THE DISPUTED V.C.
BLACKIE & SON LIMITED
50 Old Bailey, LONDON
17 Stanhope Street, GLASGOW
BLACKIE & SON (INDIA) LIMITED
Warwick House, Fort Street, BOMBAY
BLACKIE & SON (CANADA) LIMITED
1118 Bay Street, TORONTO
[Illustration: HE DROPPED THE LIGHTED CANDLE ON THE THIN TRAIL
OF POWDER _Page 88_ _Frontispiece_]
THE DISPUTED V.C.
A Tale of the Indian Mutiny
BY
FREDERICK P. GIBBON
_Illustrated by Stanley L. Wood_
BLACKIE & SON LIMITED
LONDON AND GLASGOW
Zenith Library
_BOYS_
=The Disputed V.C.= Frederick P. Gibbon.
=The First Mate.= Harry Collingwood.
=The Boy Castaways.= H. Taprell Dorling.
="Quills".= Walter C. Rhoades.
_GIRLS_
=The Youngest Sister.= Bessie Marchant.
=A Princess of Servia.= Bessie Marchant.
=A True Cornish Maid.= G. Norway.
=Meriel's Career.= Mary B. Whiting.
_Printed in Great Britain by Blackie & Son, Ltd., Glasgow_
CONTENTS
CHAP. Page
I. TED DISAPPROVES 9
II. AN EXCITING DAY 22
III. TED DOES NOT THINK MUCH OF THE GUIDES 29
IV. THE FANATICS 40
V. THE CAD OF THE REGIMENT 46
VI. THE OUTBREAK OF THE MUTINY 52
VII. WEIGHED IN THE BALANCE 60
VIII. THE FIGHT IN THE ARSENAL 69
IX. DEFENCE OF THE COMMISSIONER'S HOUSE 89
X. HOPE AND DESPAIR 104
XI. IN THE CLUTCHES OF PIR BAKSH 111
XII. THE TREACHERY OF THE GUIDES 122
XIII. TYNAN MAKES HIS CHOICE 134
XIV. THE MARCH OF THE GUIDE CORPS 145
XV. TED'S FIRST BATTLE 154
XVI. THE POST OF HONOUR 162
XVII. WITH THE GURKHA PICKET 173
XVIII. TED'S HOPES ARE RAISED AND DASHED TO THE GROUND 181
XIX. TED'S FRIENDS ARE BEWILDERED 201
XX. AN ADVENTURE ON THE RIDGE 214
XXI. WOMBWELL'S MENAGERIE 229
XXII. TED DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF 243
XXIII. TED EXTINGUISHES HIMSELF 255
XXIV. PIR BAKSH RENDERS TYNAN A SERVICE 266
XXV. TO THE RESCUE 282
XXVI. LUCKNOW RELIEVED 298
XXVII. AN ENCOUNTER WITH THE NANA SAHIB 312
XXVIII. THE FINAL SCENE AT LUCKNOW 330
XXIX. JIM DISPOSED OF 342
Illustrations
Facing Page
HE DROPPED THE LIGHTED CANDLE ON THE THIN TRAIL
OF POWDER _Frontispiece_
BATTYE ROSE IN HIS STIRRUPS AND THUNDERED FORTH
THE ORDER TO CHARGE 160
THE REBEL REELED AGAINST THE WALL 336
CHAPTER I
Ted Disapproves
Ted Russell, ensign of the 193rd Bengal Native Infantry, stationed at
Aurungpore, in the Punjab, was disgusted and irritable on this first day
of the never-to-be-forgotten year of 1857--a year destined to bring
untold misery to thousands of homes and families, and to many a race and
creed throughout Hindustan and the British Isles; a year that would
henceforward lie as a dark stain across the page of history.
But our young friend's ill-humour could be traced to a much simpler
cause than a mere prophetic dread of the future. Ensign Russell had not
been in India many months, and during the whole of that short period he
had looked forward with lively and pleasant anticipation to a visit from
his brother Jim, whom he had seen but twice in the past ten years, and
who was quite a veteran warrior in Ted's admiring eyes. For Captain
Russell had been engaged in the Sikh war as well as in several affrays
with the border Pathans; he was the proud possessor of more than one
medal, and had quite a prominent scar across his face--the mark of a
Khyber knife. For the past twelve months he had held the rank of captain
in the ten-year-old corps of Guides, stationed near Peshawur across the
Indus, the town that guards the Khyber Pass--the gate of India.
At length this hero-brother had obtained leave of absence to visit
Aurungpore, and great was the delight of both.
Now, here is what had disgusted the ensign. Before the stalwart captain,
who had successfully held his own against Sikhs and Afghans, had been
with Ted a couple of days, he had actually suffered defeat at the hands
of a slip of a girl of twenty-one--a girl about five feet in height, the
daughter of Ted's colonel! Jim, who of all men should have been proof
against such silly nonsense--such idiocy!--had succumbed at first sight,
and instead of spinning yarns about his campaigns and his defence of
Chiras Fort, he was mooning about all day long in the wake of this Ethel
Woodburn.
Ensign Russell quickly found that, whatever plans he might make for the
day, his brother would be sure to demur, unless the programme provided
some chance of their meeting or seeing Miss Woodburn. He would plead
fatigue or lack of interest, and then propose as an alternative
something either much more fatiguing, or--in the boy's eyes--much less
interesting. The paltry excuses he made for altering the plans! Poor
fellow, he thought that the "kid" would not see through his transparent
subterfuges; but that sharp-witted youngster was not so easily befooled,
and he voted the proceedings slow, and did not fail to express the
opinion that his brother was no better than a milksop.
"You say you don't 'feel inclined' to ride to Khasmi to-day," exclaimed
Ted in disgust, "because your horse is not quite fit! Bosh! Nimrod never
was better in his life, and he's just eating his head off. I was looking
at him this morning; he's in the pink of condition, and he simply begged
me to take him out. Would he be in any better condition, I wonder, if
Ethel Woodburn was likely to be there?"
Jim turned red, and sharply asked: "What had Miss Woodburn to do with
it?"
"That's what I should like to know!" Ted retorted. He then looked up at
the ceiling, placed his hands in his pockets, and calmly observed:
"You've no chance there, Jim, she's hooked already."
"What d'you say?" exclaimed the excited captain. "It's not true. What
d'you mean?" he repeated. "You don't say that Miss Woodburn is engaged?"
"Oh, never mind Miss Woodburn!" drawled Ted in his most exasperating
manner. "What's she got to do with it? The question is whether we ride
to Khasmi or not."
"Tell me what you mean, you little beggar," Jim went on, half angry, yet
laughing in spite of himself.
Ted crossed his legs, and, still gazing at the ceiling, drawled: "Why,
be calm, Russell Major. You just asked what she had to do with the
matter of our ride to Khasmi. Why this sudden interest?"
Captain Russell kept his temper and laughed.
"Don't try to be too smart, young 'un," he advised. "But it isn't true
that she's engaged to be married, is it?"
"Well--p'r'aps not exactly that she's engaged," Ted admitted.
There was a tone of pompous condescension in his voice as he went on:
"But I hear that Sir Arthur Fletcher, the commissioner here, you know,
is gone on her, and, of course, as he's a splendid catch, the 'old man'
will want her to marry him, and I don't suppose she'll need much
pressing, for he's a jolly decent fellow. And besides him, half of our
fellows are in love with her, though I don't know why. I don't see much
in her myself; she seems a very ordinary sort of girl to me. And she's
such a little thing, you know!"
"You conceited young booby!" Jim laughed. "I shall have to take the
bounce out of you, young man."
Captain Russell began to hate the Commissioner of the Aurungpore
district very cordially, as well as all the unmarried officers of the
193rd--half of them for daring to aspire to the hand of his charmer, and
the other half for being such soulless clods as to refrain from
kneeling before the shrine at which he worshipped. Needless to add,
then, that he spent a most unhappy day and sleepless night.
Jim was the eldest son, and Ted the third, of Major-General Russell, a
soldier who had distinguished himself as a youngster in the Gurkha war
of 1815, and later in the Afghan and Sikh campaigns. Jim had been ten
years in India, and had fought against the Sikhs and helped to conquer
their country, the Punjab, before he had been out many months. A year or
two later he and his cousin, Charlie Dorricot, had been shut up in the
small fort of Chiras, with a mere handful of sepoys, and they had come
through the siege with credit. Dorricot was now a lieutenant in the
Sirmur Battalion, stationed in the Dehra Dun, near Simla.
The evening following the above conversation, Jim burst into Ted's
quarters. His face was flushed but beaming, and his eyes seemed to dance
through sheer happiness. By way of brotherly greeting he struck the
ensign in the chest.
"Well, young 'un," he cheerfully exclaimed, "you may congratulate me!"
"I'll--I'll knock you down!" answered Ted, staggering from the blow.
"You bully, why am I to be permitted to congratulate you?"
By way of reply, Jim took hold of his scandalized brother and whirled
him round the room.
"Because I'm engaged to be married, Ted, to the dearest, sweetest, best
girl in the world!"
"Oh!" gasped Ted. He had divined the cause of Jim's excitement, but the
opportunity for making fun of his senior was too good to be thrown away.
"And what's the dearest, sweetest, best, loveliest, most adorable girl
in the world thinking of to have you? Besides, what about Miss Woodburn?
I thought you were sweet on her, you know."
Captain Russell was a sterling good fellow, but his nature was somewhat
slower than that of his brother. He stared at the cheeky youngster for a
moment before he grasped the meaning of the sarcasm. He recollected that
these events formed privileged occasions for youthful wit, and grinned
affably; having gained his heart's desire he could afford to be
easy-tempered and tolerant of satire.
"You young cub," he laughed, "you're too facetious for a small boy. It's
Ethel Woodburn I'm engaged to, as you know very well."
"Oh!" said Ted slowly. "I didn't recognize her from that glowing
description."
Russell Minor dodged out of reach, keeping the table between them.
"Pax, old man, I'll apologize; I s'pose she's not a bad sort--for a
girl. So I congratulate you--that is, if you _had_ to go and get hooked
I don't know that you could have done better. Have you written home
yet?"
"Do be sensible. How could I? Only settled it a couple of hours ago, and
I'm going to write now. Wonder what the mater'll think!"
Captain Russell sat down and took out a pen and some writing-paper. He
shortly rose, however, and pushed the paper from him.
"No, I'll wait till to-morrow," he muttered. "I'm not quite sure that
I'm not dreaming now, so I'll go and walk it off."
This was going from bad to worse, thought Ted, as two more days passed
and his brother was spending all his precious leave walking or riding
about with the girl, who seemed just as stupidly happy as he. Though Ted
believed (in spite of his chaff) that no one could help liking and
admiring his brother, he could not see the sense of this falling in
love. Why on earth was this foolish Ethel Woodburn continually casting
hurried glances across the room at Jim? Still more incomprehensible was
the look of gloom that settled on his brother's face whenever Ethel
quitted the room for however short a period, or the sudden access of joy
when she returned.
"Thank goodness, I shall never make such a fool of myself!" he
reflected; but even this thought did not console him for the loss of his
brother's society. True, both Jim and Ethel frequently asked him to join
in their rides and walks, but, recognizing the truth of the old saying
that "two's company, three's none", he decided not to become a nuisance
to the lovers. He was far from satisfied with the new conditions,
however, and considered himself ill-used.
"Why should Ethel Woodburn come between us in this way," he grumbled to
himself, "when I'd been looking forward to such a good time with old
Jim? I wish she'd stayed in England."
He became morose and irritable, answering curtly when Jim spoke to him,
and keeping out of Miss Woodburn's way as much as possible. Captain
Russell was too happy to take much notice of the change in the "young
'un's" manner, but Ethel observed it with pain. She liked Ted, and had
always considered him the nicest boy in the regiment, and her love and
admiration for Jim and the pleasure she found in being with him made her
see more clearly how the ensign felt the loss of his brother's society.
She hated the idea of causing a coolness between them, and determined to
do her utmost to gain Ted's friendship and reconcile him to the
inevitable.
She therefore took the first opportunity to speak to him when Jim was
not present.
"Ted," she began, "won't you come a ride with us to-morrow? I wish you
would."
"Oh, you won't want me!" the ensign ungraciously replied. "I shall only
be in the way."
"But we do want you, really. Jim came here to see you, and it seems
horrid of me to monopolize him as I have been doing, when you ought to
have the first claim. You know," she continued with a sparkle of fun in
her eyes, "that one can't help falling in love, so you must not be too
hard on us. You and I are to be brother and sister, and I do want us to
be good friends, and I wish to know you better, Ted. Do join us
to-morrow!"
"Would you really like me to?"
"I should, honestly. You'll come, won't you?"
"Thank you very much, Ethel,--only I don't want to be a nuisance."
"And I don't wish you to think me a nuisance. Thank you, Ted; it's very
decent of you to come."
When she had gone, Ted was undecided whether to be pleased or not. In
common with many others he found a certain unhealthy enjoyment in
cherishing a grievance. Our hero was a good specimen of the type of boy
from whose ranks the British ensign was recruited. Rather tall for his
age, he was well built and proportioned, not weedy; fairly good-looking,
though by no means handsome, with honest eyes that could look one
straight in the face. A good athlete and gymnast, he had been regarded
as the strongest forward in the school fifteen. He was also a good
bowler, and the best outfield in the school, though he did not shine
with the bat. His intellectual attainments had perhaps been less
striking, though no one had ever classed him as a "duffer". Many a
scrape had he been in, and many a punishment had he received, and he had
never tried to clear himself by means of a lie.
Being therefore a healthy-minded boy, he saw clearly, when Miss Woodburn
had left him, that his fit of sulks and jealousy had been rather
foolish, and that his grievances against her were imaginary. No one
likes to appear a fool even to one's self, so, not unnaturally, false
pride set to work to seek excuses for his conduct, and when the time
came to join them, he was still undecided, and almost ready to take the
first opportunity to desert them.
They trotted away from cantonments, past the tank, and along a road that
led between stretches of level fields green with the young corn. The
faint breeze brought with it the clean smell of damp earth, recalling to
Ted's mind many a ride at home when the wind blew from the south-west.
Ethel and Jim were in the highest of spirits, and they chaffed one
another freely, greatly to the edification of the ensign, who had
anticipated unlimited "spooning"--a state of mind he loathed. He quickly
made the discovery that his future sister-in-law was by no means bad
fun, and when he and Jim entered into a dispute respecting the merits of
the Guides as compared with the 193rd, Ethel took his side against her
lover, wittily supporting the ensign's arguments and making fun of the
Guides. Strange to say, Captain Russell appealed to like and admire the
raillery of the girl he worshipped.
Ethel Woodburn was not merely a good-looking, dainty, and sweet-tempered
girl--she was good throughout; and as she was not above taking pains to
gain the approval of her lover's brother, she rapidly won a place in
that youth's by no means too susceptible heart.
Ethel was a graceful horsewoman, and this accomplishment told in Ted's
eyes, for he himself was an uncommonly good rider to hounds. Accustomed
to horses from his earliest childhood, he loved and understood the noble
creatures. When home from school in the winter he had rarely missed a
meet of the Cheshire hounds, and had more than once been in at the
death. So fond was he of horses that he had set his heart upon joining a
cavalry regiment, but Major-General Russell had decided against that
expensive luxury.
He therefore approved cordially, and with open admiration, of Ethel's
fearless riding and firm seat, and, muttering to himself "She'll do!" he
began to acquiesce more willingly in the new order of things.
Ted's horse--"Tommy Dodd"--a powerful roan purchased quite recently, was
young and foolish, and started violently on the slightest provocation,
swerving from one side of the road to the other, or prancing on
hind-legs with frightened eyes and twitching ears. But the boy kept his
seat with unperturbed face, soothing the steed until Tommy had recovered
from his alarm. Ethel, for her part, watched his perfect mastery of the
animal with undisguised admiration.
"You're fond of horses, Ted; ain't they glorious?" she asked, stroking
her chestnut affectionately. "I'm glad we have tastes in common."
"Yes. I think I like riding better than anything else," the ensign
replied with enthusiasm.
"Ted's a good rider!" Jim observed approvingly; "a good deal better than
I am. He took to it like a duck to water."
"By the way, Jim, you're staying over the races, ain't you?" the younger
brother enquired.
"Let me see, when do they come off? To-day week?"
"Yes, you _must_ stay!" declared Ethel.
"I think I can manage it, but I must certainly leave on the following
day."
"Shall we carry off the cup, Ted?" the girl went on, appealing to the
ensign's _esprit de corps_ with a smile that went to his heart. The
Aurungpore cup was now in the mess-room of the 193rd, and strenuous
efforts were to be made to wrest it from the regiment.
"I don't think anything is likely to beat 'The Padre' if Markham's knee
will only get better."
"Is the regiment putting its trust in Captain Markham's mount, then?"
asked Jim.
"Yes," replied the girl. "We have two other horses entered, but they say
that neither of them will have a chance against Lieutenant Harrington's
of the Ahmednuggur Irregulars, or Mr. Vernon's 'Flying Fox'."
"Who's he?"
"Mr. Vernon? Oh, he's a civilian--a 'duck'."
"Madame!" exclaimed Jim, pretending to appear shocked beyond measure.
"Yes, sir; a duck!" Ethel repeated, unabashed.
"Please understand, madame, that you must henceforward apply that
endearing epithet to no one save your affianced husband," Jim
peremptorily ordered.
"I shall certainly not apply it to you, Jim," replied the laughing girl.
"I do respect you a little, you know."
"That's so," interposed Ted. "Old Jim's a good bit of an ass, you know,
but he's not quite idiotic or depraved enough to be likened to a duck.
Is Mr. Vernon a fool that you call him that?"
"By no means; he's a most charming man. I simply intimated that until
recently he has been employed in the Company's service in the Bombay
Presidency. Haven't you learned that slang yet, Ted?"
"No! What on earth do you mean?"
"Well, if a man serves in Bengal he's a _Qui hy_; in Bombay he becomes a
_duck_, and in Madras he's _benighted_. You know that you're a
_griffin_,[1] I suppose?"
[1] A new-comer--equivalent to the American "tenderfoot".
"Oh, yes! I know that much."
"In reply to your question, then, Jim, Mr. Vernon has not been here
long; he owns a good horse, and he's a first-rate rider. One of your
Guide officers is in too, is he not?"
"Spencer means to have a try, and he'll take a lot of beating. The men
of the Guides cavalry can ride, understand, and you ought to feel
honoured that one is going to take the trouble to patronize your races."
"Ah, well! the 193rd don't fear any officers of the Guides; do we, Ted?"
"Not a bit! The Guides are only a lot of brigands!" he made answer.
"Exactly. I keep telling your brother that it will go against the grain
to marry a man in such a disreputable corps."
Jim grinned. "Then give me back my freedom," said he.
"I don't know what we shall do," continued the girl, treating this
remark with the contempt it deserved, "if Captain Markham's knee refuses
to get right. He's a perfect steeple-chaser, and it's as much through
his handling as the merits of his horse that we hope to win the day.
'The Padre' is a most lovable animal, but this is his first
steeple-chase."
"Can no one take Markham's place, then, if he should be unable to ride?"
"I'm afraid not. You see, none of our officers is first-class at the
sport, and the two best are already engaged to ride their own mounts. So
if 'The Padre's' owner doesn't ride--why, we shall lose the cup."
Suddenly a bright and joyful idea seized upon the girl.
"Why, Ted," she exclaimed, "I believe you could ride him!"
"Oh, no! I don't know the horse, and I've never ridden in a flat race,
much less a steeple-chase."
"You'd do it very well," affirmed the elder brother, and praise from Jim
was praise indeed. It was the first compliment he had paid the "young
'un" during the visit.
"I'm sure you would, Ted," the girl affirmed. "Do--for the honour of the
193rd!"
Flushed with excitement and with the glow of perfect health, Ethel
Woodburn looked charming that winter morning. Needless to say that one
man in the world thought so. Ted blushed at the compliment to his
riding.
"But what about Markham?" he objected. "I suppose you'll consult him
first? It's hardly likely that he'd trust me on 'The Padre'."
"That will be all right. I can manage Captain Markham."
"Oh indeed, madame!" observed Jim. "Another wretched victim of your
wiles, I suppose?"
"Exactly so, sir. I trust this will show you the necessity for good
behaviour if you wish to remain honoured by my favour."
Ensign Russell was beginning to think that after all engaged couples did
not of necessity behave in quite so silly a fashion as he had imagined.
Certainly these two seemed to enjoy poking fun at one another, and
showed no signs of "spooning", each treating the other as the best of
friends. Ethel was undoubtedly an uncommonly jolly girl, quite without
"side", and the boy was enjoying the ride immensely. How they behaved
when he was not present he had no means of judging. Possibly he would
have changed his opinion had he known.
By this time the three had returned close to the regimental
parade-ground, and, obedient to the pressure of Ted's right leg, "Tommy
Dodd" wheeled and trotted towards his stable.
Captain Markham was only too glad to learn from Miss Woodburn of our
hero's riding capabilities and willingness to mount "The Padre". The
owner explained to Ted that he had bestowed this name on the animal on
account of its wonderful good temper and gentle nature.
"If ever there was a genial horse it's 'The Padre'. Whatever happens,
you feel that you simply can't lose your temper whilst you're riding
him, he would be so shocked and hurt."
"You should mount Tynan on him, then," suggested Ted, in allusion to a
brother ensign, a lad of seventeen, who rarely omitted to include a few
blackguardly oaths in his conversation.
"That little wretch! I wouldn't allow him to touch 'The Padre', even
with his gloves on. I shall be kicking that sweet youth one of these
days--hard! I wish he would see the advisability of exchanging into some
other regiment."
"The Padre" was a gray four-year-old thoroughbred; a compact horse, to
whose bold, friendly, wide-apart eyes Ted at once took a liking. His
long lean head and well-shaped neck, firmly set on good sloping
shoulders, augured a first-class chaser, as did also his powerful back
and loins, strong quarters, and short flat feet. Ted looked him over,
and knew enough to appreciate these points, and was also glad to notice
that there was plenty of length from hip to hock.
"The last half-mile of the course is downhill," Markham informed him,
"and that is where 'The Padre's' shoulders will come in."
Ted mounted the gray, and almost before his knees had gripped the saddle
he felt that he had never been on so noble a beast before. He trotted
and cantered up and down the parade-ground before giving the horse his
head, and then returned to the owner flushed and joyful.
The captain's eyes twinkled.
"You'll do, I think, Russell; I can easily see that you like one
another."
"He's just grand!" was the boy's enthusiastic comment.