CHAPTER LI. THE AFFRAY. For why? Because the good old rule Sufficeth them; the simple plan, That they should take who have the power, Wordsworth. TWENTY-FIVE years ago there was hardly an indigoplanter or zamindár in Bengal who had not a regular establishment of láthiáls or club-men. The keeping up of such an establishment was considered a necessary item of expense, as it was deemed impossible in those days to manage either an indigo factory or a zamindári without an armed force. Mr. Murray had the reputation, such as it was, of being the owner of one of the finest bands of láthiáls in the country. They were usually fifty in number, which was his peace establishment; but the number could be considerably increased on the occasion of an affray conducted on a large scale. These club-men were, for the most part, natives of Pharidpur (Furridpore) and Pabna-the two districts in Bengal noted for their excellent láthiáls; there was a sprinkling also of goálás (milk-men) of Sántipur, who are said to be amongst the most stalwart and spirited peasants in the country; and there were besides a few up-countrymen, who were, however, used as a sort of reserve force for times of emergency. These last had been initiated into the mysteries of firing muskets, which were seldom used in ordinary village frays. The majority of the club-men were furnished with clubs made of bamboo. The lathiáls were also called sarkiwálás, that is, wielders of sarkis, which are bamboo clubs having at end an iron spear-head. These sarkis are used not only for striking the enemy at close quarters, but thrown at him from a distance. Hence in a fray a club-man is furnished with about half a dozen sarkis, one of which he keeps in his right hand, ready for use either at close quarters or at a distance; and the others he carries in his left hand successively to supply the place of the one in the right hand. Besides these sarkis the láthiál is furnished with a shield, which he carries in his left hand along with the sarkis. The shields are usually made of rattan, the Indian cane, covered with cow-hide; though a better class of shields are covered with the more valuable and less penetrable hide of the rhinoceros. Early one morning, long before sunrise, about forty or fifty of Mr. Murray's sarkiwálás, suddenly . emerging from a mango-grove beside a tank with lofty embankments, raised a loud shout, and approached the peasant huts of Durgánagar. Scarcely had the husbandmen washed their eyes after getting up from their beds, when the club-men fell upon them with fury. The zamindár's people were scarcely ready; but even if they had been quite ready they would have been no match for the practised club-men of Mari Sáheb. Not that Bengali zamindárs have smaller establishments of club-men than European indigo planters, but the fact is that the father of Nava Krishna Banerjea, having been prudent enough never to pick a quarrel with Mr. Murray or his predecessor, his club-men, for want of exercise, had become rusty, and had almost forgotten their vocation; and Nava Krishna himself was too enlightened and humane a zamindár to pay much attention to the improvement of his military resources. The peasants, who had no sarkis, could not offer determined opposition; and the club-men of the zamindár, unaware of the exact time of attack, were not in readiness. The villagers, however, soon assembled in large numbers, and pelted the foe with brickbats and pieces of broken hánḍis. They also came out with their hoes, their axes, and their sickles. The veteran sarkiwálás of Mr. Murray, who was himself on the scene, riding on a milkwhite Arab, and fortified with fire-arms, soon became masters of the field. About this time, however, the láthiáls of the zamindár appeared on the scene of action, and rushed into the fight with great impetuosity. Both parties threw sarkis against each other; the com-batants drew nearer and nearer till they came to close quarters. For a moment the zamindár's party seemed to be gaining ground, when Mr. Murray fired off two pistol shots, to the infinite consternation of his opponents. These latter now took to their heels. The factory people pursued them and the villagers to some distance, captured some of the ráiyats, entered into the huts of the peasants and plundered them. Several on both sides were wounded, but not seriously. The only person who had received. a bad wound was our friend Mádhava. As the first fury of the assailants had been directed against his huts, he had defended himself with some spirit, and had in consequence been pierced by a sarki. Smarting with the wound, he had concealed himself in a thicket near his house. The sarkiwálás of the factory, on their return from the pursuit of the zamindár's men, found Mádhava in the bush. They caught hold of him and took him away, especially considering that he might die of his wound, which would greatly embarrass the planter. The prisoners, about twelve in number, including Mádhava and the mandal-the same who had spoken with vehemence against the planter-were handcuffed and taken away by the sarkiwálás, who rent the air with shouts of exultation, Mr. Murray himself bringing up the rear. On reaching the factory grounds the mandal and the other captives were confined in a large go-down, but Mádhava alone was taken, by the planter's orders, towards the river side. It is but doing simple justice to Mr. Murray to state that he had not the least desire to kill or even severely to wound any of the ráiyats of Durgánagar; his object was merely to intimidate them into submission. Nor did he wish that their property should be plundered; but as he could not be present at the same time in every part of the scene of the conflict, his men plundered, without his knowledge, whatever valuable things came in their way. What became of the prisoners, and why Mádhava was separated from the rest, will be told in the next chapter. CHAPTER LII. WHAT HAPPENED IN FATHER-IN-LAW'S HOUSE. And worse than all, and most to be deplored, The Task. In the high and palmy state of indigo-planting in Bengal, every factory had a large go-down-looking room, which passed among the men of the planter under the soubriquet of Sasurbáḍi, or Father-in-law's House. However it may be in other countries of the globe, in Bengal at least most men regard their sons-in-law with the utmost kindness and affection. Whenever a young son-in-law goes to the house of his wife's father, he meets with the warmest reception from every member of the family; he is coaxed and caressed beyond measure; he is presented with valuable gifts; and of feasting and jollification there is no end. Hence one's father-in-law's house is looked upon as the happiest and sunniest spot in this world of care and anxiety. The go-down in the indigo-planter's factory, which went under the name of father-in-law's house, had none of these attractions. It was not the sunniest, but the gloomiest room in the factory premises; no other presents were given in it than kicks, cuffs, shoe beatings, strokes of of the cat-o'-nine-tails called gadádhar, racking pains produced by pressing the |