, there he
is with a fresh one and a light, in a moment. If I drop my
handkerchief, or a pen, there he is with it, before I have time to
stoop. Sometimes I have really to invent errands to send him on, so
as to give him something to do for me. I own that I have not
contemplated what position he would occupy, if I go trading; but I
quite recognize that he will go with me, and that he would become a
portion of my establishment, even if that establishment consisted
only of himself.

"Will you be ready to start at four in the morning? The sun is
tremendously hot now, on the days between the rain; at any rate, it
will be much better for you, till you get your strength, to travel
in the cool of the morning, or in the evening."

"I shall be ready. I will be round here, with my servant, by
that hour. By the way, what shall I bring with me?"

"Nothing at all. I shall take a couple of chickens, and some
bread and coffee and sugar, and a bottle of brandy for emergencies;
but we shall have no difficulty in getting food in the villages.
The troopers will only carry their day's rations with them. After
that I always act as mess caterer, and charge expenses when I get
back here."

Accordingly, the next morning they started at four o'clock.
Stanley insisted that Harry should ride his second horse, for the
present; as his own, having been six weeks without exercise, and
fed very much better than it had been accustomed to, was in much
too high spirits to be pleasant for an invalid. Meinik, therefore,
took Harry's; and the latter rode beside his cousin, whose horse
had had abundant exercise, and was well content to canter quietly
along by the side of his companion.

By the end of ten days, Harry had picked up some of his
strength. They now reached a village which Stanley decided to use
as his headquarters, for a few days, while he made excursions to
other places within a day's ride. It was a good place for a halt;
standing as it did at some height on the hills, where the air was
much cooler at night than in the flat country. It was surrounded by
a clearing of about a hundred acres in extent; planted with cacao
trees, pepper, and many kinds of vegetables.

"This is delightful!" Harry said, as they sat in front of the
hut that had been cleared for them, and looked over the plain. "It
must be twenty degrees cooler, here, than it was at Prome. I think
I shall do nothing tomorrow, Stanley, but just sit here and enjoy
myself. I know it is very lazy, for I am feeling quite myself
again; still, after ten days' riding, I do think that it will be
pleasant to have a day's rest."

"Do, by all means," Stanley said. "I think you had better stay
here for the three days that we shall remain. Your man is a very
good cook, and there is no lack of food. Those chickens we had just
now were excellent, and the people have promised to bring in some
game, tomorrow. There are plenty of snakes, too; and you lose a
good deal, I can assure you, by turning up your nose at them. They
are just as good as eels, as Meinik cooks them--stewed with a blade
of cinnamon, and some hot peppers. I cannot see that they can be a
bit more objectionable to eat than eels; indeed, for anything one
knows, the eel may have been feasting on a drowned man, the day
before he was caught; while the snakes only take a meal once a week
or so, and then only a small bird of some kind."

"I dare say that you are quite right, Stanley, and I own that
the dishes your man turns out look tempting; but I cannot bring
myself to try, at any rate as long as I can get anything else to
eat. If I knew that it was a case of snake, or nothing, I would try
it; but till then, I prefer sticking to birds and beasts."

The next morning Stanley rode off, with two of his escort and
Meinik, who declined altogether to be left behind.

"No, master," he said, "there is never any saying when you may
want me; and what should I ever say to myself if misfortune were to
come to you, and I were not to be there?"

Stanley had a long day's work. As a rule, the villagers had few
complaints to make but, at the place he went to on this occasion,
the headman had been behaving as in the old times; and Stanley had
to listen to a long series of complaints on behalf of the
villagers. The case was fully proved, both as to extortion and ill
treatment. Stanley at once deprived the man of his office, and
called upon the villagers to assemble and elect another in his
place.

"If you are not satisfied," he said to the fellow, "you can go
to Prome, and appeal to the general there; but I warn you that, if
you do, you must give notice to the villagers of your intention so
that they may, if they choose, send two or three of their number to
repeat the evidence that they have given me. I have noted this
fully down, and I can tell you that the general, when he reads it,
will be much more likely to order you a sound flogging, than to
reinstate you in your office."

It was dusk when Stanley arrived within two miles of the village
where he had left Harry. Meinik, who was riding just behind him,
brought his horse up alongside.

"Do you see that, sir? There is a light in the sky. It is just
over where the village is. I am afraid there is a fire there."

"You are right, Meinik. I hope nothing has gone wrong."

He touched his horse with his heel, and rode on at a gallop. He
became more and more anxious, as he approached the village. No
flames could be seen leaping up, but there was a dull glow in the
sky. As he rode into the clearing, he reined up his horse in
dismay. A number of glowing embers, alone, marked the place where
the village had stood; and no figures were to be seen moving
about.

"There has been foul play, Meinik.

"Get ready for action, men," he said to the two troopers, and
they dashed forward at a gallop.

Two or three little groups of people were sitting, in an
attitude of deep dejection, by the remains of their houses.

"What has happened?" Stanley shouted, as he rode up.

"The robbers have been here, and have slain many, and burned the
village."

"Where is my friend?"

"They have carried him off, my lord; or at least, we cannot find
his body. His servant and one of the soldiers are lying dead; but
of the other soldier, and the officer, there are no signs."

"This is terrible!" Stanley exclaimed. "Tell me exactly how it
happened."

"It was four hours ago, my lord. The robbers came suddenly out
from the plantation, and fell upon the people. Many they killed at
once; but many also have escaped as we did, by running in among the
plantations, and so into the forest. We heard the firing of guns,
for a little time; then everything was silent, and we knew that the
robbers were searching the houses. Half an hour later, smoke rose
in many places, and then flames; then after a time, all was quiet.
A boy crept up among the bushes, and came back with the news that
they had all gone.

"Then we came out again. Twenty-three of our people had been
killed, and eight carried off; at least, we cannot find the bodies.
The white officer and one of his soldiers have gone, also."

"Which way did they go?"

"The tracks show that they went up the hill. Most likely they
will have gone to Toungoo, if they have gone to any town at all;
but indeed, we think they have taken the prisoners to get a reward
for them."

Stanley had thrown himself off his horse, as he rode up; and he
stood for some time, silently leaning against it. Then he said to
Meinik:

"Picket the horses, and then come and have a talk with me."

Then he turned to the two troopers:

"There is nothing to be done now," he said. "You had better look
about, and see what you can find in the way of food; and then get a
grave dug for your comrade, and another for Mr. Brooke's
servant."

The two Mahommedan troopers saluted, and led their horses away.
Meinik, after picketing the animals, returned to Stanley but,
seeing that the latter was pacing up and down, and evidently not
disposed to speak, he went away.

There were a good many fowls walking about, in a bewildered way,
near the huts. They had been away, as usual, searching for food in
the plantations and fields when the robber band arrived and, on
their return home at dusk, had found everything changed. A boy at
once caught and killed two of these, plucked them and brought them
to Meinik who, getting some embers from the fires, cut the fowls in
two and put them on to roast. A few minutes sufficed to cook them.
As soon as they were ready, Meinik took them to Stanley.

"You must eat, master," he said. "You have had nothing since we
started, this morning; and sorrow, alone, makes a poor supper. You
will want to do something, I know; and will need all your
strength."

"You are right, Meinik. Yes, give me one of them, and take the
other one yourself and, while we eat, we can talk. Of course, I
must make an effort to rescue my cousin from the hands of this
band."

"Yes, master, I knew that you would do that."

"Did you ask how many there were of them, Meinik?"

"Some say forty, some say sixty."

"If we knew where they are now, and could come up to them, we
might manage to get them off while the robbers were asleep."

Meinik shook his head.

"They are sure to keep a strict guard, over a white officer," he
said; "but if we rushed in and shouted, and fired pistols, they
might all run away."

"I am afraid not, Meinik. There might be a scare for a minute
but, directly they saw that there were only two of us, they would
turn and kill us. Your people are brave enough. They may feel that
they cannot stand against our troops, owing to our discipline; but
they fight bravely hand-to-hand. However, we don't know exactly
which way they have gone; and it would be hopeless to search for
them in the forest, during the darkness.

"What should they go to Toungoo for?"

"I have been thinking it over, master; and it seems to me that
many of them may belong there, or to the villages near. They may
not dare return to their homes, because they are afraid that they
would be punished for having left the army, and would certainly be
sent off again to it. Now they may think that, if they go back with
a white officer and soldier, and tell some story of having beaten a
great many English, they will be rewarded; and may even be able to
remain some time in their homes, before they are sent off; or they
may be ordered to march with their prisoners to Ava, where they
would get still more reward. I can see no other reason for their
carrying off the officer."

"I think very likely that is so, Meinik. Anyhow, we are more
likely to rescue my cousin, at Toungoo, than we should be while on
the road. It would be next to impossible to find them among all the
hills and trees and, even if we did come upon them at night, and
could creep into the midst of them, we might find that my cousin is
too severely wounded to travel for, as there was a fight, it is
almost certain he must have been wounded before he was captured.
Therefore, I think it is best to make straight for Toungoo.

"How many miles is it from here, do you think?"

Meinik went over to the natives and asked the question. "About
forty-five miles, they say; very bad travelling; all mountains, but
ten miles to the north is a road that runs straight there."

"Then we had better follow that, Meinik. In this broken country,
and forest, we should be losing our way continually."

"How will you go, master? On horse or foot?"

"We will go on horseback, as far as we can; we are not likely to
meet people travelling along the road, at present. Another thing is
that, if we can get the horses as near the town as possible, they
would be very useful for, if Mr. Brooke has been wounded badly, he
may not be able to walk far.

"You do not know whether the country near the town is open, or
whether the forests approach it closely?"

The natives were again applied to.

"It is a rich country there, they say; and well cultivated, for
five or six miles round the town."

"I will go and have a talk with them, presently. It will, of
course, be necessary for me to disguise myself again."

Meinik nodded.

"Yes, you must do that, master."

"Do you think that we can get two or three men to go with us,
from here?"

"If you will pay them, master, no doubt they will be ready to
go. They are well content with the white rulers. They find that
they are not oppressed, and everything is paid for; and that the
white officers treat them kindly and well. They have lost many
things, in this affair today, and would be glad to earn a little
money.

"How many would you like to have?"

"Four or five, Meinik. I don't exactly know, at present, what
there would be for them to do; but they could help to make fires,
and keep watch, while we are doing something. At any rate, they may
be useful.

"Of course, I shall get the trooper out, too, if I can. Very
likely they will be confined together and, if we rescue one, we can
of course rescue the other.

"Now I must do some writing. Get me a torch of some sort, and I
will do it while you are speaking to the natives."

Stanley always carried a notebook and pen and ink, to take down
statements and complaints, as he rode about. He now sat down and
wrote an account of what had taken place during his absence.

"We had no previous news of the existence of the band," he went
on, "and the natives, themselves, had certainly no fear of any
attack being imminent. Had I thought that there was the slightest
risk, I should not have made the village my headquarters; or have
left Mr. Brooke there, with only his servant and two troopers. I
regret the matter, most deeply; and am about to set off to Toungoo,
with my man. I shall, of course, go in disguise; and shall make
every endeavour to free my cousin.

"I trust, General, that you will grant me leave for this
purpose. I am, of course, unable to say how long it may take me
but, however long, I shall persevere until I learn that my cousin
is dead, or until I am, myself, killed. I trust that in starting at
once, on the assumption that you will grant me leave, I am not
committing a breach of duty. But if so, and you feel that you
cannot, under the circumstances in which you are placed, grant
leave to an officer to be absent on private business, I inclose a
formal resignation of my commission, stating why I feel myself
constrained, even in the presence of the enemy, to endeavour to
rescue my cousin from the band that has carried him off. At any
rate, it could not be said that I resigned in order to shirk
danger.

"I sent off two days ago, by one of the natives here, a report
of my proceedings up to that date; and have now the honour to
inclose the notes I took of my investigations, today, into the
conduct of the headman of Pilboora, and my reasons for depriving
him of his office. I shall leave the two troopers of my escort
here, with orders to remain until either I return, or they receive
instructions from Prome. I am taking a few of the villagers with
me. Should anything occur to me, at Toungoo, they will bring back
the news to the troopers; and I shall leave instructions with them
to carry it, at once, to you. If I find that Mr. Brooke has been
sent on to Ava I shall, of course, follow and endeavour to effect
his rescue on the road.

"As it is possible, General, that I may not have another
opportunity of thanking you for the many kindnesses that you have
shown me, allow me to do so, most heartily, now."

When Stanley had concluded the letter, and written the paper
offering his resignation, and giving his reasons for so doing, he
called Meinik to him.

"Well, Meinik, have you found men willing to go with us?"

"Yes, master, I have got five men; two of them know Toungoo
well. All are stout fellows. I offered them the terms that you
mentioned--fifty ounces of silver, to each man, if you succeeded by
their aid in rescuing the officer. They were delighted at the
offer, which would enable them to replace everything that they have
lost.

"I told them, of course, that if it were necessary to fight,
they would have to do so; and that, as many of their countrymen
were enlisted, as gun lascars and in other occupations, with the
English; and are, of course, exposed to the attacks of their
countrymen, they would only be doing what others have been willing
to do.

"They said that they were ready enough to fight. You were the
government, now; and you were a good government, and they would
fight for you and, besides, as the officer was carried off from
their village, it was their duty to help to get him back.

"One of them said, 'These men who attacked us are Burmese
soldiers. As they attack us, there is no reason why we should not
attack them.'

"So I think, master, that you can count upon them. The Burmese
have always been fond of fighting, because fighting means booty.
The troops don't want to fight any more, because they get no booty,
and a number of them are killed. But, now that the villagers have
been forced to go to the war against their will; and have been
plundered, and many killed, by Burmese soldiers, they are quite
ready to take sides with you. Three of them have had wives or
children killed, today; and that makes them full of fight."

"Well, you had better tell them to cook, at once, food for two
or three days. At four o'clock they are to start, through the
forest, to the road you spoke of. We will set out at the same time,
on horseback; but we shall have to make a detour, so they will be
on the road before we are. Tell them when they get there to stop,
until we come up."

"Yes, master. It is a good thing that I rode your second horse,
yesterday, instead of Mr. Brooke's animal."

"Yes, he is worth a good deal more than the other, Meinik, and I
should certainly have been sorry to lose him."

"One of the men who is going with us says that he knows of the
ruins of an old temple, eight or nine miles this side of Toungoo;
and that this would be a good place for us to leave our horses. It
is very, very old; one of those built by the people who lived in
the land before we came to it, and the Burmans do not like to go
near it; so that there would be no fear of our being disturbed,
there. Even these men do not much like going there; but I told them
that no evil spirits would come, where white men were."

"It is rather far off, Meinik; but as you say the country is
cultivated, for some distance round the town, we shall certainly
have to leave our horses some six or seven miles away; and two or
three miles will not make much difference. We can put on our
disguises there.

"You had better take a couple of boys to look after the horses,
while we are away."

"They would not sleep there, at night," Meinik said, doubtfully.
"I don't think the men would, either, if you were not there."

"That would not matter, Meinik, if as you say, there is no fear
of anyone else going there."

"Certainly, no one else will go there at night, master."

"At any rate, if you can get two boys to go, we may as well take
them. They might go there in the day, and feed and water the
horses; and sleep some distance away, at night."

Meinik found two boys, sixteen years old, who said that they
would go with them and, at the hour agreed on, Stanley and Meinik
started on horseback. They descended the hill to the plain at its
foot and, turning to the right, rode for some ten or twelve miles;
when they struck into the road and, following this at an easy pace
they came, in the course of another hour, upon the party of
villagers sitting by the roadside.

The sun was just rising, and they travelled for three hours
without meeting anyone; then they drew off into the wood, at a
point where a small stream crossed the road and, after eating a
meal, and giving a good feed to the horses, lay down to sleep till
the heat of the day abated--the natives, who were all armed with
spears and swords, keeping watch by turns.

At four o'clock they started again and, at ten, approached the
spot where, in the depth of the wood, lay the temple. The man who
knew its position declared, however, that he could not find it, at
night. Stanley had no doubt that he was really afraid to go there
but, as he did not wish to press them against their will, he said
carelessly that it made no difference if they halted there, or
close by the road, and a fire being speedily lit, they bivouacked
round it.

Meinik had procured the necessary dyes from a village, and
Stanley was again stained, and covered with tattoo marks, as
before.

"What am I to do about your hair, master?" he asked. "It will
never do for you to go, like this."

Stanley had not thought of this point and, for a time, was
completely at a loss. His own hair was now short, and could not
possibly be turned up.

"The only thing that I can see," he said, after a long pause,
"is for you and the men each to cut off a lock of hair from the top
of your heads, where it will not show. The six locks would be
ample; but I don't see how you are to fasten it, below the
turban."

"There are berries we can get wax from," Meinik said. "We boil
them in water, and the wax floats at the top. With that, master, we
could fasten the hair in among yours, so that it would look all
right."

The men had all laughed at the proposal, but willingly consented
to part with a portion of their hair. Meinik therefore proceeded to
stain Stanley's close crop black and, the first thing in the
morning, the boys went out, soon returning with a quantity of
berries. Some water was poured over them, in an earthenware pot,
and placed over the fire and, in half an hour, a thick scum of oil
gathered on the surface. Meinik skimmed it off, as fast as it
formed and, as it cooled, it solidified into a tenacious mass,
somewhat resembling cobblers' wax. The six locks of hair had
already been cut off, and the ends were smeared with the wax, and
worked in among Stanley's own hair; then a little of the hot wax
was rubbed in, and the men all declared that no one would notice
anything peculiar in his appearance. The long tresses were curled
round, at the top of the head, and a ring of muslin tied round. The
Burmans were immensely amused at the transformation that had been
wrought in Stanley's appearance; and followed him through the wood,
to the temple, without any signs of nervousness.

The ruins were extensive. A considerable portion of the building
had been hewn out of the face of a precipitous rock, in the manner
of some Hindoo temples; and it was evident that it had been the
work of a people more closely allied to the Indian race than to the
Tartar or Chinese people, from whom the Burmese sprung. Uncouth
figures were sculptured on the walls. At these the Burmese looked
with some awe but, as Stanley laughed and joked over them, they
soon recovered their usual demeanour.

"I am a great deal more afraid of tigers than of ghosts,"
Stanley said; "a deserted place like this is just the sort of spot
they would be likely to be in. At any rate, if these caves do not
go any further into the hill--and there are no signs of their doing
so--it may be hoped that the tigers have their superstitions about
it, too. At any rate, it will be a good thing to pile a great
quantity of firewood at the entrance; and I think one of you had
better stay here, with the boys. They and the horses would be a
great deal safer here, with a fire burning; than they would be in
the woods, where a tiger might pounce upon them, at any moment. As
to this folly about spirits, it is only old women's chatter."

The Burmese talked among themselves, and one of the men finally
agreed to stay with the boys. An hour was spent in gathering a pile
of brushwood and logs, and the man said that he and the two boys
would gather plenty more, during the day. They were, at four
o'clock, to take the horses down to the river, a mile distant, and
let them drink their fill. They had brought with them a large bag
of grain--which had been carried by the men--a quantity of
plantains, and some fowls. Therefore, the party that were to remain
would be well provided.

Moreover, in collecting the wood a score of snakes had been
killed. Some of these and a chicken had been cooking while they
were at work and, as soon as this was eaten, they started for the
town. When they came within a mile of it, Stanley entered a
plantation of fruit trees, and Meinik and the four men went on.

They returned, in two hours, with the news that a party of ten
men had arrived in the town, on the previous day, with two
prisoners. One, a coloured man, had been able to walk. The other, a
white man, had been carried in on a litter. They had both been
lodged in the jail.

By this time, the conduct of the English towards the natives, at
Rangoon and the territory they occupied, had had one good effect.
Signally as they had been defeated by them, the Burmese had lost
their individual hatred of the strangers. They knew that their
wounded and prisoners always received kind treatment at their hands
and, although the court of Ava remained as arrogant and bigoted as
ever, the people in lower Burma had learned to respect their
invaders, and the few prisoners they had taken received much better
treatment than those who had been captured at the commencement of
the war.