The Tremendous Adventures of Major Gahagan

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Holkar, as I made these uncomplimentary remarks, gave a scream of
rage, and, drawing his scimitar, rushed on to despatch me at once
(it was the very thing I wished for), when the third person sprang
forward and, seizing his arm, cried -

"Papa! oh, save him!" It was Puttee Rooge! "Remember," continued
she, "his misfortunes--remember, oh, remember my--love!"--and here
she blushed, and putting one finger into her mouth, and hanging
down her head, looked the very picture of modest affection.

Holkar sulkily sheathed his scimitar, and muttered, "'Tis better as
it is; had I killed him now, I had spared him the torture. None of
this shameless fooling, Puttee Rooge," continued the tyrant,
dragging her away. "Captain Gahagan dies three hours from hence."
Puttee Rooge gave one scream and fainted--her father and the Vizier
carried her off between them; nor was I loth to part with her, for,
with all her love, she was as ugly as the deuce.

They were gone--my fate was decided. I had but three hours more of
life: so I flung myself again on the sofa, and fell profoundly
asleep. As it may happen to any of my readers to be in the same
situation, and to be hanged themselves, let me earnestly entreat
them to adopt this plan of going to sleep, which I for my part have
repeatedly found to be successful. It saves unnecessary annoyance,
it passes away a great deal of unpleasant time, and it prepares one
to meet like a man the coming catastrophe.

* * *

Three o'clock came: the sun was at this time making his appearance
in the heavens, and with it came the guards, who were appointed to
conduct me to the torture. I woke, rose, was carried out, and was
set on the very white donkey on which Loll Mahommed was conducted
through the camp after he was bastinadoed. Bobbachy Bahawder rode
behind me, restored to his rank and state; troops of cavalry hemmed
us in on all sides; my ass was conducted by the common executioner:
a crier went forward, shouting out, "Make way for the destroyer of
the faithful--he goes to bear the punishment of his crimes." We
came to the fatal plain: it was the very spot whence I had borne
away the elephant, and in full sight of the fort. I looked towards
it. Thank Heaven! King George's banner waved on it still--a crowd
were gathered on the walls--the men, the dastards who had deserted
me--and women, too. Among the latter I thought I distinguished ONE
who--O gods! the thought turned me sick--I trembled and looked pale
for the first time.

"He trembles! he turns pale," shouted out Bobbachy Bahawder,
ferociously exulting over his conquered enemy.

"Dog!" shouted I--(I was sitting with my head to the donkey's tail,
and so looked the Bobbachy full in the face)--"not so pale as you
looked when I felled you with this arm--not so pale as your women
looked when I entered your harem!" Completely chop-fallen, the
Indian ruffian was silent: at any rate, I had done for HIM.

We arrived at the place of execution. A stake, a couple of feet
thick and eight high, was driven in the grass: round the stake,
about seven feet from the ground, was an iron ring, to which were
attached two fetters; in these my wrists were placed. Two or three
executioners stood near, with strange-looking instruments: others
were blowing at a fire, over which was a cauldron, and in the
embers were stuck prongs and other instruments of iron.

The crier came forward and read my sentence. It was the same in
effect as that which had been hinted to me the day previous by the
Grand Vizier. I confess I was too agitated to catch every word
that was spoken.

Holkar himself, on a tall dromedary, was at a little distance. The
Grand Vizier came up to me--it was his duty to stand by, and see
the punishment performed. "It is yet time!" said he.

I nodded my head, but did not answer.

The Vizier cast up to heaven a look of inexpressible anguish, and
with a voice choking with emotion, said, "EXECUTIONER--DO--YOUR--
DUTY!"

The horrid man advanced--he whispered sulkily in the ears of the
Grand Vizier, "Guggly ka ghee, hum khedgeree," said he, "THE OIL
DOES NOT BOIL YET--wait one minute." The assistants blew, the fire
blazed, the oil was heated. The Vizier drew a few feet aside:
taking a large ladle full of the boiling liquid, he advanced -

* * *

"Whish! bang, bang! pop!" the executioner was dead at my feet, shot
through the head; the ladle of scalding oil had been dashed in the
face of the unhappy Grand Vizier, who lay on the plain, howling.
"Whish! bang! pop! Hurrah!--charge!--forwards!--cut them down!--no
quarter!"

I saw--yes, no, yes, no, yes!--I saw regiment upon regiment of
galloping British horsemen riding over the ranks of the flying
natives. First of the host, I recognised, O Heaven! my AHMEDNUGGAR
IRREGULARS! On came the gallant line of black steeds and horsemen;
swift swift before them rode my officers in yellow--Glogger,
Pappendick, and Stuffle; their sabres gleamed in the sun, their
voices rung in the air. "D- them!" they cried, "give it them,
boys!" A strength supernatural thrilled through my veins at that
delicious music: by one tremendous effort, I wrested the post from
its foundation, five feet in the ground. I could not release my
hands from the fetters, it is true; but, grasping the beam tightly,
I sprung forward--with one blow I levelled the five executioners in
the midst of the fire, their fall upsetting the scalding oil-can;
with the next, I swept the bearers of Bobbachy's palanquin off
their legs; with the third, I caught that chief himself in the
small of the back, and sent him flying on to the sabres of my
advancing soldiers!

The next minute, Glogger and Stuffle were in my arms, Pappendick
leading on the Irregulars. Friend and foe in that wild chase had
swept far away. We were alone: I was freed from my immense bar;
and ten minutes afterwards, when Lord Lake trotted up with his
staff, he found me sitting on it.

"Look at Gahagan," said his Lordship. "Gentlemen, did I not tell
you we should be sure to find him AT HIS POST?"

The gallant old nobleman rode on: and this was the famous BATTLE
OF FURRUCKABAD, or SURPRISE OF FUTTYGHUR, fought on the 17th of
November, 1804.

* * *

About a month afterwards, the following announcement appeared in
the Boggleywollah Hurkaru and other Indian papers:-

"Married, on the 25th of December, at Futtyghur, by the Rev. Dr.
Snorter, Captain Goliah O'Grady Gahagan, Commanding Irregular
Horse, Ahmednuggar, to Belinda, second daughter of Major-General
Bulcher, C.B. His Excellency the Commander-in-Chief gave away the
bride; and, after a splendid dejeuner, the happy pair set off to
pass the Mango season at Hurrygurrybang. Venus must recollect,
however, that Mars must not always be at her side. The Irregulars
are nothing without their leader."

Such was the paragraph--such the event--the happiest in the
existence of

G. O'G. G., M.H.E.I.C.S., C.I.H.A.

Footnotes:

{1} So admirable are the performances of these watches, which will
stand in any climate, that I repeatedly heard poor Macgillicuddy
relate the following fact. The hours, as it is known, count in
Italy from one to twenty-four: THE DAY MAC LANDED AT NAPLES HIS
REPEATER RUNG THE ITALIAN HOURS, FROM ONE TO TWENTY-FOUR; as soon
as he crossed the Alps it only sounded as usual.--G. O'G. G.

{2} In my affair with Macgillicuddy, I was fool enough to go out
with small swords:- miserable weapons, only fit for tailors.--G.
O'G. G.

{3} The Major certainly offered to leave an old snuff-box at Mr.
Cunningham's office; but it contained no extract from a newspaper,
and does not quite prove that he killed a rhinoceros and stormed
fourteen entrenchments at the siege of Allyghur.

{4} The double-jointed camel of Bactria, which the classic reader
may recollect is mentioned by Suidas (in his Commentary on the
Flight of Darius), is so called by the Mahrattas.

{5} There is some trifling inconsistency on the Major's part.
Shah Allum was notoriously blind: how, then, could he have seen
Gahagan? The thing is manifestly impossible.

{6} I do not wish to brag of my style of writing, or to pretend
that my genius as a writer has not been equalled in former times;
but if, in the works of Byron, Scott, Goethe, or Victor Hugo, the
reader can find a more beautiful sentence than the above, I will be
obliged to him, that is all--I simply say, I will be obliged to
him.--G. O'G. G., M.H.E.I.C.S., C.I.H.A.

{7} The Major has put the most approved language into the mouths
of his Indian characters. Bismillah, Barikallah, and so on,
according to the novelists, form the very essence of Eastern
conversation.

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