A DAY OF VICTORY.
Sitting in Charteris's tent, in their shirt-sleeves, the two
inconvenient young men whose inconsiderate action was casting British
India into turmoil talked over their prospects. The remainder of the
Habshiabad force had beaten off the detachment opposed to it, and
rejoined Gerrard and the guns, and Chand Singh and the Agpur army had
continued their precipitate flight. On the evening of the battle, the
long-delayed despatches from Ranjitgarh caught up Charteris at last,
ordering him to retire forthwith into Darwan, since it would be
impossible during the hot weather to move reinforcements sufficient to
ensure the capture of Agpur. Before they slept that night, he and
Gerrard had deliberately made up their minds to put the telescope to
the blind eye. Retreat now would mean not only perfect liberty for
Sher Singh to move in any direction he chose, but also that that
direction would inevitably be Darwan, where the disaffected artillery
and Bishen Ram's Granthis would joyfully flock to his standard. All
the work done in pacifying the country would then be wasted, and what
was worse, Sher Singh would be provided with a second base of
operations against Ranjitgarh, and a means of communication with his
desired ally, Abd-ur-Rashid Khan of Ethiopia. Since to retire would be
to incur fresh danger, as well as to sacrifice the advantages already
won, they determined to advance, and boldly, though with all possible
respect, notified their decision to James Antony. His reception of the
news astonished them, for their cool estimate of the chances against
them, and readiness to take the risk, seemed to have touched a
sympathetic chord in his iron nature. In the letter which lay now on
the camp-table between them, the acting-Resident generously associated
himself with their resolution, approved of the measures by which they
had forced his hand, and promised to use his influence in trying to
induce the military authorities to send the desired reinforcements.
"Old boy," said Charteris with emphasis, after reading the letter once
more, "we are made men."
"If we succeed," Gerrard reminded him. "If not, we drag down James
Antony as well as ourselves."
"The Colonel won't be in a forgiving mood," agreed Charteris. "Strikes
me, Hal, that but for this latest illness of his we should find
ourselves in the wrong box even now."
"If he will only let us catch Sher Singh, he can try him as much as he
likes when we've got him," said Gerrard. "We give no guarantees, but
we take him alive if we can. That ought to meet Sir Edmund's wishes."
"Talking of taking Sher Singh alive is just a little bit like selling
the bear's skin before you've killed him, ain't it? Any one viewing
our present situation impartially would say we were more likely to be
taken alive ourselves--and in that case I fear we shouldn't long remain
so."
"We can't very well stay as we are," said Gerrard drily.
"True, O most sapient Hal, and we can hardly expect Chand Singh to
attack us unprovoked. He knows too well that his game is to stay quiet
in the plain there and wait for us to come down, like Colonel Carter's
'possum. Therefore we must make the plain uncomfortable--not too hot
to hold him, for that we can't do, but simply rather warm. I suggest
that you take two of your guns to-night round by that nullah on the
left, and tickle him up a bit in the morning. It won't be a
particularly quiet corner for you, but you can post two other guns in
support, and we'll back you up. If Chand Singh retreats again we'll
follow him, if he attacks we've got him."
"Quite so. If he don't see how ill-mannered it is to block the road in
this way to two gentlemen in a hurry, he must be politely removed. But
listen, Bob! It sounds almost as if---- And yet they can't possibly
be attacking."
"Charteris, do you know that Chand Singh is advancing?" cried Warner,
coming in hastily.
"Advancing? He must be mad."
"Advancing in line, with flags and music. They say Sher Singh is there
too, on an elephant."
"Then he is delivered into our hands," said Charteris, and Gerrard and
he hurried out of the tent and looked over the plain, where the distant
dust-cloud, through the rifts in which came glimpses of colour and
flashing steel, and bursts of barbaric music, showed the approach of
the Agpuri host. Rukn-ud-din came towards them as they gazed.
"Her Highness sends her salaams, sahib, and she will lead her troops
to-day."
"Ah, this is the day of vengeance, then?"
"So it would appear, sahib, since the brother-slayer yonder has
consulted a famous soothsayer of the unbelievers, who declares that
this day his arms shall be invincible."
"So that's why they are coming on!" said Charteris. "Who's this?" The
newcomer was a Habshiabadi in gorgeous raiment, who announced to
Gerrard that his Excellency Dilir Jang Bahadar sent his salaams, and
with Jirad Sahib's permission, would lead his master's forces into
battle.
"With all my heart," said Gerrard, and as the man moved off he observed
to Charteris, "This will leave me free to fight the guns for you, Bob,
if you wish it. Funny to think of that old sinner Desdichado as fired
with martial ardour, ain't it? Suppose he thinks it looks as if it
ought to be a soft job, but I only hope he'll be as good as his word,
for I hear that in the last fight before I joined you, when I came on
with the guns and left him in command, he spent the time under a tree
with a case-bottle of arrack, and the troops looked after themselves."
"You must supersede him promptly if he shows any signs of hanging back
to-day. But I'm uncommon glad to have the guns in your hands, old boy,
even if it's only at the outset. Hal, if we break up Sher Singh's army
to-day, they must send us our siege artillery and let us finish this
job--they must."
"I only wish they had sent it already--or even given the order. The
news of that would have been enough. Do you like the look of your
Granthis, Bob?"
"About as little as you do. One could wish that our Mr James had shown
his affection in any other way than by sending us another Granthi
regiment, but it was impossible to refuse it. It's one comfort that
with your fellows we are more than a match for them now if they turn
rusty, and by posting them on the right we can get them in flank with
our whole line. You think we can't do better with the guns than keep
them where they are until we advance? All right, then. Warner will
lead the Darwanis, and the doctor will gallop for us."
The surgeon, who had been sent on by James Antony with the
reinforcements, was young and active, and having at present no
patients, since the native troops scouted him in favour of their own
hakims, was ready to take any part in the fighting, from heading a
cavalry charge to bringing up ammunition, but found himself relegated
to the post of galloper. He took up his position behind Charteris in
the centre, Warner and General Desdichado commanding the nearer troops
on either hand, while Gerrard with the guns, and Bishen Ram with the
two Granthi regiments, occupied the extreme left and right
respectively, the whole position being roughly crescent-shaped.
Nothing but utter madness, it seemed, could lead an army into the
hollow it commanded, and Charteris sent out scouts to see whether Sher
Singh's advance was not a blind, intended to mask a flank attack. But
the scouts returned periodically to say that there was no sign of any
other movement than the one in front, and as the enemy came closer, it
was clear that their whole force was in the field. Gerrard allowed
them to approach until they were well within the horns of the crescent,
then, when with a final crash of music they quickened their step to
charge up the low hill in the centre, his guns opened with tremendous
effect. But even the cannonade seemed to produce little diminution in
Sher Singh's crowded ranks, and they rolled on up the hill as though
they would overwhelm the defenders by sheer weight of numbers.
Gerrard, rushing from gun to gun to point each in turn, lest the
gunners in their excitement should fire upon Charteris's position,
urged his men on to load and fire with something like desperation. The
enemy were not suffering as they should, beneath the fire of his guns
on the one hand and the musketry of the two Granthi regiments on the
other. A sudden suspicion seized him, and he looked across through the
smoke at the opposite horn of the crescent. But no; it was dotted with
white puffs. Bishen Ram's men were firing with admirable precision and
coolness, but somehow their shots did not seem to take effect. The
reason occurred to Gerrard suddenly; they were firing with powder only.
Dearly would he have liked to plant a shell or two among the
treacherous scoundrels, but just now he could not spare the time. He
redoubled his efforts, and at last his half-incredulous eyes discerned
between the smoke-clouds that the tide was rolling back from the
centre. Charteris was visible for a moment, standing in his stirrups
and waving his cap vigorously, and Gerrard fired once or twice into the
sullenly retreating Agpuris, to dissuade them gently from rallying and
facing the hill again. But presently the doctor arrived in hot haste,
with orders to him to hold his fire for the present, since Charteris
meant to assail the enemy with successive charges of cavalry. Almost
before the smoke had cleared away there was the rush of a torrent of
men and horses down the hill, and the confused mob of Agpuris was
cloven as though by a wedge. The point of the wedge was a slender
figure on a black horse, an oddly shaped cloth, half brown and half
white, streaming behind it like a veil. The Rani was heading the
avengers of her son.
There was no time to watch the prowess of the Rajputs and Rukn-ud-din's
Moslems, for Warner came galloping up.
"I am to fight your guns, Gerrard; you are wanted to lead the
Habshiabadis. Their precious general took care to bring something with
him to keep his courage up, and when we nearly lost the hill just now,
I suppose he took too much of it. At any rate, he's quite incapable,
and his men are demanding to go on alone."
Gerrard mounted his horse and galloped back to where Charteris, sword
in hand, was riding slowly up and down in front of the ranks of the
eager Habshiabadis, pressing back with the flat any man who pushed
forward. He turned sharply to Gerrard.
"Look here, Hal; the Rani is going for vengeance, not victory--thinking
of nothing but cutting through to Sher Singh's elephant. Her men will
be swallowed up, unless you can make a diversion. Break the enemy up a
bit, and I'll bring the Darwanis down and finish 'em."
"Better ride round the hill and come at them from a different
direction," suggested Gerrard.
"All right. I'll support you," and as Gerrard led the disgusted and
protesting Habshiabad cavalry away from the fight, Charteris sent off
the doctor to Bishen Ram, whose soldiers had remained inactive since
they had been ordered to cease firing for fear of hitting the Rani's
horsemen. Now they were to advance and attack the portion of Sher
Singh's troops immediately below them, thus creating a diversion and
distracting attention from the direction in which Gerrard would make
his charge. Charteris was watching the mêlée in the plain rather than
the doctor's progress, but presently an exclamation from his Darwanis
made him look round. The Granthis had risen to their feet, and before
the doctor could give his message, saluted him with a volley. He
turned his horse and rode back, pursued by a dropping fire, some of the
bullets falling among the Darwanis, to their intense excitement.
"They fired at me!" he gasped indignantly. "A bullet went through my
hat, and another grazed my leg. My horse is hit, too."
"Well, don't be so precious injured about it," said Charteris. "Most
men would think they were uncommon lucky to escape from the fire of two
regiments with nothing worse. When you have finished counting your
bruises, just ride to Warner, and tell him to lay every gun he has dead
on the Granthis. If they attempt to fire or to move down towards Sher
Singh, he is to fire upon them. If they persist, let him mow them down
without mercy--plug into them with grape and canister and everything
he's got."
The doctor rode away, and Charteris turned his attention again to the
field, where the Rani, supported by a lessening phalanx of her men, was
steadily cutting her way towards Sher Singh. Watching through his
glass, the Englishman saw a movement in the gilded howdah of the
Rajah's elephant, saw that a man in gleaming crimson and a golden
turban was taking careful aim with a long matchlock. Charteris had
barely time to remember the tale of Sher Singh's skill in shooting
which he had heard at Adamkot before the Rani flung up her arms and
fell from her horse into the turmoil seething round her. The man in
the howdah received a second gun from an attendant, and turned in
another direction, that in which Gerrard was just appearing at the head
of the Habshiabadis. Charteris shouted a useless warning, realising as
the words left his lips that his voice could never carry across the din
of battle, but even while he shouted, Gerrard's sword flew from his
hand and he pitched forward on his horse's neck. More Charteris could
not see, for the Granthis under Bishen Ram uttered a yell of triumph
and sprang forward to hurl themselves into the strife, but Warner was
ready for them, and a shell bursting in front of their line gave them
pause. Another advance, another shell, and then a shower of grape,
adroitly directed at a stream of men trying to edge their way down into
the plain by a side-path, and after a half-hearted volley directed at
the guns over the heads of the fighters below, the Granthis gave up
their attempt to move. It was now or never, for the Habshiabadis were
wavering, evidently uncertain whether to stay and succour Gerrard or to
continue their charge. Charteris saw that if success was to be
attained he must risk every man he had, and pausing only to send the
doctor to tell Warner again to keep the Granthis back at all costs, he
hurled himself and his eager Darwanis into the fray. The unsupported
guns and the disaffected regiments on the hill were the only portions
of his force left outside the _mêlée_. Before this desperate expedient
Sher Singh's spirit quailed. He left his elephant, and mounting a
horse, spurred out of the battle towards Agpur. Disgusted by his
disappearance, his men held out for a while, but Charteris and his wild
horsemen were riding them down on one side, and the rallied
Habshiabadis on the other, and they were without a leader. They broke
at last, and made for Agpur in headlong flight, pursued so closely by
the Darwanis that Warner durst not fire upon them. Charteris was
chasing his own men now, turning them back with praise and promises,
threats and curses, seizing one man by the arm and another by the
bridle, in deadly fear that they would carry the pursuit too far, and
be caught when Sher Singh's men turned at bay. With the assistance of
their own chiefs, he succeeded at last in shepherding back all but a
few who had gone too far to be reached, and was met as he returned by a
deputation of Granthis, very stiff and austere in wounded dignity,
demanding why they had not been allowed to take part in the fight, and
why Warner Sahib had turned his guns on them.
Never was there so innocent and so deeply injured a body of men. Asked
why they had fired at the doctor, they replied promptly that they
thought he was ordering them to retire from the position they held,
when they were anxious only to throw themselves upon Sher Singh's flank
and cut off his retreat, as the advance prevented by Warner could
witness. Charteris declined to take their grievances too seriously.
Their behaviour had been most suspicious, and he was fairly certain
that if Sher Singh had shown signs of winning they would have joined
him at once, but it was possible that Gerrard held a different opinion,
and he wished to consult him before taking any definite step.
Promising to consider their protest and give them an answer on the
morrow, he rode on to look for his friend, but before he could reach
the spot where he had fallen, he was stopped by a little procession of
sorely wounded Rajputs, carrying on a litter of crossed spears a body
covered with a cloak. Rukn-ud-din and several of his men, not one
unwounded, followed, and Charteris saluted as he met them.
"You carry her Highness's body to the burning?" he asked.
"Aye, sahib," answered the leader of the Rajputs, the Rani's cousin.
"Daughter and wife and mother of kings, she has died as a king should
die, and the burning of a king shall be made for her. But I beseech
your honour to be witness to a certain thing." He unwrapped from his
arm the discoloured cloth, dipped in her son's blood, which the Rani
had worn when she left Agpur to demand vengeance, and divided it
lengthwise with his sword. "Half of this I will take, and the other
shall be borne by Komadan Rukn-ud-din, who has been faithful to his
lord and his lord's mother, and to the salt he has eaten. As the dead
bore it, so will we bear it, until the blood of Kharrak Singh can be
blotted out in the blood of him who slew him."
Rukn-ud-din limped forward and received the ghastly trophy, and
Charteris saluted again and passed on. The fight had raged hotly where
Gerrard had fallen, and it was some time before they found him. The
doctor did what he could for him on the spot, and then advised his
being taken at once to the camp, where Sher Singh's bullet might be
extracted, and his other injuries properly treated. His friend's
insensibility alarmed Charteris almost more than the actual wounds, and
he gave his horse to the groom, and walked beside the bearers, trying
to induce them to keep step, and not jar the patient unnecessarily. It
was therefore an unfortunate moment for a large and frowsy--he would
almost have said snuffy--figure to lurch forward and clasp him in an
expansive embrace.
"Eh, man, that was a gran' fight, yon!" it hiccoughed, then relapsed
into dignity and Hindustani. "What a battle we have had, sahib! What
a victory we have won!"
"We, indeed!" said Charteris, releasing himself with strong disgust.
"General Desdichado, I suppose?"
But the General, apparently unconscious of his momentary lapse of
memory, was not responsive to English. "The Sahib was pleased to
say----?" he inquired politely.
"I say this, you old villain, that you nearly lost us the battle, and
if Lieutenant Gerrard should die, I give you my word I'll have you shot
for neglect of duty in the face of the enemy!" cried Charteris
furiously.
"The Sahib is pleased to forget that I am accountable only to my own
master," said the General, and retired in good order, though with as
much haste as was compatible with a very unsteady walk.
The unpleasant business of extracting the bullet brought Gerrard to his
senses, and Charteris found his hand wrung almost to numbness as he
knelt by his side. Those were the days before anaesthetics, and a
bullet in the shoulder required a good deal of torture before it could
be got rid of.
"I thought it was all up with me, Bob," whispered Gerrard when the
operation was over.
"Not just yet, old boy. If it had been an inch or two more to one
side, now----"
"When I went down among the horses' feet, I meant. It was you got me
out, old fellow, I know."
"Had to do a good many things first, I'm afraid, and it wasn't very
easy to find you. Case of 'None could see Valerius, And none wist
where he lay.' By the bye, Hal, should you say that those
_dangawalas_[1] of Granthis were playing fair to-day, or not? Did they
fire as Sher Singh advanced?"
"Oh yes, they fired," said Gerrard dreamily.
"You don't mean that they fired at us?"
"No, they fired--all right--but----" his voice became weaker, and he
seemed satisfied not to finish. The doctor made Charteris a sign not
to disturb him further, and he was obliged to give the Granthis the
benefit of the doubt.
* * * * * *
An attack of fever, complicated by his wounds, kept Gerrard from all
rational conversation for some time, but when he recovered his senses,
he thought that it was still the night of the battle. On the roof of
the tent brooded the gigantic shadow of Charteris in his shirt-sleeves,
writing busily by the usual light of a candle-end stuck into the neck
of a bottle.
"Bob!" said Gerrard weakly. Charteris was at his side in a moment.
"Want anything, old boy? By Jove, I'm uncommon glad to hear your voice
again--talking sensibly, that is.
"But it's only a few hours since you brought me in here."
"A few fiddlesticks! My dear fellow, it's three weeks."
"Bob, have they sent us the siege artillery?"
"No, and they won't. Guns are too precious to move without escort, and
British troops are too expensive to cart about in the rains. So here
we are, twiddling our thumbs till better times come."
"But what about the country--and Sher Singh?"
"Sher Singh is safe in Agpur. We've got him shut up there, at any
rate. But Granthistan is in a blaze, Hal. The Commander-in-Chief is
on his way up-country. It's another Granthi War--thanks to their
delay."
"And our Granthis?"
"Oh, they marched off bag and baggage to join Sher Singh the other
night, when the news came that we were not to be reinforced till the
cold weather. I didn't hear of their going till they had nearly
reached Agpur, and I wasn't particularly anxious to stop them when I
did."
"Better rid of them. You know they fired blank all day--the day of the
battle, I mean?"
"That was the trick, was it? I couldn't get it out of you. Not that
it would have made much difference if I had known, I suppose. I tell
you, Hal, there was a moment when, if only the heavy artillery had come
up, we held Sher Singh in the hollow of our hands. He was in such a
panic when he got back to Agpur that he actually fired on his own
troops when they crowded across the bridge after him. They would have
handed him over to us like lambs if we could have threatened the city
then. But it's no use crying over spilt milk. I'm going to make use
of this interval in hostilities to send you to Ranjitgarh for a bit,
old boy. If they won't use the river to send us our big guns, we may
use it to recruit our invalids a bit. It can't be as hot at Ranjitgarh
as it is here. But I put you on your honour to come back. No one must
lead the Habshiabadis into Agpur but you. You will find me relegated
to my original obscurity by that time, with a duly appointed
Brigadier--a _nya jawan_[2]--riding roughshod over my tenderest
feelings, but you can still swagger as the officer accompanying the
forces of a friendly state."
Gerrard had not been listening. "Bob," he whispered, "I--I can't go to
Ranjitgarh."
"Why not, old boy'?"
"She may be there. They will have fetched the ladies down from the
hills if there is trouble."
"I think not. Old Cinnamond has taken the field, but there are plenty
of troops in Ranjitgarh. But if she is there, Hal?"
"I might speak--I ain't master of myself, Bob."
"Well, my dear fellow, and why not? Have you forgot what I said--that
you were to have the next turn? Speak, by all means, and take her with
my blessing, if she'll take you."
"Bob, I won't have it. I have been making a fool of myself when I
didn't know what I was saying, and you are behaving like a brick
because you are sorry for me."
"Ton my word, it's nothing of the sort. I can say now what I wouldn't
say once, that I had rather see her happy with you than unhappy with
me. I'm not going to let you outdo me there, you see, though I may be
a little bit late."
"Good old Bob!" said Gerrard weakly.
"Not a bit of it. Ain't we chums, old boy? Now remember, _pop_ goes
the weasel!"
[1] Mutineers.
[2] New hand.