Burlesques William Makepeace Thackeray

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severely injured by the blow which I had given him, and was, moreover, bound hand and
foot, and gagged smartly with cords, I considered myself sure of his person.
Macgillicuddy did not make his appearance when I reviewed my little force, and the three
havildars were likewise absent: this did not surprise me, as I had told them not to leave their
prisoner; but desirous to speak with the lieutenant, I despatched a messenger to him, and
ordered him to appear immediately.
The messenger came back; he was looking ghastly pale: he whispered some information
into my ear, which instantly caused me to hasten to the apartments where I had caused
Bobbachy Bahawder to be confined.
The men had fled;—Bobbachy had fled; and in his place, fancy my astonishment when I
found—with a rope cutting his naturally wide mouth almost into his ears—with a dreadful
sabre-cut across his forehead—with his legs tied over his head, and his arms tied between
his legs—my unhappy, my attached friend—Mortimer Macgillicuddy!
He had been in this position for about three hours—it was the very position in which I had
caused Bobbachy Bahawder to be placed—an attitude uncomfortable, it is true, but one
which renders escape impossible, unless treason aid the prisoner.
I restored the lieutenant to his natural erect position: I poured half a bottle of whiskey down
the immensely enlarged orifice of his mouth, and when he had been released, he informed
me of the circumstances that had taken place.
Fool that I was! idiot!—upon my return to the fort, to have been anxious about my personal
appearance, and to have spent a couple of hours in removing the artificial blackening from
my beard and complexion, instead of going to examine my prisoner—when his escape
would have been prevented. O foppery, foppery!—it was that cursed love of personal
appearance which had led me to forget my duty to my general, my country, my monarch,
and my own honor!
Thus it was that the escape took place:—My own fellow of the Irregulars, whom I had
summoned to dress me, performed the operation to my satisfaction, invested me with the
elegant uniform of my corps, and removed the Pitan's disguise, which I had taken from the
back of the prostrate Bobbachy Bahawder. What did the rogue do next?—Why, he carried
back the dress to the Bobbachy—he put it, once more, on its right owner; he and his
infernal black companions (who had been won over by the Bobbachy with promises of
enormous reward), gagged Macgillicuddy, who was going the rounds, and then marched
with the Indian coolly up to the outer gate, and gave the word. The sentinel, thinking it was
myself, who had first come in, and was as likely to go out again,—(indeed my rascally