The governor was seen gesticulating furiously to a party of officers and, presently, a final attack was made, led by several officers of rank. This was as unsuccessful as the others. The bodies, indeed, of the killed now forming a well-nigh impassable barrier and, after several of the officers and many of the bravest men had fallen, the remainder withdrew suddenly. The governor appeared to recognize that the task was an impossible one; and two or three hundred men were at once set to work felling trees and, by nightfall, a high stockade had been erected round the open ground in front of the temple.

"They are going to try to starve us out," Stanley said. "There is no more chance of fighting, tonight."

As soon as the stockade was finished, musketeers took their place behind it and opened a dropping fire at the entrance, while the woodcutters continued to fell trees.

"We must get rid of these dead bodies, if we can," Stanley said, "or the place will be uninhabitable, in a day or two.

"Get those two bamboos we had for the litter, Meinik. We will push the bodies out, one by one, beginning with those on the top of the heap. We can keep down behind the shelter of the pile, till we have got most of them out. After that, we must take our chance of a shot."

It took them some hours' work but, at last, the passage was cleared, and the bodies all thrown outside. The fire was lighted in the next room; and Stanley, bidding two men listen attentively for any movement, went up again to Harry—to whom he had paid a flying visit, as soon as the Burmese drew off.

"We cannot risk having a light here, Harry," he said. "I don't want them to have any idea that this chamber, which is nearly fifty feet above the entrance, is in any way connected with the rooms below. If such an idea struck them, they might lower men from above by ropes, and so take us in the rear."

"Did you say that we are regularly shut up, in front, by that stockade?"

"Yes; there is certainly no getting out, that way. Behind, you know, it is a sheer wall of rock; and the only possibility, that I can see, is that we may clear a staircase which runs up through the rock, from a ledge on the level of this room, to the ruins of a building above. At present, the upper part is entirely choked up with blocks of stone and rubbish, and it will be a very awkward job to get through it; but so far, it seems to me, it is that or nothing."

"What are they going on chopping down trees for?"

"I believe their general is doing it to bring large numbers of his troops close up to the stockade; partly perhaps to keep up the spirits of the front line, by their company; partly to render impossible any attempt, on our part, to make our way out by a sudden rush. Of course, they don't know what our strength is; but they have had so sharp a lesson, today, that they will take every precaution, in future.

"Well, what is it, Meinik?"

"We have been talking together, master; and we think that, if we were to call out that they might take the bodies away, without any interference by us, they would do so. Several officers of rank have fallen there, and it is our custom always to carry off the dead, when it is possible."

"It would be worth trying the experiment, anyhow, Meinik. But we must all stand to arms, while they are doing it; as they might make a sudden rush. However, we would risk that, for those bodies have been worrying me very much, and I would give anything to have them taken away. I will go down with you."

Meinik accordingly went down to the entrance, and shouted out:

"Peace, peace! I am ordered, by the English officer, to say that he would wish those who have fought so bravely to be honoured, after death; and that no shot shall be fired, and no interference made, with those who come to carry away the dead."

There was silence for two or three minutes, and then a voice called back:

"It is well; for two hours there shall be peace between us."

"I have no doubt the governor is as glad to do this as we are. It is considered a disgrace, if the dead are not carried off the ground to burial; and if he sends despatches to Ava, he will be glad to be able to put in that the brave men who fell have all been buried, with due honours. Besides, Meinik, it would not be encouraging to his troops for them to have that pile of dead bodies before them and, indeed, would be enough to cause a pestilence, in a few days."

The men were formed up again, round the entrance. The Burmese did their work silently. Occasionally a slight movement was heard, but no one could have imagined that a hundred men were busy outside. A number of them carried torches, and all worked steadily and in good order, under the direction of two or three officers. One of the posts of the stockade had been pulled up and through this the bodies were carried. It was less than two hours before a horn sounded, and there was a loud call of:

"The peace is over; all is done."

Beyond the stockade great fires blazed among the trees. The work of chopping down the forest continued, and by the morning the ground had been cleared for a distance of thirty or forty yards from the paling. Then the Burmese raised another stockade forty feet behind the first, so that, if by carelessness or treachery the besieged should manage to pass through the first line, there would yet be another in front of them.

"I expect, master," Meinik said as, standing well back, he watched the men at work, "the general is building this second line, not because he thinks that there is a chance of our getting through the first, but to keep the men at work, so as to prevent them from thinking anything about the spirits. Now that they have passed one night there, they will have got somewhat over their fear and, of course, every day that passes, without ill befalling them, they will think less and less about the evil ones."

"Do you believe in them, Meinik?"

Meinik hesitated.

"Everyone knows, master, that evil spirits guard the treasures of the people that lived in the land long, long ago. No one can doubt that people who have rashly sought the treasures have been found dead, with staring eyes and swollen bodies; but as, at present, they must know well that neither we nor those outside are searching for treasure, they may not interfere."

"Then you think that there are treasures buried here, somewhere?"

"I cannot say, master; everyone says so. The story has been handed down that this was once the greatest of the temples of the old people; and that, when they were defeated by tribes from the east—I know not whether it was us, or some people before us—the priests from all the other temples came here. The remains of their army came here, too, and fought outside the temple until all were killed.

"When the conquerors entered, they found the priests all lying, in regular lines, on the pavements. All were dead. One story is that they had stabbed themselves; another, that they had taken poison. At any rate, no treasures were found; although it was known that the riches of the temple were great, and that all the other priests that had come here had brought the treasures from their temples with them. That was the beginning of the destruction of the place; for the pavement was torn up, and the walls in some places levelled, and the images of the gods broken up in search for the treasures.

"The work of the guardian spirits had already begun. They say that all who took part in the search died, of a terrible pestilence that broke out. Since that time, the place has been accursed. Once or twice, kings have sent bodies of troops to search; and they say that some could never find the temple, but wandered about the forest for days, searching in vain for it. Others found so thick a darkness, like the blackest of smoke, filling the forest, that even the bravest dare not enter. I say not that those things were so; I only say that these are the stories that have come down to us."

"Well, Meinik, we are not going to search for the treasure; and it is evident that the spirits bear us no ill will; indeed, I feel obliged to them, for it is likely enough that the soldiers will put down their misfortune to their influence, and that even the governor may feel that it would be useless to try to get them to renew the assault. This evening we will go up, and have another look at the stairs; and see how we can best set to work to clear them. There is no great hurry about it, but the sooner we set to work, the better."

All day long a dropping fire was maintained on the entrance, by the troops behind the first stockade; but as, with the exception of three men kept always on watch, the defenders were stationed in the next chamber, the bullets pattered harmlessly against the wall. During the night the accumulated dust of ages had been swept up from the floor; and this had been strewn, three inches deep, in the passage between the outer air and the chamber, so as to cover the blood that had been shed there.

As soon as it was quite dark, Stanley, Meinik, and three of the villagers went out on to the ledge in front of the upper opening, made their way along it to the entrance of the stairs, and mounted. They carried with them two or three glowing brands from the fire, in one of the earthenware cooking pots, which was covered with a cloth to prevent the slightest glow being noticed by the enemy. The men, by Stanley's order, brought with them the bamboos of the litter, the saw they had used at the stockade, a hatchet, and some blocks of firewood.

When they got to the point where the steps were choked up, they lighted the two torches—the men who brought up the rear of the party holding up a rug, to prevent any reflection from the torches being seen outside. When Stanley and Meinik had again examined the obstacle, the latter retired; and the Burmans, one by one, came up and looked at it.

"What do you think of it?" Stanley asked them.

"It would be dangerous to touch it, my lord," one of them said. "If only one stone moved out from its place, it would be death to us all. They are firm now, quite firm; but if two or three were disturbed, the whole might come down at once."

"I quite see that," Stanley said. "Can any of you suggest a plan by which we could get out, without much risk of setting them in motion?"

The Burmese were silent,

"I will tell you my scheme then. I propose to cut the bamboos into lengths that will just reach across the passage. It is the lower stones that one is most afraid of. So long as these remain fixed, there is no fear of any general movement but, if they went, the whole mass might come down. This passage is less than three feet wide, and the bamboos are twelve feet long; so that each would make four, the width of the passage. I propose to drive them tightly in, and fix them firmly with wedges. They must be put in so that they will actually touch the stones, so as to prevent their making the slightest downward movement. If they began to slide, no doubt they would carry away the bamboos; but if these were fixed firmly, by wedges, they ought to be sufficient to prevent any movement from taking place—especially as there would be enough of them almost to touch each other, extending from this lowest step, on which the rocks rest, some five feet upwards—that is, to within some two feet of the roof, which would be sufficient for us to crawl through, and the bamboos would serve as a ladder. Then I propose that we should work our way along the top, passing the small stones and rubbish backwards, after filling up all the cracks and crevices below us.

"I see, of course, that we should meet with many obstacles. Great stones may be sticking up, perhaps jammed against the roof; these would have to be broken off, or chipped in pieces. No doubt the work will take time but, at any rate, there is plenty of food for three weeks and, working by turns night and day, we ought to be able to burrow our way out. As we get on, we may not find the stones so tightly pressed together as they are, here. At any rate, as we saw the light above us, only some thirty feet up, there ought not to be above twenty feet of closely-packed stuff to get through.

"No doubt the work will be dangerous, as well as hard but, as we know that if we do not succeed all our lives are forfeited, we can face the danger. Everyone of us will take his share in turn; I shall do so, myself, and shall direct the work in general. What do you think of the plan?"

"I think that it is possible, master," Meinik said. "At any rate, we must try it; since it is the only way that offers us any chance of life."

The Burmese all agreed, and they at once set to work. The bamboos were first cut into lengths; and then, by means of the axe and wedges, were jammed so firmly, from side to side, that it would have required great force to dislodge them. These supports were somewhat irregularly placed, as it was necessary that they should absolutely touch the stones. As they proceeded with the work, the spaces behind the bamboos were filled tightly up with rubble, so as to solidify the whole.

When the last support was in its place, Stanley said:

"Now, Meinik, do you with these three work, tonight; four others will take your place, before dawn. Mind, at first I don't want you to attempt to move any fixed stones; but simply to clear away all small stones, and rubble. You can stow a good deal behind the two upper bamboos. The rest you must put on the stairs. I will see, tonight, what we can manage in the way of tools for chipping away the big stones that cannot be moved. You had better relieve each other very often. The three who are not at work should sit down on the ledge, outside, so that any stone accidentally dislodged will not fall on anyone. Every ten minutes, one will come up to take the place of the man at work. Be sure that each, as he passes up or down, replaces the blanket carefully."

They had, indeed, before beginning to saw up the bamboos, fastened the blanket to one of the cross pieces of the stretcher and, cutting this to the width of the passage, had jammed it close up to the roof; so that the curtain, hanging down, effectually shut off the light.

Stanley then descended the steps, and rejoined Harry below. Before going down further, Stanley, who had during the day informed Harry of his plan, told him of the start that they had made.

"Of course, it all depends upon what stones you meet with," Harry said. "If you come to a big solid block, I don't see how you are going to get through it."

"We have the hatchets, and can whittle it away; and perhaps we can make some chisels, from the ramrods of your guards' guns. A lot can be done, with patience and plenty of hands."

Stanley then went down below, and explained to the others the plan proposed. The news gave them great satisfaction; for although Meinik had told them there was a staircase above blocked with stones, it had seemed so impossible, to him, to clear it that he had placed no stress upon the fact; and the preparations made by the enemy to cut off any possible retreat had greatly depressed them.

Stanley took one of the iron ramrods and, raking some of the embers from the fire, placed it in them, about a foot from one end; then he directed the others to fan the embers, until they raised them almost to white heat. Taking the ramrod out, he laid the edge of one of their knives upon it and, striking its back with a stone, soon cut through the glowing rod. He repeated the operation and had, then, three short rods of equal length. He now heated one end of each and, laying it on an axe on the ground, hammered it into chisel shape with the back of a light hatchet; repeating this several times, until it had the required shape and sharpness; then he plunged this into a pot of water. He did the same with the other two; and had, now, three chisels with which he hoped to be able to chip away the stones. The other ramrod he left intact, except that he sharpened one end.

Then, going up to Harry's room, he lay down and slept for some hours; putting the two boys on watch, and bidding the trooper look after them. The two Burmans, with one of the guards, were to go to work with him. Several times he woke. The last time, on looking out, he thought that there was a faint light in the sky and, going down, called up the three men and, bidding them bring up the two heavy axes, a light hatchet, and the three short chisels, he led them up the steps to the working party.

"How have you got on, Meinik?"

"We have cleared four feet, master; but there is a big stone sticking up, now, and we can do nothing with it."

"We will have a try, and do you all go down, at once.

"Take off your cloth, one of you, and fill it with this rubbish on the steps. Do it as quickly as you can. The day will be breaking, in a few minutes."

Stanley now climbed up, and investigated the passage. The bottom was level. Every crack and crevice between the stones being filled up with rubbish. The obstacle Meinik had spoken of evidently formed part of a flat slab. It reached within an inch of the roof and, at one side, touched the rock wall; at the other there was an interval, of some four or five inches, and the earth and rubbish had already been scraped out from behind it. Putting his hand in, he found that the block was some four inches in thickness.

He thought that if he could but get a fair blow at it, with the back of one of the heavy axes, he might break it off; but this was impossible. The total width of the passage did not exceed three feet; and as the men had, as they went, worked down somewhat, there was now about thirty inches between the bed of earth and rubbish, on which he was lying, and the roof. Taking the handle of the axe in both hands, he used the head as a battering ram; but without any success. He then called up the slightest of the three men, and told him to crawl in beside him and, with their united strength, they pounded the stone for some time. Finding that nothing could be done this way, Stanley sent the man back again; and then, taking one of the three chisels and a small hatchet, he proceeded to mark a line along the bottom of the stone; and then, for ten minutes, worked away on it with the chisel and hammer. Then he called up one of the others, and showed him what he was to do. All day they worked by turns and, though progress was very slow, by nightfall the groove was half an inch deep.

Stanley and the strongest Burman then went in together and, lying on their backs again, tried the effect of the heavy axe; but still without success. Then Stanley told the man to get down and take out the wedge, at the top of the axe; and to cut away the wood below the head, so that the latter would slip down, four or five inches; then to take off the head of the other heavy axe and put it on above it, and replace the wedge. In a few minutes, the man rejoined him.

"We must strike it as near the roof as we can," Stanley said. Both grasped the handle firmly. "We will sway it backwards and forwards three times and, the third time, strike.

"One, two, three—hooray!"

As the two-headed axe, driven with their united force, struck the stone, there was a sharp crack.

"That has done it," Stanley said, turning over.

There was a dark line along the groove, and the top of the stone inclined back, two inches from the perpendicular; being kept in its place by the rubbish behind it. Stanley put his hand into the hole, and got his fingers behind the stone; while the Burmese put the chisel into the crack, and used it as a lever. In two or three minutes the stone was moved out of its position, taken out of the hole, and laid down on the steps.

Half an hour later Meinik came up, with a trooper, another guard, and one of the boys; and was delighted to find that the obstacle, which had seemed to him fatal to their hopes, had been removed. Stanley showed how they had carried out the work; and then, with his party, went down into the rock chambers.

"It was pretty tiring work, Harry," he said, "though we were only at it about a quarter of an hour, at a time. My wrists and arms and shoulders are aching, as if I had been beaten with sticks. Tomorrow I will take up a good supply of firewood. The chisels got blunted before we had worked an hour; and we should get on a deal faster, if we could sharpen them frequently."

"Is the stone hard?"

"No; it is a sort of marble, I think. We had the underpart of the slab on our side, and I did not think of looking when we took it down. Anyhow, it was not very hard and, with a good strong chisel and a short, heavy hammer, I am sure we could have done it in an hour.

"Anyhow, it is a comfort that nothing came down on top of us. I examined the pile carefully, and there had not been the slightest movement among the lower stones; so that part of the difficulty seems to have been got over.

"Now, I must go down and get something to eat, and then I will go in for a good sleep. You are feeling all right, I hope?"

"Could not be doing better, Stanley. I have eaten three solid meals, today; and have been sitting up on the edge of my bed, for some time. I tried standing, but it was no go; still, I do think that, in a day or two, I shall manage it."

For six days the work continued. One party watched, another slept, and the third worked, by turns. Some of the stones gave much greater trouble than the first they had met with; but having the fire close by proved a great assistance, as the chisels could be frequently sharpened. The men became more accustomed to the work, and the steady progress they made greatly excited their hopes.

At the end of the week, but one stone barred the way. This, however, was much the most formidable that they had encountered. It seemed to have been a pillar, or a huge gate post; and was square, measuring some twenty inches on each face. The obstacle was all the more formidable, as the upper end was inclined towards them, greatly increasing the difficulty in using the chisel. Beyond this, as far as they could see, there was merely a mass of smaller stones.

The party who had been working upon this block were much disheartened, when Stanley went up to relieve them. Owing to the inclination of the stone, their chisels could get but little bite and, though they had been working for six hours at it, they had scarcely made any impression; indeed, at only one point had they so far broken the face that the chisel would cut. Meinik had come down two hours before, to report to Stanley the nature of the obstacle and, when he went up, he took with him the second ramrod, which had not hitherto been used.

He saw at once that, as Meinik had told him, it would be impossible to get through this block by the same means as before for, as the groove deepened, the labour would become greater and greater and, from the inclination of the stone, they would in time arrive at a point where the axe could no longer be used to strike the chisel.

The point at which the slight indentation had been made was nearly at the corner of the stone. This was gradually enlarged, by hammering upon it with the head of the axe and, after an hour's work, the surface had been so far pounded that the chisel could get a flat hold upon it. Then Stanley and one of the Burmans lay down, and placed the cutting end of the long ramrod against it; and the others, by turns, struck the end with the back of a light hatchet, those holding the rod turning it, slightly, after each blow. Every half hour the edge of the chisel was resharpened and, by the time the next party relieved them, a hole of half an inch in diameter, and two inches deep, had been drilled in the stone. Stanley remained with the newcomers for half an hour, instructing them in the work, and then went below.

"Well, Stanley, what are you going to do with this monstrous stone Meinik tells me of?"

"There is only one thing to do with it, Harry; that is, to blast it. The block is so inclined that one can do nothing with the chisels, and we are now drilling a hole. I don't know that I shall succeed but, at any rate, I am going to have a try. If it fails, I must hit on some other way. The provisions are holding out all right; and Meinik calculates that, with a little stinginess, we could manage for another three weeks. We have drilled the hole in two inches today and, as we get more accustomed to the work, I dare say we could do three inches in each shift. The block is twenty inches through on the straight, and may be two feet on the line that we follow; so that in four days we shall be nearly through it.

"In three weeks we shall have made five holes, which will weaken it so that we may be able to break it off. However, I hope we shall find one hole sufficient. I shall make it fifteen inches deep, and then charge it with the contents of a dozen cartridges. I think that ought to do it."

In two days and a half, the hole was of the required depth. Harry had progressed so rapidly that he was able, that morning, to walk across his room.

"We must try the shot, at once," Stanley said, "because if it fails, we must go on working. If it succeeds we can, if we like, wait for another week before we make off. By that time you will be strong enough to be got through that low passage, and walk for a little distance; when we can cut some poles, and rig up that hammock again.

"Do you know anything about mining, for I know nothing? I only had an idea how to drill the hole from seeing some engineers at work at Agra, years ago; but I am sure I don't know how they fired the shot, or prepared it."

"I can tell you a little about it, Stanley; for I have been down a coal mine once or twice, and watched the men doing it. They first of all put in the charge; then they put in a wooden rod, just the thickness of the fuse they use; then they dropped in a little dry dust round it, which they pressed down very carefully, with a small wooden rod; then they damped some dust, and hammered that down hard. After putting in about half an inch of this, they used dust slightly moistened, beating it down as before. When it was quite full, they pulled out the centre stick, and put the fuse into the hole that it left."

"We have not got any fuse," Stanley said, "but I think that if we take a narrow strip of cloth, moisten it, and rub gunpowder into it; let it dry, and then roll it up, it would be all right. Then we could lay a train of damp powder to it, set the end alight, and bolt."

"I should think that that would do," Harry agreed, "but you would have to bolt very sharp for, if it went off before you got to the bottom of the steps, it might be very awkward."

"I don't think the effect of the shock will be as great as that, Harry. It may crack the stone, but I should hardly think it would send anything flying out of the hole."



Chapter 16: Rejoining.

Every day, since the siege had begun, the defenders had fired an occasional shot at the stockade; not with any idea of doing any damage, but in order that the assailants should know that they were still in the cavern. That evening, when the hole had got to the proper depth, Stanley, having prepared his fuse, went up with twenty cartridges in his pocket, accompanied by Meinik. The hole was charged and tamped, and the fuse inserted. This took a considerable time. The fuse had been cut so that an inch of it projected outside the hole. The other eight cartridges were then broken up, and the powder moistened; and a train some two feet long laid, from the fuse towards the entrance of the hole. Then a piece of rag was wrapped round one end of the ramrod; and this, again, was tied to a long rod that had, the night before, been cut by one of the boys, who had slipped out noiselessly from the entrance. The rag had been moistened, and rubbed with gunpowder.

"Now, Meinik," Stanley said, "everything is ready. This rod is sixteen feet long, so that, lying down, my feet will be just at the edge of the hole; and I shall be able to drop down, as soon as I have lighted the train, and bolt. I shall fix a torch, a foot or so from the train; then I shall only have to lift the rod to it, light the rag, set fire to the train, and then slide down and bolt.

"Now, you must go down first."

"No, master," Meinik said firmly; "I will light the train. I do not think that there is any danger but, whether there is or not, I shall undertake it. If I am killed, it does not matter; while if you were killed all would be lost for, if the explosion did not burst the stone, I am sure that we should never be able to get through it, without you to direct us. No, master, if you stay, I stay; and that would only lessen our chances of running down the steps in time."

Stanley argued, and even ordered, but Meinik was obstinate and, seeing that the faithful Burman was not to be moved, he reluctantly left the matter in his hands, and went downstairs. He moved a short distance along the ledge, and waited. The time seemed an age to him, so that he gave an exclamation of delight when Meinik suddenly came into sight, and took his place beside him.

"I have lit the train, master. The powder fizzed up, but did not seem to burn very fast."

It was, indeed, another two minutes before a deep muffled roar was heard. There was no further noise, but they heard shouts from the Burmans, behind the stockades.

"They will be wondering what the sound is," Stanley said, "but they will not be able to tell from what direction it came; for I expect they were pretty nearly all sound asleep. Now, let us go up and see the result."

They made their way up the steps, which were now in entire darkness. The curtain still hung in its place, some ten feet below the obstacle. They lit a torch, from the embers in the pan; and then Stanley climbed up into the passage, and hastily crawled along.

He gave a cry of satisfaction, as he approached the end. The explosion had been completely successful—the end of the block lay on the ground. Whether the whole of it had been blown off, or not, he could not see; but he felt sure that the greater portion must have split off. It was evident that it would take a considerable amount of time, and would require the strength of several men, to get the block out. They therefore descended, at once, to gladden the hearts of those below; with the news that the way out was now available to them, whenever they chose to leave.

Harry manifested no surprise, whatever, at the news.

"I made sure that you would succeed, Stanley. After getting me off, as you did; and making your own escape, before, it seems to me that you have got hold of the 'open sesame' of Ali Baba, and have only to use the cabalistic words to walk in and out, wherever you want to go."

"I don't feel, by any means, so certain of my own powers as you seem to be, Harry; and I can assure you I was very doubtful whether that shot would succeed. I hoped, at any rate, that it would blow a good bit of the stone out and, in that case, we could have got the chisels to work again. It was the slanting position of the block that beat us. However, thank goodness, the work is done now; and you have only to get a bit stronger, and we will be off."

"I am quite ready to start now, Stanley. I think it is absurd waiting any longer, for there is never any saying what might take place. That Burmese general, who seems to be an obstinate beggar, might take it into his head to place a guard on the top of the hill; and then all your labour will have been thrown away."

"That is true enough, Harry; and as I really don't think that travelling now would be likely to do you any serious harm, I will decide on tomorrow. At any rate, I will take some men up, at once, and get that stone out."

The task was a difficult one. The block of stone was so nearly the size of the passage that they could not get a rope round behind it and, after trying for two hours, in vain, they determined that the only course was to push it before them. They soon found, however, that this was impossible; and that a part, at least, of the stone was remaining in its place. Finally, they succeeded in pushing a loop in the rope over the top of the block; and then, by main force, eight of them pulled it out of the hole, and lowered it on to the top step.

By the time that they had done this, dawn was approaching; and they therefore returned, at once, to the chambers below.

The men were all much pleased, when Stanley told them that they would leave that night. Confident as they felt that the Burmese could not force their way in, a new feeling of nervousness seized them, now that the way was open, lest some unforeseen circumstances might occur to prevent their going. The rice that remained was made up into three or four packages. The meat had long before been finished.

Stanley had a discussion, with Meinik, as to how Harry had best be taken through the passage. He could, they agreed, walk along the ledge, with one before and one behind to steady him; and could then be carried up the steps, in a blanket, by four men. He must, of course, be lifted into the passage, and dragged through it to the end; after that, it would be easy enough. Six men could carry him, in a blanket, until far enough away for them to chop poles, without the sound of the axes being heard by the Burmese.

From the time they began their work, every pains had been taken to deaden sounds. The blanket hung across the passage had acted as a muffler, to some extent; but a piece of cloth had always been tied over the hammer heads of the axes, to prevent the sharp clinking sounds of the blows on the chisels, or stone, being heard.

As soon as it was dark enough for them to pass along the ledge, Meinik went with Stanley to examine the ground. Fortunately, the portion of stone that remained above the level, and prevented the rock from being rolled back, was but small; and they were able to break it up in half an hour, with the axes. Then, making their way along without difficulty for another four feet, they found themselves standing upright in the depression in the centre of the ruin. Mounting six more steps, they were among the bushes that covered the site of the temple.

They now carefully cleared away every fragment of stone from the floor of the passage and, returning, Stanley gave orders for the start to be made. Two or three shots were fired, from the lower entrance, to show the enemy that they were there and on the watch; and then all went up to Harry's room. He had been dressed, for the first time, and was ready for the start. Two of the strongest of the Burmans went on first.

"Now, Harry, you are to put your hands on my shoulders. Meinik will follow close behind you, and will keep his arms round you, in case you need help. Of course, we shall go along very slowly."

"I don't think that all these precautions are necessary," Harry said. "I am sure that I can walk that distance, easily enough. Why, you say the stair is only about forty feet."

"I dare say you could, Harry; but we don't want to run any risks. Your head is not very strong, at present; and you might turn giddy, or you might stumble. So, at present, you will have just to do as you are told.

"Let us start."

Harry did not find it as easy as he had expected, getting out through the lower opening; and he was by no means sorry to have the support of Stanley and Meinik, as he proceeded along the ledge. They moved very carefully, and slowly; and all were greatly relieved when he sat down, on a blanket laid on the steps.

"Now lie back, Harry. We shall have no difficulty in getting you up here."

Two Burmans took the upper end of the blanket, Stanley and Meinik the lower, and they were soon at the top of the steps.

"You are not very heavy now, Harry; but you are a good deal heavier than you were, when we brought you in below.

"Now, the next is the most difficult part of the work—once we get you through this passage, it will be plain sailing. You see, you will have to be dragged. The place is only two feet high, so that it would be impossible to lift you at all. We have made the floor as smooth as we can, but I am afraid that there are a good many projecting corners, that will try you a good deal."

"It cannot be helped, Stanley. Fire away, as soon as you like."

The rest of the party were now all gathered, on the steps below; and Meinik and Stanley, getting up first into the hole, received Harry as the others lifted him and, with the aid of two of the Burmans, laid him on his blanket in the passage.

"Now," Stanley said, to the two men who took the other end of the blanket, "keep it as tight as you can and, when I say 'lift,' we will all lift together, and move him forward a few inches. Do not hurry over it—we have plenty of time before us."

They were packed so closely that they had each but one arm available. Little by little they moved him along, gaining some six inches, each time; then all had to move, so as to place themselves for the next effort. However, in five or six minutes they had him through, and carried him up into the open air. The rest of the party at once joined them and, with three of the natives on each side of the blanket, they were soon beyond the circle of ruins, and making at a brisk pace through the forest. After going for a quarter of a mile they stopped, cut some poles for the hammock and, in a short time, were on their way again; having placed in it one of the bags of rice, as a pillow for Harry.

They travelled for some hours, and then halted to cook some rice. All had slept a good deal during the day so that, after resting for an hour, they proceeded on their way again. They had no fear, whatever, of pursuit; and the only danger that they could incur was from meeting with a band, similar to that which had carried Harry off. When they rigged up the hammock, they had cut wood for torches, to protect themselves from tigers. These were thrown away, as soon as daylight broke.

At midday they halted again, for another hour; and then, continuing their journey, arrived at the village before nightfall. They were received with great joy, the villagers setting up a shout of welcome—the friends of the men and boys being especially exuberant in their joy, for they had become extremely anxious at their long absence. The two troopers were still there; and these saluted Stanley, with less than the usual stiff formality of the Mohammedan soldier.

He himself laughed.

"I don't look much like a British officer, at present," he said, in their language. "Well, has everything been quiet here?"

"Yes, sahib. A sowar brought us orders, from the general, to remain here; and to send at once, if we heard any news of you. We sent off one of the villagers, when the man came back to fetch the others, and said that you had good hopes of getting Lieutenant Brooke sahib out of the hands of the Burmese."

"I will write a note," Stanley said. "Get your horse saddled, at once. Directly we have made Mr. Brooke comfortable, I will give you the letter."

During the time that Stanley had been absent, the houses had been re-erected, and the village had assumed its general appearance. A hut was at once handed over to them, and Harry laid on a bamboo pallet. He had not slept, most of the way down.

"You see I was quite right, Stanley. I told you that the journey would be nothing."

"Fortunately, it has turned out so. Meinik has already killed a chicken, and will make it into broth for you. It will be a change, for you, after your diet of rice. The cooking was excellent, for the first three or four days; but it fell off sadly. That was one of the reasons why I gave way to your wish to start at once. You have done wonderfully well, but a constant diet of rice is not quite the thing for building up a sick man.

"Now, I am going to write a few lines to the general to say that you have got safely down, but will need at least another week before you are able to sit on a horse. Of course, you can be carried on; but I think that the air here is a great deal more healthy, and bracing, than it is at Prome and, the longer you stay here, the better."

Stanley's note was a short one. It merely said that he had succeeded in getting his cousin, and the trooper who was carried off at the same time, from the hands of the Burmese, but that Harry was still very weak; and that, if he himself could be spared, he would stay with him at the village for another week or ten days, at the end of which time he would ride, by easy stages, to Prome.

Three days later, the trooper returned with a note from the general.

"I congratulate you most heartily on having rescued your cousin," he wrote. "By all means, stay where you are until he is quite strong again. This place is not at all healthy, at present. We shall not be moving forward for another three weeks."

Stanley remained at the village for another fortnight and, at the end of that time, Harry had so far recovered that he was quite capable of making a short day's journey on horseback. Two of the men who had aided in the rescue had gone to Prome, with an order from Stanley on the staff paymaster, for the rewards that had been promised to the villagers and the two Burmese soldiers. They returned with the money, and the men were all highly delighted at the result of the expedition.

Stanley retained the services of the two soldiers, as long as he remained in the village. He had no fear, whatever, of the same band returning that had, before, visited the village; and he learned that no others had been heard of in the neighbourhood but, at the same time, he thought it as well that a man should be on guard, night and day, at each end of the village. The peasants agreed to watch at one end, while the two Burmese soldiers and the troopers took charge of the other end. The bulk of the villagers were engaged in forming a strong stockade round, it to defend themselves in case of further attack; and Stanley promised to send them down twenty muskets, and a supply of ammunition, as soon as he got to Prome.

There was real regret, on the part of the Burmese, when the time came for the party to start. It had been something altogether new to them to have officials among them who paid for everything. These Englishmen had treated them kindly, and were pleased and contented with everything. The money that the five men and two boys had earned had enriched the village, and had enabled them to more than replace their losses by the recent raid and, if Stanley had accepted all the presents of fruit, fowls, and eggs they would have given him, he would have needed a couple of extra horses to convey them. A strong pony had been purchased for Meinik and, after taking a hearty leave of the villagers, the party rode off.

"I wish we had such a good cook as your man is, Stanley," Harry said, as they journeyed along at a walk. "I never tasted better soup than he serves up. I must really get him to teach our mess cook how to make it."

"Do you know what it is, Harry?"

"I have not the least idea; it might be anything. I think that it tasted, to me, more like stewed eels than anything else."

"You are not very far out. It is made of the creatures you turned up your nose at—snakes."

"Nonsense, Stanley!"

"It is, I can assure you. I would not tell you before, because it might have set you against it. That soup you had in the cave was made from snake flesh. The recesses in parts of the caves swarmed with them, and the men laid in quite a store of them, before we were besieged. Unfortunately they would not keep well, even in these cool chambers, so we had to fall back on rice. You liked it so much that, though there was no occasion to have gone on with snake soup, after we got to the village, I continued to give it to you; for it is very nourishing."

"Well, I am glad you did not tell me, at the time; but I must own that it was excellent, and I think that, in future, I shall have no objection to snake in that form."

"They are just as good, in other ways," Stanley replied. "The Burmans are no fools, and I consider that snake and lizards are very much better eating than their mutton; which is tasteless stuff, at the best."

"We shall have to have a big settlement, when we get back, Stanley. Of course, all those men you paid, and the guards you bribed, are entirely my account; to say nothing of my share of the general expenditure."

"The general expenses are practically nothing, Harry. I invited you to come with me and, of course, you were my guest. As to the other matter, that also is my business. I would not say so, if I had not plenty of funds, but what with my pay as interpreter, and the year of back pay that I got when the Gazette came out, I have plenty out of my income to pay for it, without breaking in upon the amount I told you I had got for those rubies."

"I should pay you, Stanley, if you were rolling in money. Not that I should mind taking money from you, if I wanted it, but my expenses since I landed here have not been anything approaching my pay and allowances; and I have besides, as I told you, an income of 500 pounds a year of my own. You have risked your life for me, and I am not going to let you pay the piper, as well."

"All right, if it pleases you, Harry. I am delighted at having been able to save you and, just at present, money does not seem an important matter one way or the other; so if it really would be a satisfaction to you to pay, I will certainly not deprive you of it."

Although they only travelled ten miles the first day, Harry acknowledged that he was as tired as a dog when he dismounted; and was so stiff, the next morning, that he had to be helped on to his horse. However, this gradually wore off and, on the evening of the fourth day, they arrived at Prome. Leaving Harry at his regimental camp, Stanley rode to the headquarters, and there dismounted. Meinik had led the second horse, after Harry dismounted; and now took them both across to the lines, with the air of a man who has only been away a few hours. Stanley at once went up to the general.

"Welcome back, lad!" Sir Archibald said. "You have been longer away than we expected, when you started. I am glad, indeed, that you succeeded in rescuing your cousin; and we are all burning to hear about it. I wrote that note to you in a hurry, for I was on the point of going on a round of inspection of the camp, when your sowar arrived. I intended to question him concerning you, on my return; for I had no idea that, after making such a long journey, he would start back at once, but I found that he had ridden straight off, directly the note was handed to him. You must dine with me, today, and tell me all the story. I see, from the colour of your skin, that you have been in disguise again."

"Yes, sir. There were materials for dyeing the skin in the village, but nothing that availed to take it off. It is gradually going and, as I shall be now able to get some strong alkali, from the doctor, I hope I shall be presentable by tomorrow."

"They are honourable marks," the general said, with a smile. "I don't think any of us would mind being so coloured, for a bit, if we had done such good work as you have; but I won't detain you now, for dinner will be ready in half an hour."

Stanley hurried to his room, took a bath, donned his mess uniform, and was ready by the time the bugle sounded. Three or four of the staff were, as usual, members of the party. After the meal was over, he was requested to narrate his adventures, at full length. The story was necessarily a long one and, when he concluded, all joined the general in hearty commendation for the manner in which he had carried out the adventure.

"Your last story was a stirring one, Mr. Brooke," the general said; "but this is even more so. When I received your first note, I thought it next door to madness for you to try to get your cousin, badly wounded as you knew him to be, from the hands of the Burmese. It is not an easy thing to get any man out of prison but, when the man was unable to help himself, it seemed well-nigh impossible; and I was greatly afraid that, instead of saving his life, you would lose your own. Of course, the fact that you had successfully traversed the country before was strongly in your favour; but then you were unencumbered, and the two things were, therefore, not to be compared with each other. I shall, of course, put you in orders tomorrow as having performed a singularly gallant action, in rescuing Lieutenant Brooke of the 47th and a sowar from their captivity, by the Burmese, in a prison at Toungoo.

"You have arrived just in time for, after endeavouring to fool us for the past three months, by negotiations never meant to come to anything, the enemy are now advancing in great force, and are within a few miles of the town. So we are likely to have hot work of it for from all accounts, they have got nearly as large an army together as Bandoola had. I don't know whether they have learned anything from his misfortunes, but I am bound to say that the court does not seem to have taken the lesson, in the slightest degree, to heart; and their arrogance is just as insufferable as it was before a shot was fired."

Stanley learnt that there had already been one fight. The enemy were advancing in three columns. Their right—consisting of 15,000 men, commanded by Sudda Woon—had crossed the Irrawaddy, and was marching down the other bank; with the apparent object of recrossing, below Prome, and cutting the British line of communication. The centre—from 25,000 to 30,000 strong, commanded by the Kee Wongee—was coming down the left bank of the river, accompanied by a great fleet of war boats. The left division—15,000 strong, led by an old and experienced general, Maha Nemiow—was moving parallel with the others, about ten miles distant from the centre, but separated from it by a thick and impenetrable forest. A reserve of 10,000 men, commanded by the king's half-brother, occupied a strongly fortified post at Melloon. In addition to these, a large force was gathered near Pegu, and threatened an attack upon Rangoon.

On the 10th of November, a fortnight before Stanley's return, two brigades of native infantry—under Colonel M'Dowall—had marched out to dislodge Maha Nemiow; whose division threatened to turn the British right, and to move round to its rear. The force was divided into three columns; one moving directly towards the enemy's position, the others—marching by circuitous routes, so arranged as to arrive at the point of attack at the same time—were to attack in flank and rear, while the main body assailed the enemy in front. The Burmese had, however, obtained information from spies of the intended movement and, advancing boldly, met the British columns half way; skirmishing with them hotly in the woods, and threatening an attack by large bodies of horse.

The centre drove the Burmese before them, and reached their stockaded position. Colonel M'Dowall, while reconnoitring it, was killed by a ball from a musket and, as the two flanking columns did not arrive as expected, the force was compelled to fall back. The retreat was conducted in good order, but the loss was heavy, as the Burmese pressed hotly upon them for several miles.

Since this unfortunate affair, the enemy had steadily advanced. Maha Nemiow had moved directly upon Prome; advancing slowly, and constantly stockading himself. The centre had also advanced; and was now fortifying some heights above the river five miles away, within sight of Prome. Sudda Woon was intrenching himself on the opposite bank. All these divisions were working, day and night; advancing steadily but slowly, and erecting formidable lines of intrenchments as they went; and it seemed to be the intention of the Burmese general to proceed in that manner, until the whole of his troops were gathered within a very short distance of the town, and then to rush upon it from all sides.

In the morning, Stanley went to the lines of the 47th. Harry had, of course, told his story on his arrival; and the tale had circulated generally through the regiment and, as he rode in, the men ran out from their huts and cheered him heartily. No less warm a greeting did he receive from the officers, in spite of his protest that there had really been no great difficulty or danger in the affair.

"What I specially admire," one of the officers said, laughing, "is that any man should have run all this risk, on purpose, to prevent himself from coming into an earldom. You had only to leave the matter alone, and there you were—heir to title and estates."

"I should have been haunted by Harry's ghost," Stanley laughed. "It would have been as bad as Banquo and Macbeth; he would have sat at my table, and stood at the head of my bed. No, no; that would have been a much more serious affair, to face, than a party of Burmese. The title and estates would have been too dear, at the price."

"Well, you behaved like a brick, anyhow," the colonel said, "and there is not a man in the regiment who would not have been proud, indeed, if he had accomplished such a feat. Half my subalterns were talking, at dinner last night, of learning the language so that, if the chance fell in their way, they might emulate your doings."

"It is rather a tough language to master," Stanley replied. "It gave me more trouble than the four or five Indian languages I speak. I am afraid the campaign will be over, a long time, before any of your officers learn to talk Burmese well enough to pass as natives."

After the failure of the expedition of the 10th, no further effort had been made against the enemy. Indeed, the troops had been withdrawn from their outlying positions; and there had even been a feint made of embarking stores, as if with the intention of retiring down the river, in hopes of tempting the Burmese to make an attack.

The season had now come when operations could again be carried on, and the general was anxious to strike a decisive blow at the enemy, and then to set forward on the march towards Ava. As to the result of the fight, no one entertained the slightest doubt; although the disparity in numbers was very great for, while the Burmese commander had nearly 70,000 men at his disposal, Sir Archibald Campbell had no more than 6,000, of whom about one half were British.

It was determined that the main attack should be made on the division of Maha Nemiow. This was now some six or seven miles away and, beyond the fact that it was very strongly intrenched in the jungle, no information whatever could be gained; for the most vigilant watch was kept up by them, and all efforts to pass native spies into their lines failed. But it was known that among his division were 8,000 Shans, from Upper Burma and, as these men had not hitherto come in contact with us, it was expected that they would fight with more courage and resolution than those who had become acquainted with our power.

A large number of princes and nobles were with the force; and great reliance was placed, by the Burmese, upon three young ladies of high rank; who were believed by them to be endowed with supernatural gifts, and to have the power of rendering the missiles of the English innocuous. These young women, dressed in warlike costume, constantly rode among the troops; animating them by their presence, and exhorting them to deeds of courage. The English had received vague rumours of the doings of these Burmese Joans of Arc, and thought it probable that the enemy would fight better than usual.

On November 30th, arrangements were made for attacking the enemy on the following morning. The flotilla were to open a furious cannonade upon their works, on both sides of the river. A body of native infantry were to drive in the advance posts of the centre; while the main force was to attack their left in two columns, one moving directly against it, while the other was to attack on the right flank—thus preventing the enemy from retreating in the direction of the centre. Four regiments of native infantry were left in Prome.

General Cotton commanded the main attack and, soon after the column moved out from the camp, a tremendous cannonade showed that the flotilla was engaged with the Burmese, on both sides of the river. The column, which was composed of the 41st and 89th Regiments, with two battalions of native infantry, proceeded some distance before becoming engaged with the enemy's outposts; as the Burmese had been deceived by the cannonade, and believed that the attack was entirely upon the centre. The troops therefore reached their main position, around two native villages, without serious opposition.

Illustration: The old Burmese general was carried from point to point in a litter.

As they issued from the jungle into the cleared space in front of the stockade they rapidly formed up, under a tremendous fire, and rushed forward to the attack. The old Burmese general—who was too infirm to walk—could be seen, carried from point to point in a litter, cheering on his men, while the three Amazons exposed themselves fearlessly to the fire. The ladder parties, however, rushed forward unchecked and, in spite of the opposition of the enemy, scaled the stockade at one point, and won a footing on the rampart of earth behind it. Others pressed after them and, soon, a destructive fire was opened upon the crowded mass, pent up between the outer stockade and the next. The Burmese method of forming stockade behind stockade was useful, against a foe of no greater dash and energy than themselves; but was absolutely fatal when opposed to English troops, who gave them no time to fall back through the narrow openings in the palings. These were soon blocked by the dying and dead.

Some of the Shans, led by their chiefs, fought with desperate courage; but were unable to stand the advance of the British, whose steady volleys, poured in at distances of a few yards, swept them away. Wounded horses, rushing wildly about in the throng, added to the terrible confusion. Groups of men endeavoured to cut a way through the stockades behind, others strove to climb over. Maha Nemiow was killed, while bravely exhorting his men to stand their ground, and one of the heroic Amazons was shot. As soon as the troops reached the spot where she fell, and saw that she was a woman, she was carried into a cottage; and there died, a few hours afterwards. Stockade after stockade was carried, until the whole position fell into our hands.

In the meantime the other column, commanded by General Campbell himself, and consisting of the 13th, 38th, 47th, and 87th Regiments, and the 38th Madras Infantry, had moved down on the other side of the Nawine river; and taken up a position to command the ford there, by which the fugitives from the stockade must cross, on their way to join the centre. As the crowd of frightened men issued from the jungle, and poured across the ford, the artillery opened upon them with shrapnel, and completed their discomfiture. All thought of joining the centre was abandoned and, re-entering the jungle, they scattered; and the greater portion of them started for their homes, intent only on avoiding another contest with their foes. Another of the Burmese heroines was killed, at the ford.

Three hundred men had been killed, at the storming of the stockade; but a far greater loss took place in the retreat—very few of the Shans ever regaining their country; the greater portion perishing from starvation, in the great forests through which they travelled in order to escape the Burmese authorities, who would have forced them to rejoin the army.



Chapter 17: The Pride Of Burma Humbled.

As soon as the victory was completed, the troops piled arms; and were allowed two hours' rest. Then they marched back, to the point where General Campbell's division had forded the Nawine river in the morning. From this point, a path led towards the enemy's centre; this it was determined to attack, at daybreak on the following morning, before the news of the defeat of its left could reach it.

The day had been a long and fatiguing one, and it was late before the troops all reached their halting place. A meal was served out, and then all lay down to rest. A messenger was sent to Prome, to announce the success that had been gained; and to request the commander of the flotilla to open fire, in the morning, as soon as the foe was seen to issue from the jungle in front of the Wongee's main position at Napadee.

Long before daylight, the troops were in motion. General Campbell's division led the way, along the narrow track leading towards the river; while General Cotton, who followed, was ordered to break off at any path which led towards the Burmese division, to make his way through the forest, and to attack the stockades directly he reached them. The main division would attack, as soon as they heard his guns.

After a two hours' march, the first division came out on open ground by the river side, signalled their arrival to the flotilla, and formed up in front of the stockaded heights of Napadee. The position was an extremely strong one. The enemy occupied three ranges of hills, rising one behind the other, and each commanding the one in front of it. One flank of these hills was protected by the river, the other by the almost impenetrable forest. The hills were all covered with stockades and, as they moved forward, the troops were exposed to so heavy a fire from an enemy entrenched at the edge of the jungle on the right that, before they could advance further, it was necessary to first drive them from this position. Six companies of the 87th were sent back into the forest and, making their way through this, came down in the rear of the stockades, speedily cleared them of their defenders, and compelled the advance force of the enemy to join their main body.

The troops then moved forward to the foot of the first hill, where two strong redoubts had been erected by the enemy. The fleet opened fire; but the column was halted, for a time, awaiting the sound of firing that should tell them General Cotton's column was engaged. No sound, however, was heard, for this force had been unable to make its way through the dense forest; and General Campbell, at last, gave the order for the attack.

It was commenced by the 47th and 38th Native Infantry, under Colonel Elvington; who pushed through the jungle and forest, until they reached some of the flanking outworks on the hill. These they attacked with such dash and determination that they speedily obtained possession of them, and thus produced a favourable diversion for the main attack.

This, consisting of the 13th, 38th, and 87th Regiments, advanced steadily, without returning a shot to the incessant fire from the enemy's various entrenchments; captured the two redoubts at the bottom of the hill; and then pressed upwards, carrying position after position at the point of the bayonet, till they arrived at the summit of the first hill.

The Burmese fugitives, as they fled to the next line of defence, shook the courage of the troops there; and the British, pushing forward hotly on the rear of the flying crowd, carried work after work until, in the course of an hour, the whole position, nearly three miles in extent, was entirely in their possession. Between forty and fifty guns were captured, and the enemy's loss in killed and wounded was very great while, by desertion alone, the Wongee lost a third of his army. While the attack had been going on, the flotilla had passed the works protecting the river face of the hills, and had captured all the boats and stores, filled with supplies for the use of the Burmese army.

Thus, two of the three Burmese divisions had now been completely routed; and there remained only that of Sudda Woon, on the other side of the river. The troops were allowed two days' rest and, on the morning of the 5th, a force advanced on board the flotilla. Their passage across the river was covered by the fire of a rocket brigade and a mortar battery—which had on the previous night been established on an island—and they landed at some distance above the enemy's stockades. They then marched round and attacked these in flank and rear, while the batteries and boats of the flotilla cannonaded them in front.

The enemy's troops were already disheartened, by the defeat they had seen inflicted upon the Wongee's army and, after a feeble resistance, fled to a second line of stockades in the jungle to their rear. The troops, however, pressed so hotly upon them that they were unable to make any effectual opposition here. Numbers fell, while endeavouring to pass through the narrow entrances of the work; and the rest fled, in terror, into the woods.

These extensive operations had been carried out with the loss of six officers, and some seventy or eighty men, only.

It was known that the enemy had very strongly fortified several positions, in and around Meaday; and it was determined to push forward, at once, on the long march of three hundred miles to Ava, before the enemy could rally from their defeat, and gather for the defence of these positions. On the 9th the first division, under General Campbell himself, started from Prome. The roads were extremely bad, and they were able to move but slowly.

Their course was first directed inland; as it was intended to turn the enemy's position at Meaday, by following a road several miles from the river, and thus forcing them to fall back as we advanced. On the next day the force reached the spot where Colonel M'Dowall had been killed, in the unsuccessful attack upon Maha Nemiow; and it then turned north, and followed the road parallel to the river.

On the 12th tremendous rains, for some hours, converted the road into a morass and, although the march was but five miles long, the greater portion of the column failed to reach its destination. This, however, was not the worst. Cholera broke out at once, and carried off a large number of victims—two of the British regiments being rendered almost unfit for service by its ravages.

On the 14th the division encamped on dry ground, on a ridge of wooded hills, and waited for a couple of days to allow the baggage train to come up. The change greatly benefited the health of the troops, and amusement was afforded by the partridges, jungle fowl, and deer which abounded in the neighbourhood of the camp.

Up to this point, no single native had been seen. The villages were all destroyed, and the country was completely deserted. On the 16th a strong Burmese fortification was taken, it being unoccupied save by a small picket, which retired on our advance. This had evidently been erected for the purpose of preventing the river fortifications from being turned, and its abandonment proved that the object of the land march had been gained; and that the enemy had abandoned the positions they had, with so much care, prepared for the defence of the river.

On the 18th they joined General Cotton's column and, the next day, entered Meaday. Here a terrible spectacle was met with. The town and the ground within the stockades was strewn with dead and dying; some from wounds, others from cholera—for the ravages of this plague had been as great, among the Burmese, as in the British force. A number of men were found crucified on gibbets, doubtless as a punishment for attempting to desert. The air was pestilent; and the force was glad, indeed, to march on the next morning from the locality.

They gained something, but not much, from the change. For the next fifty miles, dead bodies were met with at very short intervals and, each day before camping, many corpses had to be removed before the tents could be fixed.

It was now known that the Burmese army, in its retreat, had been concentrated at Melloon, where the reserve of 10,000 men had been posted. On the 27th, the division encamped within four miles of that town. They had now marched a hundred and forty miles, from Prome, without meeting a single inhabitant of the country, or being enabled to obtain any cattle, whatever, for the supply of the troops, so effectually had the enemy wasted the country as they retired.

Melloon stood on the opposite bank of the Irrawaddy; and letters had arrived from that town saying that a commissioner had arrived, from Ava, with full powers from the king to conclude a treaty of peace. Colonel Adair and Stanley, accordingly, were sent off the next morning to Melloon, to arrange for an immediate meeting for the commissioners. However, they could come to no arrangement, the Burmese leaders insisting that so important a business could only be carried on when a favourable day arrived; and that no time could, at present, be stated. Seeing that the principal object of the Burmese was to gain time, the colonel informed them through Stanley that, as no arrangements had been made, the troops would recommence their advance as soon as he returned to the camp and, accordingly, the next morning the division moved forward to a town immediately opposite Melloon.

That place stood on the face of a sloping hill and, as the Irrawaddy was here but 600 yards broad, a good view was obtained of the fortifications. The principal stockade was in the form of a square, about a mile on each face, mounting a considerable number of guns—especially on the side facing the river; and a succession of stockades extended for a mile farther along the banks. The great work was crowded with men. In front of the town lay a large fleet of war boats, and larger craft with stores.

A short time after the troops reached the spot, a great noise of gongs, drums, and other warlike instruments arose on the other side, and crowds of boatmen were seen running down to the vessels. These were soon manned, and oars got out, and they began to row up the river. As, owing to the intricacy of the channel, the steamboat and flotilla had not yet arrived, a few shots were fired at the boats by the field guns. This had the desired effect, many of the boatmen jumping overboard, leaving their craft to drift down the river; while the great bulk hastily turned their vessels about, and anchored in their former position.

As soon as the steamer with the flotilla came up, two war boats pushed off from shore, saluted the steamer, and rowed alongside of her until she and the flotilla were safely anchored above the town. This was so evidently a mark of a real desire for the suspension of hostilities that the two officers were again sent across the river. A truce was agreed upon, and an arrangement made for the meeting of the negotiators, upon the following day.

Four meetings were held, between the two commissioners and those appointed by the British general, the meetings taking place on boats moored in the centre of the river. At length the treaty was accepted and signed, by the Burmese, and fifteen days' truce allowed for the ratification of the treaty by the king. As the end of that period approached, the Burmese protested that they had not yet received an answer, and asked for further time; which was refused, unless on the condition that Melloon was evacuated, and the Burmese army fell back until the ratification of the treaty reached them. As had been for some time strongly suspected, the negotiations were simply a device to arrest our advance; and the treaty was afterwards found in the Burmese camp, it never having been forwarded to Ava.

At midnight on the 18th, when the armistice came to a conclusion, the troops began throwing up earthworks, the heavy guns were landed from the flotilla and, at ten o'clock the next morning, twenty-eight guns were in position ready to open fire. In spite of remonstrances that had been made, the Burmese had, night after night during the armistice, continued to work surreptitiously at their entrenchments. It was hoped for a moment that, when they saw the speed with which our batteries had been thrown up and armed, they would offer no farther resistance. As, however, they were evidently preparing for action, our guns opened fire at eleven o'clock.

This was kept up for two hours. While it was going on, the troops intended for the assault were embarked in boats, some distance up the river, so as to ensure their not being carried by the force of the stream across the face of the Burmese works, and exposed to the concentrated fire of the enemy. They were divided into four brigades; the first of which—consisting of the 13th and 38th Regiments, under Lieutenant Colonel Sale—were to land below the stockade, and to attack its south-western angle; while the other three brigades were to land above it, to carry some outworks there, and to attack the northern face.

A strong northerly wind, and the violent current, prevented the assaults being made simultaneously. The first brigade was carried too far across and, as it passed the stockade, was exposed to the fire of the guns and musketry of the river defences; while the three other brigades were unable, for some time, to reach their intended landing places. Colonel Sale was among those wounded by the Burmese fire but, directly the first brigade reached the shore, they formed up under the partial cover of a shelving bank and, led by Lieutenant Colonel Frith, moved forward to the assault in admirable order. When within a short distance there was a forward rush, in spite of the storm of shot. The ladder party gained the foot of the stockade and, placing the ladders, climbed up, and leapt down among the surging crowd of the enemy. Others followed and, soon, a firm footing was obtained in the works. Then the men of the two regiments—whose total strength did not exceed five hundred—advanced steadily, drove before them some 10,000 armed men, and expelled them from the works that the Burmese had deemed impregnable.

While this was going on, the other three brigades had landed above the stockade and, now falling upon the enemy as they poured out from their works, completed their defeat. All the stockades were carried, and the whole of the artillery and stores fell into our possession.

Four days later, the army again began its advance. They were met by four Englishmen, who had been taken prisoners; and an American, who had also been held in confinement. These had been sent to assure the English general that the king was in earnest in his desire for peace. It was but too evident, however, that no confidence could be placed in Burmese negotiations; and it was, moreover, known that another army was being assembled, in the greatest haste, to bar the advance.

On the 14th of February the British reached Pakang-Yay, having passed Sembeughewn on the opposite shore. This was the point where the road from Aracan reached the Irrawaddy, and it had been arranged that the force that had been operating in Aracan should, if possible, effect a junction with Sir Archibald Campbell here. A message brought down by a native was, however, received; stating that the force had suffered very severely from fever and cholera, and that the natural obstacles were found to be too great to be overcome by troops debilitated by disease—that the attempt had, therefore, been abandoned. Fortunately, the English general was well able to do without this addition to his strength. He had already proved that his command was perfectly capable of defeating any Burmese force that could be brought against him, and an addition would only have increased the difficulty of transport.

On the 9th of March the British force which, owing to the necessity for leaving strong bodies to hold Melloon and other points that had been captured, now mustered less than 2,000 fighting men, advanced to attack the enemy, whose numbers were estimated at 16,000.

The new commander of the Burmese adopted other tactics than his predecessors. His stockaded position was in front of the town of Pagahn, but he occupied the jungle in great force, and attacked our advance guard, five miles from the town. As the enemy occupied the hills on both sides of the main road, Sir A. Campbell divided his force and led half of it through the jungle on the right, while General Cotton led the other half through the woods on the left.

The Burmese fought with considerable obstinacy. General Campbell and his staff, with thirty-eight troopers and fifty men of the 13th, were somewhat in advance of the column; when the enemy closed in on both flanks, and even got in their rear. These were, however, dispersed by the rest of the 13th and, driving back the Burmese on the flanks, the advance was continued. Presently, however, as the British issued from the jungle, a mass of the enemy's horse charged down, drove back the skirmishers and, for a time, the position of the general and his staff was one of great peril. His little body of troopers, however, dashed boldly at the assailants and held them in check, until the guns that had followed the staff were brought forward from the jungle. Then the troopers divided and rode right and left; and the guns, opening fire, checked the assailants until the infantry came up.

The Burmese army was now seen, drawn up in the form of a semicircle, in the open. The two British columns were united and, together, moved forward to attack the centre of the crescent, disregarding the fire from its wings. When within charging distance, they went forward with a rush and, cheering lustily, fell upon the Burmese; and broke their centre, thus isolating the two wings. The Burmese at once retreated, with the greatest haste, to the stockaded position in their rear. As usual, the narrow entrances to the stockades caused great delay; and the British were upon them before they were, in any way, prepared to resist the assault.

Heralding their advance by sweeping volleys, they fell upon the Burmese with the bayonet, and drove them out of their works. The enemy made an attempt to rally, behind the walls and in the pagodas of the town, but the effort was vain. They were driven out with great slaughter, hundreds were drowned in eudeavouring to swim the river, and the army was finally dispersed in all directions.

The effect of this victory was at once apparent. The country people—who had, on the advance of the British force from Prome, been cleared out from the villages along the whole line of route—being now freed from the restraint of their troops, came flocking back in great numbers—some by the roads and some in boats—and it was evident that they regarded the struggle as definitely terminated. There was, indeed, no possibility of further resistance; as the armies of Burma, raised with immense difficulty and by heavy bounties and the promises of great reward, were hopelessly scattered, and Ava lay open to the British advance.

In other directions their position was equally desperate. Aracan had been wholly rescued from their grasp. A British force in Pegu had marched up the river Sitang and, after the repulse of a party of a hundred and fifty men, imprudently sent to attack Sitang itself, captured the place after a sharp fight and, receiving reinforcements from Rangoon, continued their way up the river and captured Toungoo; while the northern force had driven the Burmese out of Manipur, and had reached the river Ningti by the 2nd of February, and were in a position to advance direct upon Ava.

After a halt of two days, General Campbell advanced on the 12th of February. Mr. Price, the American who had been sent down after the capture of Melloon, went forward to Ava with the treaty that had been drawn up before the capture of that place; and the king had no longer any hesitation in complying with its terms—and was, indeed, delighted to find that the recent victory of the invaders had not increased their demands. He at once sent down to accept them but, as no official ratification was sent, the march continued; while Mr. Price again returned to Ava. When the force was within four days' march of the capital, the latter returned with the Burmese commissioners and other high functionaries, with the ratified treaty, and the first instalment of the money that was to be paid.

It was a disappointment to the army that, after their long march and many sufferings, they were not to be allowed to enter the enemy's capital in triumph. Undoubtedly, however, the course taken was the wisest. Ava was regarded as a sacred city, and it was to save it from the humiliation of being occupied by the invaders that the king had brought himself to accept the terms of the treaty. Had the English general insisted upon entering the capital, and signing the treaty there, he would have found no one to meet him. The population would have been driven out, the king and court would have retired farther up the country, and the war might have continued for an indefinite time.

Already its cost had been enormous, exceeding 5,000,000 pounds sterling. During the first eleven months after landing at Rangoon, nearly half of the Europeans died and, from the time they advanced from that town with fresh reinforcements from India, to the arrival near Ava, a similarly heavy loss was sustained. Four percent of the number engaged was killed in action. The climate of Aracan was still more deadly, as three-fourths of the white troops employed there died, and very few of the survivors were ever fit for service afterwards. The sepoys suffered less in Aracan, losing only ten percent of their number, though nearly half the force were in hospital for some time.

According to agreement the Burmese, as soon as peace was concluded, sent down a large number of boats for the conveyance of the troops down the river. As they descended it, the garrisons left at Melloon and other places were withdrawn. One of the native regiments, with some elephants and guns, left the force at Sembeughewn; and marched thence to Aracan, for the purpose of investigating the country, and proving whether it was practicable for the passage of troops in case another advance upon Ava should ever be necessary. They found the road unexpectedly good, and met with no resistance whatever, except in the passage of some passes over the mountains.

At Melloon, Stanley was very glad to meet his cousin again, for the 47th had been left in garrison there. Harry had been down again, with a sharp attack of fever, but was now recovering.

"So it is all over, Stanley, and your chances of an earldom have nearly slipped through your fingers."

"I am glad, indeed, that it is so," Stanley laughed, "in the first place, because I could only have succeeded to it at your death; and in the second place, because I have no ambition, whatever, for a title. I am not nineteen yet, and should greatly prefer to make my own way, than to find myself with nothing whatever to do, except to spend money as it dropped into my lap.

"Now that everything is settled, and that Aracan has become English, and we have the seaports on the Tenasserim coast, trade will increase tremendously. You may be sure that the Burmese will be only too glad to flock into our provinces, and to live under a fair rule, to escape the tyranny of their own officials; and my uncle is just the man to take advantage of the new openings. I don't say that I want to live out here all my life. At any rate, I hope by the time that I am thirty, to be able to come home for a year's holiday; and it is just possible that, by then, we may have grown into such a big firm that we may establish headquarters in London, instead of getting all our goods from Calcutta.

"There is certain to be a very big trade here, in teak alone. The price in Pegue is a great deal below that in India and, if we had a house in London, we should avoid having to pay commissions, and perhaps get better prices for our wood. Of course, my uncle may by that time think of retiring himself and, in that case, I might have to stay somewhat longer out here; but I know that he likes the climate, and I have heard him say that, as he has very few acquaintances in England, he thinks that he should prefer a life in Calcutta to one in London."

"I should not wonder if I go home, very shortly," Harry said. "My last letter told me that my uncle was in failing health, and that he would like to have me at home with him. If the next letter confirms that, I am afraid I shall have either to resign my commission, or exchange into a regiment at home. Of course, at his death I should have to leave the army, anyhow. It would be ridiculous for a subaltern to be an earl; besides, there are things one would have to do. I suppose there are estates to be looked after, and all sorts of nuisances.

"Anyhow, I shall always be glad I have had my share in this expedition. I have learned what campaigning is; and I must say that, under such circumstances as we have gone through, it is not quite so pleasurable as I had expected. Half one's friends are dead or invalided home; and one never knows, when one wakes in the morning, whether one may not be down with cholera before night. The fighting is all well enough but, after all, that takes up but a very small portion of one's time; and marching and, I may say, living generally in this hot, sweltering climate, with its six months of rain, is not enviable work. However, I have gone through one regular campaign, and that as severe a one as British troops have ever performed; and above all, old man, I have met you, and we have come to be great friends, and I have learned what one fellow will do for another."

"I am sure I am very glad to have gone through it, too. I have been fortunate, indeed, in never having been laid up for a single day; and there is no doubt that having served on the staff will be of great advantage to me, even as a trader. I own that I should like to have retired a captain. Of course, promotion has been tremendously fast, owing to the death vacancies, but I have still two lieutenants over me."

"You are sure to get the step, Stanley. You have been in general orders twice, besides that notice you got for my rescue. Also, the doctors say that a number of the men who have been sent down to the coast are not likely to live many weeks and, as five of your seniors have been invalided, you may get your step, in the natural course of things, at any moment.

"If I were you, I should ask for three months' leave before rejoining your regiment. There will be no difficulty about that, after you have been upwards of two years in constant work; and the general will certainly not refuse. Before the end of that time you will have seen your uncle, and talked matters over. Then, if you choose to resign your commission, you can of course do so but, as you are pretty sure to get your step, by death, before the end of the three months; and as the general's despatches strongly recommend your services, you may get your brevet majority before your resignation reaches England. A man who has been mentioned two or three times in despatches, and is specially recommended for honours, is sure to get his brevet majority directly he gets his company."

On reaching Rangoon, Stanley learned that two of the invalids had died, either on the way down or before they could be put on board a ship; and that one of the majors, who had been sent to India for change, four months before, had also succumbed; so that he had already obtained his company—a promotion which would have been, at any other time, extraordinary; but which, in a campaign where half those engaged were carried off, was nothing remarkable. Being still on the headquarter staff, he embarked with Sir Archibald Campbell.

"You still hold firm to your determination to leave the service, Captain Brooke?" the general said, in the course of the passage to Calcutta.

"Yes, sir. I am sure that it is best for me."

"I think it is, Brooke. Of course, you have been exceptionally fortunate in getting such rapid promotion. Still, a good business is a great deal better than soldiering. I wrote very strongly in your favour, when I sent off my despatches the day we came down to the coast; and you are certain of your brevet. Still, it is just as well that the news of your resignation should not get home before the Gazette comes out, with your name in it. I think the best thing that I can do is to give you leave, for a time, as soon as we get to Calcutta. I am sure that you deserve a rest, for your work has been terribly heavy."

"Thank you, sir; that was just the favour that I was going to ask you. I shall find out, as soon as I get there, where my uncle is; and join him. My own mind is quite made up, but he has certainly a right to be consulted, before I take any final step."

"Quite right. I feel no doubt that his opinion will agree with yours; and I think that you are showing a good deal more wisdom than most fellows would do, to give up the service when you have distinguished yourself, and have a much better chance than falls to the lot of one man in a hundred. Still, there can be no real doubt that a man in a good business, out here, can retire early and go home with a fortune; while in the army you are liable at any time, after you get to the rank of colonel, to be laid on the shelf for years.

"Besides, you will be your own master, which is more than anyone in the army can say. You can go home when you like, either for a stay or for a permanency; and you are not liable to have to run the risk of another campaign such as this has been."

"If one was sure of campaigns, I don't think that I could possibly bring myself to leave the service; but it is the probability of being kept, for three or four years at a time, doing nothing at Calcutta or Madras that decided me."

The general nodded.

"You are quite right, Brooke; on active service a soldier's life is, indeed, a stirring one; but there is nothing more dull and monotonous than garrison life, in peace time."

Accordingly, as soon as they landed in Calcutta, Stanley was put in orders for absence on leave, for three months. He learned, from his uncle's agent, that they had heard from him only a few days before, at Chittagong; and that he was then on the point of leaving for Aracan, whither he had ordered a large consignment of goods to be forwarded to him, by the next ship.

Three days later, Stanley started to join him, leaving his address at Aracan with Sir Archibald Campbell, in case there should be need to recall him before the three months' leave expired. The vessel in which he was sailing carried the consignment of goods to his uncle; and he had, therefore, no fear of finding that the latter had left Aracan before his arrival. Meinik was still with him. He had left the army after the last battle had been fought, and had travelled to the spot where he had buried his money before embarking with Stanley in the canoe and, after an absence of three days, rejoined the force. On the way down to Rangoon, Stanley had a long talk with him as to his future plans.

"I have only one plan, master, and that is to stay with you, as long as I live."

"But you will have plenty to live comfortably upon now, Meinik. For, after all that you have done for me, of course I shall arrange for you to have a sum that will keep you in comfort."

Meinik shook his head.

"Burma is a bad country, master. After living with the English, I would not go back to live under the king's officers, in any case. Any money that I had would be squeezed out of me, before long. No, master, I will go with you, unless you drive me from you; if you do, I will go to Chittagong, and live there, but I do not think that you will do that."

"Certainly not, Meinik. As long as you are willing to remain with me, I shall be very glad, indeed, to have you; but if, at any time, you wish to marry and settle down on land of your own, I shall give you five hundred pounds—which is only a small portion of the sum those rubies, which you got your band to give me, brought me in."

"I daresay I shall marry," Meinik said, "but that will make no difference. As long as I live, I shall stay with you."

Meinik had been astounded at Calcutta; which presented a strong contrast, indeed, to the city which, as a Burman, he had regarded as the most important place in the world.

"The Burmese are fools, master. They should have sent two or three men here, before they made up their minds to go to war. If they had been truly told what Calcutta was like, they would never have ventured to make war with the English."



Chapter 18: In Business Again.

When the vessel arrived at the mouth of the Aracan river, a canoe was seen coming out from Akyah—a town situated at the entrance to the principal of the several channels by which the river makes its way, through a number of sand banks and islands, into the sea. As it approached, Stanley recognized his uncle sitting in the stern.

"Well, uncle, how are you?" he called out, as the boat approached the side.

"What, is it you, Stanley? I am glad, indeed, to see you. I have watched the papers anxiously, to see if your name appeared among those who have been killed or have died; not seeing it, I hoped that you were all right. Of course we heard, from the Madras regiment that came across from Sembeughewn, that it was all over; and that all the troops would be shipped off, as soon as they went down to Rangoon; but I have not seen any papers lately, and so have not had a chance of learning any news of you. I fancied, though, that you would be back at Calcutta by this time; and thought that I might get a letter from you, by this ship."

By this time he was on deck, and after a hearty shaking of hands, Stanley asked what he was doing here.

"I did not expect to see you until we got to Aracan."

"I have been up there, lad. It is a decaying old place, and the stream is in many places shallow; so that it would be very difficult to take up a ship of any size. I foresee, therefore, that this is going to be the chief port of the province—timber will be floated down here, and rice brought down in native boats—so I shall make my headquarters here, as far as this district is concerned, and put Johnson in charge. I doubt whether, for a time, we shall do as much trade as we shall higher up the coast; but everyone expects a great Burmese immigration, and a large trade is likely to spring up, in time.

"I have not quite determined on my next move, and it is not improbable that I shall go down in this ship and establish myself, for a time, at Martaban; and open a trade in Tenasserim. If I decide on that, I shall only get on shore a portion of my goods, and take the rest on with me there.

"Now, what are you going to do, Stanley?"

"Just what you think best, uncle. I should have thought that, as I speak the language, it would be better for me to go on to Martaban; and for you to work Chittagong, and the district up to Assam."

"Then you are going to stay with me, lad!" his uncle exclaimed, in a tone of much satisfaction. "I was afraid that you would have got so fond of soldiering that you would have thrown this over, altogether."

"Not a bit of it, uncle. I am on three months' leave at present and, at the end of that time, I shall resign. You know I am a captain, now—that is to say, that I have got my rank by death vacancies, though until the Gazette comes out from England, I can hardly be said to be a pucka captain; and, what is more, the general himself assured me that, after being mentioned in despatches two or three times, and at his strong commendation of my services, I was sure of the brevet rank of major."

His uncle took off his hat, gravely.

"I must apologize to you," he said, "for addressing you as 'lad.' I had no idea that you were a full-grown captain, still less that you might soon be a major."

"I don't care a snap for the title, uncle," Stanley said, laughing, "except that it may be an advantage to me, in places where there are garrisons; and indeed, generally where there are white officials."

"A very great advantage, Stanley.

"Well, lad, I have been coining money, since I saw you at Rangoon. I have been sending a consignment of bullocks down there, every week; and have done almost as much with the Manipur force. I have also got the contract regularly, now, for the supply of the troops at Calcutta. Other trade has, of course, been at a standstill. Now that everything has quieted down, there will be a perfect rush; and I have been sorely troubled, in my mind, whether it would be best to stay up here and take advantage of it, or to be one of the first to open trade at these new ports. Of course, if you are ready to take Martaban, that will decide me; and I shall take passage in the first ship going up to Chittagong. My own boat and the dhow are both there, and I shall at once work up all the rivers, and set things going again.

"I have a capital fellow, a native, who is carrying on the cattle business for me and, at Chittagong, I shall try and get hold of three or four more trustworthy fellows, to take charge of depots. I see a big future before us, and that before long. I did well with those gems of yours—they fetched 3500 pounds, which I used, besides what you handed over to me—for there was no buying up the cattle without cash and, as I generally have to wait two months after they are shipped, before I get paid, ready money was invaluable and, indeed, I could not have gone into the thing on anything like the same scale, if it had not been for your money. The Calcutta people would have helped me, to a certain point; but they would never have ventured upon such advances as I required. Your 5000 pounds has doubled itself since I met you at Rangoon. I calculate that our stores at the different depots are worth 4000 pounds so that, at the present moment, the firm of Pearson & Brooke have at their command a capital of 14,000 pounds."