_JHANSI BESIEGED_
High above the city and the plain, from the loftiest pinnacle of the
fortress, the banner of the Rani waved in proud defiance. The city
gates were still open to admit a few stragglers fleeing to swell the
overcrowded caravansaries. The incessant bleating of goats and sheep,
mingled with the lowing of cattle, that rose above the human turmoil,
proclaimed forethought in sweeping the country bare of all live stock,
available as food for the advancing enemy. With similar prudence, the
already arid coloring of the land had been hastened and intensified by
the action of the Rani, in setting fire to the scrub jungle for miles
in all directions. By this means the horses and baggage animals of the
invading force would be deprived of local sustenance.
By the eastern gate a group of horsemen were held in momentary
readiness to dash forth upon an urgent mission.
From a commanding point on the walls of the citadel, the Rani, Ahmad
Khan, Dost Ali, and others of her officers, anxiously scanned the
uneven horizon to the southward. Her arms rested on the parapet from
which the rock fell away in a sheer precipice to the plain below.
To the east of the city beyond the lake, the waters of the Betwa,
gleaming in the afternoon sunshine, wound a sinuous course northward.
Directly beneath, the ruined bungalows of the Foreigners, the
dismantled Star Fort near the cantonments, and temples amid shading
clumps of tamarind, were indistinctly visible through the haze resting
lightly upon the surface of the land.
The decision had been taken to defend the city instead of giving
battle in the open. As a consequence the whole of the troops had been
withdrawn from the cantonments to the walls. The latter presented an
animated appearance, manned at all parts ready for the advent of the
Foreigners.
The Rani gazing upon this scene, suddenly raised an arm and pointing
afar off to a defile in the broken country, engaged Ahmad's attention.
"Look, my Lord," she cried. "Dost thou not make out some horsemen
advancing yonder"?
Ahmad shaded his eyes with his hand, and for a few moments looked
intently in the direction indicated.
"Aye," he replied at last. "They come on the Chanchanpur road. It must
be the vanguard of the enemy."
He leaned over the parapet as if by a more earnest gaze to make sure of
his opinion, then drew back with confirmation written on his face.
"Undoubtedly they are of the Foreign Sahib's army, my Lady Rani," he
said. "I can tell by the action of their horses."
The Rani turned to a soldier standing to a gun near by. She raised
her hand as a signal. Immediately a tongue of flame and a puff of
white smoke shot forth from the muzzle of the cannon. The report that
followed was borne above the city and echoed amid the crevices of the
rock.
It had scarcely died away when similar reports boomed from rampart
to bastion along the circuit of the walls, a prearranged warning of
the Foreigners' approach. Commotion was manifested on the defenses as
the soldiers hurried to their stations. Instantly the troop near the
eastern gate clapped spurs to their horses' flanks and dashed forward
on the road to Charkari. They bore a message to Tantia Topi, that
Jhansi had been invested, and again called upon him for assistance.
Behind them the gates swung back upon their hinges, drawbridges were
raised, the siege of Jhansi had commenced.
The watchers on the citadel beheld the troop race for life along the
Charkari road. They also beheld, with consternation, a flank movement
by a detachment from the main body of the Foreign cavalry to intercept
the messengers' escape.
"See, my Lord," the Rani cried anxiously, "the Foreign cavalry are in
pursuit of our horsemen."
Ahmad glanced quickly in their direction.
"Aye," he replied, "but I doubt if they can reach the Betwa first."
The Rani's troop evidently perceived their danger for their horses were
urged on to greater speed. Could the Betwa be reached they would be
safe from further pursuit, but it was yet a good five miles distant.
Thus pursuers and pursued raced across the plain in full view of those
watching from the fortress. The Foreign cavalry gained ground steadily
in spite of the freshness of the others' horses.
"Ahmad," suddenly exclaimed the Rani, as if an idea had flashed upon
her mind, "do thou go forth with my bodyguard and seek to draw off the
Foreigners; but enter not into any rash engagement as we need every
life in the defense of Jhansi. Hasten, good Ahmad, for Tantia Topi must
not remain in doubt of our position."
Ahmad obediently hurried from her side, while the Rani anxiously
awaited the outcome of her order.
Presently from the eastern gate she beheld Ahmad sweep forth at the
head of a body of Valaiti troopers with the object of, in turn, cutting
off the Foreign cavalry.
This the Foreigners quickly noticed and wheeled about to meet the new
force.
The Rani clapped her hands joyfully, for the manoeuvre enabled her
flying mission to gain an unrecoverable advantage. She beheld them
plunge to safety through the waters of the Betwa.
Those on the walls also watched the movement and cheered loudly upon
its success.
In the gathering darkness Ahmad Khan then withdrew his detachment to
the shelter of the walls.
A sleepless night was spent by those in authority within the threatened
city. To a late hour the Rani sat in council discussing final plans
for the defense. A mandate was issued calling upon every male able to
bear arms to repair to the walls, and in her name, the Rani especially
appealed to the women and children to render assistance, not in vain
lamentations over the slain, but by carrying food and water to those
unable to leave their posts.
At daybreak the enemy's cavalry was reported to have completely
invested the city, and before night again came round, the main body
of their army had arrived and were busily engaged erecting batteries
from which to bombard the walls. It was evident their intention was to
capture the entire garrison as well as the capital of the state.
A suggestion that the Rani should make her escape while there might yet
remain an opportunity, was received by the fair defender with scorn.
"Fear not," she retorted with animation, "that I will suffer the
indignity of capture at their hands. My dead body they may find, but
the spirit of the Rani of Jhansi will have carried more than one of
them to an accounting before the great tribunal of justice."
In two days the enemy's batteries were completed, then the storm of
war burst with full violence upon the city. The garrison spiritedly
returned the fire shot for shot with many to the good, breaches
were made in the walls to be repaired by the hands of the women and
children, animated to heroic actions by the presence and inspiring
words of their beautiful queen, who seemed oblivious to any form of
danger. At all hours she visited the ramparts to encourage her soldiers
with stirring appeals.
Day by day, for seventeen in number, the duel of cannon shot was kept
up on both sides, while watchers on the Jhansi citadel cast their
vision with anxious eagerness across the Betwa to the north and west.
Was Tantia Topi going to abandon them to the mercy of the Foreigners?
The question forced itself upon their minds.
The situation was fast becoming desperate. Great rents had been made in
the solid masonry at strategic points that could not be repaired. The
dead and dying numbered hundreds. The besieged began to fight not with
the hope of victory, but with the courage of despair.
At last the mamelon itself was reduced by the furious cannonade, its
guns silenced. A hand to hand conflict seemed imminent. It was then the
Rani performed an act of sublime courage which inspired admiration even
in the eyes of her enemies.
Messenger after messenger had arrived at the palace bearing on their
faces expressions of dismay that told without words of the terror
seizing upon their hearts. One at length brought the worst news yet
received.
"My Lady Rani," he spoke hurriedly. "The parapet of the mamelon is shot
away, the breach momentarily widens, Ahmad Khan who, although badly
wounded, still fights like ten thousand tigers, sends word that it must
shortly be abandoned. Alas! the troops are becoming disheartened, and
hesitate to obey their orders."
The spirit of the Rani rose upon the instant to confront the impending
calamity.
"No," she cried, "the mamelon shall not be captured, while I have a
voice to summon men to its defense."
She repaired quickly to her private apartments and arrayed herself in
magnificent attire so that in the act she contemplated there might be
no doubt concerning her personality. Then she called for a horse and
rode swiftly to the threatened spot.
As she approached the ramparts, evidences of the terrible devastation
wrought by the shell of the enemy confronted her gaze. Broken walls,
bodies horribly mangled where they had fallen, the forms of the
mortally wounded writhing in their death agony, terrified faces
cowering behind any shelter that could be obtained. A wide gap in the
outworks of the mamelon proved that the fire of the besiegers had done
effective work.
A feeble cheer greeted the Rani's arrival. She allowed it to pass
unheeded. She dismounted, and without a moment's hesitation, strode
fearlessly, past ghastly forms and over shattered blocks of masonry,
toward the most exposed part of the walls.
Panic-stricken men turned their eyes upon her in wonder. A pulse
of renewed courage began to throb in their hearts on beholding her
presence among them. What was she about to do? they asked of each other
in undertones.
Overhead the shot continued to rain a hail of destruction, but she
pressed onward to the broken summit of the bastion. A shell struck the
ground a few yards in advance, sending a cloud of dust into the air and
scattering stones in all directions, but it did not cause her to swerve
a foot from her path.
Ahmad Khan perceived her danger and hurried to her side. His
appearance told of the severity of the last few days of combat. One
of his arms was suspended in a sling, his turbanless head bandaged to
close the wound caused by the flying splinter of a rock, his stern
visage dirt begrimed, his beard matted with congealed blood.
"Where goest thou, fair Rani"? he asked anxiously. "Turn back thy
steps, I beg of thee. It is certain death to go forward."
She waved him back imperiously.
"I am not afraid," she cried above the din of the bombardment. "This
scene is mine as a birthright. Did I not tell thee, I was a true
Maratha."
He fell back and stumbled after her at a little distance.
She lightly passed over the remaining obstacles and mounted the broken
parapet of the bastion. There in full view of the besiegers, in full
range of their guns, she stood, a dauntless, defiant, superb figure of
inspiring courage to all beholders. A gentle breeze played with her
silken draperies. With a contemptuous smile she gazed serenely toward
the enemy's battery. Fire, if you dare, seemed to be her challenge.
A gun that was quickly trained upon her could have instantaneously
hurled her into oblivion, and thereby ended the siege of Jhansi. A
soldier stood by it ready to fire at the officer's command. But the
order did not come. To the credit of the chivalrous spirit of the
Foreign general, he enjoined that yonder heroic girl should not suffer
harm knowingly by his guns.
For several minutes she thus stood upon the threshold of eternity,
gazing calmly into its unfathomed depths; then turned and waved a hand
encouragingly to those whose upturned faces regarded her safety in the
daring act as an interposition of providence.
With a shout of renewed enthusiasm they rushed from their places of
shelter to reman the abandoned fort. The roar of the bombardment rose
higher than ever; but for the moment the city was saved from assault.