The next four days made a great alteration in the position of the
defenders in the fortified house.
The upper story was now riddled by balls, the parapet round the terrace
had been knocked away in several places, the gate was in splinters; but
as the earth from the tunnel had been all emptied against the sandbags,
it had grown to such a thickness that the defense was still good here.
But in the wall, against which one of the new batteries had steadily
directed its fire, there was a yawning gap, which was hourly increasing
in size, and would ere long be practicable for assault. Many of the
shots passing through this had struck the house itself. Some of these
had penetrated, and the room in the line of fire could no longer be
used.
There had been several casualties. The young civilian Herbert had
been killed by a shot that struck the parapet just where he was lying.
Captain Rintoul had been seriously wounded, two of the natives had been
killed by the first shot which penetrated the lower room. Mr. Hunter
was prostrate with fever, the result of exposure to the sun, and several
others had received wounds more or less severe from fragments of stone;
but the fire of the defenders was as steady as at first, and the loss of
the natives working the guns was severe, and they no longer ventured to
fire from the gardens and shrubberies round the walls.
Fatigue, watching, still more the heat on the terrace, was telling
heavily upon the strength of the garrison. The ladies went about
their work quietly and almost silently. The constant anxiety and the
confinement in the darkened rooms were telling upon them too. Several of
the children were ill; and when not employed in other things, there
were fresh sandbags to be made by the women, to take the place of those
damaged by the enemy’s shot.
When, of an evening, a portion of the defenders came off duty, there was
more talk and conversation, as all endeavored to keep up a good face and
assume a confidence they were far from feeling. The Doctor was perhaps
the most cheery of the party. During the daytime he was always on the
roof, and his rifle seldom cracked in vain. In the evening he attended
to his patients, talked cheerily to the ladies, and laughed and joked
over the events of the day.
None among the ladies showed greater calmness and courage than Mrs.
Rintoul, and not a word was ever heard from the time the siege began
of her ailments or inconveniences. She was Mrs. Hunter’s best assistant
with the sick children. Even after her husband was wounded, and her
attention night and day was given to him, she still kept on patiently
and firmly.
“I don’t know how to admire Mrs. Rintoul enough,” Mrs. Hunter said to
Isobel Hannay one day; “formerly I had no patience with her, she was
always querulous and grumbling; now she has turned out a really noble
woman. One never knows people, my dear, till one sees them in trouble.”
“Everyone is nice,” Isobel said. “I have hardly heard a word of
complaint about anything since we came here, and everyone seems to help
others and do little kindnesses.”
The enemy’s fire had been very heavy all that day, and the breach in
the wall had been widened, and the garrison felt certain that the enemy
would attack on the following morning.
“You and Farquharson, Doctor, must stop on the roof,” the Major said.
“In the first place, it is possible they may try to attack by ladders at
some other point, and we shall want two good shots up there to keep them
back; and in the second, if they do force the breach, we shall want you
to cover our retreat into the house. I will get a dozen rifles for each
of you loaded and in readiness. Isobel and Mary Hunter, who have both
volunteered over and over again, shall go up to load; they have both
practiced, and can load quickly. Of course if you see that the enemy
are not attacking at any other point, you will help us at the breach
by keeping up a steady fire on them, but always keep six guns each in
reserve. I shall blow my whistle as a signal for us to retire to the
house if I find we can hold the breach no longer, so when you hear that
blaze away at them as fast as you can. Your twelve shots will check them
long enough to give us time to get in and fasten the door. We shall
be round the corner of the house before they can get fairly over the
breastwork. We will set to work to raise that as soon as it gets dark.”
A breastwork of sandbags had already been erected behind the breach, in
case the enemy should make a sudden rush, and a couple of hours’ labor
transformed this into a strong work; for the bags were already filled,
and only needed placing in position. When completed, it extended in a
horseshoe shape, some fifteen feet across, behind the gap in the wall.
For nine feet from the ground it was composed of sandbags three deep,
and a single line was then laid along the edge to serve as a parapet.
“I don’t think they will get over that,” the Major said, when the work
was finished. “I doubt if they will be disposed even to try when they
reach the breach.”
Before beginning their work they had cleared away all the fallen
brickwork from behind the breach, and a number of bricks were laid on
the top of the sandbags to be used as missiles.
“A brick is as good as a musket ball at this distance,” the Major said;
“and when our guns are empty we can take to them; there are enough spare
rifles for us to have five each, and, with those and our revolvers and
the bricks, we ought to be able to account for an army. There are some
of the servants and syces who can be trusted to load. They can stand
down behind us, and we can pass our guns down to them as we empty them.”
Each man had his place on the work assigned to him. Bathurst, who had
before told the Major that when the time came for an assault to be
delivered he was determined to take his place in the breach, was placed
at one end of the horseshoe where it touched the wall.
“I don’t promise to be of much use, Major,” he said quietly. “I know
myself too well; but at least I can run my chance of being killed.”
The Major had put Wilson next to him.
“I don’t think there is much chance of their storming the work, Wilson;
but if they do, you catch hold of Bathurst’s arm, and drag him away
when you hear me whistle; the chances are a hundred to one against his
hearing it, or remembering what it means if he does hear it.”
“All right, Major, I will look to him.”
Four men remained on guard at the breach all night, and at the first
gleam of daylight the garrison took up their posts.
“Now mind, my dears,” the Doctor said, as he and Farquharson went up on
the terrace with Isobel and Mary Hunter; “you must do exactly as you are
told, or you will be doing more harm than good, for Farquharson and I
would not be able to pay attention to our shooting. You must lie down
and remain perfectly quiet till we begin to fire, then keep behind us
just so far that you can reach the guns as we hand them back to you
after firing; and you must load them either kneeling or sitting down,
so that you don’t expose your heads above the thickest part of the
breastwork. When you have loaded, push the guns back well to the right
of us, but so that we can reach them. Then, if one of them goes off,
there won’t be any chance of our being hit. The garrison can’t afford to
throw away a life at present. You will, of course, only half cock them;
still, it is as well to provide against accidents.”
Both the girls were pale, but they were quiet and steady. The Doctor saw
they were not likely to break down.
“That is a rum looking weapon you have got there, Bathurst,” Wilson
said, as, after carrying down the spare guns and placing them ready for
firing, they lay down in their positions on the sandbags. The weapon
was a native one, and was a short mace, composed of a bar of iron about
fifteen inches long, with a knob of the same metal, studded with spikes.
The bar was covered with leather to break the jar, and had a loop to put
the hand through at the end.
“Yes,” Bathurst said quietly; “I picked it up at one of the native shops
in Cawnpore the last time I was there. I had no idea then that I might
ever have to use it, and bought it rather as a curiosity; but I have
kept it within reach of my bedside since these troubles began, and I
don’t think one could want a better weapon at close quarters.”
“No, it is a tremendous thing; and after the way I have seen you using
that pick I should not like to be within reach of your arm with that
mace in it. I don’t think there is much chance of your wanting that. I
have no fear of the natives getting over here this time.”
“I have no fear of the natives at all,” Bathurst said.
“I am only afraid of myself. At present I am just as cool as if there
was not a native within a thousand miles, and I am sure that my pulse is
not going a beat faster than usual. I can think of the whole thing and
calculate the chances as calmly as if it were an affair in which I was
in no way concerned. It is not danger that I fear in the slightest, it
is that horrible noise. I know well enough that the moment the firing
begins I shall be paralyzed. My only hope is that at the last moment, if
it comes to hand to hand fighting, I shall get my nerve.”
“I have no doubt you will,” Wilson said warmly; “and when you do I would
back you at long odds against any of us. Ah, they are beginning.”
As he spoke there was a salvo of all the guns on the three Sepoy
batteries. Then a roar of musketry broke out round the house, and above
it could be heard loud shouts.
“They are coming, Major,” the Doctor shouted down from the roof; “the
Sepoys are leading, and there is a crowd of natives behind them.”
Those lying in the middle of the curve of the horseshoe soon caught
sight of the enemy advancing tumultuously towards the breach. The Major
had ordered that not a shot was to be fired until they reached it, and
it was evident that the silence of the besieged awed the assailants with
a sense of unknown danger, for their pace slackened, and when they got
to within fifty yards of the breach they paused and opened fire. Then,
urged forward by their officers and encouraged by their own noise, they
again rushed forward. Two of their officers led the way; and as these
mounted the little heap of rubbish at the foot of the breach, two rifles
cracked out from the terrace, and both fell dead.
There was a yell of fury from the Sepoys, and then they poured in
through the breach. Those in front tried to stop as they saw the trap
into which they were entering, but pressed on by those behind they were
forced forward.
And now a crackling fire of musketry broke out from the rifles
projecting between the sandbags into the crowded mass. Every shot told.
Wild shrieks, yells, and curses rose from the assailants. Some tried
madly to climb up the sandbags, some to force their way back through
the crowd behind; some threw themselves down; others discharged their
muskets at their invisible foe. From the roof the Doctor and his
companion kept up a rapid fire upon the crowd struggling to enter the
breach. As fast as the defenders’ muskets were discharged they handed
them down to the servants behind to be reloaded, and when each had fired
his spare muskets he betook himself to his revolver.
Wilson, while discharging his rifle, kept his eyes upon Bathurst. The
latter had not fired a shot, but lay rigid and still, save for a sort of
convulsive shuddering. Presently there was a little lull in the firing
as the weapons were emptied, and the defenders seizing the bricks hurled
them down into the mass.
“Look out!” the Major shouted; “keep your heads low--I am going to throw
the canisters.”
A number of these had been prepared, filled to the mouth with powder and
bullets, and with a short fuse attached, ropes being fastened round them
to enable them to be slung some distance. The Major half rose to throw
one of these missiles when his attention was called by a shout from
Wilson.
The latter was so occupied that he had not noticed Bathurst, who had
suddenly risen to his feet, and just as Wilson was about to grasp him
and pull him down, leaped over the sandbag in front of him down among
the mutineers. The Major gave a swing to the canister, of which the fuse
was already lighted, and hurled it through the breach among the crowd,
who, ignorant of what was going on inside, were still struggling to
enter.
“Look out,” he shouted to the others; “mind how you throw. Bathurst is
down in the middle of them. Hand up all the muskets you have loaded,” he
cried to the servants.
As he spoke he swung another canister through the breach, and almost
immediately two heavy explosions followed, one close upon the other.
“Give them a volley at the breach,” he shouted; “never mind those
below.”
The muskets were fired as soon as received.
“Now to your feet,” the Major cried, “and give them the brickbats,” and
as he stood up he hurled two more canisters among the crowd behind the
breach. The others sprang up with a cheer. The inclosure below them was
shallower now from the number that had fallen, and was filled with a
confused mass of struggling men. In their midst was Bathurst fighting
desperately with his short weapon, and bringing down a man at every
blow, the mutineers being too crowded together to use their unfixed
bayonets against him. In a moment Captain Forster leaped down, sword in
hand, and joined Bathurst in the fight.
“Stand steady,” the Major shouted; “don’t let another man move.”
But the missiles still rained down with an occasional shot, as the
rifles were handed up by the natives, while the Doctor and Farquharson
kept up an almost continuous fire from the terrace. Then the two last
canisters thrown by the Major exploded. The first two had carried havoc
among the crowd behind the breach, these completed their confusion, and
they turned and fled; while those in the retrenchment, relieved of the
pressure from behind, at once turned, and flying through the breach,
followed their companions.
A loud cheer broke from the garrison, and the Major looking round saw
the Doctor standing by the parapet waving his hat, while Isobel stood
beside him looking down at the scene of conflict.
“Lie down, Isobel,” he shouted; “they will be opening fire again
directly.”
The girl disappeared, and almost at the same moment the batteries spoke
out again, and a crackle of the musketry began from the gardens. The
Major turned round. Bathurst was leaning against the wall breathing
heavily after his exertions, Forster was coolly wiping his sword on the
tunic of one of the fallen Sepoys.
“Are either of you hurt?” he asked.
“I am not hurt to speak of,” Forster said; “I got a rip with a bayonet
as I jumped down, but I don’t think it is of any consequence.”
“How are you, Bathurst?” the Major repeated. “What on earth possessed
you to jump down like that?”
“I don’t know, Major; I had to do something, and when you stopped firing
I felt it was time for me to do my share.”
“You have done more than your share, I should say,” the Major said; “for
they went down like ninepins before you. Now, Wilson, you take one of
his hands, and I will take the other, and help him up.”
It needed considerable exertion to get him up, for the reaction had now
come, and he was scarce able to stand.
“You had better go up to the house and get a glass of wine,” the Major
said. “Now, is anyone else hurt?”
“I am hit, Major,” Richards said quietly; “a ball came in between the
sandbags just as I fired my first shot, and smashed my right shoulder. I
think I have not been much good since, though I have been firing from my
left as well as I could. I think I will go up and get the Doctor to look
at it.”
But almost as he spoke the young fellow tottered, and would have fallen,
had not the Major caught him.
“Lend me a hand, Doolan,” the latter said; “we will carry him in; I am
afraid he is very hard hit.”
The ladies gathered round the Major and Captain Doolan as they entered
with their burden. Mary Hunter had already run down and told them that
the attack had been repulsed and the enemy had retreated.
“Nobody else is hit,” the Major said, as he entered; “at least, not
seriously. The enemy have been handsomely beaten with such loss that
they won’t be in a hurry to try again. Will one of you run up and bring
the Doctor down?”
Richards was carried into the hospital room, where he was left to the
care of the Doctor, Mrs. Hunter, and Mrs. Rintoul. The Major returned to
the general room.
“Boy, bring half a dozen bottles of champagne and open them as quickly
as you can,” he said; “we have got enough to last us for weeks, and this
is an occasion to celebrate, and I think we have all earned it.”
The others were by this time coming in, for there was no chance of the
enemy renewing the attack at present. Farquharson was on the roof on the
lookout. Quiet greetings were exchanged between wives and husbands.
“It didn’t last long,” Wilson said; “not above five minutes, I should
say, from the time when we opened fire.”
“It seemed to us an age,” Amy Hunter replied; “it was dreadful not to be
able to see what was going on; it seemed to me everyone must be killed
with all that firing.”
“It was sharp while it lasted,” the Major said; “but we were all snug
enough except against a stray bullet, such as that which hit poor young
Richards. He behaved very gallantly, and none of us knew he was hit till
it was all over.”
“But how did Captain Forster get his bayonet wound?” Mrs. Doolan asked.
“I saw him go in just now into the surgery; it seemed to me he had a
very serious wound, for his jacket was cut from the breast up to the
shoulder, and he was bleeding terribly, though he made light of it.”
“He jumped down into the middle of them,” the Major said. “Bathurst
jumped down first, and was fighting like a madman with a mace he has
got. We could do nothing, for we were afraid of hitting him, and Forster
jumped down to help him, and, as he did so, got that rip with the
bayonet; it is a nasty cut, no doubt, but it is only a flesh wound.”
“Where is Mr. Bathurst?” Mrs. Doolan asked; “is he hurt, too? Why did he
jump down? I should not have thought,” and she stopped.
“I fancy a sort of fury seized him,” the Major said; “but whatever it
was, he fought like a giant. He is a powerful man, and that iron mace is
just the thing for such work. The natives went down like ninepins before
him. No, I don’t think he is hurt.”
“I will go out and see,” Mrs. Doolan said; and taking a mug half full of
champagne from the table, she went out.
Bathurst was sitting on the ground leaning against the wall of the
house.
“You are not hurt, Mr. Bathurst, I hope,” Mrs. Doolan said, as she came
up. “No, don’t try to get up, drink a little of this; we are celebrating
our victory by opening a case of champagne. The Major tells us you have
been distinguishing yourself greatly.”
Bathurst drank some of the wine before he replied.
“In a way, Mrs. Doolan, I scarcely know what I did do. I wanted to do
something, even if it was only to get killed.”
“You must not talk like that,” she said kindly; “your life is as
valuable as any here, and you know that we all like and esteem you; and,
at any rate, you have shown today that you have plenty of courage.”
“The courage of a Malay running amuck, Mrs. Doolan; that is not courage,
it is madness. You cannot tell--no one can tell--what I have suffered
since the siege began. The humiliation of knowing that I alone of the
men here am unable to take my part in the defense, and that while others
are fighting I am useful only to work as a miner.”
“But you are as useful in that way as you would be in the other,” she
said. “I don’t feel humiliated because I can only help in nursing the
sick while the others are fighting for us. We have all of us our gifts.
Few men have more than you. You have courage and coolness in other ways,
and you are wrong to care nothing for your life because of the failing,
for which you are not accountable, of your nerves to stand the sound of
firearms.. I can understand your feelings and sympathize with you, but
it is of no use to exaggerate the importance of such a matter. You might
live a thousand lives without being again in a position when such a
failing would be of the slightest importance, one way or the other. Now
come in with me. Certainly this is not the moment for you to give way
about it; for whatever your feelings may have been, or whatever may have
impelled you to the act, you have on this occasion fought nobly.”
“Not nobly, Mrs. Doolan,” he said, rising to his feet; “desperately, or
madly, if you like.”
At this moment Wilson came out. “Halloa, Bathurst, what are doing here?
Breakfast is just ready, and everyone is asking for you. I am sure
you must want something after your exertions. You should have seen him
laying about him with that iron mace, Mrs. Doolan.. I have seen him
using the pick, and knew how strong he was, but I was astonished, I
can tell you. It was a sort of Coeur de Lion business. He used to use a
mace, you know, and once rode through the Saracens and smashed them up,
till at last, when he had done, he couldn’t open his hand. Bring him in,
Mrs. Doolan. If he won’t come, I will go in and send the Doctor out
to him. Bad business, poor Richards being hurt, isn’t it? Awfully good
fellow, Richards. Can’t think why he was the one to be hit.”
So keeping up a string of talk, the young subaltern led Bathurst into
the house.
After breakfast a white flag was waved from the roof, and in a short
time two Sepoy officers came up with a similar flag. The Major and
Captain Doolan went out to meet them, and it was agreed that hostilities
should be suspended until noon, in order that the wounded and dead might
be carried off.
While this was being done the garrison remained under arms behind their
work at the breach lest any treacherous attempt should be made. The
mutineers, however, who were evidently much depressed by the
failure, carried the bodies off quietly, and at twelve o’clock firing
recommenced.
That evening, after it was dark, the men gathered on the terrace.
“Well, gentlemen,” the Major said, “we have beaten them off today, and
we may do it again, but there is no doubt how it must all end. You see,
this afternoon their guns have all been firing at a fresh place in the
wall; and if they make another breach or two, and attack at them all
together, it will be hopeless to try to defend them. You see, now that
we have several sick and wounded, the notion of making our escape is
almost knocked on the head. At the last moment each may try to save his
life, but there must be no desertion of the sick and wounded as long as
there is a cartridge to be fired. Our best hope is in getting assistance
from somewhere, but we know nothing of what is going on outside. I think
the best plan will be for one of our number to try to make his way out,
and go either to Lucknow, Agra, or Allahabad, and try and get help.
If they could spare a troop of cavalry it might be sufficient; the
mutineers have suffered very heavily; there were over a hundred and
fifty bodies carried out today, and if attacked suddenly I don’t think
they would make any great resistance. We may hold out for a week or ten
days, but I think that is the outside; and if rescue does not arrive by
that time we must either surrender or try to escape by that passage.”
There was a general assent.
“Bathurst would be the man to do it,” the Doctor said. “Once through
their lines he could pass without exciting the slightest suspicion;
he could buy a horse then, and could be at any of the stations in two
days.”
“Yes, there is no doubt that he is the man to do it,” the Major said.
“Where is he now?”
“At work as usual, Major; shall I go and speak to him? But I tell you
fairly I don’t think he will undertake it.”
“Why not, Doctor? It is a dangerous mission, but no more dangerous than
remaining here.”
“Well, we shall see,” the Doctor said, as he left the group.
Nothing was said for a few minutes, the men sitting or lying about
smoking. Presently the Doctor returned.
“Bathurst refuses absolutely,” he said. “He admits that he does not
think there would be much difficulty for him to get through, but he is
convinced that the mission would be a useless one, and that could help
have been spared it would have come to us before now.”
“But in that case he would have made his escape,” the Major said.
“That is just why he won’t go, Major; he says that come what will he
will share the fate of the rest, and that he will not live to be pointed
to as the one man who made his escape of the garrison of Deennugghur.”
“Whom can we send?” the Major said. “You are the only other man who
speaks the language well enough to pass as a native, Doctor.”
“I speak it fairly, but not well enough for that; besides, I am too old
to bear the fatigue of riding night and day; and, moreover, my services
are wanted here both as a doctor and as a rifle shot.”
“I will go, if you will send me, Major,” Captain Forster said suddenly;
“not in disguise, but in uniform, and on my horse’s back. Of course I
should run the gauntlet of their sentries. Once through, I doubt if they
have a horse that could overtake mine.”
There was a general silence of surprise. Forster’s reckless courage was
notorious, and he had been conspicuous for the manner in which he had
chosen the most dangerous points during the siege; and this offer to
undertake what, although a dangerous enterprise in itself, still offered
a far better chance of life than that of remaining behind, surprised
everyone. It had been noticed that, since the rejection of his plan to
sally out in a body and cut their way through the enemy, he had been
moody and silent, except only when the fire was heavy and the danger
considerable; then he laughed and joked and seemed absolutely to enjoy
the excitement; but he was the last man whom any of them would have
expected to volunteer for a service that, dangerous as it might be, had
just been refused by Bathurst on the ground that it offered a chance of
escape from the common lot.
The Major was the first to speak.
“Well, Captain Forster, as we have just agreed that our only chance
is to obtain aid from one of the stations, and as you are the only
volunteer for the service, I do not see that I can decline to accept
your offer. At which station do you think you would be most likely to
find a force that could help us?”
“I should say Lucknow, Major. If help is to be obtained anywhere, I
should say it was there.”
“Yes, I think that is the most hopeful. You will start at once; I
suppose the sooner the better.”
“As soon as they are fairly asleep; say twelve o’clock.”
“Very well. I will go and write a dispatch for you to carry, giving an
account of the fix we are in here. How will you sally out?”
“I should think the easiest plan would be to make a gap in the sandbags
in the breach, lead the horse till fairly outside, and then mount.”
“I think you had better take a spare horse with you,” the Doctor said;
“it will make a difference if you are chased, if you can change from one
to the other. Bathurst told me to say whoever went could have his horse,
which is a long way the best in the station. I should fancy as good as
your own.”
“I don’t know,” Forster said; “led horses are a nuisance; still, as you
say, it might come in useful, if it is only to loose and turn down a
side road, and so puzzle anyone who may be after you in the dark.”
The Major and Forster left the roof together.
“Well, that is a rum go,” Wilson said. “If it had been anyone but
Forster I should have said that he funked and was taking the opportunity
to get out of it, but everyone knows that he has any amount of pluck;
look how he charged those Sepoys single handed.”
“There are two sorts of pluck, Wilson,” the Doctor said dryly. “There is
the pluck that will carry a man through a desperate action and lead him
to do deeds that are the talk of an army. Forster possesses that kind of
pluck in an unusual degree. He is almost an ideal cavalryman--dashing,
reckless; riding with a smile on his lips into the thickest of the fray,
absolutely careless of life when his blood is up.
“There is another sort of courage, that which supports men under long
continued strain, and enables them, patiently and steadfastly, to face
death when they see it approaching step by step. I doubt whether Forster
possesses that passive sort of courage. He would ride up to a cannon’s
mouth, but would grow impatient in a. square of infantry condemned to
remain inactive under a heavy artillery fire.
“No one has changed more since this siege began than he has. Except when
engaged under a heavy fire he has been either silent, or impatient and
short tempered, shirking conversation even with women when his turn
of duty was over. Mind, I don’t say for a moment that I suspect him of
being afraid of death; when the end came he would fight as bravely
as ever, and no one could fight more bravely. But he cannot stand the
waiting; he is always pulling his mustache moodily and muttering to
himself; he is good to do but not to suffer; he would make a shockingly
bad patient in a long illness.
“Well, if any of you have letters you want to write to friends in
England I should advise you to take the opportunity; mind, I don’t think
they will ever get them. Forster may get through, but I consider the
chances strongly against it. For a ride of ten miles through a country
swarming with foes I could choose no messenger I would rather trust, but
for a ride like this, that requires patience and caution and resource,
he is not the man I should select. Bathurst would have succeeded almost
certainly if he had once got out. The two men are as different as light
to dark; one possesses just the points the other fails in. I have no one
at home I want to write to, so I will undertake the watch here.”