The women, at this, raised a squeal that might have been heard in Holkar’s camp, and fainted in different directions; but my dear Belinda whispered in my ear, “Well done, thou noble knight! bravely said, my heart’s Goliah!” I felt I was right:  I could have blown her up twenty times for the luxury of that single moment!  “And now, ladies,” said I, “I must leave you.  The two chaplains will remain with you to administer professional consolation—­the other gentlemen will follow me up stairs to the ramparts, where I shall find plenty of work for them.”

CHAPTER VII.

The escape.

Loth as they were, these gentlemen had nothing for it but to obey, and they accordingly followed me to the ramparts, where I proceeded to review my men.  The fort, in my absence, had been left in command of Lieutenant Macgillicuddy, a countryman of my own (with whom, as may be seen in an early chapter of my memoirs, I had an affair of honor); and the prisoner Bobbachy Bahawder, whom I had only stunned, never wishing to kill him, had been left in charge of that officer.  Three of the garrison (one of them a man of the Ahmednuggar Irregulars, my own body-servant, Ghorumsaug above named,) were appointed to watch the captive by turns, and never leave him out of their sight.  The lieutenant was instructed to look to them and to their prisoner, and as Bobbachy was severely injured by the blow which I had given him, and was, moreover, bound hand and foot, and gagged smartly with cords, I considered myself sure of his person.

Macgillicuddy did not make his appearance when I reviewed my little force, and the three havildars were likewise absent:  this did not surprise me, as I had told them not to leave their prisoner; but desirous to speak with the lieutenant, I despatched a messenger to him, and ordered him to appear immediately.

The messenger came back; he was looking ghastly pale:  he whispered some information into my ear, which instantly caused me to hasten to the apartments where I had caused Bobbachy Bahawder to be confined.

The men had fled;—­Bobbachy had fled; and in his place, fancy my astonishment when I found—­with a rope cutting his naturally wide mouth almost into his ears—­with a dreadful sabre-cut across his forehead—­with his legs tied over his head, and his arms tied between his legs—­my unhappy, my attached friend—­Mortimer Macgillicuddy!

He had been in this position for about three hours—­it was the very position in which I had caused Bobbachy Bahawder to be placed—­an attitude uncomfortable, it is true, but one which renders escape impossible, unless treason aid the prisoner.

I restored the lieutenant to his natural erect position:  I poured half a bottle of whiskey down the immensely enlarged orifice of his mouth, and when he had been released, he informed me of the circumstances that had taken place.