Lucknow Relieved
Pushing forward with all speed past Mainpuri and Bewar, Colonel Boldre
arrived in the British camp on November 13th, shortly after Sir Colin
Campbell had assumed command of the Relief Force. The column was
encamped within and around the grounds of the Alambagh, a big mansion
enclosed by a high wall, three or four miles south of Lucknow. Here they
met many of their Delhi friends, who had come down with Colonel Hope
Grant, and one of the first to greet them was Alec Paterson. There was
plenty to say on both sides.
Ted found that Alec, who still limped a little in walking, had been
appointed an extra aide-de-camp by the brigadier, who had noticed the
lad's great energy and thoroughness at Delhi. Alec told his chum how
glad he was that his name had been cleared, and wanted to know all about
the trial at once; but Ted was too anxious to look round the camp and
find out the notables, so, observing that the story would keep, he asked
Alec to act as guide. Paterson, by the way, did not mention the little
fact that he had greatly distinguished himself under Greathed at Agra on
the way down, and had been recommended for promotion. Ted found that out
from another source.
"We advance to-morrow," the aide-de-camp informed his chums, and broke
off abruptly to call their attention to a big, square-shouldered man in
blue tunic, white cords, and jack-boots. "Here, do you see that man with
the reddish hair and beard? He's a plucky chap. He's a clerk, not a
soldier, but he's done a feat that any man might be proud of."
"What's he done?" asked Claude.
"Well, he don't look much like a mild Hindu or any other sort of
Asiatic, does he? But he volunteered to disguise himself and break
through the rebel lines with a note from Outram and plans of the enemy's
weak points and advice for Sir Colin. And he did it. Fancy a man of his
build and hair and features disguised as a native of Oudh! He must have
a nerve. But he got through, and the general now has the plans; and if
we succeed, Kavanagh will deserve a share of the credit. He's in the
Volunteer Cavalry now."
"I want to see Sir Colin," said Ted. "Is he likely to be about?"
"I'll point him out if we see him. And who do you think is going to
conduct the force to-morrow?"
"Who? How should I know?"
"Why, Lieutenant Roberts, the Artillery D.A.Q.M.G. at Delhi. That young
man will be a major-general before any of us commands a battalion. He's
a wonderful fellow, but so modest that nobody is jealous."
"Fine-looking lot those Highlanders!" Alec observed as they passed a
group of men wearing the kilt and bonnet and white gaiters.
"They're the 93rd, I suppose," said Ted. "Hoot, mon, what for do ye no
don the kilt yourself, Sandy?"
"I should like to," Alec replied. "The 93rd's a grand regiment, and I'm
proud of being a countryman of theirs."
"Hear, hear!" said Ted. "They look fit."
The three friends entered the Alambagh enclosure.
"Who are those two?" asked Claude, nodding towards a couple of
distinguished-looking officers who were walking about slowly, in earnest
conversation.
"Ssh!--not so loud. Why, the older man is Sir Colin himself, and the
taller one with glasses is General Mansfield, his chief of staff."
"Oh!"
The boys looked with keen interest upon the commander-in-chief. They saw
a spare man, with a slight stoop, but a soldier to the backbone--an
elderly man with furrowed brows, bearing the marks of long and arduous
service; but there was no sign of weakness about the firm mouth, or the
eyes so clear and alert.
"Yes, that's the commander-in-chief," said Paterson again. "Now, Ted,
I've shown you round, and it's your turn to enlighten me now. I only
know the bare facts that you have been cleared, and that Tynan is a
howling cad."
So Ted had once more to tell what had befallen Tynan and himself at
Lahore, and when he had finished the narrative, Alec asked:
"And what became of Pir Baksh?"
"He was condemned to death and shot the day before I left Lahore.
Colonel Woodburn and Munro were almost as pleased as I was when the
truth came out, for I really think that they believed that I had been
unjust to poor Tynan. But Ethel Woodburn had stuck up for me through
thick and thin."
"Miss Woodburn is the nicest, jolliest girl in India," said Alec with
conviction, "and your brother's a jolly lucky fellow."
"He is so. Yes, she's all that and more, and she kept my spirits up when
I was feeling jolly well down in the mouth. Wasn't she glad when I was
cleared! It was almost worth while having gone through it all. I don't
suppose I'll ever see Tynan again. Poor beggar, I'm sorry for him, for I
don't think he ever meant to do it."
"What became of those Rajputs he'd bribed?"
"They were dismissed from the service. Dwarika Rai begged my pardon
before he went. He said that he hadn't understood that his evidence
might disgrace me until it was too late for him to draw back, and I
believed him."
"It was a funny business altogether," was Claude's opinion, given in a
tone of unusual thoughtfulness. "The man must have been mad."
"He was a born cad," said Paterson, "and deserved the same fate as Pir
Baksh."
"I don't agree with you," said Ted. "I think there's some good in him."
"Precious little. But I haven't time to argue; I must make a strategical
retirement. See you to-morrow."
After Alec's departure Claude and Ted found their way to the roof of the
Alambagh, where were one or two officers whom they did not know. Over
the expanse of wooded plain they caught glimpses of the mosques and
minarets and gilded spires of Lucknow, rearing their heads above the
abundant foliage of the parks and great gardens. The city seemed to
stretch as far as the eye could reach, and they both experienced a
curious thrill as they gazed thereat.
"And that's where Sir Henry Lawrence died, and where Outram and Havelock
are now," observed Ted, almost in a whisper.
"Eighty-seven days they held out before Havelock got through," Claude
reflected aloud. "It was a grand defence. I wonder whereabouts the
Residency is?"
"Over there, due north," said a voice beside them.
"Thank you!" Claude replied; and they looked at the speaker, a
clean-shaven man with hair inclined to wave, attired in a dress that
seemed singularly out of place there, even among so great a variety of
uniforms. He wore a blue frock-coat, and his white trousers were
unstrapped; there was a white cover to his cap, and hunting-spurs
adorned his shoes.
"Where are you youngsters from?" he asked.
"Delhi," Ted replied. "We've just arrived with some Irregular Horse."
"Delhi! And you two had the luck to take part in the siege?"
"I served all through," Ted answered with a little pride. "I went there
with the Guides."
"Lucky young cub! Wish I could have taken my boys there."
"Rummy customer!" was Claude's comment, as the stranger turned away.
"Who is he?"
"I wonder. Looks more like a sailor than a soldier. But whoever he is,
he's accustomed to command; I could see that. But I fancy it's time to
find our way back to our own lines."
At 9 a.m. next day the column moved off in high spirits, Lieutenant
Roberts conducting the advance, with the aid of a native guide he had
secured. The enemy had been led to believe that the movement would be
made direct, by the northern route taken by Havelock two months
previously. But from the Alambagh the column struck eastwards for the
Dilkusha (Heart's Delight) Palace. The ruse was successful. Having made
their plans to meet the direct assault, the sepoys were not prepared for
the flanking movement, and no time was given them to strengthen the
defences of the positions now threatened. Outside the wall of the
Dilkusha Park the column halted until a large enough breach had been
made by the guns, and Ted watched the Highlanders of the 93rd pulling up
carrots in a field, and, after a hurried scrape, munching them with
great content.
The obstruction was short; a portion of the park wall was soon broken
down, and in went the Highlanders, eager to close. But the rebels had
fled. A staff-officer, short and slight, trotted past as Ted's Arab was
picking its way over the fallen masonry.
"There goes plucky wee Bobs!" he heard a sergeant of the 93rd remark to
his mate; and Ted recognized the officer as Lieutenant Roberts. It was
the first time he had heard the affectionate nickname bestowed upon the
much-loved hero by the soldiers of forty-five years ago. Roberts, an
artillery officer, had, of course, never served with the 93rd, but the
"Scotties" had seen much of him lately, and even so early in his career
he had won a place in their hearts rarely filled by any whose name is
not prefixed by "Mac". "Bobs" they had christened him, "Plucky wee
Bobs". To be known by such a name among these gallant fellows of the
93rd--the famous Thin Red Line of Balaclava--told of unusual coolness
and daring.
Ted saw Lieutenant Roberts shoot ahead to reconnoitre, a native trooper
following. The artillery officer halted, gazed in front, and signalled
for the guns to advance. As he did so the roar of cannon thundered from
behind the yellow palace. The rebels had opened point-blank upon the two
solitary horsemen from a hidden battery, cutting the orderly's horse in
two, and the trooper fell beneath his dead steed. Roberts was seen
coolly to dismount in the face of the guns, and a loud huzza rose from
the throats of the Highlanders as he dragged the orderly from under the
weight, though the grape whizzed about them.
Under his direction the guns advanced, and the mutineers did not stay to
test the British marksmanship, but made off with all speed in the
direction of the Martinière. Almost without a pause the cavalry cantered
across the high swards of the Dilkusha Park, the startled deer scudding
away on all sides in vain endeavour to escape the noise.
As the Horse Artillery and cavalry drew nearer, the Martinière was
quickly deserted, and Boldre's Horse and a few squadrons of regulars and
irregulars pursued the sepoys as far as the canal. There was no dressed
line of thundering horses, for the troopers broke off in threes or
fours, whenever they saw a chance of engaging the pandies; and Ted,
spurring after Govind Singh, who, having the start of him, was hotly in
pursuit of one body of rebels, suddenly saw his friend Boldre busily
engaged with three faithless sowars and in sore plight. Turning to
Claude's aid, he drew off one, and, with a clever thrust, was able to
disable the man's sword-arm. Boldre, who was no swordsman, by good luck
cut down a second, and the third fled as Ramzan Khan came up at a
gallop.
"Thanks, Russell!" said Claude. "But look out! here are half a dozen
more."
Perceiving that the two Englishmen were separated from their comrades, a
number of rebel troopers--men of the Irregular Cavalry who had deserted
Henry Lawrence at Chinhut five months before--charged down upon the
little group with sharp, angry cries. Before the lads had resolved how
to withstand the shock, Ramzan Khan shot out to meet the pandies, and
there was nothing for it but to back him up.
"Plucky beggar! He'll be killed!" groaned Claude; but to their amazement
the orderly showed himself a consummate wielder of the sword. He swerved
aside as they bore down upon him, and slashed at the nearest rebel as he
passed, the man tumbling like a sack of flour from his horse. Parrying a
blow, he disarmed another by a turn of the wrist, and smote a third over
the shoulder just as Ted arrived on the scene and made for the pandy on
his orderly's right. Ted swung his sword aloft--and then his head seemed
to split, and he saw the stars dancing in their courses. The sword fell
from his grasp, but his knees instinctively retained their grip, and the
blood streamed down his face.
"I'm not killed anyhow," said he to himself, and began to look about
him. Ramzan Khan was engaged with two at once, and the cruel-looking
little pandy at whom he had ridden was clearly getting the better of
Boldre. Ted urged his restive Arab alongside the sepoy's horse, and,
having no sword, clutched the man by his tunic collar and under his left
arm, and putting forth all his strength, he swung him from the saddle.
Before he could drop him, the sowar, turning half round in the air, got
his knee on the neck of Ted's horse and aimed a vicious cut at his
captor. The blow would have done for Ted, had not Claude been able to
strike up the sword and give the point, and the pandy sank at the
horse's feet. Ramzan Khan's remaining opponents had fled.
"You've saved me twice to-day, Russell," said Boldre quietly. "Are you
hurt?"
"I don't know. Something struck me in the face, but I can't imagine what
it was. It seems as if my nose is bleeding."
Claude roared most ungratefully.
"Why," said he, "as you charged the pandy, he suddenly backed his horse
away from Ramzan Khan, and your Arab cannoned into it, and,
half-rearing, he threw up his head and caught you full on the nose as
you were leaning forward. Then I drew the pandy's attention from you."
"Is that how it was? Where did my sword go?---- Ah! there it is; but
what an ass I am!"
"Why particularly so?"
"I never had the sense to use my pistol." He took out his Deane and
Adams revolver and fingered it regretfully, adding to the orderly as
they turned back towards the Martinière and again joined their
comrades:
"We owe our lives to your courage and skill, Ramzan Khan. You are
bleeding. Are you hurt?"
The Mohammedan grinned, showing his even teeth and the whites of his
eyes.
"It is nothing. I owed you a debt, sahib, so let there be no talk of
thanks. It was for this purpose that my father sent me to ride by your
side."
"I thank you no less," Ted assured him; and added, "You can use your
sword."
"Ah! my father taught us. He is indeed a swordsman. He will be pleased
that I have proved of service."
As they drew near to the Martinière Claude exclaimed:
"Hullo, there's our friend of yesterday! Why, of course it's Peel! What
duffers we were not to guess!"
Peel! Captain Peel of H.M.S. _Shannon_, commanding the famous Naval
Brigade with the big guns from the man-of-war at Calcutta. Yes, he it
was who had shown them the position of the Residency. Right glad were
the troops in Ladysmith of the aid of the sailors and their splendid
guns, and glad were the raisers of the Lucknow siege when Peel and his
jolly tars came to bear a hand.
The sailors had unyoked the stolid bullocks--"cow-horses" they
contemptuously termed them--and were hauling on the drag-ropes, drawing
the mighty engines of destruction along as though they were but wooden
toys, and the Punjabis of Boldre's Horse gazed in bewilderment at this
new species of Feringhi. Shorter men than themselves, but what giants in
strength!
"Who are they, sahib?" asked Govind Singh. "Is it a new kind of soldier
like those big warriors in petticoats we first saw yesterday?" And Ted
tried hard to explain to the Sikhs how Britain's chief strength lay, not
in her comparatively small army, but in her glorious navy.
"But why are they doing coolie work? They are indeed strong as
bullocks."
"Do bullocks take a pride in their work, or can they do it half so
well?" Ted replied. "These men love their guns, and they rejoice in
their strength, and so they are invincible."
In all probability Ramzan Khan had saved our hero's life that November
afternoon, but the same night he was fighting desperately against an
equally remorseless foe, against whom his orderly's swordmanship was of
no avail. For he was again down with cholera, and this time a far worse
attack than the slight one at Delhi, and when his chums left his bedside
next morning they hardly dared hope to see him again. For days he lay
between life and death, and then, thanks to a tough constitution and a
healthy life, he rallied and began to pick up.
The Martinière, in which he lay, was a vast palace built by Claude
Martin, a French adventurer who had amassed great wealth in Lucknow. It
was a curious building, with statues placed wherever they would stand,
in grotesque profusion. The Frenchman had hoped to sell the palace to
his friend the King of Oudh, naming a price of one million sterling. But
the monarch had laughed at the idea, informing old Monsieur Martin that
by their law the property would belong to the sovereign on the death of
the owner. So Martin determined to outwit the king, and prepared his own
tomb within the building. In due course Claude Martin died and was
buried therein, thus circumventing his royal master, for no Mussulman
dare live in a building in which the body of an unbeliever has lain.
Previous to the siege the Martinière had been used as a school for the
children of soldiers.
As Ted lay in helpless pain the booming of the guns never seemed to
cease. In spirit he was back again with the Gurkhas on the Ridge,
watching Brind's battery pounding at the walls of Delhi. At last the
thunder of the cannon ceased, and he fell asleep. When he woke up Alec
Paterson was talking to the doctor, and he heard the latter say: "I
think he's all right now; he's had a bad time, though."
"Hullo, Alec! Has Brind breached the walls yet?"
"Brind? You're wandering, old man; we're just outside Lucknow." And,
faintly remembering, Ted began to collect his scattered wits.
"I've been dreaming," said he. "I thought we were still on the Ridge. I
remember now. Sir Colin is attacking to-day, isn't he?"
"Not to-day; we're retreating to-day."
"What? D'you think you can pull my leg so easily?"
"It's a fact. The force is retiring, and I've come on with instructions.
Listen! Those are Blunt's guns."
"And do you mean to say that we're leaving Lucknow to the rebels?"
"I do."
"And Outram and Havelock, and the women and children?"
"No," laughed his chum; "we've brought them away. I've just ridden from
the Dilkusha, where preparations are being made to receive them. I've
been ragging you. We have relieved Lucknow, but, not being strong enough
to hold the town, Sir Colin is retiring on Cawnpore. He means to send
the women to Allahabad and wait for reinforcements. You've missed a lot,
old man. Your luck deserted you this time."
"How did our fellows behave?"
"Boldre's Horse? Hardly engaged. The brunt of the work fell on the 53rd,
93rd, and 4th Sikhs. It was fine to see the two last regiments storm the
Sikanderbagh, the Sikhs going off with a rush and the Highlanders after
them, racing like mad. A Highlander jumped first through the breach and
was killed, then Sikhs and Pathans and Highlanders all mixed. It was
fine! The Englishmen and Irishmen of the 53rd did some good work too."
"Have you seen Havelock and Outram?"
"Rather! Saw the meeting between them and Sir Colin and Hope Grant.
Havelock looks bad; I'm afraid he's a dying man. I wouldn't have missed
these last few days for anything, Ted. Did you hear where I went the
night you were taken bad?"
"No. Were you on a _daur_[26]?"
[26] A surprise expedition on a small scale.
"Not exactly. We had run out of ammunition almost, and Sir Colin was mad
with the responsible artillery officer. He sent for little Roberts, and
asked if he could find his way back to the Alambagh in the dark with a
mob of camels to bring back the ammunition before morning. It was a
dangerous bit of night-work, but Roberts said he'd do it. So the chief
told him to get one hundred and fifty camels and an escort from Grant,
and also take back the wretched artillery officer and leave him at the
Alambagh in disgrace. Roberts had left his native guide in charge of
some Afghans, but the fellow had given his guard the slip, and he was
floored. However, without letting on, he asked for an escort of native
cavalry. Grant wished him to take English lancers, but Roberts said
Englishmen were too noisy and jingly, and helpless if separated. In
charge of the escort were Younghusband and Gough, and I begged leave at
the last moment.
"Roberts was in a sweat. Before the previous day he'd never been over
the ground, and the night was black, and we were liable to wander in any
direction but the right one, and unless he got back with the ammunition
within a few hours all the general's plans would be upset. However, with
his usual genius for doing the right thing, he landed us within a short
distance of the Alambagh, and went on alone to explain, being afraid
lest the garrison, mistaking us for rebels, should fire and stampede
the _oonts_ (camels), and then we should be left. He soon came back to
say that they were getting the ammunition-boxes ready, so we quickly
loaded the camels and got back in good time. Sir Colin was awfully
pleased with him. It was rather exciting. If young Roberts lives long
enough he'll be a great man."
"He's a jolly decent fellow."
"Yes, I saw him do another fine thing a day or two ago. We'd captured
the mess-house close to the Residency, and Roberts planted the Union
Jack on the top as a signal that we should soon rescue them. He was
exposed to the rebel fire, and they soon bowled the flag over. Up he
went again, and though they missed him they brought the staff down
again. He set it up a third time, and for the third time they knocked it
down. But he beat 'em in the end."
"Good!"
"There was a drummer-boy named Ross," Alec continued, "who did a similar
thing. When the Shah Nujif, the highest mosque in Lucknow, was captured,
he climbed like a monkey to the very top, and there he blew the 93rd's
bugle-call towards the Residency while the pandies were making a target
of him. Only a kid of twelve too! But I must go now, old chap. Hope
you'll be all right for the final assault."
A few days after the arrival of the rescued garrison of Lucknow at the
Alambagh, Ted Russell was on his legs again, and the risaldar Govind
Singh was describing the part Boldre's Horse had played in the assault.
The veteran's deep-set eyes flashed as he spoke of deeds of daring, when
suddenly he changed his tone and his countenance softened.
"He is indeed dead, sahib," he said quietly. "I saw his grave, and they
tell me that the English words on the tombstone mean that he tried to do
his duty. The old Mohammedan was right."
Ted understood that the grim Sikh was referring to his hero, Sir Henry
Lawrence, and he asked Govind Singh to tell him more about the saintly
warrior. They strolled into the grounds, and in the square their
attention was attracted by a solemn group, who stood bareheaded and
downcast. Ted approached, in time to see a coffin lowered.
"Who is dead?" he asked in a whisper of a sergeant of the 93rd, who
stood by. The Highlander looked dourly at his questioner.
"Wha should it be but the best of a'?" said he.
"Not Havelock?"
The Highlander nodded, and continued to gaze into the grave. It was
indeed the hero of the First Relief of Lucknow who had died, and
disappointed the millions who had looked forward to welcoming the
victorious soldier home to England.