Ted's First Battle
General Anson, Commander-in-chief in India, had died a few days
previously; his successor, General Barnard, received and read the
despatch in silence.
He then looked up with stern face, but twinkling eyes. "Do you think,
young gentlemen, that it shows good judgment to charge seventy horsemen
with only six?" for the captain of the Carabineers had reported the
incident to his chief.
Ted stammered out, "We didn't think, sir."
"Think! I should imagine not. You must learn caution, if ever you hope
to get on in your profession."
The boys saluted and turned to go, when the general continued:
"Let me see; which of you was it who blew up the magazine at
Aurungpore?"
Ted blushed as Alec replied. The general rose from his chair, shook
hands solemnly as with an equal, and the ensign departed, his heart
nearly bursting with pride. No amount of praise could have pleased him
so much as did this simple act.
The dragoon captain found sleeping quarters for them and for their men,
and they made a tour of the encampment. In the camp the British soldiers
(for their six men were the only dark-skins), horse and foot, were
gathered in groups talking over the strange changes that had occurred,
and eagerly discussing the latest tidings. The slaughter of the
helpless ladies and children in the city before them had maddened the
men, and all vowed vengeance on the cruel foe.
"There's not a black regiment to be trusted, I don't care who they are,"
declared one.
"Oh, there may be some who are all right! we mustn't condemn the lot,"
replied another.
"Indeed! Who are your precious heroes, then?" sneered a third.
"Well, I don't know," the more hopeful red-coat replied; "but they say
that the Guides and the Sirmur Battalion of Gurkhas are coming to help
us."
"Guides and Gurkies be blowed! You'll just see; the niggers'll come as
far as it suits them, then they'll kill their officers and march into
Delhi. They ought to have been disarmed, Guides and Gurkies and everyone
else, straight away."
"Hear, hear!" joined in the others. "We don't want no niggers helpin'
us."
"They don't know much about the Guides, do they, Ted?" Alec whispered.
"They don't. But they spoke of the Sirmur Gurkhas. I wonder whether they
are coming here? My cousin Charlie Dorricot is with them, so I hope they
are. He's a jolly beggar is Charlie."
"They say Gurkhas are always to be trusted," Alec replied; "and from
what these fellows say, it's evident they haven't mutinied so far....
Hullo! what's up now? The 'Alarm'! By Jove, the pandies are attacking
us!"
A bugle had sounded the 'Alarm'; the men sprang to their feet, rushed
for their arms, and prepared to fall in. In an instant the whole camp
was alive.
"What is it? Who are they?"
"Over there! Look! It's an attack on our rear."
The bugle blew again, and the alarm gradually subsided. All eyes were
directed towards a body of men marching wearily, but with correct,
well-drilled step, along the road leading towards the British camp. They
seemed dark, very short of stature, and curiously attired, and that was
all that could be made out. Though not Europeans, they were evidently
friends, because the "Alarm" sounded by the first bugle had been
contradicted by the second call.
And now that the sepoy regiments were proving false right and left, what
Asiatic corps except the Guides could be trusted so near the
head-quarters of the rebels? John Lawrence would take good care that no
doubtful regiments should be sent to Delhi, and that no Mussulman nor
Brahman of the Bengal army should be given such an excellent chance of
turning traitor at the critical moment.
The strangers drew nearer, and the camp turned out to meet them. Then
the word passed from lip to lip that these were the Gurkhas--Reid's
Gurkhas.
"It's the Sirmur Battalion, Alec," said Ted; and he executed a little
_pas seul_ to proclaim his delight.
"Who are they?" asked some of the Tommies. "Where 'ave they come from?
Can they fight?"
"Fight? Can't they just!" replied one of the knowing ones, a sergeant
with a dozen years' Indian experience. "They come from Dehra Dun, up in
the hills."
"I wouldn't give a dog-biscuit for all the native regiments in India," a
young private declared. "They're all rotten with treachery."
"You'll never be commander-in-chief, Sammy," the sergeant retorted. "You
know a dashed sight too much, and yet not 'arf enough. If you wasn't so
ignorant you'd know that these Gurkies ain't natives but furriners in
Injia same as us, livin' in a furrin country called Nepal, up amongst
the Himalayas, which you've never 'eard on, I dare say. And the Gurky
king ain't a subject of the queen, like the Injian rajahs and nawabs and
nizams and such, but free and independent, like voters at an election.
I've fought side by side with 'em, Sammy, and they're as good pals on a
battle-field as any chaps from Battersea."
Ted and Alec laughed at the sergeant's harangue, and strolled down the
road to meet the reinforcements. The short-legged, tough, little Gurkhas
were almost dropping from fatigue and heat. They had marched many, many
miles that day under the scorching Indian sun, and they were no more
accustomed to the heat of the plains than were their British comrades.
"Hurrah for the Gurkies! Three cheers for the little 'uns!"
The cry was taken up by hundreds of the red-coats, who were now lining
both sides of the road, cheering again and again as the weary Mongolians
marched sturdily through their ranks with soldierly swagger. The little
fellows grinned and tried to cheer and joke in return, but, being dead
beat and almost famishing, the attempt was a failure. Many British
soldiers ran out to help their new allies along, by lending the support
of an arm or shoulder.
"That's him, Alec!" Ted, regardless of grammar, informed his chum.
He made straight for a lieutenant of the Gurkhas, a tall, jolly-looking
man of about five-and-twenty, and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Please, sir," said the ensign, with great deference and as vacant an
expression as possible, "is there an officer of this regiment of pandies
named Dorricot, because he's wanted in camp."
"Pandies! you impudent puppy!" the enraged lieutenant replied.
"Pandies! I like your cheek! My name's Dorricot. Who wants me?"
"Please, sir, I think it's a tailor with a lot of unpaid bills--"
The lieutenant opened his mouth, and, gripping Ted's wrist, looked him
squarely in the face. He burst into a laugh.
"Ted Russell! What on earth are you doing here, you cheeky chimpanzee?"
He wrung Ted's hand heartily, and was unceremoniously introduced to
Paterson.
"What are you doing here, Ted?" Dorricot repeated. "Your regiment has
mutinied, has it not?"
"Yes. Seeing we were at liberty, the general sent for Paterson and me to
come and give him a lift. We're his military advisers, ain't we, Alec?"
"Oh, Ted's altogether too modest," said Paterson. "In reality he's the
actual commander here, and General Barnard takes orders from him."
"Oh, that's it, is it?" Dorricot replied. "Well, look here, come to my
tent as soon as we've settled down. I want to have a talk with you."
The Sirmur Battalion passed within the lines, and General Barnard
himself came out to welcome them.
"Get something to eat sharp!" he exhorted Major Reid. "Sorry you're dead
beat, but we may have to turn out at any moment."
Luckily this was not necessary, as the expected attack did not come off,
and the tired Gurkhas were granted a few hours' well-earned rest. Soon
after they had settled down our two ensigns paid the promised visit to
Lieutenant Dorricot, and fought their battles over again, talking and
laughing over their several adventures, interrupting, contradicting, and
agreeing with one another as they discussed the situation and the causes
that had combined to bring it about.
The elder cousin was full of a natural curiosity concerning Jim's
engagement, soon persuading the ensign--and in truth it was no difficult
matter--to give his opinion of Miss Woodburn, her accomplishments and
attractions.
"Hullo!" interrupted Charlie, as the boy waxed particularly eloquent on
the subject. "You're sure it's Russell Major who's in love, and not
Russell Minimus."
Ted blushed, laughed outright, and sought to change the subject; but
Charlie was determined to extract further information relating to his
cousin's love affairs--a matter on which he was conventionally
facetious.
"So you really think that old Jim's done well--eh, young Solomon?"
Dorricot resumed after a few moments' reflection.
"I tell you he's a jolly lucky chap!" declared the ensign emphatically.
"Jolly lucky, I should say. You should just have seen her when she
whipped her pistol out as soon as that beggar had knifed me in the
_bazar_!"
"What was that, Teddy? You never told me about that."
So our ensign related the incident with great gusto, and the elder
cousin whistled as he heard of the girl's coolness.
"She's the right sort for Jim," he agreed, as Ted concluded the
narration. "But I must be toddling off to bed now, I'm badly in need of
some sleep. By-bye, young 'un!"
"Good-night, Charlie! It's just stunning to see you again. Jim'll be
downright glad when he comes; he's bound to be here in a day or two
now."
"His men must be rattling good marchers if he is! I hardly think it
possible."
With a hearty handshake the cousins separated, the ensigns returning to
their own quarters in the highest possible spirits, looking forward with
great eagerness to the coming struggle.
A few days later General Barnard advanced and gave battle to the enemy
at Badli-Ka-Serai, six miles from the city. Not a soldier there but was
burning to meet the traitors, but none was more keen than the little
Gurkhas, who, to the delight of the amused Tommies, turned somersaults
and played leap-frog when they heard that an attack was to be made.
The multitudes of sepoys fought with courage and fierce determination,
but were hurled back by the little army, which occupied position after
position as the mutineers recoiled. At his cousin's request Ted was
allowed to act with the Sirmur Battalion until the arrival of the Guide
Corps, whose absence the boy greatly regretted.
"How mad they will be to have missed this!" he whispered to Charlie as
they led the Gurkhas at the double to the foot of the ridge, where they
halted and attempted to dislodge the enemy by rifle-fire. The bullets
whistled around, and many a gallant fellow fell, and it must be
confessed that our ensign felt uncomfortable. He hoped that this waiting
"would jolly soon be over", but, with the eyes of the little Mongolians
upon him, he scorned to show signs of flinching even when a bullet
flattened on the stone beside him. The fire had little effect on the
rebel regiments above; the swarthy faces seemed to glare down upon them
in demoniacal fashion, defying their approach.
At length came the welcome order to storm the ridge. With a cheer
Britons and Gurkhas rose and dashed up the slope, racing like
school-boys for the top. The Gurkhas yelled and shrieked, challenging
the 60th Rifles to the race; the English had no breath left for
cheering, but they put in all they knew, not to be outdistanced by "them
Gurky chaps". The little mountaineers, however, had had far more
practice in rapid climbing than their British comrades, and were soon
well in front, with Major Reid and Lieutenant Dorricot at their head.
Though Ted toiled manfully forward, he could only arrive at the top with
the rear sections of his regiment, with whom were mixed the
dark-coated English riflemen. The sepoys were standing no longer. Their
ranks broken up by the furious charge from right and left, their guns
taken and leaders slain, they dared no longer face the glistening
bayonets and determined faces of vengeful Englishmen and furious
Gurkhas, but broke and fled towards the city. After them ran the
infantry, and in the plains below the cavalry charged and re-charged the
flying mobs, scattering them again as they tried to reform. The battle
of Badli-Ka-Serai was over.
[Illustration: BATTYE ROSE IN HIS STIRRUPS AND THUNDERED FORTH THE
ORDER TO CHARGE]