Janardhan Talbot: Volume 1

By Mohan Timmaraju

In the shadow of tyranny, long-since bogged down in colonial rule, the story of India is a story of individual strength, dogged determination, and the sincere hope of making one's life better for all those he touches--no matter the cost. For the story of Janardhan is the story of young cunning in the face of adversity. Born into a small village in India, Janardhan is privileged by his Anglo features which allow him to set out into the world in search of his share. Having found new friendships and many interesting people along his journey from India in pursuit of English shores, Janardhan finds his British sentiments hardening, as the reality of their rule distorts and shapes his future and takes away those that bring him hope. Now far from home with his eyes on the British horizon, Janardhan faces down corruption, murder, pirates, theft, and inequality wherever he roams all in the hopes of taking what's rightfully his under the great rising sun.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Emphaloz Publishing House
• Release date: Jan 23, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386345558

Book preview

Telugu Words for Meaning

Prologue

It was the year the American nation and its people celebrated the 68th Independence Day, under its tenth President John Tyler. Queen Victoria was ruling the British Empire with the guidance of Prime Minister Robert Peel and the parliament. The Industrial Revolution was changing the face of Britain, for better or worse, but the political situation in India was dissimilar. This was the time that the British East India Company was keeping its business strategies aside, concentrating on annexing the kingdoms in India to strengthen its administration and transmuting from a trading organization to the unimpeded ruler of the Indian subcontinent.

Arrangement of irrigation, with water gained by building dams and using discarded water canals, had resulted in augmented crop production in India. From the Company’s point of view, it provided all those amenities to secure the basic raw materials for its industries in England, such as food grains, and also to make sure that it got raw materials much cheaper than America, but it helped British gain the confidence of Indian farmers.

Highways were constructed from Madras to Bombay, Calcutta to Lahore via Delhi, and Delhi to Bombay. On the other side, there was no dearth of transgressions carried out by the British. They made Indian clothes so inflated by taxes that the industry itself became distorted and created a major economic crisis in the country. It took them fifteen to twenty years to create the situation where cotton weavers were near defunct.

The Englishmen had no antagonism directed at them in the Madras and Bombay provinces. Punjab Emperor Raja Ranjit Singh died and the East India Company used their divide and rule policy, constructing differences between the provinces of the Punjab kingdom; they won over them, and managed to take control of entire India. It was the time the residents of Indian continent remained as second-ranking citizens in their own country.

CHAPTER 1

NOVEMBER 1841

A SEASHORE 220 MILES SOUTH OF MADRAS

As it was the holy month for Hindus, Janardhan and his family had come to bathe in the sea at dawn as per tradition, along with a few hundred locals. All along the beach, people were standing in waist-deep water, praying to the rising sun and the sea, keeping the younger children from straying into deeper waters.

Two ships were stationed off the coast. One of these was a steamship, fluttering an English flag. Looking back, Janardhan discerned three Englishmen walking on the seashore, rifles dangling on their shoulders, looking at the locals bathing in the sea, commenting on and laughing about them. A few minutes later, they had disappeared to the north. Janardhan thought that he would have talked to them if he were on the beach as he was acquainted with many English people at Madras where he was studying in an English school. He saw a friend gesticulating to him to swim deeper into the sea and started to move forward, but immediately he remembered the warnings of his cousins Bhanumati and Manga and also his closest friend Sampath Rao, who came from Madras, moving with another cousin Prasoona and raising their hands so as not to venture into the deep sea. He went further, debating with himself whether to go ahead or not, and settled a little distance from the beach. After some time, he started slowly coming back to the beach.

By then, many others had also completed their holy dips and had returned to the shore. Some of them had built cooking fires in the Canna garden. In several places, heavy smoke spiralled upwards. Among all the busy activity, Janardhan spotted his family. They had placed a framed photo of a deity sitting facing east. The sun, which had been hiding behind the clouds until then, rose to a clear day. At the same time, the Englishmen came walking slowly back. Seeing them, Janardhan decided to speak to them.  By this time, everyone had come back to the shore, except for a few children and youths who were playing around, throwing water on each other.

The Englishmen were carrying rabbits they had hunted in the nearby forest. The forest was home to good numbers of rabbits and the nearby villagers also hunted them.

The playing children did not notice the white men coming; trying to escape from the boy throwing water on him, a young boy ran into the Englishman who was carrying the rabbits. The force of the collision caused the man not only to drop the rabbits, but also to lose his balance in an attempt to stop rifle from slipping off his shoulder. He fell heavily to the ground. Furious, he got up and hit the boy on his chest with the butt of his rifle, using all his strength. The boy fell backwards about four feet as a result of the blow.

Janardhan and the others watched in shocked silence. Janardhan was still back in the seawaters as the boy got up, cursed the Englishmen loudly in his native tongue, and with both fists threw sand in their faces like a machine. Janardhan shouted to the boy to stop, but neither the Westerners nor the boy heard him for the roaring of the sea. The Englishman who had hit the boy lifted his rifle, aimed it at the boy, and fired. The boy screamed in agony as he was flung backwards by the power of the gunshot.

People witnessing the incident were shocked at first and then started shouting. By that time Janardhan had come out of the water and was standing motionless behind the Englishmen at a distance of fifteen feet, looking at the wounded boy who was crying and fighting for life.

Sharma, Janardhan’s father, felt that Janardhan might do something stupid as he knew his son’s compassion for others; he involuntarily stood up, waved his hands to warn Janardhan not to begin any argument, and came running towards them without realising that he was charging into the Englishmen. Relatives of the child also came running after Sharma, raising their hands in the air and crying deafeningly. All this happened in rapid succession.

The Englishmen, seeing the mob descending on them, feared that they would be beaten up. The Englishman who had shot the boy was still holding his rifle. Without thinking, he aimed at Janardhan’s father, who was running ahead of the others, and shot two rounds at him. Sharma collapsed with a scream, while the people running behind him scattered on all sides in terror.

Janardhan watched the scene unfold before him in a state of shock. He recovered quickly but began trembling with a wild anger.

The bastards died like a dog. Mr. Vincent, I hope your rifle is loaded. If these black dogs try to attack us, shoot them in the heads, the Englishman said recklessly to his companions. The three men were not aware of Janardhan’s presence behind them; their focus was on the people before them and in loading their guns. The boy was twitching and fighting for life, while Janardhan’s father lay motionless on the beach. The mob formed a wide circle around Janardhan’s father, not daring to come near the wounded boy.

Janardhan looked at his father lying there motionless and thought he was dead. He looked around in frustration and rage and saw a large piece of driftwood lying nearby, which was suitable for holding it like a mace. He snatched it up and approached the Englishmen from behind. The Englishmen were still watching the mob warily and did not see Janardhan coming from behind.

Janardhan swung the branch at the head of the shooter. However, the man heard the whooshing sound of the branch and began turning around. As a result, the blow hit him on the nose and sliced through his right cheek. He fell down, unconscious. Before the other men could look around, Janardhan hit the second man above the right ear with the sound of bone breaking. The third Englishman aimed his rifle at Janardhan, but he was too late. Janardhan hit him on the forehead. He fell like an axed tree trunk. The entire incident took place in less than ten seconds. Still holding the branch, Janardhan kept staring at the three men, as if in catalepsy.

The mob got into action. Some people ran to look after the boy. Janardhan’s family and friends surrounded his father’s body, crying in anguish.

Janardhan was oblivious to the people around him. Your white dog! You shot my father! he yelled as he hit the attacker repeatedly with the branch. Sampath Rao pried the branch from his hands and held back his arms.

Suddenly Janardhan became conscious of the world around him. He looked around and asked, Where did the bullet hit him? Then he ran towards his father’s motionless body. By then, a few people had arranged a cart to take the bodies away.

Let me go! I want to go with my father, he cried to his friends as they held him back.

You have killed two white men and badly injured a third. You should get away from here immediately. We have taken their rifles and kept them as one bundle; eventually, the bodies will be discovered by the other Englishmen at the port. Then we are all done for. We don’t know how many of us will die at their hands, Janardhan’s friend said, breathing heavily.

Hey boy, if you are caught now, you will be hanged. There’s nothing you can do for your father, think of your mother. Do you want her to lose her son, too? She has asked you to escape. Go far away, give them the hope you are alive and safe somewhere. If you are killed here in front of all of them, they will not have anything to live for. One of the family’s well-wishers spoke strongly to Janardhan.

As they mulled over where Janardhan could go to, they saw the attacker stumble to his feet and begin running away towards the port.

He is the one that killed my father. I will not let him live, Janardhan cried, trying to get loose from his friends’ hands. His friends held and stopped him, saying, If you run into any Englishmen coming this way, you will not be spared. Take shelter in the forest for some time and plan your escape. One of the older men told the others also to go back to their homes immediately. Everyone began dispersing hurriedly, gathering up their belongings and running toward their bullock carts.

Janardhan’s sister, Sumathi, and his cousin Manga came running towards them, weeping and carrying a bundle of clothes for Janardhan. Manga caught Janardhan’s hands and shook them violently. "Atha wants you to go away from here. These white men will hunt you down. Go now."

Janardhan, Bombay or Calcutta are big and well-populated. No one will recognize you. Move quickly. Sumathi was crying deafeningly.

Manga, how is Father? Janardhan pleaded, weeping not minding their words.

Some people are taking him to the Chiral Christian Mission Hospital. She turned to one of the elderly men. Please accompany them to the hospital immediately, she requested.

We should not linger here. Lose yourselves among the crowd, an old man ordered, pushing all the women towards the dispersing crowds. Everyone took a last look at Janardhan as they left the beach. The girls looked back at Janardhan repeatedly. Three minutes later, everyone had disappeared from sight. There was no sound except that of the sea.

The bodies of the two Englishmen lay a few feet away on the sand. Janardhan picked up the three guns and the clothes and went into the Canna woods. He changed into a set of shirt and pants, dug a pit in the sand with his bare hands and buried all the guns, waiting for somebody to come for the bodies of the Englishmen. Tears flowed from his eyes without let up as he thought of his father’s and the boy’s fates.

As he waited, Janardhan worried about his future. His happy world had been devastated in fifteen minutes flat! If there was a God to look after His creatures, why had He meted out such a forbidding punishment to Janardhan’s family?  He wondered where he should go. Should he run to Bombay or Calcutta like a fugitive, to lead an isolated life cut off from his own people? He held his head in desolation.

After some time, Janardhan saw a group of people approaching from the south. As they drew closer, he observed three Englishmen accompanying the injured Englishman. All four were riding horses and carrying rifles; they were accompanied by about ten locals carrying swords, two of them with horses. The wounded man’s nose and cheek had been bandaged. The riders came to a halt and jumped down from their horses. One of them felt the pulse of each body in turn and, raising his two hands into the air, said something that Janardhan could not hear.

When the footmen reached the spot, the English ordered them to carry the dead bodies. The four Englishmen, accompanied by two locals, left on their horses in the direction taken by the crowds earlier.  Janardhan cursed his friends for holding him back and not allowing him to kill that Englishman. He was apprehensive about his family and other villagers and hoped they would come to no harm. He knew the English were going to investigate him after hindering the villagers and his family members. Vulnerably he sat on the sea sand, praying to the gods to help his people against the vendetta of the British men.

He decided to kill the Englishman if he saw him again. He was going to be captured eventually, anyway, and for him, with his father dead and his family as good as lost, he had nothing to lose. After waiting for some time, in unbearable frustration, he observed that no Englishmen had come back to the shore. Janardhan knew there was another way for them to reach the jetty and the port.

Janardhan ran towards the port under the cover of the trees to locate the English and reached the jetty where the boats were anchored. The jetty was a short distance from the edge of the Canna trees. He climbed a big tree and hid in the branches, watching the goings on.

He saw four small boats loaded with sacks and packages; two were nearby the ship. When the boats were fully loaded, they took off for the steamships anchored off the coast. He saw the three of them in a shed made of palm leaves and felt happy to the wounded Englishman was among the group. One of the other men was asking the wounded man questions, while another was writing something. Janardhan was confident he could kill the man easily as the Englishman was very weak physically. If only he had a weapon! He looked around and observed twenty people, including the workers and the boat crews. If he killed the man and ran into the woods, they were sure to catch him. He thought for a while before deciding to plan an escape route first and then attack the Englishman.

He was tired, thirsty, and hungry from all the running, but he sat still. If he lost track of the Englishman, it might be difficult to trace him again. The workers were still loading the small boats with goods as Janardhan sat there watching all the activity below him.

He was confident of killing the Englishman and then hopefully escaping to Bombay. His friends would meet him there next month, bringing his saved money from his family. Meanwhile, he would change his name, learn to speak Marathi, and start a new life. Janardhan smiled as he realized how unrelated his thoughts were to his current circumstances! Would he even escape the noose of the Company police and officials? Even if he escaped, how long could he survive under a new name? These deep thoughts and the exhaustion lulled him into a deep sleep right there on the tree.

He woke suddenly when the crows above his head started cawing loudly. It took him a few moments to remember where he was, and he looked toward the sea with anxiety. The steamship was still moored off the coast, but the Englishmen under the shed were nowhere in sight. Janardhan was furious and cursed himself. He climbed higher up the tree to see if he could locate them. The workers were still loading the boats and carrying the cargo to the steamship. He looked around, frustrated, unable to decide what to do next. Suddenly, he noticed the wounded Englishman with white cloth bandage on his face one furlong from shore sitting in a boat that was carrying goods to the anchored steamship. Janardhan’s heart lightened as it was confirmed that the man was one of the crewmembers of the ship. Within a few minutes, the boat reached the ship. The Englishman climbed the rope ladder up to the ship’s deck.

Janardhan decided that the only option open to him was to board the anchored ship. He was sure he could hide easily in a loaded ship of that size. Perhaps he would kill the man and return safely. Suddenly, he realized the time had come to decide as he assumed the last boat would be loaded in thirty minutes. He did not waste a moment. He ran barefoot to the edge of the Canna trees, stretched face-down on the ground and crawled towards the sea. He felt something unfamiliar fell from his pockets and realized that Sampath Rao had dropped gold coins into them. Not wasting any time, he crawled deeper into the water, enough to hide himself, and waited there for the last loaded boat. The sky became dark and when he observed the last loaded boat, he swam silently, held onto the back of the boat and breathed.

Soon, the cargo boat began moving, paddled by four men; it reached the ship ten minutes later.

Janardhan let go of the boat, took a deep breath, and silently swam underwater towards the ship. When he felt his hand touch the ship, he cautiously lifted his head to look around. The cargo boat was floating about thirty feet away from him. The ship seemed to rise to a height of about fifteen to sixteen feet above the water. A net tied with strong ropes filled with cargo was pulled up with the use a pulley. It took about six to seven rounds to get all the goods on board the ship; then, after someone gave a shout, the boat began heading back to the shore. Janardhan waited until the boat had sailed for five minutes.

The rope ladder was still hanging from the ship as he waited for a few moments. There was no movement from above so he began climbing up the ladder and looked all around the deck. The cargo was piled high all over the place. A big lantern was glowing some distance away. He made sure that nobody was around before he jumped onto the deck and hid behind a cotton bale. Ten minutes passed in deadly silence, except for some frequent unknown sounds from elsewhere on the ship.

Janardhan took a deep breath and looked around; a set of steps led down into the hold where, he assumed, the crew’s sleeping quarters were. From where he hid, he could see some steps leading to an upper deck from both sides of the ship. He decided he was safe for the moment and could go down into the hold where he could hide without fear of discovery.

After some time, six black men came began taking the cargo down into the hold. Janardhan moved towards the back of the ship, away from the men, and watched their movements.

The men were working at a leisurely pace, without anyone monitoring them. Suddenly, Janardhan felt the ship vibrating wildly. A loud throbbing sound started from underneath the ship, and smoke whirled up from the smokestack; he realized the ship was about to set off on its voyage.

The time had come to decide whether to stay on the ship or jump into the water to get back to the shore. His fists tightened with an animal anger. Whatever might happen and even if it was a risk to his life, he took a strong decision not to leave the ship until he had killed the Englishman who had shot his father and an innocent boy.

After a while, the men stopped the loading and went down the steps. The lantern flickered from the south wind and the ship seemed to be barely moving ahead to the Southside.

Janardhan’s eyes were becoming heavy and his throat was dry; desperate for water, he found a wooden drum beside the steps that was full of water. He took several bowls of water to quench his thirst, crept down the steps like a cat, and searched the entire ship; he found a navigator holding a strong wooden wheel. He expected him to be on duty until morning. He felt the need to relieve himself but could not find a privy in the vicinity. In the next few moments he found the galley and a privy with drums of water outside. He relieved himself and returned to his hideout, heaving a sigh.

He checked all the gunny bags and found them devoid of any smell; then he noticed a small hole, which he enlarged using his thumb. A small heap of raw cashew nuts came plummeting out to his relief. He ate two handfuls and stuffed another couple in his pockets; then he began watching the galley and the privy again. After a while, he realized that only the white crewmembers were using them. As soon as he felt safe, he could not stay awake any longer and slipped into a deep sleep.

For the next two days he spent all his time in between the cargo seeing the Englishmen and the African black people but not the man he was concerned with.

Finally, on the third morning, he saw the Englishman being helped to the privy by two Africans; after five minutes the man went to the galley and came back with a big plate piled with food. Janardhan estimated him to be very sinewy, but only 5 feet 2 inches with 130 pounds. One of the black men carried the plate for the Englishman while the other helped him walk towards the stairway.

Meanwhile a tall Englishman of fifty years with grey hair, sideburns, and a neat moustache arrived with an air of authority; Janardhan assumed he was the captain, from observing his uniform.

The white man went up to the lean Englishman and said, Saxon, we can still get you to a hospital in Madras. You can go back home to England when you’re better. He continued, You three had rifles, so why did you let that Indian get away, Saxon?

Saxon touched his nose and cheek. No, Captain Davis! I am much better and have no need to go to the hospital. As you said, we all had loaded guns, but we were surrounded by a big angry mob. I shot at them and killed two on the spot. I could have killed that Indian bastard who attacked us but could not have escaped the hundreds of locals supporting him. I did what I could to save my life.

I hope the company officials catch the felon, the captain replied.

Oh, he won’t escape. We managed to get his name and other details from the mob; he studies in an English school at Madras city. I did not have enough time to observe that bastard. I have put all of that in the complaint to the governor of Madras and the Guntur collector. The English army and police will hunt him down easily.

‘Saxon, boiler operator!’ Finally, Janardhan knew the name of the man he had come to kill. He was furious as he realized that Saxon had lied about the incident, to make the others believe that local people had confronted the English without reason. Saxon had conveniently forgotten to mention that he had killed two people first without a valid reason, one of them a little boy. Janardhan’s abhorrence grew deeper.

Janardhan was thoroughly disappointed hearing Saxon’s decision not to get off at Madras port. He’d hoped that Saxon would agree to go to Madras; that would make things calmer as the written complaint filed by Saxon would reach the officials at Madras only after a few days, so Janardhan would have time to do what he had come for and escape.

Well, you did what you could, the captain said in a serious tone.

Saxon nodded and said, Captain Davis, if it’s alright, I’d like to go back to my cabin now. I should be sufficiently recovered to come on duty tomorrow if not the day after.

Go ahead, Saxon. The ship will berth at Batticaloa few days. The damaged hull should be repaired.

Yes, Captain, please keep it in mind that we may need about forty tonnes if it is coal or sixty tonnes of dry wood to be enough for the journey, Saxon said.

Good. Saxon, fitter Waylon and his assistant Lobo are managing the boiler quite well, off you go now, the Captain ordered.

They shook hands and the captain went to the kitchen, while Saxon and the black men continued up the stairway.

Janardhan thought that, after killing Saxon, he would be caught eventually. After being hanged or shot, his body would be thrown into the sea to be eaten by the fish. Janardhan closed his eyes with those disturbing thoughts.

That evening Janardhan waited for the right time, climbed the stairs, and crawled to hide behind bundles of ropes used for the sails. After one hour of waiting Fitter Waylon came down the stairway and knocked on the door of the first cabin. Saxon opened the door and greeted Waylon; Janardhan held his breath as Saxon and Waylon went away, leaving the door ajar. Not wasting a moment, Janardhan ran silently to Saxon’s cabin, slipped inside, and closed the door behind him, not bolting it.

The cabin was lit by a lantern and seemed to measure about seven by ten feet. On the right side of the cabin was an unmade bed. A wooden closet fitted to the wall was at the end of the bed. The room was very small even for one man. A rope was tied across the cabin on which hung bad-smelling unwashed apparel; Janardhan thought he could remain hidden behind the clothes. Looking around the cabin again, he saw a small table over towards the wall. Four empty bottles of alcohol stood on the table, along with a knife. Janardhan grabbed the knife and hid behind the clothes, waiting silently.

After thirty minutes of waiting, he heard the door opening. He peeped between the clothes to see Waylon entering the cabin with two bottles of rum. Setting the bottles down on the table, he said, Saxon! For four days, you have had three times more than the normal quota of rum!

Yes. Only large doses of medicine and the rum allow me to get any sleep, Saxon said. Waylon, would you like to stay for a drink, then?

No thanks! I have to get back to the boiler room to relieve Lobo. He’s been there all day and it’s his turn to cook for the Africans today, so I’m off. After Waylon left the cabin, Saxon closed the door roughly and bolted it from the inside.

Janardhan waited to see what Saxon would do next. After a few minutes of standing and drinking rum, Saxon opened the door leading to the deck. Janardhan grabbed the knife tightly and came out like a cat, bending his body to observe Saxon, who was leaning on the wooden paling looking at the sea, holding a bottle of rum and a glass.

Janardhan stepped forward like a cat, confident that the sound of the steam engine would mute any reverberations. About 3 feet from Saxon, he decided he would throw the man overboard instead of stabbing him; he placed the knife amidst the bottles and went closer to him. Saxon was standing very still, looking at the sea. Quickly, holding his breath, Janardhan lifted Saxon up by his left armpit, placed his right leg above the kneecap with an intuitive force, and tried to tip him overboard. Saxon struggled to turn but hit his head on the ship and cried out in pain with an unfamiliar sound.

As Janardhan understood that something had hit Saxon from above, instead of throwing him into the sea he lifted him again, gathering some more strength to hit Saxon again. His attempt was fruitful and a feeble sound of Oh, oh came from Saxon; then Janardhan tossed him into the sea. He bent forward to look for Saxon but he had vanished in the darkness and it was all over in ten to fifteen seconds.

Janardhan stood there for some moments, taking deep breaths. Killing Saxon gave him mammoth satisfaction. He hoped that the head injury had made him cataleptic so that in seconds the seawater could do the rest.

Now, he had nothing to worry about. He did not really want to be caught by the crew so he looked for an alternative. He went back to the cabin and opened the closet, emptied the contents onto the bed, and found gold pound coins, silver rupees and ten-pound notes in the bags; it added up to 450 pounds. If the crew found both Saxon and his money missing, they might think someone in the ship killed Saxon for money. Therefore, Janardhan decided to keep only half of the money for himself and he returned the rest of Saxon’s belongings to the closet.

He recollected the world map he had seen in school. Once the ship crossed Madras, it should go either to Singapore, Rangoon or Sri Lanka. It could only be Sri Lanka to reach in a week. That means the ship was going to the sea town of Batticaloa to the east of Sri Lanka, which he never hard because it might be a small harbour.  Janardhan thought that it had to be that way!

He went to the edge of the ship and bent over the balustrade. The stern balustrade was only six feet away on his left. Looking further, he found two wooden beams protruding ten inches from the wall of the ship. The beams were five feet above him. He quickly went into the cabin, got a bed sheet, and made a loose knot at the end of it. After going to the edge of the ship, he bent himself as far as possible towards the beams and threw the bed sheet wide, hoping to hook it to the wooden beam of ten inches. After two tries he succeeded; he pulled it tight and checked that it was strong enough to bear his weight. He held the bed sheet with his right hand and the rum bottle in the left and, tilting some of the rum at the edge, threw the bottle there.

Then, without any hesitation, he stood on the edge of the ship and shifted his weight to the beam and the bed sheet. He was hanging in the air now without any support. If he fell now, his fate would not be any better than that of Saxon. He closed his eyes for some seconds in fear, praying to God to help him. His feet touched the wall of the ship whenever the ship swung to the tides of the sea. He tried to catch the railing with his right hand and succeeded; holding the bed sheet with his left hand, he then removed his hand, transferred it to the railing edge, and felt safe. Fortunately, there was no one on the deck; after catching his breath, Janardhan waited for a few moments. When he felt safe, he passed the railing, bent as far as possible away from the edge of the railing, pulled off the bed sheet, bundled it up and threw it in the sea. Then he went down the stairway to his hideout. Keeping only twenty pounds of the money he had stolen from Saxon’s room, he stowed the remaining amount in between the gunny bags. Satisfied with what he had accomplished so far he began planning for the next day.

As soon as he caught, he was sure to be interrogated in many ways to elicit the truth. How should he deal with that? He questioned himself but he could not decide for some time what to do! How it would be if he laid it out to them that he was not an Indian but an Englishman like them? They might not torture him to get the truth. He had been mistaken for an English boy particularly by Englishmen and also Indians on several occasions. Perhaps he could try to pass himself off for an Englishman on the ship, too. Then they would want to know about his family and home. What would he say to that?

Precipitously a brilliant idea flashed into his mind. He would say that his name was Jonathan Talbot and that his family had been killed in an ambush. He knew enough about the Talbot family to use their