The Fight in the Arsenal
"They are having a hard fight for it," Ted observed to Lieutenant
Lowthian. They stood on the walls that surrounded the courtyard of the
fort, watching the progress of their comrades through the crowded
streets. Lowthian nodded, but, absorbed by the struggle, made no reply.
"Yes, and they've left us here to be killed like rabbits," muttered
Tynan.
"Shut up! Don't whine!" Lowthian scornfully exhorted him.
Ted's anxiety had so far been largely centred in the safety of Ethel
Woodburn, the charge placed under his protection; and having rightly
guessed that the Commissioner's house, surrounded by the clamouring mob,
through whose masses Munro was breaking his way, contained the Europeans
of Aurungpore, a load was lifted from his mind. The rebels had quitted
the immediate vicinity of the fort, and the comparative tranquillity
close at hand had made him forget his own danger. Tynan's remark and
Lowthian's curtness startled him.
"They won't be long in escorting the women here," he cheerfully opined.
"And a hundred of us ought to hold this place easily."
"Yes, but twenty cannot," Tynan sneered. "If it's as much as Munro can
do to force his way through now, how's he going to manage it with a
crowd of women to protect?"
Tynan had gauged the situation more correctly than Ted. Reckoning
overmuch on the prestige of British arms, Munro had calculated that the
removal of the civilians to the fort would be an easy matter. Most of
the disloyal sepoys had disappeared, having scattered in order to loot
the shops and the European bungalows. They were now returning by twos
and threes, some laden with plunder, others savage and sullen through
disappointment, having found the bungalows deserted and the coveted
jewels and money saved from their clutches.
"Here comes that scoundrel Pir Baksh," said Lowthian as the Moslem
subadar appeared on the scene. He began to shout some commands
unintelligible to the watchers on the walls, and soon succeeded in
forming the scattered groups into a dense throng.
"I always detested that fellow," Lowthian continued, "and I believe he's
at the bottom of this dastardly business."
"He's got Miss Woodburn's horse too!" Ted cried in an excited voice, as
he recognized the bay. "Look! he's pointing towards the fort It's our
turn now!"
Pir Baksh was haranguing the sepoys, gesticulating wildly, first towards
the strong white building in which the Europeans had taken shelter, and
then in the direction of the frowning fortress whose guns commanded
Aurungpore, and the air was filled with shouts of "Din, Din, Allah
Akbar!"[5]
[5] "The Faith," or "For our Faith, God is Great."
"They're coming at us," Tynan whispered. There was no need to whisper,
for the fact was only too evident. The impressive nature of the peril
had made him unconsciously lower his voice.
"Are the guns loaded?" he added, nodding towards the half-dozen cannon,
whose grim black muzzles stared through the embrasures.
"No, and it would take us an hour to load them," Lowthian replied.
As a measure of precaution, all munitions for the cannon had been stored
within the arsenal.
The Rajputs on the bastions that flanked the main gate began to fire
wildly as the rebels approached within range.
"Steady, men, steady!" the commandant ordered. "Each cover his man
before he fires! That's the way! Well aimed, Ambar Singh!"
The loyal sepoys had pulled themselves together, and there was no
further waste of ammunition. Rebel after rebel rolled over in the dust
or limped into cover, and the rush was checked. The assailants slowly
backed away from the walls, each man trying to dodge behind his
neighbour to keep a shield before him as he took aim. Ted looked for Pir
Baksh, but that astute pandy, having no intention of exposing himself so
prominently on horseback, had dismounted, and was lost amid the mob.
At last the ensign marked his quarry. For a second's space the
ringleader had come into view to urge his reluctant hordes to the
assault. Hastily covering him, Ted pulled the trigger. A rebel fell, but
it was not Pir Baksh. Like the coward he was, he had skipped into safety
behind a group of sepoys, and now the front ranks of the mutineers had
pressed back upon the rearmost until all were beyond effective range.
Brown Bess could not be trusted to carry far.
"If there is one of the curs I should like to kill it's that traitor Pir
Baksh!" Tynan declared with an oath. "I hope I'll live to see him
hanged! It was he who shot the colonel; I saw him."
"Are you sure of that?" Lowthian and Ted both asked.
"As sure as that I am here.----What are they up to now?"
Baffled for a moment, the subadar had abandoned the idea of a direct
assault, and was seen to be exhorting the men to some new method of
attack, for the pandies presently dispersed right and left. A hot fire
was still kept up through the windows of Fletcher's house. Lowthian
quietly gave an order.
"Tynan, take eight men to the southern bastion, and don't show
yourselves until you can strike home. Dal Singh, you keep watch from the
north-west tower, and give the alarm if they gather in that direction."
A number of the sepoys were reassembling at the top of the main street
where it debouched into the open space facing the main gate. Ted and
Lowthian exchanged a meaning look as they perceived that some had
brought short ladders and were busily lashing them together.
"If they've any grit they'll soon be over the walls," the senior
whispered. "Ha! they mean to attack Tynan's post first."
Under the impression that the garrison was too weak to be distributed,
some hundred rebels with a ladder made a dash for the southern wall of
the courtyard, keeping out of range from the main gate as they ran. They
were within twenty paces when Tynan opened fire. Still they kept on, and
planted the ladder against the wall. A second volley rang out, and the
pandies hesitated, for the fire had been concentrated on the
ladder-bearers, and those who were nearest to them edged farther away,
pressing against the walls. They reasoned that it was death to touch the
ladder, and many of their comrades were already dead. But by now another
rush had been made for the main gate, and though a dozen fell in the
assault, the sepoys were more in earnest and they thirsted for revenge.
Two of the Rajputs were knocked over, and Pir Baksh yelled gleefully as
he planted a bullet in Lowthian's shoulder.
Still the fort was not yet won. Encouraged by the resolute bearing of
their officers, the loyal men continued to fire coolly and rapidly; and
the mutineers lacked the inspiration of a leader ready to sacrifice
himself for their cause. They again retired out of range, and the cheer
raised by the Rajputs at the main gate was echoed back by Tynan's men.
That cheer was ill-timed. Hardly had it died away before an answering
yell from the north, savage as a war-whoop, chilled the blood in their
veins, for it came from inside the courtyard! A scaling-party had made
the circuit, and were already beneath the north-western bastion when Dal
Singh reached his post. He looked forth, and before he could give the
alarm a bullet struck him in the forehead, the single distant report
passing unnoticed amid the noise of battle.
"Inside the fort, lads!" Lowthian shouted. "All together!"
The garrison hastily descended, and, joining forces, charged across the
courtyard to escape being cut off. But the rebels were the nearer, and
should even one or two of them enter first and bar the door, the
garrison was lost. In ten minutes there would be a couple of hundred
sepoys inside the courtyard.
One rebel was almost in. Ted stopped, flung his musket to his shoulder,
and the man toppled over. Four more pandies were close upon his heels.
As the leader fell, the hindmost of these, dreading the same fate,
looked back over his shoulder. A trifling incident, yet that glance cost
him dear, and was worth untold gold to the white-faces in Aurungpore.
For as the fellow turned he unconsciously checked his pace, and a lean
Rajput, straining every nerve, closed with the faint-hearted traitor
before the entrance could be gained. A bayonet-thrust, a scream, and the
wretch staggered forward and fell upon his face.
But the other three were inside, and so was Karan Singh the Rajput,
alone with his back to the door, cut off from his comrades. A barrier of
some thirty exultant rebels had thrust themselves in front, and ladders
were even now being set up against the walls by the main gate. If the
thirty pandies could keep the loyalists at bay for another five minutes
they would all be butchered like goats at the Dashera Festival. Then
came the clang of steel, as bayonet crossed bayonet; the three officers
emptied and reloaded their pistols, and a yard or two was gained.
Suddenly Ted dodged to the right, and darted at full speed round the
pack of sepoys, as a three-quarter back, smartly fed by the half who has
picked up the ball from beneath the feet of the scrummagers, circles
round his opponents before they know what has happened. He had caught a
glimpse of the plucky Karan Singh maintaining the unequal combat, and
the Rajput was sore wounded though one of the pandies had fallen to his
bayonet.
While still a few strides from the doorway, Ted Russell witnessed the
death of the Hindu hero. As one sepoy kept Karan Singh at bay the other
managed to reload and let fly, the muzzle barely a foot from the
Rajput's breast. The brave man dropped like a log, and his body fell
across the threshold. Though they hastily thrust the corpse aside, Ted
was upon them before the heavy door could be closed.
The enemy had not dared to pursue the ensign, fearing to turn their
backs lest the British should be let in. His pistol was empty and his
musket had been cast aside. One of the sepoys lunged. Ted skipped aside,
and, turning on his heel, struck wildly at the other's bayonet that was
darting towards his chest. The weapon was turned aside, but though his
tunic alone was ripped and he himself was untouched, his cherished sword
had broken off at the hilt, and he was disarmed.
For the fraction of a second he stood helpless. So lightning-like is
thought, that he had time to long for a kick at the slovenly workman who
had turned out a weapon as untrustworthy as himself.
"Quick! Close the door, Bakir Khan, while I slay the whelp!"
Ted swerved, grasped the speaker's musket-barrel with his left, and with
his right hammered the face of the bewildered sepoy, who howled, but
held on to the weapon. The iron-clamped door slammed and the heavy bolts
groaned as Bakir Khan shot them home and turned to assist his comrade.
Ted tugged at the musket with all his strength, and suddenly saw at his
feet the firearm of the dead pandy. He swooped down, seized the weapon,
and jumped backwards just in time, as the bayonet-point flashed
harmlessly in front.
A loud pounding of musket-stocks upon the door announced that Lowthian's
handful had broken through, or else had all been slain. For an instant
the sound stayed the fight inside. Was he alone left after all? Or did
it mean that, could he open the door before numbers overwhelmed them,
they might all be saved? Hope lent him strength. There was no bayonet to
his new weapon, so he gripped it by the muzzle, and, swinging it above
his head, he knocked the Brown Bess out of Bakir Khan's hand as that
false sepoy made a second lunge. Again he brought the butt-end down,
this time with a thud upon the head of Bakir Khan. The second pandy
recoiled, still half-dazed by the blows from Ted's sword-hilt. There was
no way of escape for him, however, and he sprang like a tiger-cat at the
ensign. A third time the musket was swung aloft, and the sepoy reeled
and toppled over, stunned.
Ted sprang to the door, and had drawn one of the bolts when a wild fear
took hold of him. Who were on the other side? In all probability they
were rebels thirsting for English blood, and why should he let them in?
Through the thick door he seemed to see them, pitiless as famished
wolves. Why not hide in the vast arsenal and slip out at night?
In less than a second such thoughts had flashed through his mind before
he recollected that duty bade him take the risk. The last bolt was shot
back; he sprang aside, ready for a charge as the door swung back, and
gave a gasp of relief as Tynan and his Rajputs dashed inside.
At their heels came the rebels, and a few got through before Ted and
Ambar Singh could close and bar the door. The fight inside the passage
was soon over, and the Rajputs sank upon the floor and gasped for
breath.
Barely five minutes had sped since Karan Singh's body had fallen across
the threshold, yet it seemed many hours. Ted could hardly realize that
the main body of assailants under Pir Baksh had only just succeeded in
storming the walls (for they had hesitated, fearing a trap) as he
cracked the skull of Bakir Khan. Had that fourth sepoy not looked back
the arsenal would have been lost.
"Lowthian's done for, I'm afraid!" panted Tynan.
Following his gaze, Ted saw that the Rajputs had brought their
commandant in. He knelt down by the side of his friend and found Tynan's
surmise only too true, for Lieutenant Lowthian had already breathed his
last.
"Shot just as we reached the doorway," Tynan explained; "and half a
dozen men killed or badly wounded. What must we do, Russell? They can't
get in except through that door, can they?"
"It won't take long to batter the door down if they shape," Ted replied.
"Luckily we've heaps of ammunition here, and any number of muskets.
Look, this room off the passage commands the door, so set two or three
men to bring up firearms and we'll load a few dozen."
Before Ted had finished speaking, the spirited Rajputs were emptying
their muskets through the narrow slits that loop-holed the thick walls,
and the rebels who had been clustering round the door, vainly attempting
to batter it down, left the spot in a hurry--at least all did who were
able. Ted then posted a couple of men to watch the north-western face of
the building and give the alarm if necessary. Blood had been flowing
freely down the ensign's face, and he now found time to staunch it. He
was not sure when he had received the wound, but at some time or other
during the struggle in the passage a bayonet-point had torn the skin
from mouth to ear.
The lull in the storm lasted for nearly an hour. Many of the pandies
contemptuously flouted the commands of their officers, and, giving up
the attack on the fort, began to seek fresh plunder in the town, or
joined in the half-hearted attempts to render the English house
untenable. The remainder of the force, gathered together by Pir Baksh,
kept up a long-range fire through the loopholes, in the hope that some
bullets might find their billets.
"Why don't Munro come to the rescue?" Harry Tynan bitterly demanded.
"With eighty men he could break through this gang of cowards, if only he
had the pluck to try."
"He can't," Ted retorted; "they're penned in there like sheep. And how
could he break through with nearly a dozen women and kids to protect?
Would you have him leave them to their fate?"
"Half his men could do it."
"Not they--nor twice his whole force. It's a soldier's risk that we
bargained for when we took our commissions. We may win through yet; and
if not, we must just stick to it as long as we can. Well, what's the
matter now, havildar?"
Ambar Singh had left his post.
"The dogs are about to make a rush, Ensign Sahib. They Have brought logs
and beams and mean to batter down the door. Listen! They are
volley-firing to keep us from the loopholes."
The fusillade had suddenly redoubled--steady volleys this time--and a
hail of lead pattered against the walls, and a few bullets smacked
against the sides of the slits and cannoned shapeless into the room.
"Quick, upstairs, you three!" Ted cried. "Take as many muskets as you
can carry and fire rapidly!"
Three sepoys nodded significantly and ran up the stairs. In another
moment a succession of reports from above announced that they understood
their business. As our hero had intended, the rebels jumped at the
conclusion that their fire having become too hot, the garrison had
shifted, so they changed their aim.
Instantly the abandoned loopholes were occupied, just as two parties,
each of six or eight men bearing improvised battering-rams, charged the
door at full speed. Crack went eight muskets together, and half a dozen
fell. Fresh firearms were handed to the marksmen, and the logs were
dropped as the few survivors scuttled away. For a third time the reports
rang out, and only one of the log-carriers rejoined his comrades.
"Down, men!" Ted gave warning, as the rebels savagely changed their aim
once more and swept the lower embrasures with their fire. One poor
fellow was not quite quick enough. Before he could duck a bullet had
entered his forehead. Setting aside the two Rajputs who were dangerously
wounded, there were now twelve sepoys and two English lads to defend the
place, and of these fourteen five were wounded.
"Curse the bloodthirsty ruffians!" Tynan hissed.
His blood was up. Springing to a loophole he fired twice, bringing down
a man each time.
"Be careful," Ted cautioned him. "That won't pay."
"The sooner it's over the better," Tynan replied, but took the advice
all the same.
The hostile fire gradually slackened, and the garrison were shortly
enabled to watch the proceedings of their adversaries. They could see
Pir Baksh vainly exhorting the mutineers to make a second attempt. But
the sepoys shook their heads. The danger was too great, or why did not
Pir Baksh himself lead them, they asked. Their English officers were
wont to share the danger with the sepoys, but he, Pir Baksh, was careful
to keep out of range whenever he sent them forward. No, they preferred
to wait for night, when the risk would be small.
Judging that they would be safe for another hour at least, the two
Englishmen ordered food to be prepared. They anticipated that the crisis
would come with the sunset, and strength must be kept up.
"What are you grinning at?" asked Tynan, as they sat cross-legged over
the meal.
"I was thinking what a rummy go it is," Ted replied, "that we two of all
the officers should be here together. We haven't been friends, Tynan,
but if ever we get out of this hole I hope we will be. And if we don't
get out, I trust we can die without any bad feeling between us. Shake
hands on it, old chap."
Tynan leant forward to meet the proffered hand.
"All right, Russell! I'm agreeable. It ain't my fault that we've not
been friends."
This was not a very gracious speech, and Ted's ardour was damped. He
shook hands, however, saying:
"We must back one another up to-day."
"Right! But look here, you mustn't forget that I'm senior officer here.
You've been giving orders pretty freely."
"Because you didn't seem ready with any suggestions."
"It's my turn now, remember," Tynan asserted in an aggrieved tone; and
Ted felt sorry he had spoken, as the other seemed incapable of sinking
his personal feelings even at such a time. Unless his senior officer
showed more sign of rising to the occasion, he determined to continue to
issue orders.
Though the magazine at Aurungpore was not a large one, its capture would
prove an enormous boon to the rebel cause, for therein was stored a
quantity of ammunition and material of war. Armed therewith, all the
rabble of the town would soon be equipped as soldiers, and our ensign
understood what would then become of his friends and comrades, and above
all of his brother's sweetheart. A shiver ran down his spine as he
remembered Jim's parting whisper, and there rose before him the picture
of the girl who had saved his life and whom he secretly adored. He vowed
to do his duty manfully, and never to despair while there remained the
least hope of preventing the ravening wolves outside from gaining access
to the stores.
"What the deuce are you up to now?" Tynan broke in.
The senior ensign had been regarding the junior's meditations with
considerable curiosity, wondering how he could become so absorbed at so
critical a time. His query had been called forth by a sudden change of
expression that had overspread his comrade's features. Ted's eyes had
opened wide, and he had given an almost imperceptible gasp, sure signs
that some startling idea had come upon him unawares.
"What is it, Russell?" Tynan repeated.
"Oh, nothing, nothing!" Ted hastily assured him. "I was just thinking
what an awful business this is."
"Has that only just occurred to you?" his comrade sullenly inquired,
convinced that Ted was keeping something back.
And so he was. Not that he wished to mislead his brother officer but
rather because the idea that had so unceremoniously thrust itself in
front of him, suggested an action so appalling as almost to stupefy him.
He must think, think, think. Could he bring himself to do it? Ought he
to do it?
Hardly the place or time this for quiet meditation, for the weighing of
pros and cons. One of the watchers signalled that the pandies had again
lost patience, and to confirm his words the heavy fusillade recommenced,
and the ensign ceased to ponder and began to act. The rebels had now got
the range with deadly accuracy, and unless he courted death, none of the
garrison dared return the fire.
Our hero did make one such attempt, and reduced the number of one of the
battering-crews. But before he could get in a second shot the muzzle of
his musket was struck and dented, and a bullet whistled through his
hair, grazing the skin. He crouched down and put his hand to his head,
fearing he was done for. A soft thud and rattle beside him announced the
fall of a sepoy who had followed the rash example with fatal courage.
Forgetting his own wound the ensign knelt beside the Rajput and raised
his head. The poor fellow still breathed but was going fast, and a
shudder ran through the boy as the man died in his arms, true to the
end.
"Are you hurt?" Tynan asked.
"I'm not quite sure. I don't think so."
"Let me see. Oh, it's only a scratch."
The sepoys in the room above, less hampered by the rebel fire, were
answering back to some purpose until they too were silenced, one of
their number being mortally wounded. A crash against the stout door
seemed to shake the house, and before the vibration ceased another bang
was heard. Englishmen and Rajputs were firing hastily whenever an
opportunity occurred, but the pandies now held the upper hand. A
splintering noise followed the next crash.
"What can we do, Russell? What can we do?" Tynan cried. "They'll be in
in a moment!"
Backed by the strength of half a dozen men the logs crashed once more
against the barrier, and the hearts of the garrison were heavy as lead.
"We're not done for yet," Ted stoutly replied. "We must wait for them in
the passage. We may yet hold the passage, Ambar Singh; and should we
die, men will speak of your deeds from generation to generation."
"We can hold them back for a time, sahib. Come, my children, and thou,
Bisesar Rai, and thou, Dwarika Rai, load and pass us the muskets as we
lie in the doorway."
Of the twenty-two Rajputs ten were still able to fight, and three others
remained alive though sorely wounded. They were now all together, and
Ted, Ambar Singh the havildar, and as many others as could crowd in,
were lying full length before the wide-arched entrance to the room. From
the slowly-yielding door the passage ran straight for a few paces before
curving to the right, and an enemy coming round the bend would be at a
great disadvantage, for the best marksmen of the garrison waited with
ready muskets, their elbows on the threshold, their bodies within the
room. Behind them two comrades stood, a loaded musket in each hand, to
exchange for the emptied weapons, and beside them knelt Bisesar Rai and
Dwarika Rai busily loading the firearms. The pandies could not take aim
without coming into full view, but the defenders could fire with a
minimum of exposure, and could draw back their heads into safety
whenever they saw a musket-barrel pointing at random towards them.
A louder crash, a shrill yell, and a mob of maddened sepoys swept inside
and round the bend. Six muskets cracked at once, and the yells changed
to howls of dismay. A second volley--not in unison this time, but no
less effective--and the sepoys turned and fled. The victory was not to
be so easy as they had imagined. Had the garrison been armed as were
they, with one Brown Bess apiece and a limited supply of ammunition, it
would all have been over long ago they told themselves, but when volley
followed volley with such rapidity, it was like facing a regiment. The
sepoys were not cowards as a rule, but they knew they were playing a
traitor's part. In a good cause, well led, they would have risked the
danger, even as the handful of loyal Rajputs were devoting their lives
to their duty.
A nerve-ruining silence, broken only by the moans of the wounded who lay
on the floor, followed the shrill outcries. The rebels were baffled but
not defeated. Slowly, painfully the minutes dragged, then two black
heads showed round the bend, and two spurts of flame flashed out. Before
the reports had reached them, Ted and Ambar Singh had pressed their
fingers, and two sepoys fell forward on their faces. The defenders were
untouched, the rebels having fired at random, and for a while none dared
follow their example.
In despair several of the raging mob pushed their musket-barrels round
the bend and let fly, in the hope that an occasional bullet out of many
might reduce the number of their dogged antagonists. But Ted drew his
men back from the doorway until the sepoys were tired of this amusement.
Each rebel urged his neighbour to face the fire of those death-dealing
muskets; each man knew that the end was at hand, and preferred to hold
himself back that he might share in the plunder. Now that they were no
longer a glorious regiment but a mere mob of rebels, none was ready to
give his life for the cause. The garrison also knew that the end was
drawing near, and were in no way deceived by the momentary calm.
"Hullo!" Ted cried, and stared open-mouthed. "What's that for?"
A white cloth tied round the barrel of a musket had been poked round the
corner.
"A truce, sahibs!" a voice called in Urdu. "We wish to treat with you
and save your lives. May I step forward in safety?"
"One man may," Tynan replied, "but he will be a dead man should there be
any sign of treachery."
"Sahib, there will be none; I give my word of honour."
So saying, Pir Baksh stepped round the bend, armed only with a smile
that he doubtless intended to be ingratiating.
"Ye are gallant warriors," he began, when Ted, interrupting the flow of
words, ordered the rascal to speak in English, not Urdu. The subadar
showed the whites of his eyes as he smiled, and grimly shook his head.
For the benefit of the Rajputs he resumed in the vernacular:
"Ye cannot hope to hold out much longer, so let there be no further
bloodshed. Surrender the fort and we will spare your lives."
"What do you think, Russell?" Tynan hurriedly whispered. "Do you believe
they mean it?"
"Not they!" was Ted's scornful reply.
"Perhaps they do, though. I'll ask him what they intend to do with us."
"Why, you can't mean to give up the magazine under any conditions?" our
astonished ensign demanded, his eyes contracting as he stared at his
senior officer.
"They'll have it all the same if they kill us, though," Tynan muttered,
lowering his eyes, unable to meet his comrade's gaze. "So what's the
odds. May as well save our lives while there's a chance."
He thereupon made answer to the jemadar.
"If we surrender, what will you do with us?"
"We will keep you captive, but promise you your lives," came the prompt
reply.
"Will you allow us to join our friends over yonder? If not, we shall
still fight, and we are not so helpless as you think." Tynan was not
quite a coward, and he used the threat with some show of spirit.
"I cannot promise that without consulting my friends."
So saying, the subadar retired for further instructions. Ted had had
time for reflection.
"Tynan," he announced, "I sha'n't agree to surrender. We've no right to
do it! Look what a lift it would give them if they could get all these
arms and ammunition."
Our ensign had quite made up his mind what to do. If his death would
make more secure the position of his comrades in the town he was
prepared to die. There was satisfaction in the reflection that Ethel
Woodburn would know that he had been staunch to the last. Poor Tynan had
no friends among the officers of his corps, and consequently there was
nothing to uplift his soul above the fear of death, and he had clutched
eagerly at the straw of hope held out by Pir Baksh.
"Well, they'll get it all the same after they've done for us," he
bitterly replied. "May as well live to fight another day. I was a fool
ever to come to this accursed land. What right had Munro to leave us
here?"
Before Ted could reply the white flag was thrust round the corner and
the subadar returned.
"We agree to what you ask," said he. "We will permit you to rejoin your
friends in safety."
"I tell you I shall not agree to surrender," the junior ensign angrily
declared.
"You fool! What's the good of holding out any longer? Well, I shall
surrender, and I'm chief here."
"You're not! You're under Munro's orders, and those were to hold the
fort until he sends help. If you attempt to surrender you're a
traitor."
Ted turned to Ambar Singh and the sepoys.
"Do not listen to the dogs," said he. "Let us fight to the end, as your
forefathers did against the Moguls. They are not to be trusted; they
will assuredly slay us if we yield."
The sepoys stoutly assented. They had little faith in the Mohammedans,
who were seeking their lives,--the men who had murdered Markham Sahib.
"You are right, sahib," said the havildar, "and we will fight by your
side. That low-caste hound," pointing to Pir Baksh, "is afraid of us,
and wishes to disarm us with soft words, but we know him."
Tynan saw his authority taken from him, the sepoys understanding and
looking to Ted as their leader.
"How dare you?" he hotly demanded.
"Oh, go away! You've nothing to do with this business." Ted sneered, not
too generously, for Tynan had disgusted him. With the same breath he
ordered Pir Baksh to clear away, and the firing recommenced.
The time had come for him to act upon the resolve he had made, a resolve
to sacrifice himself and his already-doomed handful, rather than allow
the capture of the stores to endanger the safety of his countrymen. The
idea of blowing up the magazine had come upon him suddenly as he
remembered the news that had arrived yesterday from Delhi,--how
Lieutenant Willoughby and his nine heroes had blown up the immense
arsenal there and destroyed hundreds of rebels.
The entrance to the magazine was through the room in which they lay. The
rebels were quiet, plotting some new move, no doubt, so, leaving the
trusty Ambar Singh in charge, Ted proceeded to the spot and began to lay
a train of powder to connect the barrels with their post. Before the
others had guessed his intention he had brought the train within the
room, and the white-faced senior ensign, who had lost by now the last
remnant of his pluck, jabbered incoherently and attempted to interfere,
until Ted roughly threatened to blow his brains out. Dazed and trembling
the wretched boy shifted as far as he could from the black trail. The
Rajputs looked on with frightened eyes, half-paralysed by the shock of
this new terror; and Dwarika Rai fell on his knees and begged the ensign
to have mercy, for such a fate meant more than death to these Hindus.
For a moment the boy's heart failed him; the thought was too awful. To
be blown into a hundred pieces, how terrible it seemed! And what right
had he to condemn these faithful men to such a death?
Then out spake the havildar.
"If we have to die, let us die like men. Fire the train, sahib!"
"Nay, not yet. Our duty is to stand by our post until the last. No man
must leave the room, though."
He lighted a candle and placed it within easy reach, that the flame
might be ready on the shortest notice.
"Ha!" whispered Ambar Singh, and there was a reckless note in his voice.
"The jackals are cunning. See!"
Round the bend was pushed forward a large sack full of sand, then
another; and soon a third filled up the space. As the last was clumsily
poked into its place between the others it tottered and overbalanced,
and a couple of pandies leant forward to lift it up. Two muskets spat
forth flame and the rebels rolled over in a heap, upsetting another
sack. Quick as thought, as the sepoys were engaged in pulling their
wounded comrades back, Ted ran with light steps down the passage,
keeping close to the farther wall, and seizing a sack with either hand,
dragged them away before the amazed mutineers had time to fire.
To make doubly sure of his safety Ambar Singh and his men let fly, and
the bullets, sweeping across the bend, covered the lad's return. Amid
the cheers of the loyalists the bags were propped in the doorway to
serve as a rampart for them, and they began to mock the traitors.
But this triumph could merely put off the evil moment. In another
half-hour fresh sand-bags had been brought in, and before long the
pandies were in a position to command the doorway. As the news spread
that the end was near the mob of sepoys increased, and Ted smiled to
himself. He addressed the Rajputs:
"You have done your duty in a manner worthy of your ancestors, and I am
going to do mine. Run for your lives!"
"No, Russell, you sha'n't!" cried Tynan, whose nerve had completely
broken down. "I surrender,--Pir Baksh, I surrender!" He tried to snatch
the light from his comrade's hand. Ted covered him with his pistol, and,
pointing across the passage, said simply:
"Run for your life!"
Hot all over, his fingers tingling and his head ringing--partly dread of
the horror and partly a glorious exultation--the boy dropped the lighted
candle on the thin trail of powder, and darted from the room as a horde
of sepoys rushed in.