The First Assault
The great Major-General Arthur Wellesley, the famous Duke of Wellington
of after days, was the centre of all eyes as the force with which Owen
and his friends had marched came into camp and joined the main party. He
sat his horse immovable as a rock, and answered salute with salute with
such composure and in such a soldierly manner that all were impressed.
Once only did he deign to smile as a hoarse voice from the passing ranks
called for three cheers for their leader, and when the echo of the
tumultuous shouting had died down he showed his appreciation by lifting
his embroidered hat. That was all, and yet in all ranks there was
satisfaction, for from commanding-officer to drummer-boy he was the idol
of the soldiers.
"A very keen commander who knows his men and can get the very utmost out
of them," said the Major, as the men were dismissed. "Now, Owen, and you
too, Jack, I shall introduce you to your regiments. From this time we
shall see less of one another. But whenever you have a spare half-hour
come across to my tent."
A little later our hero was seated in a tent owned by the 7th native
cavalry, where he found himself a stranger amongst many officers. He
felt ill at ease, and somewhat bashful for a little while, but soon
settled down, and on the following day took up his duties. Three days
later the army got in motion and set off in the direction of
Ahmednuggur. Long before then rumours of his adventures had come to the
ears of his brother officers, and he was requested to give the details.
Nor did he omit to say how he had come to be sent to India, and how, in
his younger days, he had been a corporal in the 64th, and earlier a waif
in charge of the matron at the poorhouse.
"With a mystery attached to your going there, Jones, I think," said the
Colonel heartily. "Well, my boy, I admire the open manner in which you
have told the tale of your early days. There are heaps of young fellows,
and older men too, who would keep the matter dark, and feel very chary
of mentioning it. And so you have two wounds to boast of?"
Owen acknowledged the fact with heightened colour, as if he were
ashamed, at which there was a roar of laughter.
"And have had a couple of good tussles, besides a little affray aboard
ship? Very good! Before you have finished you will bring some credit on
this regiment."
There was another roar of laughter, which set his blood tingling, and
his colour mounting to his cheeks. But it was all good-natured chaff,
and like the sensible fellow he was, he showed no resentment. More than
that, he was glad now that he had fought Hargreaves; for he began to
learn that tales fly in a country like India, and that it is everything
for a youngster to come to his regiment with a good recommendation.
"We heard that you were coming a week ago," said one of the younger
officers with whom he shared a tent. "Some fellows came in from another
column, and it seems that they had sailed from Calcutta to Bombay,
beating you by some weeks. They had come out in the same ship, and that
is how we heard of the fight, of the pirates, and your escape. And there
is a yarn in camp about this other affair at the native fort. You must
tell me all about that. I mean, you must give me full details, for by
what you said in the mess tent the whole affair might have lasted only a
few minutes."
Owen had indeed been very modest when describing the contest at the
native fort, and it was only when Mulha was appealed to that the full
details became known. And as they filtered from mess to mess, they came
in time to the headquarters' mess, and the General heard the tale.
"Send for him," he said abruptly. "A little affair of that sort is often
more difficult to arrange than one of greater magnitude. I wish to
question this officer."
Very hot and uneasy did Owen feel when, dressed in his cavalry uniform,
belted, and with his sabre on, he was ushered before the General. He was
still a little hampered by the wound he had received in the affray with
the pirates, while the slash he had received across his ankle in the
affair of the fort, though a trifling affair, was sufficient to increase
the limp. He drew himself up to attention and saluted stiffly, keeping
his eyes steadily on the General. Then he dropped his hand, retaining
his position at attention. The leader of the troops stood in front of
his tent, with two other officers beside him, and for the space of a few
seconds he returned the glance of this cavalry ensign, his sharp eyes
seeming to pierce to the back of Owen's head. It was an ordeal at which
many an old soldier would have flinched, and do what he would Owen could
hardly contain himself. A moment later the tension was broken.
"Mr. Jones, sir," said one of the officers. "You wished to see him."
"Yes. How old are you, please?"
Owen gave his age as correctly as was possible, considering the fact
that the unusual circumstances surrounding his birth made a precise
answer impossible.
"Tell me about this fort. Who was with you?"
"My servant, sir. A Mahratta."
"How many helped in the defence?"
One after another the General shot off his questions, demanding the size
of the place, the number of the enemy, and the dispositions taken for
defence.
"If you had had twenty-five English troops to help you, how long could
you have held out?"
"I should have tried to beat them off altogether, sir," came the prompt
reply. "If not, I should have contented myself with holding the place.
There was food and water enough to last for a week at least."
"You discovered that? When?"
"Within a few minutes of entering the fort, sir."
"And how would you have attempted to carry out the first part of the
programme, Mr. Jones? Be precise, please. How would you have beaten them
off?"
"I should have held the walls till night came, sir," Owen answered
without hesitation, "and then I should have made a sortie. Those roving
bands consist of the roughest characters, and they seldom set a watch at
night. Often enough they are almost overcome with the opium or bhang
they have taken. I should have driven off their horses and attacked them
in the early hours."
"A bold programme," said the General, with a lift of his eyes. "Success
would much depend upon your information. Is it a fact, for instance,
that they take opium? How do you know it?"
Owen at once told his questioner how Mulha had taught him all that
seemed of interest with regard to the Mahrattas, and how in their daily
discussions he had mentioned this fact.
"Then you speak Mahratti? Sufficiently well to understand, or better?"
This time the General looked at our hero with awakening interest, while
he waited eagerly for his answer.
"I can, I am told, speak like a native, sir," answered Owen modestly. "I
can also speak Hindustani."
It was evident that General Wellesley was not the one to allow the
possibility of a mistake. He turned to one of the officers and gave a
short order. A little later a Mahratta advanced and salaamed.
"This is one of the Mahratta friendly chiefs," he said. "I have
instructed him to converse with you."
Had our hero told anything but the strict and accurate truth, he would
then and there have been confounded. But he was sure of himself, and a
minute later found the Mahratta salaaming to him and conversing at a
pace which utterly forbade those who had a smattering of the language
following the conversation.
"My lord," said the native, turning to the General, "the sahib tells me
that he believes that he lived in this country when a babe, and learned
Hindustani, and mayhap some of our tongue even before he was taught his
own. Truly, I can believe it. But for his colour and his dress he is a
Mahratta."
"And here is a report to that effect, received from Calcutta, sir," said
one of the officers, abstracting a parchment from a leather satchel.
"This came through with the column with which Mr. Jones marched."
"I will see it. Put this officer's name down for special service, in
connection with interpreting or otherwise. He has shown great energy and
courage. Good-morning, Mr. Jones."
He acknowledged Owen's salute and stood looking after him as he limped
away.
"We shall see him again, I think," he said very quietly. "It is
something to have a youngster amongst us who can speak like a native and
has the pluck to carry out the part."
Marching across the plain watered by the Soona, the force under General
Wellesley at length came in sight of Ahmednuggur, having passed
numerous villages _en route_ which had been fired by the lawless
Mahrattas. And here they found a city and fortress which promised to tax
their powers, for the pettah boasted a lofty wall, flanked with towers,
though it had no battlements. In addition it had an excellent ditch,
and, according to the General, was the strongest fort which he had seen,
saving only Vellore, in the Carnatic. The place was garrisoned by a body
of Arabs, aided by one of Scindia's regular battalions, trained no doubt
by some French officer, while between it and the fortress lay a column
of horse.
The little army sat down before the place in a business-like manner, and
Owen very soon had an opportunity of seeing how troops conducted the
affairs of a siege. Having accompanied his own troop of horse round the
stronghold, he found himself free for a time, and with Jack Simpson
beside him, now an ensign in a native foot battalion, for he had been
unfortunate enough not to attain to the cavalry, he watched as the
gunners prepared their batteries. They broke ground that very night at
an easy range, and it was not long before the thunder of the guns awoke
the echoes. Then there were other matters of interest to see and admire.
There were the hundreds of bullock-carts, the slow-moving yet very
trusty transport of our armies in India, and there were the lines of
tents erected for the men, the hospital tents, the orderly groups of
canvas shelters for the officers, and the numerous hucksters and small
merchants who hovered in the lines. Further, there were the native
servants, hurrying about their masters' business, leading ponies and
horses to water, cleaning saddlery, brushing travel-stained uniforms,
and performing the hundred and one duties which fall to the lot of
servants. Not that a native will do the tithe of work that one can
expect from a European servant, for in India caste rules far and wide,
and the man who will sweep the compound and perform other menial offices
is looked down upon by the grass-cutter or the syce who tends the
ponies. It was all most interesting, and it was long before the two
young fellows had made a round of the camp.
And now, while the gunners are bombarding the walls of Ahmednuggur, let
us halt for a while to learn what had actually been the course of events
from the commencement of this Mahratta trouble. And perhaps it would be
as well to mention to the reader the forces to which we were to be
opposed. The Mahratta chiefs, controlling a turbulent population, and
ever eager for war, and delighting in the clatter of arms, had united
for the time being, a somewhat unusual occurrence, considering the
jealousies and rivalries which existed amongst them. They had, in the
first instance, marked the Nizam for their prey, and were deeply
offended because the Company had taken him under their wing. And now the
Peishwa, whom Holkar, the most powerful, perhaps, of Mahratta chiefs,
had driven from his throne, had become an ally of ours, and we were
pledged to support him. Backed by his trained battalions, officered by
Frenchmen, Scindia openly threatened the British, and it was abundantly
clear that if left to himself he would rapidly increase in power, and
would one day become a serious menace to our hopes in India. War was,
in fact, imminent and would be undertaken on our part with the object of
humbling this native ruler's power, and, perhaps with a greater object
still, that of ridding the country for ever of the French and the native
battalions they trained. Our success would bring about in natural course
a third object, that of securing the Peishwa on his throne.
General Wellesley had the command of our troops, and these prior to the
commencement of the campaign were separated. Colonel Stevenson, with two
regiments of native cavalry, and the Nizam's subsidiary force, amounting
in all to 8000 men, took up his position at Parinda, on the Peishwa's
frontier, where he was accompanied by 15,000 of the troops of the
Deccan. He was therefore about a hundred miles east of Poonah, the
Peishwa's seat of government, then in the hands of Holkar.
A second force, that commanded in person by Arthur Wellesley, and to
which Owen was now attached, commenced operations at the northern
frontier of Mysore, and numbered 8000 infantry and 1700 horse. They
showed the energy of their leader at once, for they marched with all
their baggage and heavy guns upon Poonah, accomplishing a journey of
some six hundred miles at the average rate of thirteen and a half miles
a day, and that without losing a single draught animal, though the
country had been swept by Holkar, a powerful chief in command of a host
of freebooters, and it was the worst season of the year. Poonah was
taken without encountering opposition, though Holkar's freebooters only
fled as the British force came into sight, and the dethroned Peishwa was
again brought to his capital and safely installed there, with the help
of our bayonets. At this stage Colonel Stevenson moved towards the
Godavery, there to overlook Holkar and his freebooters, his co-operation
being no longer necessary; while Wellesley prepared for further
eventualities should the Mahratta chiefs prove troublesome.
The reader will have noticed the mention of Holkar, and it may be as
well to state here who this chieftain was, for his name is destined to
appear again in the narrative. Jeswunt Rao Holkar, to give him his full
title, was the descendant of a family which had had a meteoric career,
rising from humble circumstances to great power and wealth. Originally
they were members of the Dungar shepherd tribe, located some fifty miles
from Poonah, and it was one of these shepherds who first carved fame and
fortune for his house with the keen edge of his tulwar. Indeed, he
obtained much power and wealth, and became virtual ruler of eighty-two
districts north of the Nerbudda. It is unnecessary to follow the doings
of his family, but it will suffice if we state that, according to the
almost universal custom, his successors did not always come to their
rights peacefully, and this Holkar, an illegitimate descendant, found
himself in his younger days a fugitive. But he possessed the spirit of
that forebear of his, for with a tiny following he carved his fortune
anew, gathered adherents at every stride, and finally became the terror
of the Peishwa and of Scindia. He hung on their frontiers, ravaged
their territories, and plundered friend and foe alike. And at this
stage, when Britain may be said to have entered into war with Scindia,
to whom were allied other Mahratta chiefs, this Holkar hung like a cloud
on the frontiers, with a horde of ruffians and freebooters, scowling at
both parties and threatening the peace of our other possessions.
Information had reached General Wellesley that Scindia and the Rajah of
Berar had joined forces and had taken up a hostile position. He
requested them to withdraw, and meeting with refusal made ready for
active operations. The troops marched for Ahmednuggur, meeting with the
column which had accomplished the enormous land journey from Calcutta.
And now they were before the town, which was of great importance. For it
covered Poonah and the Peishwa's frontier, while the possession of this
place would give our troops an excellent depot, would cut Scindia off
from his southern supporters, and would give into our hands his
territories south of the Godavery.
While referring to Scindia, it is of interest to mention that he had an
immense force of irregular cavalry, a large number of well-trained
infantry battalions, and marched light. That is, he carried no
magazines, but subsisted on the country, plundering whenever and
wherever he could, like Holkar on the frontier. He had a marked awe of
the British regulars, and in this campaign he did his utmost to carry on
a predatory warfare, attacking when in overwhelming force, hanging on
our flanks, and marching swiftly and incessantly whenever our troops
became too troublesome. However, we shall see how he succeeded.
[Illustration: HE STRETCHED OUT A HUGE PAW AND DRAGGED OWEN UP
_Page 204_]
"We shall be marching to the assault soon, lads," said the Major that
evening, as the boom of the cannon died down. "It will require very
little bombarding to make an effective breach, and then you'll see how
we'll turn the beggars out. How'd you like to be one of the boys?"
Owen's eyes glistened, while he looked across the narrow camp-table at
the Major, who was faintly discernible by the aid of a smoky native
lamp.
"Ha, ha! This time you will look on," laughed the Major. "Jack and I are
the boys who will try for honour and glory. The cavalry will be watching
the enemy's horsemen and will be foraging outside the lines."
"I'd like to go though, sir," answered Owen. "I shall ask my commanding
officer."
He said nothing more then, but on the following day, when the call
sounded for the troop to fall in, he rode up to the Colonel.
"Well, Mr. Jones," said the latter, "what can I do for you? You have
your orders, or rather the troop commander has. You are to ride well in
rear of that fort and keep a careful watch. Not that you are likely to
have much to report, for our spies tell us that there are none of the
enemy within miles."
"Then could you excuse me, sir?" asked our hero. "You see, sir, I wanted
to know what it would be like attacking a wall, and----"
"Why, you know. What about that rickety native fort? Bless me!"
The Colonel swung round in his saddle, while the adjutant grinned.
"A regular young fire-eater, sir," he whispered.
"And what if all my cornets made the same request?" demanded the
Colonel. "But there. We can spare you. I'll see one of the staff and ask
him to manufacture some orders for you, for you can't accompany the
storming party unless there is good excuse. Now be careful, and if you
get a crack over the head, or get killed, why, don't blame me."
He acknowledged Owen's salute somewhat surlily, and rode off with the
adjutant, while Owen, his spirits raised to a high pitch, clapped heels
to the fine Mahratta horse he rode and went furiously off the parade
ground. However, within some fifty yards he was brought up with a shout,
and checking his mount, turned him with an easy swerve. There was a
native orderly beside him by now, and his lance went to the salute.
"The Colonel Sahib desires you to return."
"To tell me I cannot go," groaned Owen, as he set his beast in motion.
However, he little guessed the cause. He pulled up within a horse's
length of the commanding officer and saluted.
"Mr. Jones, will you please to remember that you are not to gallop off
the parade ground unless carrying an order. There is no need for such
haste. Bear that in mind in future."
With a swing the Colonel and his adjutant pulled their animals round
and trotted away, leaving our hero somewhat crestfallen. But the two who
rode away wore a smile of evident amusement.
"Will do him good! Some of these youngsters think they know everything.
Jones doesn't, but he might, don't you see," said the Colonel, "so I've
pulled him up and dressed him down. He'll make a capital officer."
Owen saluted the Colonel's back as the latter rode away, and then walked
his horse from the parade ground. And presently the adjutant came up to
him.
"Got into hot water that time, my boy," he laughed. "But the Colonel is
right. You mustn't allow excitement to carry you away. It's a standing
order that about galloping off the parade ground, though I fancy we let
it drop when on service. But I have your orders. You are to go with the
storming party, not to lead it, you understand, and are to interview any
prisoners who may happen to be taken. Now for a bit of advice. When you
pass an enemy who is down just make sure that he is really hit. More
than a few of our poor fellows have been sabred or bayoneted by men who
have made pretence to be killed."
Owen was delighted, and his spirits again soared up. He rode off to his
tent and dismounted. Then he fell in in rear of the storming party, and
sat down beside the officers while the guns thundered against the wall.
They watched the balls strike against the mud and masonry, sending
clouds of dust into the air, and often bringing down such a pile of
material that the crash could be heard at that distance. And in a
little while the bugles sounded, the men fell in, and the order to
advance was given.
Only those who have experienced the feeling can know what it is to be
one of a storming party, or the curious sensations with which men are
filled. Happily for Owen he was a high-spirited, merry youngster, and
had been in tight places before. He allowed nothing to damp his ardour,
and when the men broke into a trot, crushed well towards the front. Very
soon he found himself beside the ranks of one of the two Highland
regiments which were with this force, and just in front of a Sepoy
battalion. There was a shout, bayonets came down to the charge, while
the kilts of the men swung out still wider. There was a hoarse growl of
excitement, and then a roar from the throats of the gallant fellows.
They were in the ditch. Owen caught his foot on a piece of masonry at
the very summit and pitched head foremost to the bottom, alighting on
the shoulders of a brawny Highlander, who shook him off with an oath,
recognised an officer, and helped him to his feet. Then, side by side,
Owen sabre in hand, and the kilted soldier armed with his fearsome
bayonet, they scrambled up the steep slope and into the breach.
"Hang on, sir. Give me your hand!" shouted the fine fellow as Owen was
forced back. "Hah! that's as muckle as ye'll want."
He stretched out a huge paw and dragged Owen up, turning just in time to
ward off a thrust made by one of the enemy. Then he lifted his weapon
and brought the butt with terrific force against the man's chest,
dashing him to the ground so suddenly that the unfortunate native split
his head against a portion of tumbled masonry. Then there was a fierce
mêlée for a few seconds, a mêlée in which bayonets crossed, and tulwars
and swords flashed in the sun. The air was filled with the shouts of the
Mahratta foot, and with the guttural exclamations of the Arabs. Blows
fell thick and fast, while from attackers and attacked there came the
sound of deep-drawn breathing. Then a shout was heard. "Forward! into
the town!" A fierce excited cheer answered the summons, and in a moment
the Highlanders flung the enemy aside as if they had been but spray from
the ocean, and won their way through the breach.
"Charge! Don't give them time to get to the houses, men," called out the
commanding officer.
At once the ranks, which were already broken, divided altogether, and
the Highlanders charged against the houses clustered near at hand. But
the enemy were before them, and for some little while Owen and his new
comrades had tough work to carry through.
"Sahib, come here, where you can shelter," said one of the Sepoys, with
whom he now found himself fighting. "You have no musket and can do
nothing. Presently we will charge and then you can lead."
The enemy had taken refuge in the houses on either side of the street,
and for a while their fire made progress almost impossible. But the
attackers answered with the utmost spirit, sheltering wherever they
could, while some, reckless of the consequences, dashed forward, burst
in the doors, and fell upon the enemy. It was a most exciting time, and
there is no wonder that Owen forgot all else but the fighting. He caught
sight of the brawny Highlander again, his kilt all adrift in the wind,
and showing unmistakable signs of the conflict. He was charging down the
street with some dozen of his comrades, while three or four of the
Sepoys were with the gang. Owen could not resist the temptation. He
burst from his cover and dashed after them. Shots struck the ground at
his feet, kicking dust into his eyes. A man thrust a musket between the
lattice of a ground-floor window and fired in his face, so that the
flash singed his hair. But he hardly noticed the incident. He was whole,
uninjured, and there were deeds still to be done. With a shout he joined
the little party, and threw himself against the doors of a house of
large size. They gave with a crash, and the men were in. With a shout
they flung themselves upon the enemy and then----
"Pull yourself together, man. We're in and the place is ours. Here, take
a sip."
Owen sat up, giddy and confused. All he could grasp at present was the
fact that Jack Simpson was beside him. Stars whirled before his eyes,
the walls, the floor, the figure of an Arab and a Sepoy were strangely
jumbled up with the large form of a Highlander, who lay full length,
looking quietly at him, while an officer bandaged his wounded leg. There
was a terrible din outside. What had happened?
"Shut your eyes and hold your tongue. Now, sip that. Right, I'll get
some water."
Ten minutes later he was standing up, somewhat unsteadily, while Jack
Simpson detailed the events which had just passed.
"They fought stubbornly," he said, "and we lost fairly heavily, for this
street fighting is very nasty work. However, we turned them all out, and
here we are, masters of the town. The guns are getting into position to
bombard the fort. Now about you, old fellow! The Highlander tells me
that just as you burst into the house an Arab hit you over the head with
a sponging rod, and brought you down like a ninepin. My word! You are a
fellow for go and dash! I saw you in the breach and afterwards as you
made your rush."
Owen had indeed displayed not a little of that daring and pluck which
have made our soldiers famous. The excitement of the attack had carried
him away, and the sudden friendship of the Highlander had served to feed
the fire. Fighting together, as if they were of equal rank and had known
each other for years, the two had struggled on till they were separated.
And then Owen had again joined his friend, only to be beaten to the
ground, while the Highlander had a bullet through his leg. However, it
was not till an hour later when he emerged from the house, walking
beside the litter of the gallant Scot, that he gathered that his conduct
had attracted attention. The General and his staff were standing beside
the breach, while within a few yards the Highland regiment was drawn up,
standing there at ease, till orders came for another advance. As Owen
stumbled along, for he was still very giddy, a murmur went down the
ranks, and men nudged one another. Then one of the lads tore off his
bonnet and threw it into the air, catching it upon the point of his
bayonet.
"Three cheers for Cornet Jones and Andrew Macnalty!"
The hoarse roar which followed might have been heard a mile away, and,
as may be imagined, attracted the attention of the General and his
staff. He turned, saw the bonnets in the air, and Owen and the Scot
passing between himself and the ranks.
"Our friend of the fort again, I think," he said with a quaint little
smile. "Did I not say that we should see more of this young officer?"