to travel to Peshawar, and cut the throat of Jan Larrens?"
"Sayest thou?"
"Nor that a black-bearded banijara selling shawls was lately stripped of
his beard and shown to be as smooth of cheek as I myself--a wretched spy
of the Feringhis?"
"Hai! I know of such a banijara, and I could have said he would prove
but a broken reed as a spy."
"And dost thou not know that our great Bakht Khan has driven a hundred
mines beneath the Ridge, and when the moon is full the Feringhis will
all be blown to little pieces?"
Fazl Hak threw a keen sidelong look at this informative sepoy.
"Though I would not counsel thee to write word of that on thy little
scrolls to Hodson Sahib," added Ahmed, lowering his voice to a whisper.
The maulavi started; an angry flush suffused his cheeks.
"Thou misbegotten son of----!" he exclaimed; but Ahmed interrupted him.
"Let it be peace, good maulavi," he said. "There is little thou dost not
know; thou knowest now that the Pathan trader was not such a sorry spy,
since I am he. It is pardonable for a man to prove himself, to one of
such honoured merit as thou."
"Thou sayest well," said the maulavi, somewhat mollified. "When the
troubles are over, come to me; I will pay thee well."
"Nay, I have other service. But if thou hast aught now that thou wouldst
send to Hodson Sahib, deliver it to me; I go to him."
Without hesitation Fazl Hak took from beneath his thumbnail a tiny
scroll of paper, which he handed secretly to Ahmed, and then with a
negligent salutation he walked slowly away.
Ahmed's conversation with the maulavi attracted little attention among
the sepoys. And when, after a delay of two hours, the order came to
march, he went with them out from the Ajmir gate, and into Kishenganj.
At dead of night he crept out very stealthily, stole along the
tree-shaded road until he reached the Jumna canal, then stripped off his
tell-tale red coat, and swam across. Hastening along the further bank
for half-a-mile, he struck northward through the gardens on the
outskirts of Sabzi Mandi, and just before dawn reached a picket of
Irregular Native Cavalry. Half-an-hour later he was in Hodson's tent,
relating his discovery of Craddock Sahib, and much more that Hodson
regarded as of greater importance.
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FOURTH
Nikalsain
Ahmed's return to the corps set his comrades' tongues wagging.
"Why, where hast thou been, Ahmed-ji?" cried Sherdil, when they met.
"Verily the sight of thee is as ointment to sore eyes."
There was now no reason why the men should not know the errand on which
he had been, saving such particulars as were confidential with Hodson
Sahib. So Ahmed related to Sherdil and a group of Guides his adventures
since he had first left them. Two facts he omitted: his disguise, and
his share in the fight with the rebels as they returned from Alipur. The
men listened with amazement, and Sherdil frankly declared his envy.
"Though Allah has been good to me too," he added; "am I not now a
dafadar? He who has patience wins. Thou canst not now be a dafadar
before me."
Ahmed congratulated him warmly on his promotion. Then he asked what the
Guides had been doing during his absence, and heard of almost daily
encounters with the enemy. He learnt also that Hodson Sahib was no
longer in command of the corps. He had raised a new body of horsemen, of
whom the Guides were somewhat jealous.
"There goes one of them," cried Sherdil, pointing to a tall figure in
khaki, with a scarlet sash over the shoulder and a huge scarlet turban.
"We call them flamingoes, for they are very like. Thou shouldst see them
on horseback, some of them who have ridden little; it is a sight to make
you crack your sides."
"And who is now our commander, then?"
"Shebbeare Sahib, a good man: has he not been twice wounded? But it
seems as though our commanders change with the moon, so short a time do
they abide with us."
And then he told of what men had been killed, and what wounded. He
himself had been incapacitated for a week through a sabre cut. Ahmed
asked if any new men had joined the corps.
"None, though there was a man of good promise who came with us into that
fight I told you of towards Alipur; a silent man, with a noble beard.
Some of us thought he was a candidate; some, a sahib--thou knowest how
the sahibs love strange adventures; but I have never looked upon him
since."
"Of what sort was he, Sherdil?"
"A straight man, with a grave face, and a good seat on horseback."
"Was he anything like me?"
"Hai! Thou art a stripling: he was a _man_, I say. Maybe if thou live
long enough thou wilt have a beard like his. Truly thou wouldst have
rejoiced to see him that day. Did he not smite, Rasul? Did he not cleave
his way through the Purbiyas with clean thrust and stroke? I would fain
look on him again."
"Thou hast seen him this day, Sherdil."
"Sayest thou? Where? I knew it not."
"Thou seest him now."
Sherdil stared.
"Dost thou not remember how thou didst thyself give me a moustache that
day we went as traders to Mandan? Even so I got for myself the beard, in
Karnal."
The men laughed, and chaffed Sherdil uproariously on his failure to
recognize his prize pupil.
"Wah!" cried the new dafadar; "but those who said the man was a
sahib----"
He stopped, checked by a look from Ahmed. Then they talked of the
prospects of the siege, and the merits of the new general, Archdale
Wilson, who had succeeded General Reed. In common with the rest of the
little force on the Ridge, they were restive under the long delay in
assaulting the rebel city.
"But we shall see something soon," said Sherdil. "Nikalsain is here."
"Who is Nikalsain?"
"Dost thou not know Nikalsain? Wah! He is a man! There is not one in the
hills that does not shiver in his pyjamas when he hears the name of
Nikalsain. Thou couldst hear the ring of his grey mare's hoofs from
Attock even to the Khaibar, and the folk of Rawal Pindi wake in the
night and tremble, saying they hear the tramp of Nikalsain's war-horse.
There are many sahibs, but only one Nikalsain."
"Hast thou not heard of what he did to Alladad Khan?" asked one of the
men.
"Tell it, good Rasul," said Ahmed.
"Why, Alladad Khan, being guardian to his nephew--a boy--seized upon his
inheritance and drove him from the village. By and by, when the boy's
beard was grown, he went to Nikalsain and besought him that he would do
him right. But Alladad was a great man, and mightily feared, so that
when Nikalsain sent to his village to seek witnesses of the truth of the
matter, no man durst for his life speak for the boy. One morn, ere the
sun was up, a man of the village went forth to his fields, and lo! there
was Nikalsain's grey mare grazing just beyond the gate. The man shook
with amaze and fear, and when his trembling had ceased, ran back again
to tell Alladad Khan. And soon all the men of the village flocked to the
gate to see the sight, and they marvelled greatly. Alladad also was in
dread, for his conscience pricked him, and he bade some to drive the
mare to the grass of some other village, lest evil should come upon
them. And as they went forth to do his bidding, in a little space they
came to a tree, and lo! tied to it, was Nikalsain himself. Some fled
away in great fear; others, thinking to win favour with the hazur, went
forward to loose him. But Nikalsain cried to them in a loud
voice--verily his voice is like thunder--and bade them stand and say on
whose land they were. In their fear none could speak, but they lifted
their fingers and pointed to Alladad Khan, and he came out from among
them with trembling knees and said in haste: 'Nay, hazur, the land is
not mine, but my nephew's.' Then Nikalsain bade him swear by the Prophet
that what he said was true, and when Alladad had sworn, the hazur
permitted the cords to be loosed. And next day in his court he decreed
that the nephew should receive his inheritance, since his uncle had
sworn it was his; and Alladad, shamefaced at the manner of his
discomfiture, and at the laughter of the people, went straightway on a
pilgrimage to Mecca, and the place knew him no more."
"Nikalsain is just, and very terrible," said Sherdil.
"Is he not like one of the heroes of old? A tall man, with a face as
grave as a mullah's, and a black beard thicker than mine, and he holds
his head high in the air as if he scorned to see the ground. Jan Larrens
sent him to us; his troops are yet on the way; and when they come there
will be hot work in the gates of Delhi."
A few days later Nicholson rode out to meet the movable column of which
he was in command, and which had been raised by the energy of John
Lawrence in the Panjab. It was an inspiriting sight when, on the
fourteenth of August, the column, 3,000 strong, British and natives,
marched into camp behind their stately leader, amid the blare of bands
and the cheers of the weary holders of the Ridge. Their arrival infused
the hearts of the besiegers with new courage and cheerfulness; every
man, from the general down to the meanest bhisti, hailed Nicholson's
coming as the beginning of the end.
About three weeks before, the siege-train for which General Wilson had
been for weeks anxiously waiting, left Firozpur. It stretched for five
miles along the Great Trunk Road, and was furnished with an
inconsiderable escort. On the twenty-fourth of August, General Wilson
learnt that a large force of rebels, with sixteen guns, had left Delhi
for Najafgarh, with the object of intercepting the siege-train and
cutting off supplies from the Ridge. Nicholson, ever eager for active
work, was given the task of dealing with the mutineers.
Early on the morning of August 25, in pouring rain, Nicholson left camp
at the head of two thousand five hundred men, consisting of horse and
foot, British and native, and three troops of horse artillery under
Major Tombs. To their great delight, Sherdil and Ahmed were among the
squadron of Guides that formed part of the force. The march reminded
them of the former expedition to Alipur. For nine miles they struggled
through swamp and quagmire, the mud so deep that the guns often sank up
to the axles and stuck fast, the rain falling in torrents all the time.
Some of the artillery officers despaired of getting their guns through,
but when they saw Nicholson's great form riding steadily on as if
nothing was the matter, they took courage, feeling sure that all was
right. A short halt was made at the village of Nanghir, and while the
troops were resting, two officers rode forward to reconnoitre a nullah
that crossed the road about five miles away. They found that a crossing
was practicable, and from its bank they descried the enemy's outposts.
It was five o'clock before the column had forded the nullah, under fire
of the rebels. Darkness would soon fall, and if the enemy was to be
routed no time could be lost. Nicholson himself rode forward to
reconnoitre their position. It extended for two miles, from the town of
Najafgarh on the left to the bridge over the Najafgarh canal on the
right. The strongest point was an old serai at their left centre, where
they had four guns; nine other guns lay between this and the bridge.
This serai he resolved to attack with his infantry, the guns covering
the flanks, and the 9th Lancers and Guides to support the line.
As soon as the line was formed, Nicholson ordered the infantry to lie
down while the guns made an attempt to silence those of the enemy. He
rode along the line, addressing each regiment in turn, aptly suiting his
words to what he knew of their previous achievements in war. One order
he gave to them all: to reserve their fire until they came within forty
yards of the serai, then to pour in one volley and charge home.
The bugles sounded the advance. The eager men--British riflemen, Bengal
fusiliers, Panjab infantry--sprang to their feet with a cheer, and
followed Nicholson amid a storm of shot over the oozy swamp that divided
them from the enemy. They reached the serai, dashed into it, swept the
defenders away, and seized the guns, the sepoys resisting with the
desperate bravery they almost always displayed behind defences. The
serai cleared, the cheering infantry formed up on the left, and with
irresistible dash fell on the rebels as they fled toward the canal
bridge in mad haste to save their guns.
Meanwhile, Lieutenant Lumsden, brother of Lumsden of the Guides, had
driven the enemy out of Najafgarh itself. But just as the sun was
setting on the brief battle, Nicholson learnt that a band of mutineers
had halted in a cluster of houses between the serai and the canal.
Determined not to leave his victory incomplete, he ordered Lumsden to
drive them out at the point of the bayonet. The Panjabis followed their
gallant leader into the hamlet; but the rebels were well defended, and
fought with the stubborn valour of despair. Lumsden fell, shot through
the heart; many of his men were killed with him; and it was not until
the 61st Foot came up that the last position was won.
This was the only shadow on the brilliance of the victory. Nicholson had
routed a force of trained sepoys, double the number of his own men,
after a long day's march in the worst of conditions. He had captured
twelve of their sixteen guns, and all their stores and baggage. Their
slaughter had been great; the demoralized survivors were in full flight
for Delhi. On the British side, the casualties were less than a hundred
killed and wounded.
The troops bivouacked on the field. Sherdil, lying that night beside
Ahmed on a horse-rug, said--
"What will happen to thee, Ahmed-ji, when the city is taken?"
"What indeed, save that I go back with thee and the Guides to
Hoti-Mardan!"
"But that cannot be the end of things for thee. Thou art of the sahibs:
the secret cannot be kept for ever. The Guides notice something in thee
that is different from the rest, and they ask me about it, and I tell
them thou art the son of a chief; but they are not satisfied. Dost thou
not yearn to be among thy true people?"
"What wouldst thou, Sherdil? I have had such thoughts, but now that I
have seen the sahibs, who am I that I should claim kinship with them? I
cannot speak their speech; I know nothing of their learning. It were
better, maybe, to remain a Guide and in due time become a dafadar like
thee; and then some day go back to Shagpur, and do unto that fat Dilasah
as he deserves. I came thence to win freedom for my father; and he is
now free, and needs not my help. Him I know, and his people; among the
sahibs I am but as an ignorant little child."
"Thou sayest true; yet a stone does not rot in water, and though thou
remain among Pathans a thousand years thou wilt never be other than a
sahib. Well, what must be, will be. Small rain fills a pond:
peradventure when thou hast been a little longer with the sahibs the cup
of thy desire will run over."
CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIFTH
The Storming of Delhi
Nicholson's victory at Najafgarh encouraged the little army on the Ridge
as much as it dismayed the enemy. The former needed encouragement. More
than a thousand Englishmen were in hospital. General Wilson was anxious
and depressed; urged on the one side by Lawrence to strike a blow and
save India, on the other fearing to risk an assault which, if it failed,
would mean annihilation or at best ignominious retirement. But Nicholson
inspired officers and men with confidence. The sight of his great form
stalking or riding day after day from end to end of the position, made
men feel that when the long-expected siege-train arrived no time would
be lost in putting all to the hazard. He went carefully over the ground,
deciding with Baird Smith, the head of the Engineers, the sites for the
breaching batteries, arranging the composition and disposition of the
attacking columns, gaining all possible information about affairs in the
city.
In Delhi, meanwhile, it was beginning to be felt that the hour of
retribution was at hand. The dissensions between the rival commanders
became more acute; one day the king would refuse to see Bakht Khan,
holding that he had disgraced himself; the next he would shower
compliments on him and assure him of his continued good favour. The army
still complained of lack of pay; the princes still plundered the bankers
and merchants; the whole city was in a state of terror. Day by day
sepoys deserted, going away unarmed to seek their homes. Yet when a
postal-runner from the Ridge fell into the rebels' hands, and, being
questioned in the king's presence as to what was going on in the camp,
declared that the sepoys would never prevail against the English, his
outspoken opinion enraged the courtiers, and they sentenced him to
death.
At last, on September 4, the siege-train arrived, a long line of heavy
guns and mortars drawn by elephants, with miles of bullock-carts loaded
with shot and shell and ammunition of all kinds, enough to grind Delhi
to powder. During the next week all energies were strained to make ready
for the assault. Nicholson and Baird Smith had settled the plan. The
most vulnerable part of the wall lay between the Water gate and the Mori
bastion. Upon this it was decided to concentrate the artillery fire. On
the night of September 6, the first battery was begun just below the
Sami-house, a half-ruined mosque six hundred yards from the city, and
next day, when it was completed and began to belch its shot on the
doomed walls, strong pickets took advantage of the distraction to occupy
Ludlow Castle, a large country-house of European make towards the left
of the position, and the Kudsia gardens opposite the Kashmir gate and
overlooking the river. Each night a new battery was erected and armed,
to begin each morning its fierce work. The second battery stood in front
of Ludlow Castle, five hundred yards from the walls; the third,
consisting of four heavy mortars, was made in the Kudsia gardens, and
placed in command of the gallant Major Tombs; the fourth, a triumph of
the daring and skill of Captain Taylor of the Engineers, had crept
within a hundred and sixty yards of the Mori bastion. Nor were these
feats of engineering done without loss. As soon as the rebels perceived
what was afoot, they directed a storm of musketry on the heroic workers
who toiled day and night in the hot moist air. British and natives,
officers and men, soldiers of all arms--for Lancers and Carabineers lent
a hand in the work--laboured incessantly with unflinching courage. As
soon as one man was killed or disabled, another took his place.
By the night of the 11th, all the batteries were complete, and on the
12th more than fifty guns and mortars were pounding the walls. The din
was deafening, and mingled with the roar of the guns was the crash of
shattered masonry as the red walls crumbled away. At nightfall every
post of vantage on the Ridge was crowded with sightseers, watching the
living shell flying through the air like falling meteors. The rebels at
first attempted to answer the fire, but the gunners could not hold their
posts on the shot-swept ramparts. Parties of rebel horse sallied forth
from time to time, as if to charge the batteries; but they were met by
showers of grape-shot, or set upon by troops of Hodson's Horse, which
drove them back in frantic haste to find cover. Nicholson rode from
battery to battery, encouraging the men, taking counsel with Baird
Smith, watching the effect of these tremendous salvos that shook the
ground.
So the bombardment continued until the night of the 13th. Then the roar
suddenly ceased. A thrill of expectation ran through the camp. Captain
Taylor had reported that the breaches in the walls were practicable;
every man knew that the moment for the great assault was at hand. And in
the city men knew it too. The old king spent many hours in his private
mosque praying for victory. The traders had all closed their shops, for
fear of being carried off to serve at the fortifications. The officers
wrangled; there was no commanding spirit like Nicholson among them.
Bakht Khan was brave enough, but he was merely a fighter; he had no
genius for leadership. On the night of the 12th a proclamation was
carried with beat of drum through the streets, commanding all the men of
the city, Hindu and Mohammedan alike, to assemble at the Kashmir gate,
bringing picks and shovels; the king himself would lead them forth, and
they would fall on the infidels and sweep them away. The Hindus paid no
heed; but ten thousand faithful Mohammedans, inflamed with fanatic
ardour, their religious feelings wrought upon by shrieking fakirs and
mullahs, congregated at the gates waiting the arrival of their king. But
he came not. Till midnight they remained; then hope died away, and with
despairing hearts the great throng dispersed to their homes.
On the night of the 13th, ere the bombardment ceased, every available
man in the British force, including men just risen from their sick beds
in the hospital, went to his appointed station. The assault was to be
made in four columns. A thousand men,--detachments from the 1st
Fusiliers, the 15th Regiment, and the 2nd Panjab Infantry--under
Nicholson himself, were to storm the breach in the Kashmir bastion, and
escalade the walls. The second column, also a thousand strong, under
Colonel Jones of the 61st, was simultaneously to storm and scale the
Mori bastion. Meanwhile the Kashmir gate was to be blown up, and the
third column, under Colonel Campbell of the 52nd, would sweep in through
the breach. The fourth column, commanded by Major Reid, who had
gallantly held Hindu Rao's house throughout the summer, was to attack
the suburb of Kishenganj and enter by the Lahore gate. A fifth column,
of 1,500 men, was held in reserve to give support to the first, and
Colonel Hope Grant was to post himself on the Ridge, with the cavalry
six hundred strong, to prevent the rebels from re-entering the city when
thrust out of Kishenganj. The whole force consisted of some 7,000 men.
Ahmed had been looking forward with great eagerness to the fight. The
Guides' cavalry, commanded now by Captain Sandford, formed part of Hope
Grant's brigade, and they expected warm work at Kishenganj when Major
Reid had driven the rebels into the open. But on the evening of the 13th
Ahmed was summoned to Nicholson's tent, and learnt, with mingled pride
and disappointment, that he was to accompany the first column. When the
troops entered the city they would require a guide through its network
of streets and lanes, and Hodson had recommended Ahmed for the duty. He
was proud at being selected to serve Nicholson, but at the same time
disappointed that he was not to go side by side with Sherdil into the
fight. Sherdil himself was envious.
"In very truth thou art favoured above all men," he said. "I myself
would fain serve the great Nikalsain."
"But thou dost not know Delhi, Sherdil-ji," replied Ahmed.
"True, but by often asking one can find the way. Wah! I will
nevertheless fight as befits one of my name, and I promise thee that
when the day is done the Purbiyas shall lie around me like grass from
the scythe."
Dawn was just breaking on that sultry September 14, when the bugle
sounded the advance. The Rifles led the way in skirmishing order; the
first column, with Nicholson ahead, marched on steadily until they
reached the edge of the jungle. Then the Engineers and the storming
party, with their ladders, rose from cover, and sprang forward to the
breach near the Kashmir bastion. A storm of musket-shots assailed them
as they gained the crest of the glacis; scores of men fell; but the
survivors let down their ladders, the British officers ran down them
into the ditch, the men close behind, and with a great cheer they rushed
up the scarp and into the breach. The sight of their gleaming bayonets
was too much for the sepoys. They fled, and Nicholson led his men into
Delhi.