मेरा आजीवन कारावास / माझी जन्मठेप (स्वातंत्र्यवीर सावरकर - काले पानी का ऐतिहासिक संस्मरण)

They said to themselves, and heaved a sigh of relief. They found me a fine fellow, and
taking off their hats and wishing me, they departed.
I was now in Madras where its Collector, Mr. Ashe, was done to death by a man
of the Abhinav Bharat Society. And the Officers suspected that it had some connection
with the Central Association of that name in Europe of which I happened to be the
leading figure. I had, therefore, expected that they would directly or indirectly sound me
upon the incident. When I was arrested in England and was being brought back to India, I
had not the slightest notion that the vice-president of the Abhinav Bharat, Mr. Aiyer,
whose premature death since, we were all mourning as a great loss to the country, had
proceeded to India. He had reached Pondicherry from Europe bearing all the rigours of
the journey, when warrants were hanging over his head and the police were on his track
all along the coast. He had eluded them all by assuming various disguises and offering
excuses and making pretences as time and occasion had suggested themselves to him. At
Pondicherry he took charge of a branch of the Abhinava Bharata, and had compassed the
end of Collector Ashe through the instrument of the Shakta Brahmin. Such was the
suspicion of the secret police against Mr. Aiyer. And I learnt this seven or eight years
after my incarceration, in the Andamans, having then read the secret report about him.
But while I was proceeding to Andamans I had no knowledge whatever of the return of
Mr. Aiyer to India. I had, no doubt, information about this murder and I had also
suspicion in my mind that some one from the Abhinava Bharat Mandal had done the
deed. Presuming that I may know nothing about it and yet seeking to worm out some
information from me, if he could about the Mandal, especially of its branch in Madras, an
Indian Officer dressed in an up-to-date European style saw me while I was in that city. A
steamer called Maharaja was anchored in the port to take us to the Andamans. All the
prisoners were conveyed on board the ship, in a boat full-packed with them. I alone was
left behind on the port. The Officers, including this Indian, presently arrived in a special
boat to convey me on the steamer. I got into the boat. It was a rule with me to talk to none
in these circumstances. For I was a prisoner and if I began talking, any one could put a
stop to it. The Indian Officer opened conversation with me on several ordinary topics
and, on a sudden, showed anxiety to know from me the history of my Society in England
and its present state. I told him that it was for him to enlighten me upon it. How can I
know anything about it from any person in India? “That is true enough” he interposed in
order to encourage me. “And what poor plots they are after all? They could not count
even four members to support them.” Smilingly I retorted “It was then for you to swell
the number.” “Nonsense, we in Madras are level-headed fellows. We are not wild and
senseless like young men on your side. If any one were to preach sedition or revolution
here, he will not get a single person to follow him.” He kept on talking in this strain just
to make me blurt out, by way of protest, the names of well-known revolutionaries in
Madras. He was looking at me from time to time if I was about to fall n to his trap. After
a time he himself said “What is your experience in this matter?” I retorted “You ought to
know it better than myself.” “I feel”, he continued, “that everything in Madras is quiet.” I
smiled and replied, “Yes, are you quite sure about it?” He caught the meaning of my
remark. The other Officers smiled significantly, and interposed. “He knows all about the
Ashe business. Only he is trying to pump you out, as you are trying to pump him.”