Madhub Babu's Chandernagore house stood on the bank of the river. One dark night a boat came quietly to the ghat. Its occupants silently landed and proceeded stealthily to the house. Every door and window was securely fastened, but what mattered that to Raghu and his band? Tall trees graced the grounds everywhere and many grew near the house. Climbing the nearest, some of the dacoits reached up a long and stout bamboo from it to the flat roof. A slim youth crawled over and fixed the other end securely. Then one by one some of the gang slid across. The door of the staircase leading down into the house stood open. Creeping like cats downstairs they gained the entrance hall. Here they found all the durwans fast asleep. The light of their lanterns showed the durwans' swords hanging on the wall. In a trice the dacoits had them down, unsheathed, and, oh, bitter blow! despatched Madhub Babu's men with their own weapons.

Then noiselessly opening the door they admitted the remainder of the band. For a few hours there was uproar, confusion and dismay while the burglars invaded room after room and collected all Madhub Babu's treasures with which they disappeared.

While still smarting under the loss of his valuables, the Babu received another letter from Raghu Dacoit asking, "Had his visit given Madhub Babu pleasure?"

Girl as Kali-Ma

A large and well-to-do family lived happily in a country place in Bengal.

One day their peace was disturbed by an anonymous letter. The writer warned them to expect a "dacoity" (burglary). These Indian outlaws always make it a point of honour to inform their intended victims, and always come with drums, torch-light and a sort of war-cry.

There was much valuable jewellery in the house and the family, thinking discretion the better part of valour, gathered all together, packed it securely and, taking it with them, left their home about sunset for safe quarters.

Somehow one of the younger ladies with a tiny infant was left behind. Unaware of the warning letter or desertion of the family, she slept peacefully through the early hours of the night. But later, she was awakened by the sound of drums and loud cries, which she recognised as the signal of the dacoits. Rushing out of her chamber she discovered that the burglars were already in the house and that none of the family were to be found. From room to room she fled, finding none to protect her, and realised that she was alone and helpless. Even her husband was gone!

She was a high-spirited and resourceful girl. She knew her life and the baby's as well were in danger and she determined to outwit the burglars. She had a swarthy complexion like Kali, the dacoits'

divinity. Often had her mother bemoaned its darkness! Now it should serve her. But was she black enough? To make a.s.surance doubly sure, she caught up a bottle of ink, which she knew where to find, and hastily smeared her face and limbs with it. Then, hiding her baby in a safe corner, she uncoiled her heavy hair and let its luxuriant black tresses fall about her like a cloak. Her preparations complete, she placed herself in a large niche at the head of the stairs.

The dacoits found nothing below worth attention and trooped upstairs. The flickering glare of their torches fell upon a life-like image of Kali the Terrible. With protruding scarlet tongue and fixed staring eyes, the girl stood immovable and breathless, silently invoking all her family G.o.ds to come to her aid in her bold design.

With an awe-struck cry of "Mercy! mercy! Kali-Ma!", the thieves fell prostrate at her feet. The girl held her breath. Was it possible that her plan had succeeded? The slow seconds pa.s.sed. The Chief arose. "Come, brothers, we touch nothing where Mother Kali is worshipped." With hasty and reverent steps they descended the stairs and left the house.

Long after the dacoits had gone the girl stood there. Then the strain snapped and she relapsed to her normal self. Fear swept over her and she rushed out of the house. But her trembling limbs could not carry her far. She fell in a dead faint on the pathway. The neighbours, who had heard the dacoits enter the house and seen them go away silent and empty-handed, came to learn the mystery and found her there.

When the family returned next morning, the neighbours abused them soundly for leaving the girl and her babe behind. The girl herself was so hurt by the neglect that she had scarcely strength enough to relate the strange happenings of the night. Her husband found it difficult to make his peace; he said that he believed her to be with the ladies of the family. In zenana families even the most devoted husband has little voice in his wife's movements, as all arrangements are left in the hands of the mother-in-law. There were several ladies and children in the family and the mother-in-law had thought the girl was with some of them. Friendship was however finally restored. All generously admired her ingenuity and realised her bravery. From the white-haired old father to the smallest child, everyone was grateful then and always after for her presence of mind on that memorable night.

The Deputy Magistrate

In the Dacca district, a few years ago, there was a big dacoity. A Deputy Magistrate was ordered to secretly investigate the matter and, if possible, to capture the miscreants.

Besides his cook and personal attendants he took with him some policemen. All were disguised. They travelled in several small boats.

It was late in the evening as they neared the place, where the burglary had occurred. He decided to proceed no further that night. The boats put to; the men cooked their evening meal and all retired.

About midnight, the Magistrate awoke with a start to hear many voices calling him by name. He listened: "So you have come to arrest us, to put us in jail, to hang us. Ah! you will soon see who will be punished. We shall know how clever you are!"

The night was pitch-dark. He noiselessly opened the small window of the boat and saw a number of men, with flaming torches in their hands and armed with heavy sticks, coming down the bank. There was no time to call his men. He seized his loaded revolver. But what was one against so many! He decided to bolt. The land way was barred by the dacoits. What of the river? He was a good swimmer. But the water looked black as ink and swarmed with crocodiles. Yet to stay in the boat meant certain death. If he gained the opposite bank, he could make for his father-in-law's house, which was near the river and where his wife was then staying. He might escape the crocodiles. He determined to risk it.

Like a flash all this pa.s.sed through his mind. Opening the other window he clambered out stealthily and slipped into the water. A few powerful strokes carried him across. He stumbled up the bank and raced through the th.o.r.n.y jungle to his father-in-law's house.

The sleeping family were disturbed by his violent knocking. As soon as he was admitted, he went to his wife's room. She was horrified to hear of his danger. After a hasty bath and change she insisted that he should eat something, and while he was refreshing himself, she informed her father of his son-in-law's escape and predicament. To her surprise, her father said: "I am sorry, but he must leave my house."

"O! father, how can he?" she pleaded.

"He must" repeated her father.

The daughter fell at her parent's feet and implored him not to drive her husband forth. But no words of hers could move him. "Why should all suffer for one?" he argued. She returned sadly to her husband.

Presently the cries of the dacoits showed that they had scented their quarry. Soon they shouted at the door: "Open! or drive out the Deputy Magistrate. We know he is here. Give him to us or what happens be on your own head."

The wife wept piteously. Her father remained obdurate, muttering, "I knew this would happen."

The unfortunate Magistrate could not understand his father-in-law's behaviour. He sat with his head bowed in despair. Suddenly his wife ran to him.

"You must try to escape. I have an idea." She pulled out a saree and some jewels, and began to dress him as a woman.

"It's no use," he said hopelessly, "they will catch me."

"Be brave," she said encouragingly, "for my sake see if you cannot elude them."

With tender hands she arranged the saree, draping it well over his head to conceal his face. Then giving him a ghurra (water vessel) told him to pretend that he was going to fetch water from the river. Cheered by her courage, he caught her to his heart in a mute farewell, and her prayers went with him.

He had not gone far from the house when cries arose of "There he is!" But some one shouted: "It is a woman. Look elsewhere." And he pa.s.sed slowly to the river. Here he flung the bra.s.s ghurra far out into the stream and ran for his life along the bank. No sounds of pursuit followed him, and he now gained courage enough to form a plan of escape. Not far from his father-in-law's village was a small police station. Thither he bent his steps and asked protection of its solitary occupant.

The man recognised him and asked: "Deputy Saheb, why are you here? What is wrong?"

The Magistrate told him of the dacoits and of his escape. "Dacoits after you!" said the policeman and looked grave. "Sir, I cannot help you. What is one policewallah against so many? If I shelter you we shall both die. You better push on."

For a time the Magistrate pleaded to deaf ears. But at length his promises of promotion and reward moved the man. "Come" he said "I will do my best," and, rising, led the way to his own house. Here in the inner room was a high machan--a huge bamboo shelf made like a raft and suspended from the roof and reached by a moveable ladder, used for storing all sorts of things.

On this machan were some old blankets. "Here, conceal yourself in these" said the policeman. The Deputy Magistrate needed no second bidding. He climbed up and rolled himself in one of the blankets and heaped the others in front of him. The policeman carried the ladder away, right out of the house. Then he shut the door and returned to the office.

After a time there came the noise of the dacoits. They soon entered the police station and shouted: "Give up that Deputy Saheb. We know he is here."

"Deputy, what Deputy? I cannot understand. Where is he?" answered the policeman.

"Don't be shamming," returned the dacoits contemptuously, "thou knowest well whom we mean. Produce him if you value your own life."

In vain the policeman pleaded ignorance. His trembling limbs and shaking voice belied his words. The dacoits bound him, searched the police office, and then proceeded to hunt the house. "He is not here. Let us not waste further time," said one. "Let's look well,"

said another, "and search every place." Some climbed the machan and discovered their victim. It did not take them long to drag him down, and beat him mercilessly with their long sticks, till he became unconscious. The policeman too was severely chastised. Him they left lying there; but rolled the offending Magistrate in an old mat, bound him tightly with a rope and carried him away to the river.

As he was borne on their shoulders through the night air, he gradually came to his senses but kept silent and listened to his captors. By this time it was dawn, and they were at the river. The majority were for re-crossing and burning him, dead or alive. One dissentient voice struck him with surprise. It was his father-in-law's! Clearly he was one of the gang! But scruples had overtaken him and he pleaded that he might not be a witness of the projected murder of his son-in-law. "Spare me! spare me!" he cried.

Some jeered: "Ho! Ho! you still have a soft corner in your heart for your son-in-law." At last they agreed that he might absent himself and he apparently turned back.

The others now put their burden into a boat and crossed the river. They were laughing at the father-in-law's weakness, and as they approached the ghat failed to observe a Government budgerow anch.o.r.ed there. It was the Divisional Commissioner's. He was out on tour. The paharawalla on deck checked them: "Do not make such a noise. The Saheb sleeps."

They answered rudely and the watchman retorted angrily. The dacoits loudly abused the man.

The noise woke up the Commissioner, and he got out on deck with a loaded revolver in his hand. The dacoits jumped from their dinghy and ran up the bank. It was evident who they were and the Commissioner fired, aiming at their legs. One man fell with a scream of pain but scrambled to his feet and ran on.

Nothing was to be gained by chasing them through the still dark jungle. The Commissioner turned his attention to the boat. "Search it" he ordered his watchmen. His quick eyes detected legs protruding from a mat, and he was not surprised when his chapra.s.si called: "Saheb, a dead man lies in it."

The Deputy murmured feebly: "I am not dead. I live." The chapra.s.si amended the first statement: "Saheb, he speaks." The Commissioner jumped into the dinghi, cut the ropes that bound the unfortunate man, and discovered the Deputy Magistrate. It did not take him long to recover and pour his tale of woe into his Chief's ears.