“But you said he was dying.”

“So he is, and that makes matters worse, for his grandson, Sirajuddaula, who’ll probably succeed him, is no better than a tiger.  He lives at Murshidabad, about one hundred miles up the river.  He’s a vain, peacocky, empty-headed youth, and as soon as the breath is out of his granddad’s body he’ll want to try his wings and take a peck or two at us.  He may do it slyly, or go so far as to attack us openly.”

“But if he did that, sure Calcutta is defended; and, as Mr. Clive said to me in Gheria, British soldiers behind walls might hold out forever.”

“Clive doesn’t know Calcutta then!  That’s the mischief!  At the Maratha invasion the Bengalis on our territory took fright, and at their own expense began a great ditch round Calcutta—­we call it the Maratha ditch; but the Nawab bought the Marathas off, the work was stopped, the walls of the fort are now crumbling to ruins, and the cannon lie about unmounted and useless.  Worst of all, our governor, Mr. Drake, is a quiet soul, an excellent worthy man, who wouldn’t hurt a fly.  We call him the Quaker.  Quakers are all very well at home, where they can ‘thee’ and ‘thou’ and get rich and pocket affronts without any harm; but they won’t do in India.  Might is right with the natives; they don’t understand anything else; and as sure as they see any sign of weakness in us they’ll take advantage of it and send us all to kingdom come.

“And I’m thinking of the womenfolk:  India’s no place for them at the best; and I did all I could to persuade my wife and daughter to remain at home.  But they would come out with me when I returned last year; and glad as I am to have them with me I sometimes get very anxious; I can’t bear them out of my sight, and that’s a fact.”

Mr. Merriman showed his relief when, on the thirtieth of April, he noticed the yellow tinge in the water, which indicated that the vessel was approaching the mouth of the Hugli.  Next day the vessel arrived at Balasore, where a pilot was taken on board, and entered the river.  Mr. Merriman pointed out to Desmond the island of Sagar, whither in the late autumn the jogis came down in crowds to purify themselves in the salt water, “and provide a meal for the tiger,” he added.  At Kalpi a large barge, rowed by a number of men dressed in white, with pink sashes, came to meet the Hormuzzeer.

“That’s my budgero,” said Merriman.  “We’ll get into it and row up to Calcutta in half the time it would take the ship.  Each of us merchants has his own budgero, and instead of putting our men in buttons with our arms and all that nonsense, we give them colored sashes—­and don’t our women squabble about the colors, my boy, just don’t they!”

In the budgero they passed the Dutch factory at Fulta, and the Subah’s forts at Budge Budge and Tanna.  At Gobindpur’s reach, Merriman pointed out the pyramid of stone that marked the limit of the Company’s jurisdiction.  Soon the gardens of the British merchants came in sight, then the Company’s docks, and at last the town of Calcutta, where the Company’s landing stage was thronged with people awaiting the arrival of the budgero in the hope of getting news from home.