Twycross's Redemption: a story of wild adventure, etc

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->* Poor girl ! it was a great sacrifice. Page 12. Twycross s Redemption A STORY OF WILD ADVENTURE BY ALFRED ST. JOHNSTON AUTHOR OF " CAMPING AMONG CANNIBALS," " CHARLIE ASGAIiDE, "IN QUEST OF GOLD," ETC, ETC EIGHT ILLUSTRATIONS BY CORDON BROWNE BRISTOL J. W. Arrowsmith, ii Quay Street LONDON Simpkin, Marshall & Co., 4 Stationers' Hall Court 18S8 All Rights Rescrvcel CONTENTS. Chap. Pagl I. THE RESOLVE I II. AT THE BARRACKS 8 III. A FRIEND AT NEED 20 IV. THE SHARK FISHING 24 V. AFTER PANTHER 3 1 VI. TREACHERY 39 VII. CAPTURED AND CARRIED OFF 47 Till. onJthe way to kellapoora 56 IX. IN the ruined temple 63 X. the spell of the serpent 69 XI. IN the power of the king 78 XII. the south wall prison 89 XIII. the nenana tower 102 XIV. put to the torture Ill XV. KAMO 122 xvi. ruhunu's tactics 131 XVII. life with the king 140 XVIII.

THE CORRAL I49 XIX. THE RETURN TO KELLAPOORA 1 57 XX. ARTHUR'S PLANS 164 XXI. ESCAPE POSSIBLE 172 XXII. ODAYA TO THE RESCUE 183 XXIII. THE TALISMAN WORKS I96 XXIV. OLIVE ACTS A NEW

PART 207

Chapter I. The Resolve

HE unclouded sun shone down upon Colombo. The town lay white and glaring in the full splendour of the Indian day — for the rains were long since past, and now that the dry season had come no passing cloud ever ternpered the blaze of light and heat that seemed to radiate from all parts of the great arch of the sky. The weary days of drought and dust knew . no variation, and the earth was cracking in the heat. The houses of all the European in habitants were closed against the sun ; the city seemed asleep, for the only people in the streets and markets were a few slim, dark-skinned Singhalese who moved about like shadows, the sound of their footsteps being completely deadened in the deep red dust of the roads. So still was the sultry air that the little clouds of fine powder that rose as the people moved settled down again the moment they had passed.

The line of cocoa-palms that fringed the shore, and the thick and lofty forest that spread over the whole face of the country, were still green — for the roots of the greater trees go deep into the earth, and in the dense shade of the forest the moisture lies long unevaporated — but the coarse grass of the compounds round the white men's bungalows, and the shrubs planted about their deep verandas, were all brown and shrivelled for want of the far-off rains. In front of one of the largest houses in Colombo, which was built in a square, well-wooded compound on the top of one of the little hills outside the town, there was standing the curtained palanquin of an English officer. The thin and naked bearers had placed it in the only available space of shade to keep it as cool as possible until their master's return from the house ; and they themselves — for they dared not enter the veranda — were forced to remain in the full glare of the sunshine.

One of them had managed to squeeze himself into the shadow alongside the palanquin ; but the other three were patiently sitting on the dry and dusty grass lazily brushing away the mosquitoes and insects that every moment settled on their naked bodies. At* one end of the veranda, that ran along the front of the house, was a large and lofty room, which seemed dim and cool when compared with the heat and brightness of the outside day ; for the two great doorways which served as windows as well as entrances to the veranda, although thrown wide open, were filled in with fine blinds of rushes, which were constantly sprinkled with water to cool the air as it passed through. In this half-lighted room was a young girl. In her rest lessness she had slipped from her low chair to the floor, where she was halflying on a rich-coloured embroidered cushion.

She held a book in her hand, but she was not reading; though the pages sometimes turned, it was only the steady movement of the punkah overhead that fluttered the leaves. Even in the dim light of the shaded room one could .see that she was tall and dark and supple, and that her shapely head was crowned with a great coil of beautifully wavy hair. Some little way from her was sitting a middle aged Singhalese ayah, industriously sewing at some white linen garment ; but now and then she found time to look up with eyes of affection and interest at the silent girl whom she had nursed, from the day of her birth when her mother died, till she left for England at nine years of age. After a long silence, the girl turned over impatiently and threw the book from her. With a yawn she got up and walked to the window, and drew the blind a little to one side.

A broad bar of dazzling light darted in at the opening. " Oh, how hot and dusty and wretched this place is ! " she said. " Not a sign of rain or change of any sort. It is very different in England," she added in Singhalese, addressing her nurse ; for she had not forgotten her first language in the seven years that she had been away. " It is splendid there, for you have a change in the weather every day." " Yes, Missy," cheerfully assented the woman, but with doubts in her mind as to the desirability of variety. "And you can go out walking or riding at any time, with out fear of sunstroke, and Look at those poor fellows outside there baking in the sun," she suddenly broke off to say. " It is shameful ! Why don't they go into the shade ? " " They mustn't leave the palanquin, Missy." " But I say they must.

It is perfectly barbarous to let them stand there, for hours together perhaps." " But they are only bearers," said the woman philo sophically. " Bearers or not, they are men I suppose, and feel the heat as much as anyone else ? Make them go round to the other side of the house ; give them something to drink, and tell them to stay there till Colonel Twycross is ready." " Nobody takes any notice of bearers, Missy." " But I do. Go and do what I tell you." " Hallo, Olive! who is it that you are ordering about in that royal manner? " said a thin and somewhat wrinkled, but 2 * active, eager-looking man, who entered the room at this moment. "Oh, it's only Anoora, father. I am telling her to give those wretched bearers something to drink." " You won't trouble yourself about that sort of person, Olive, when you have been here some little time.

Will she, Twycross ? " He turned as he spoke to the big, bronzed, soldierly looking man that had followed him into the room, with a troubled and anxious look on his genial and generally cheer ful face. " I don't know, Merven," he said, as he looked at Olive, " I fear she may get to think about their troubles as little as we do ; but I hope not." " What makes me so angry, Colonel Twycross, is not so much the neglect of us white folks — though that is bad enough — but the terrible callousness of the people towards each other. You should not have had me educated as you have done, father, if you wanted me to be indifferent to these things. I cannot — and, what is more, will not — bear to see suffering if I can alleviate it, any more than you can witness or allow injustice without trying to alter it."

" You see, Twycross, how soon she shows her breed and pipes my tune. What do you say to our taking her into our councils ? " " With all my heart, if you think it can do any good," said the Colonel, who seemed to hold woman's opinion of small value. " Well, Olive, this is our trouble. You remember Colonel Twycross's little boy Arthur, don't you ? He was only about nine or ten, I suppose, when you left Ceylon, but he has grown into a great big fellow now, and you would not know him, ex cept that he is so like his father. You have not seen him since you came back, for he went away a month ago — just before you landed — to a plantation in the hills, and has only been back again two days. Well, the truth is, he is giving his father a great deal of trouble." " I should think he is, the young dog," muttered the Colonel.

" He is going into the army, but he hasn't got his com mission yet ; and he has been idling about and — er, er — well, yes — he has taken up with a lot of bad companions, and it looks as though he were going to the dogs, neck and crop." " What ! little Arthur Twycross ? I remember him very well. We used to play together. Oh, I am sorry ! " " He isn't so little now, I can tell you. He is three or four months older than you," continued Mr. Merven. "Oh yes, I know; but I've no doubt he seems ever so much 3-ounger. Girls are so much older and sharper than boys of the same age." "What do you think can be done?" asked Colonel Twycross, looking at her. " He is as fine a fellow as ever was seen, and as good-hearted a one ; but he is going head long to the devil. He is our only one, Olive, you know, and all this is breaking his poor mother's heart.

Your father says ' Send him away ; ' but I think that that would be the worst plan of all, for he would then be without even those checks that he has here." " I should not send him away," said the girl. " Then what would you do ? " " I don't quite know what can be done," replied the girl slowly, as though thinking; "but I can very well understand how it has all come about. The cousins that I used to live with in England were all boys ; I was nearly a boy myself when I was there, so I know all about them." " I wish to heaven that you were one ! " ejaculated the Colonel. Olive started as he spoke, and half-smiled to herself, as though he had given her an idea. " It is just because he hasn't any companion of his own age that he associates with those other people," she said. " I know all about it : boys can't be lonely; and if they don't find good companions, they' will take up with bad."

"You are monstrous clever, young lady; perhaps you'll advise us," said her father, smiling. " Let us see if fifteen can help fifty." " I 'm more than sixteen." " Well, we won't quarrel about trifles." " I think I have a plan, but I shall not say anything about it just yet. I may, perhaps, put it into execution when you are away on circuit, father." " Very well, Olive; I can trust you to do nothing I should disapprove of." " Good-bye, Colonel ; I am going to my room to think it over. Don't tell Arthur that I have come back from England." Taking up her book, Olive walked from the room with a firm elastic step that spoke of health and strength, and of years of out-door life and exercise on the breezy northern English moors. " What does the girl mean to do ? " asked Twycross. " I don't know. Nothing, I expect.

Write him a letter or lecture him perhaps, that is what women generally do. Any way it can do no harm. You know that I have had Olive brought up among boys, to see whether I could get rid of man}' of the usual feminine fears and nervousnesses." "Oh yes," laughed Twycross, "I know your ideas ; but you will find she won't do anything." But Colonel Twycross was mistaken. It was not in Olive Merven's nature to do nothing when she was interested in any cause. She was one of those who act, and not merely think of acting. Although so young, she was determined and self reliant ; and having no mother from her birth, and living away from home for so long, had taught her to duly value her own well-considered opinion. She had a strength of character which generally enabled her to carry anything through that she began, and a nobility of heart that made her judgment right and good, though sometimes Quixotic.

After she left her father and Colonel Twycross she shut herself up in her own room to think what she could do to save this boy from ruin. It is true that the lad was a few months older than herself; but, as she had said to her father, a girl is far older in sense and feeling than a boy of the same age, and there was enough of the woman, even in this young girl, to make her glad to help one of the other sex. "Oh yes, I remember Arthur Twycross quite well," she said to herself, as she sat down: "a bright-faced, frank, and jolly boy, who even then was always getting himself into scrapes with everyone, and mischief of all sorts. Poor lad ! I know just how it has all happened. If Eric or Oswald, or any of the boys at Thorton, had been alone, it might have been just the same. But it is different in England — a boy can always get a companion there ; here in Ceylon he cannot.

All his friends have had to go back home to school or college, I suppose. I wonder what I could do to help him ? Not only for his sake, but for his father's — for I love and respect that man. I believe — without vanity I believe — I could save him. Yes ; he is worth the risk. I think I could do it, and, what is more, I am sure I ought. / will!" Saying which mysterious sentence to herself, she rose and recalled Anoora to her room. She was obliged to take her old nurse into her confidence as she wanted her help in her plans, but she bound her over to secrecy, and she knew that her foster-mother would be faithful to death if necessary. Anoora tried to dissuade her from her intention, having an Eastern woman's objection to action of any sort ; but Olive persevered, and the nurse, who looked upon her as a paragon of learning and wisdom, was silenced after a little time.

Mysterious bundles and parcels kept arriving next day from the town, and there was much cutting and stitching and altering of raiment going on in Olive's room, and even a good deal of laughter, for the girl had entered heart and soul into her work, and was glad to have something to do to fill up her time and occupy her attention. After the full and busy life she had led in England, the quiet and stillness of Ceylon, where as yet she had formed no girl-friendships, palled terribly upon her. Olive said nothing to her father of her plans — not dreading his disapproval, but fearing that he might be uneasy for her, whilst she herself felt so secure. Mr. Merven had always held ideas of his own upon the subject of the education of girls, and the death of his wife had removed most of the usual woman's teaching from the life of the little Olive.

It was Mr. Merven's theory that girls should be brought up to be as independent and self-reliant as boys ; and Olive, both before leaving home and afterwards in England, had been taught to be so.

Chapter II. At The Barracks

IWO or three days after the conversation detailed in the last chapter, Mr. Merven had to leave Colombo on circuit to visit the native and Eng lish courts of the towns on the southern and eastern coasts of the island. He had been for years one of the English judges of the Supreme Court in Ceylon, and his knowledge of Singhalese law, and his sound common-sense, had placed him high in the esteem and respect of the natives as well as of the English. In the early morning, whilst it was still pleasantly cool, Olive had ridden with her father from the little rising on which they lived, through the town and to the quay, which, early though it was, already was thronged with a gay and busy crowd of white-clad Europeans and brightly-dressed natives, who laughed and chattered noisily over whatever business they had in hand.

The quay was loaded with sacks of rice, tim ber, and cases of merchandise of all sorts, that were being shipped and unshipped to and from the vessels lying at anchor in the fine harbour. The scene was a brightly-coloured one, for the busy crowd was formed of many nationalities, all of which retained their distinctive costumes. The Singhalese are not a very mercantile people themselves, and the chief commerce of the island is carried on by Moors, Malays, and Tamils, who, for hundreds of years, have settled in Ceylon. A few boats of English build and catamarans of all sorts dotted the surface of the harbour ; and close alongside the quay, which was built of glittering white coral-rock, was moored the cumbersome paddle-boat which was used by the residents in their coasting journeys. Forty years ago, at the date of the action of this story, steamships were not in such general use as they are nowadays, and the four months' long journey from England to India was always made in sail ing vessels, which came round the Cape of Good Hope.

Olive stood talking with her father and Colonel Twycross, who had also come to see him off, until the hoarse whistle of the steamer warned them that it was time to say good-bye. For a little time after her father had crossed the gangway and gone on to the boat the girl waited at the wharf; but when the panting, throbbing steamer began to churn the water to foam in its efforts to start, the spirited horse she was mounted on became so restive that she had to turn his head away from the object of his terror, and, waving a last good bye to her father, who was watching her from the deck, she left the quay. Colonel Twycross rode with her through the town, for she had sent the sake home with Mr. Merven's horse. In answer to Olive's enquiring glance, which he seemed to un derstand at once, he said : " Oh, it is worse than ever !

I shall have to send him home to his grandfather. The young fool is ruining all his chances ; for, if I have to send him away now, he won't be able to accept the commission that has been promised to me for him next year. He never came home at all last night, and his mother was nearly frightened to death. I don't know what to do for the best ; but it is a terrible thing for a father to see a fine, handsome, honest lad like that being ruined." " How long is it since he took to these wild ways ? " " Oh, only a month or two — ever since young Hudson went to England. He was Arthur's greatest friend. Since then he he has got to know one or two of the officers of the 9th — that is the other regiment, you know, not mine — and the}- have done him no good. And I fear he has made acquaintance, too, with some of the men in the ranks.

I saw him speaking and laughing with a fine rakish-looking fellow yesterday, and when I asked him who it was, he said at once — for the boy is as true and open as the day — ' That is Jackson, a private of the 9th.'" " Has Arthur come home yet ? " " He had not when I left the bungalow." " Well, Colonel, from to-day / will take him in hand, and see what can be done." "You?" "You must not be surprised if you see a stranger with him. You have not told him that I have come back to Ceylon, have you ? " " No, I have not spoken of you." "That's right; but I must caution you not to be surprised at anything you see." Nodding brightly to the astonished soldier as she spoke, she turned from the dusty road on to the firm sand of the beach, and, putting her horse to the gallop, dashed away. ■up*. She sat her horse like an Amazon, her supple and elastic figure erect and steady ; and, before the Colonel had time to collect his wits and ask her what she meant, she was out of call.

It was low water and the recently wet sand at the margin of the sea was firm and compact, so that a horse could gallop at full speed upon it. It was a lovely morning, the sun only just risen, and the sky and sea of one deep transpar ent blue. A little sea-breeze was blowing, enough to rustle the long leaves of the cocoa palms that edged the shore, and to show the silvery undersides of the leaves of the wajaya bush as it raised them on their stems. Everything was look ing fresher for the dew which had fallen in the night, and those flowers which had braved the greatest heat of the last month were even opening fresh buds to the day which, later on, would wither and destroy them. Flocks of bright green parrots were flying to their different feeding grounds, and the dayal birds, hidden in the tangled growth of the deserted and ruined cinnamon gardens, were filling the golden morning with the music of their song.

To Olive, her morning ride was the one great pleasure of the day. Accustomed to a healthy out-door life in England, and being a remarkably strong and active girl, the idleness and languor of the usual Ceylon day were hateful to her. Her life had been very dull since she had come to Colombo, and she lacked youthful companionship as much as Arthur Twycross himself. The task of redemption that she had set herself promised her occupation enough for the future, and the element of romance that is inherent in every girl's nature, just as chivalry is (or should be) in every boy's, was excited at the prospect of the work before her. An hour after her return to the bungalow Olive began to carry out her plan. She was seated before the looking-glass in her room, whilst Anoora, down whose face the tears were streaming, stood behind her armed with a huge pair of scissors.

The poor woman could not bear to spoil the beauty of her foster-child. " It will never grow so long and beautiful again, Missy ; and look how wavy it is ! " and she picked up a great handful of Olive's beautiful hair, which, as she sat, was flowing over her shoulders almost to the ground. But the girl refused to look at it, fearing that her resolution might be shaken if she saw it ; for she had always been proud of the dusky glory of her hair. " Go on, Anoora, or I shall have to do it myself; and I should not do it half so well as you." Olive looked pale, for she was taking a very decided step ; and her eyes, it must be owned, filled with some natural tears as she felt the cold steel at her neck and heard the grating of the scissors as they cut through the masses of her hair. Poor girl ! it was a great sacrifice ; but Oiive was no believer in half-measures.

" A fine boy I shall make," said the girl to herself, "if I begin to cry just at the loss of this ridiculous hair. I 've often said it was heavy, and an intolerable nuisance. So it is ; " and, forcing the tears back, she sat quite still until Anoora had ended the task, and her hair lay in great locks and curling tresses all round the chair on which she sat. "Thank you, Anoora; that is very good," said she, as she quietly looked at her little cropped head in the glass. " How like I am to Oswald, now that my hair is in short, little crispy curls like his. I am not quite sure that it isn't very becoming, too." A little time after this, a dark slim boy, of apparently about fifteen years of age, walked across the compound of Mr. Merven's bungalow, and turned towards the town. No such boy had been seen to go in.

Thus Olive Merven's romance began. At first she turned her face towards Colombo, keeping in the shade of the tamarind trees that lined the road, for the sun was now high in the heavens, and the heat of the day intense; but she saw a palanquin being swiftly carried towards her, and, knowing that an European was inside it, she blushed hotly and hurriedly ran and hid amongst the trees. There she waited till the palanquin had passed, arguing angrily with herself for being so weak-minded. " If I am to be taken for a boy," she thought, " I must not look and act so like a silly girl. I must swagger about a bit and stare at people, and ' do the swash-buckler,' as Eric used to say. And I must not be very particular about my language. These white clothes look unnaturally clean for a boy ; I must manage to soil them a bit before I get into the town.

And how little my feet look ! but perhaps no one will notice that." She began to grow a little more accustomed to her new style of dress when she had worn it an hour or two ; so, settling her face into what she thought was a stolid boyish expression, she entered the town. She thought that every body looked at her curiously as she passed, but it was only her imagination — no one noticed her ; for, with her short hair and erect agile figure, she very well passed muster for an unusually nice-looking English boy. She only met one or two Europeans in the streets at this hot time of the day, and they were being carried in their shady palanquins, and merely glanced at her and passed on without comment. She did not at all know where to look for Arthur, but had come into the town on the chance of meeting him somewhere.

She had walked up and down the shady side of one or two of the principal streets, which at another time would have deeply interested her, fresh as she was from England, with their strange scenes of Oriental life and colour ; but to-day she was too much absorbed in her search to let her attention wander to what was going on around her. At last she remembered what Colonel Twycross had told her about Arthur's acquaintance with some of the men of the 9th, and she determined that he would probably be with them. As Olive had never been to the military lines, she had to stop to ask her way. She addressed herself to a native lapi dary who was sitting at the front of his brown mud house busily polishing, at a little wheel which was turned by an intelligent-looking, nearly naked boy, some of the beautiful gems which are found in the interior of the island.

The man directed her, and she walked away. As she reached the barracks and began to meet many English soldiers — before whom, somehow, she felt more embarrassed than she did with the natives — she grew a little nervous ; but as none of them seemed to take any particular notice of her she soon lost this feeling, and, being sure that her disguise was a complete one, she quickly grew quite at her ease. Although she entered the great courtyard of the building and looked everywhere for him, she could see no sign of Arthur, and she had almost given up her search in despair, for that day at least, when she plucked up nerve to make enquiries for him. She looked round to see whom she should speak to. Sitting on a wooden bench against the wall on the shady side of the court, she saw a sunburnt young English soldier.

He could not have been more than twenty or twenty one, and Olive judged from his appearance that he would probably give her a civil answer, so she crossed the courtyard to where he was sitting. The soldier was half lying on the bench, with one leg on the ground, whilst the other one, which was clasped at the ankle by his firm-looking hand, was raised on the seat. He was deeply immersed in the very worn and thumb-marked book that he held in his hand. He had a little native cigar between his lips, but so interested was he that he had forgotten to smoke it, and it had gone out. Before she spoke, Olive glanced at the book and saw that it was Ivanhoe. She understood his interest then. "I am sorry to interrupt your reading," Olive began; " but can you tell me if you have seen a young civilian here this morning ?