Chapter Twelve.I noticed all this, but our attention was taken up by the wounded man, to whose side we had rapidly descended, all thought of tigers being now at an end.“The poor fellow has been set upon by budmashes as he was on his way here with a despatch,” said Brace. “Let me come a minute, doctor, and search his pockets.”“Hang the despatch, man!” said the doctor sternly. “I want to save the lad’s life.”He was down on his knees by Denny’s side, and had taken out his pocket-book and thrown it open, displaying surgical instruments, needles, silk, and bandages.“Here, Vincent, come and help me,” he said. “Some of you cut a branch or two and shade us from this awful sun. Now, Vincent, slit open that sleeve; never mind damages. Hah! I thought so. That’s one exhauster.”As the man’s arm was bared, the doctor caught my hand, and made me seize and press upon an artery high up in the limb; for from a terrible gash the blood was pumping out in regular pulsations, and as this act checked the bleeding a little, the doctor rapidly found and tied the divided artery, and then bandaged the wound.“That was the most dangerous,” he said. “Now, then, what next? Cut on shoulder, not serious—ugly gash on head, bad—stab in thigh—must have been mounted—bullet in muscles of shoulder, fired evidently as the man was escaping. Hah! enough for one poor fellow. Now, Vincent, we’ll stop the bleeding, and then we must have him carried on a litter under shelter.”“Couldn’t he bear the motion of the elephant?” said Brace.“No! Yes,” said the doctor; “perhaps it would be best. While we are waiting for a litter we could get him to the rajah’s. There, I think he will not hurt. You may try for your despatch now.”Brace and I tried the man’s pockets, and the doctor thrust his hand into the breast, but the result wasnil.“No despatch,” said Brace, uneasily; and I saw his face wrinkle up, as if he were puzzled and anxious. “Let’s get him on the little pad elephant; it will be easier.”“Now,” said the doctor, who had been bathing the poor fellow’s forehead and trickling water between his parched lips, “he’s coming to. Don’t question him; leave it to me.”For at that moment the man’s face twitched a little, and he began to mutter excitedly; his words being plain enough to those near.“Cowards!” he said. “Treachery—you dog—it’s murder! Look out, boys! Ah—sentry—the gate!”He uttered a low groan and was silent.“Not attacked on the road,” said Brace, excitedly.“No,” said the rajah, hastily; “my people would not attack him.”“There’s something wrong at the barracks,” cried Brace, excitedly. “He said treachery.”I felt the blood thrill through my veins at these words; and then I stepped closer to Gunner Denny, whose eyes had now opened widely, and he was staring wildly round, till his gaze rested on me, and he made a sign to me to bend down.“Look out, sir,” he said, in a faint voice. “Ah! Water!”His eyes seemed to film over, but as water was trickled between his lips, he swallowed a little with difficulty, and revived, while we leant over him, listening intently for his next words.“Mutiny,” he panted; “don’t go back.”“What!” cried Brace; and I saw a movement amongst the rajah’s people, and they gathered round him.“This morning,” said Denny, faintly. “Quarters seized; Major and Mr Barton cut down.”“Great Heavens!” cried Brace.“Masters of the barracks—Sepoy regiment—down town—murdered their officers—I—got away—came on, and—”He uttered a low sigh and fainted.“Dr Danby! You hear?”“Yes,” said the doctor, in a low voice. “What I always feared. They’ve risen against us at last.”“But both regiments? Absurd!”“No; of course our men wouldn’t. And they’ve seized the barracks, I gather. Brace, old fellow, we’re in for it. The storm has broken.”“I don’t understand you. There is trouble with the native infantry regiment, I suppose, and some of the men have gone up and seized our barracks. Oh, why was I not there?”“Because you’ve other work to do, man,” whispered the doctor. “Look at the rajah. Brace, old fellow, we shall have to fight for our lives. This is the first flash of the fire; the whole country is rising in revolt.”“No, no; impossible!” said Brace. Then, turning to the rajah, he saw that in his face which made him flash into a tempest of passion, and he seized the double rifle he had thrown on the ground, cocked both barrels, and advanced furiously toward the chief, while at his first menace the men advanced, drew their tulwars, slung their shields round from where they hung over their shoulders, or presented spears.“You dog!” roared Brace, whose manner had completely changed. “You knew of all this!”The rajah waved one hand to his men, who stopped short, scowling angrily, and with their dark eyes flashing, as, following my captain’s example, I cocked my own piece.“Captain Brace will not fire on his host,” he said, in very good English, and I saw his nostrils quivering as he spoke and stepped forward. “We have eaten salt and are brothers.”Brace lowered his piece and I did the same.“Yes, I knew of it,” said the rajah, quietly.“That the men of the native regiment meant to mutiny,” cried Brace, “and did not warn us?”“I knew and did not warn you,” said the rajah, quietly.“What treachery!”“No,” said the rajah, “not treachery. I have held my hand. I would not join, but I could not go against the people.”“But why—why have the men mutinied?” cried Brace, as the doctor and my companions listened excitedly.“Because they were told,” replied the rajah. “Can you not see? The storm has been gathering for years, and now it is spreading fast. The great Koompanni is no more, and their people are being scattered like the dust.”“What I have always feared,” muttered the doctor.“And you call yourself my friend—the friend of the officers who have welcomed you at our mess, whose hands you have pressed a hundred times.”“Yes,” said the rajah, with a grave, sad smile, “and I have proved that I am your friend.”“But you owned that you knew of the mutiny.”“Yes, and asked you and the other English officers here to-day.”“To enable the men to seize the barracks.”“No; to save your lives,” said the rajah. “Those who came lived; those who stayed away are dead.”Brace looked at him coldly, and then turned to us.“Quick!” he said, “let’s mount and get back. Help the wounded man. Doctor, you will ride with him?”“Of course.”“What are you going to do?” said the rajah, quickly.“Go back to Rajgunge,” said Brace, sternly.“To certain death?”“To bring these madmen to their senses. Rajah, you will let the hathees bear us back?”“To my place? Yes. No further.”“What?”“I have saved your lives, and must try and keep you from harm. I cannot let you have the hathees. I will not fight against the Koompanni. It has always been just to me, but I cannot, I dare not, fight against the people of my country.”“Then we shall take them,” said Brace, sternly. “Quick, make ready. Doctor, mount that small beast with the wounded man, and go first. We will cover your retreat, if any one dares to stop us.”The doctor prepared to mount without a word, and we pressed up to the huge elephant that the doctor and I had ridden; but the rajah passed his rifle to one of his men and came to us.“Don’t be so mad, Captain Brace,” he said quietly, “I tell you I am your friend.”“No. You are with the enemy, sir. Stand back.”“No. I will not see you go straight to your death like that; neither will I give my life by supplying you with my hathees. It would be death to me and mine.”“Stand back, sir.”“Speak to him, Vincent,” said the rajah. “Tell him I must order my people to stop you. It is madness—death; you against all my people.”Brace stopped short.“You will order your men to fight,” he said; “in other words, you join in the revolt against your Queen.”The rajah smiled, and, with true Eastern cunning, paid—“I shall order my men to protect their chiefs property. Those are my hathees. They shall not go and show the men who have risen that I have helped you. Come, be wise. Stop here, and I will give you refuge. Where can you flee better?”“To where men are faithful to their Queen.”“It is of no use, Brace,” said the doctor. “Make a virtue of necessity, man.” Then, turning to the rajah, “You will give us safe conduct down to your place?”“Yes,” said the rajah, quickly; “and if there is danger, my people shall hide my old friends. It is war now, not against men we know, but against the Koompanni.”“Let’s ride back to the rajah’s place,” said the doctor, in a whisper; “we may make some terms with him on the way.”“Can we trust him?” replied Brace. “There is a look about him I hardly like.”“Help the sahibs,” said the rajah; and then he made a sign, with the result that the mahouts made their elephants kneel down again, and, after a little hesitation, Brace mounted, and I followed him, while, after orders had been given for the second tiger to be placed on the pad elephant, we set off down the valley, the rajah riding abreast, while his armed men came behind, leading the pad elephant with the shikaree and the beaters.The sun shone brightly as ever; the jungle growth away to right and left was glorious to behold, and the sky was of as vivid a blue as the edge of the forest was green; but it was as if a terrible black cloud had come down over us, and all were changed. We had ridden up that gorge full of excitement, and in the eager anticipation of a day’s sport; now we knew that we were on our way to face death and terrors that I shrank from contemplating.From time to time Brace gave an order to our mahout, and he went on abreast of the little elephant which bore the doctor and the wounded man, when a short eager conversation took place; Brace being of opinion that the outbreak was only local, and that our course would be to send messengers at once east and west to the nearest stations for help; but the doctor took a more serious view of the case.“Perhaps I’m wrong,” he said, “but I fear we have been growing this trouble for years past.”“What do you mean?” cried Brace, impatiently.“You ask me that?” said the doctor. “Well, I mean that your Bartons, of whom there are thousands through the country—as officers, magistrates, collectors, and the like—have been trampling down and insulting these people, till they have been crushed in the dust, till they could bear no more, and they have risen. Now do you ask me what I mean?”Brace glanced at me as I was thinking of the handsome, patient syce at the barracks, and the treatment I had often seen him meet with; and then, as if reading my thoughts, he turned away with a look of despair.“There is no hiding the fact, Brace,” continued the doctor. “I only hope I am exaggerating the troubles. But if I am right, I say, God help the wives and daughters of those who have them here, and may He spread his hands over the unfortunate children!”His words seemed to cut through me with an agonising pain, as I mentally repeated his words—wives and daughters; and then I felt giddy, and as if I should fall from the howdah. “Wives and daughters!” I said aloud, and then, with a horrible feeling of despair, I pictured trouble at Nussoor, where my father’s regiment was stationed, and thought of my mother and sister face to face with the horrors of a revolt.“Hold up, Vincent,” said Brace, in a sharp whisper. “What’s the matter? Feel the sun too much? Take some water, lad. I want your help. You must not break down.”“No, no,” I said quickly; “I’m better now.”“That’s right! We must get back and learn the full extent of the mischief. Yon poor fellow was excited, and he may have exaggerated the affair. He is as bad as can be, and perhaps he imagines that the rest were the same. Cheer up, lad! Lacey is too clever and experienced an officer to have been cut up like that. I dare say we shall find him looking out for us anxiously. Perhaps we shall meet an escort sent to meet us.”Just then the rajah’s elephant came abreast, and its master reached out his hand with refreshments, which Brace declined, but the next moment took eagerly.“Thank you,” he said quickly. “Eat, drink, Vincent,” he half whispered; “we shall want all our strength.”“And you?” I said.“Oh, I shall do the same,” he said bitterly; and then he held out his hand, and whispered softly, “We have been very poor friends lately, my lad, but shake hands now, for perhaps we are very near the end of life’s journey.”“Brace,” I gasped as I snatched at his hand and gripped it hard.“I hope not, for your sake, boy,” he said in a low voice; “for you have your young life before you. I hope not for my own. I may be very useful now. There may be a great deal to do, and if there is, my lad,” he said, smiling, “I am going to try not to be such a coward as to shrink from that duty; though you thought me one, because I would not fight the man who, perhaps, has had much to do with the rising.”“Oh, Brace,” I faltered, “I don’t think I ever thought you a coward.”“You did,” he said quietly. “Most people in your place, and educated as you have been, would have judged me in the same hard way. Perhaps I am one, Gil; but I shall not show it, and I shall not shrink from anything I have to do.”“You think, then, that there is a wider trouble than that at the station?”“I am obliged to think so. The doctor is right. I fought against it, telling myself I was panic-stricken, but I felt the same. You see the rajah knew of it, and—I am speaking plainly now—if matters turn out very bad, and I am not near you, try to get a horse and make for Nussoor. It is a very long journey, but the way may be open, and the trouble not spreading in that direction. At present your white face may command help and shelter, but don’t tarry on the way—the great north-west road, mind, and—”“I shall keep with you,” I said quietly. “Let’s wait and know the worst.”In another couple of hours we were at the rajah’s, and as the elephants halted and knelt down, Brace turned to their owner, who was conversing with a couple of horsemen.“Now, sir,” he said, “I am not addressing the enemy, but the old friend and companion. You will let us have these two elephants as far as Rajgunge?”“It is impossible, Captain Brace. I would help you, but I should bring down destruction on myself and people.”“Then you will lend us a dhooly for this man, and people to carry him?”“No. They would not carry him, or, if they did, they would halt on the road and attack you when you were not prepared. An evil spirit for you and yours has been going through the land for months, and now the fire has sprung up all round.”Brace turned from him, and his face looked fixed and stern.“Listen,” said the rajah, laying a hand upon his arm; “it would be madness to move that man. Ask the doctor. The man would be dead before you were half-way there.”“I’m afraid so,” said the doctor, sadly.“Leave him, then, with me. I give you my word that I will protect him. I sent for you all to come here, so that you might be safe. Stay.”Brace was silent for a few moments, and then he held out his hand to the rajah.“Thank you,” he said. “Forgive me for doubting you, but I cannot stay.”“I tell you that you are going to your death,” whispered the rajah, earnestly. “The whole city is in revolt against your people; the sepoy regiment has slain all its officers, and your own men are scattered Heaven knows where.”“How do you know?” said Brace, fiercely.“Those men I was speaking with have ridden over from the town. They just gave me the news.”Brace looked at the fierce-looking fellows, and knew that they were watching us intently.“I will gladly take your offer for my man,” said Brace at last.“And you yourselves?” said the rajah, eagerly.Brace turned to us.“What do you say?” he said.“I shall follow my captain,” replied Haynes.“Doctor?”“I am an Englishman,” he said quietly.Brace looked at me.“Vincent!” he said, in a low hurried voice. “We have a painful tramp before us, and in all probability the buggies will not come to meet us. You are young and not used to such work as we have before us. The doctor will give you a few instructions, so you shall stop and look after Denny.”I don’t know how it was—I make no professions of being brave, but a strange feeling of exaltation came over me then, and I said quickly—“Don’t make me feel like a coward. I cannot stay; I must go with you.”He looked at me fixedly for a few moments, and then turned to the rajah.“Give us bread and wine,” he said.The rajah pointed toward his house, but Brace refused to turn, and, in obedience to a command, a couple of men were sent in, and directly after three of the chiefs servants hurried out with refreshments and handed them to us.We partook sparingly, and as we ate and drank Brace whispered—“See, all of you, that you have plenty of ball cartridges.”The order was needless, for we were all well supplied; and, five minutes later, a brief and distant leave-taking followed, and, shouldering our pieces, we set off, through the hot afternoon sunshine, to try and follow the track to the road. This reached, it would be one steady descent to Rajgunge, but, as we afterwards owned, not one of us believed that we should reach it alive.Note 1. Budmashes are outlaws, footpads.Note 2. Hathees are elephants.
I noticed all this, but our attention was taken up by the wounded man, to whose side we had rapidly descended, all thought of tigers being now at an end.
“The poor fellow has been set upon by budmashes as he was on his way here with a despatch,” said Brace. “Let me come a minute, doctor, and search his pockets.”
“Hang the despatch, man!” said the doctor sternly. “I want to save the lad’s life.”
He was down on his knees by Denny’s side, and had taken out his pocket-book and thrown it open, displaying surgical instruments, needles, silk, and bandages.
“Here, Vincent, come and help me,” he said. “Some of you cut a branch or two and shade us from this awful sun. Now, Vincent, slit open that sleeve; never mind damages. Hah! I thought so. That’s one exhauster.”
As the man’s arm was bared, the doctor caught my hand, and made me seize and press upon an artery high up in the limb; for from a terrible gash the blood was pumping out in regular pulsations, and as this act checked the bleeding a little, the doctor rapidly found and tied the divided artery, and then bandaged the wound.
“That was the most dangerous,” he said. “Now, then, what next? Cut on shoulder, not serious—ugly gash on head, bad—stab in thigh—must have been mounted—bullet in muscles of shoulder, fired evidently as the man was escaping. Hah! enough for one poor fellow. Now, Vincent, we’ll stop the bleeding, and then we must have him carried on a litter under shelter.”
“Couldn’t he bear the motion of the elephant?” said Brace.
“No! Yes,” said the doctor; “perhaps it would be best. While we are waiting for a litter we could get him to the rajah’s. There, I think he will not hurt. You may try for your despatch now.”
Brace and I tried the man’s pockets, and the doctor thrust his hand into the breast, but the result wasnil.
“No despatch,” said Brace, uneasily; and I saw his face wrinkle up, as if he were puzzled and anxious. “Let’s get him on the little pad elephant; it will be easier.”
“Now,” said the doctor, who had been bathing the poor fellow’s forehead and trickling water between his parched lips, “he’s coming to. Don’t question him; leave it to me.”
For at that moment the man’s face twitched a little, and he began to mutter excitedly; his words being plain enough to those near.
“Cowards!” he said. “Treachery—you dog—it’s murder! Look out, boys! Ah—sentry—the gate!”
He uttered a low groan and was silent.
“Not attacked on the road,” said Brace, excitedly.
“No,” said the rajah, hastily; “my people would not attack him.”
“There’s something wrong at the barracks,” cried Brace, excitedly. “He said treachery.”
I felt the blood thrill through my veins at these words; and then I stepped closer to Gunner Denny, whose eyes had now opened widely, and he was staring wildly round, till his gaze rested on me, and he made a sign to me to bend down.
“Look out, sir,” he said, in a faint voice. “Ah! Water!”
His eyes seemed to film over, but as water was trickled between his lips, he swallowed a little with difficulty, and revived, while we leant over him, listening intently for his next words.
“Mutiny,” he panted; “don’t go back.”
“What!” cried Brace; and I saw a movement amongst the rajah’s people, and they gathered round him.
“This morning,” said Denny, faintly. “Quarters seized; Major and Mr Barton cut down.”
“Great Heavens!” cried Brace.
“Masters of the barracks—Sepoy regiment—down town—murdered their officers—I—got away—came on, and—”
He uttered a low sigh and fainted.
“Dr Danby! You hear?”
“Yes,” said the doctor, in a low voice. “What I always feared. They’ve risen against us at last.”
“But both regiments? Absurd!”
“No; of course our men wouldn’t. And they’ve seized the barracks, I gather. Brace, old fellow, we’re in for it. The storm has broken.”
“I don’t understand you. There is trouble with the native infantry regiment, I suppose, and some of the men have gone up and seized our barracks. Oh, why was I not there?”
“Because you’ve other work to do, man,” whispered the doctor. “Look at the rajah. Brace, old fellow, we shall have to fight for our lives. This is the first flash of the fire; the whole country is rising in revolt.”
“No, no; impossible!” said Brace. Then, turning to the rajah, he saw that in his face which made him flash into a tempest of passion, and he seized the double rifle he had thrown on the ground, cocked both barrels, and advanced furiously toward the chief, while at his first menace the men advanced, drew their tulwars, slung their shields round from where they hung over their shoulders, or presented spears.
“You dog!” roared Brace, whose manner had completely changed. “You knew of all this!”
The rajah waved one hand to his men, who stopped short, scowling angrily, and with their dark eyes flashing, as, following my captain’s example, I cocked my own piece.
“Captain Brace will not fire on his host,” he said, in very good English, and I saw his nostrils quivering as he spoke and stepped forward. “We have eaten salt and are brothers.”
Brace lowered his piece and I did the same.
“Yes, I knew of it,” said the rajah, quietly.
“That the men of the native regiment meant to mutiny,” cried Brace, “and did not warn us?”
“I knew and did not warn you,” said the rajah, quietly.
“What treachery!”
“No,” said the rajah, “not treachery. I have held my hand. I would not join, but I could not go against the people.”
“But why—why have the men mutinied?” cried Brace, as the doctor and my companions listened excitedly.
“Because they were told,” replied the rajah. “Can you not see? The storm has been gathering for years, and now it is spreading fast. The great Koompanni is no more, and their people are being scattered like the dust.”
“What I have always feared,” muttered the doctor.
“And you call yourself my friend—the friend of the officers who have welcomed you at our mess, whose hands you have pressed a hundred times.”
“Yes,” said the rajah, with a grave, sad smile, “and I have proved that I am your friend.”
“But you owned that you knew of the mutiny.”
“Yes, and asked you and the other English officers here to-day.”
“To enable the men to seize the barracks.”
“No; to save your lives,” said the rajah. “Those who came lived; those who stayed away are dead.”
Brace looked at him coldly, and then turned to us.
“Quick!” he said, “let’s mount and get back. Help the wounded man. Doctor, you will ride with him?”
“Of course.”
“What are you going to do?” said the rajah, quickly.
“Go back to Rajgunge,” said Brace, sternly.
“To certain death?”
“To bring these madmen to their senses. Rajah, you will let the hathees bear us back?”
“To my place? Yes. No further.”
“What?”
“I have saved your lives, and must try and keep you from harm. I cannot let you have the hathees. I will not fight against the Koompanni. It has always been just to me, but I cannot, I dare not, fight against the people of my country.”
“Then we shall take them,” said Brace, sternly. “Quick, make ready. Doctor, mount that small beast with the wounded man, and go first. We will cover your retreat, if any one dares to stop us.”
The doctor prepared to mount without a word, and we pressed up to the huge elephant that the doctor and I had ridden; but the rajah passed his rifle to one of his men and came to us.
“Don’t be so mad, Captain Brace,” he said quietly, “I tell you I am your friend.”
“No. You are with the enemy, sir. Stand back.”
“No. I will not see you go straight to your death like that; neither will I give my life by supplying you with my hathees. It would be death to me and mine.”
“Stand back, sir.”
“Speak to him, Vincent,” said the rajah. “Tell him I must order my people to stop you. It is madness—death; you against all my people.”
Brace stopped short.
“You will order your men to fight,” he said; “in other words, you join in the revolt against your Queen.”
The rajah smiled, and, with true Eastern cunning, paid—
“I shall order my men to protect their chiefs property. Those are my hathees. They shall not go and show the men who have risen that I have helped you. Come, be wise. Stop here, and I will give you refuge. Where can you flee better?”
“To where men are faithful to their Queen.”
“It is of no use, Brace,” said the doctor. “Make a virtue of necessity, man.” Then, turning to the rajah, “You will give us safe conduct down to your place?”
“Yes,” said the rajah, quickly; “and if there is danger, my people shall hide my old friends. It is war now, not against men we know, but against the Koompanni.”
“Let’s ride back to the rajah’s place,” said the doctor, in a whisper; “we may make some terms with him on the way.”
“Can we trust him?” replied Brace. “There is a look about him I hardly like.”
“Help the sahibs,” said the rajah; and then he made a sign, with the result that the mahouts made their elephants kneel down again, and, after a little hesitation, Brace mounted, and I followed him, while, after orders had been given for the second tiger to be placed on the pad elephant, we set off down the valley, the rajah riding abreast, while his armed men came behind, leading the pad elephant with the shikaree and the beaters.
The sun shone brightly as ever; the jungle growth away to right and left was glorious to behold, and the sky was of as vivid a blue as the edge of the forest was green; but it was as if a terrible black cloud had come down over us, and all were changed. We had ridden up that gorge full of excitement, and in the eager anticipation of a day’s sport; now we knew that we were on our way to face death and terrors that I shrank from contemplating.
From time to time Brace gave an order to our mahout, and he went on abreast of the little elephant which bore the doctor and the wounded man, when a short eager conversation took place; Brace being of opinion that the outbreak was only local, and that our course would be to send messengers at once east and west to the nearest stations for help; but the doctor took a more serious view of the case.
“Perhaps I’m wrong,” he said, “but I fear we have been growing this trouble for years past.”
“What do you mean?” cried Brace, impatiently.
“You ask me that?” said the doctor. “Well, I mean that your Bartons, of whom there are thousands through the country—as officers, magistrates, collectors, and the like—have been trampling down and insulting these people, till they have been crushed in the dust, till they could bear no more, and they have risen. Now do you ask me what I mean?”
Brace glanced at me as I was thinking of the handsome, patient syce at the barracks, and the treatment I had often seen him meet with; and then, as if reading my thoughts, he turned away with a look of despair.
“There is no hiding the fact, Brace,” continued the doctor. “I only hope I am exaggerating the troubles. But if I am right, I say, God help the wives and daughters of those who have them here, and may He spread his hands over the unfortunate children!”
His words seemed to cut through me with an agonising pain, as I mentally repeated his words—wives and daughters; and then I felt giddy, and as if I should fall from the howdah. “Wives and daughters!” I said aloud, and then, with a horrible feeling of despair, I pictured trouble at Nussoor, where my father’s regiment was stationed, and thought of my mother and sister face to face with the horrors of a revolt.
“Hold up, Vincent,” said Brace, in a sharp whisper. “What’s the matter? Feel the sun too much? Take some water, lad. I want your help. You must not break down.”
“No, no,” I said quickly; “I’m better now.”
“That’s right! We must get back and learn the full extent of the mischief. Yon poor fellow was excited, and he may have exaggerated the affair. He is as bad as can be, and perhaps he imagines that the rest were the same. Cheer up, lad! Lacey is too clever and experienced an officer to have been cut up like that. I dare say we shall find him looking out for us anxiously. Perhaps we shall meet an escort sent to meet us.”
Just then the rajah’s elephant came abreast, and its master reached out his hand with refreshments, which Brace declined, but the next moment took eagerly.
“Thank you,” he said quickly. “Eat, drink, Vincent,” he half whispered; “we shall want all our strength.”
“And you?” I said.
“Oh, I shall do the same,” he said bitterly; and then he held out his hand, and whispered softly, “We have been very poor friends lately, my lad, but shake hands now, for perhaps we are very near the end of life’s journey.”
“Brace,” I gasped as I snatched at his hand and gripped it hard.
“I hope not, for your sake, boy,” he said in a low voice; “for you have your young life before you. I hope not for my own. I may be very useful now. There may be a great deal to do, and if there is, my lad,” he said, smiling, “I am going to try not to be such a coward as to shrink from that duty; though you thought me one, because I would not fight the man who, perhaps, has had much to do with the rising.”
“Oh, Brace,” I faltered, “I don’t think I ever thought you a coward.”
“You did,” he said quietly. “Most people in your place, and educated as you have been, would have judged me in the same hard way. Perhaps I am one, Gil; but I shall not show it, and I shall not shrink from anything I have to do.”
“You think, then, that there is a wider trouble than that at the station?”
“I am obliged to think so. The doctor is right. I fought against it, telling myself I was panic-stricken, but I felt the same. You see the rajah knew of it, and—I am speaking plainly now—if matters turn out very bad, and I am not near you, try to get a horse and make for Nussoor. It is a very long journey, but the way may be open, and the trouble not spreading in that direction. At present your white face may command help and shelter, but don’t tarry on the way—the great north-west road, mind, and—”
“I shall keep with you,” I said quietly. “Let’s wait and know the worst.”
In another couple of hours we were at the rajah’s, and as the elephants halted and knelt down, Brace turned to their owner, who was conversing with a couple of horsemen.
“Now, sir,” he said, “I am not addressing the enemy, but the old friend and companion. You will let us have these two elephants as far as Rajgunge?”
“It is impossible, Captain Brace. I would help you, but I should bring down destruction on myself and people.”
“Then you will lend us a dhooly for this man, and people to carry him?”
“No. They would not carry him, or, if they did, they would halt on the road and attack you when you were not prepared. An evil spirit for you and yours has been going through the land for months, and now the fire has sprung up all round.”
Brace turned from him, and his face looked fixed and stern.
“Listen,” said the rajah, laying a hand upon his arm; “it would be madness to move that man. Ask the doctor. The man would be dead before you were half-way there.”
“I’m afraid so,” said the doctor, sadly.
“Leave him, then, with me. I give you my word that I will protect him. I sent for you all to come here, so that you might be safe. Stay.”
Brace was silent for a few moments, and then he held out his hand to the rajah.
“Thank you,” he said. “Forgive me for doubting you, but I cannot stay.”
“I tell you that you are going to your death,” whispered the rajah, earnestly. “The whole city is in revolt against your people; the sepoy regiment has slain all its officers, and your own men are scattered Heaven knows where.”
“How do you know?” said Brace, fiercely.
“Those men I was speaking with have ridden over from the town. They just gave me the news.”
Brace looked at the fierce-looking fellows, and knew that they were watching us intently.
“I will gladly take your offer for my man,” said Brace at last.
“And you yourselves?” said the rajah, eagerly.
Brace turned to us.
“What do you say?” he said.
“I shall follow my captain,” replied Haynes.
“Doctor?”
“I am an Englishman,” he said quietly.
Brace looked at me.
“Vincent!” he said, in a low hurried voice. “We have a painful tramp before us, and in all probability the buggies will not come to meet us. You are young and not used to such work as we have before us. The doctor will give you a few instructions, so you shall stop and look after Denny.”
I don’t know how it was—I make no professions of being brave, but a strange feeling of exaltation came over me then, and I said quickly—
“Don’t make me feel like a coward. I cannot stay; I must go with you.”
He looked at me fixedly for a few moments, and then turned to the rajah.
“Give us bread and wine,” he said.
The rajah pointed toward his house, but Brace refused to turn, and, in obedience to a command, a couple of men were sent in, and directly after three of the chiefs servants hurried out with refreshments and handed them to us.
We partook sparingly, and as we ate and drank Brace whispered—
“See, all of you, that you have plenty of ball cartridges.”
The order was needless, for we were all well supplied; and, five minutes later, a brief and distant leave-taking followed, and, shouldering our pieces, we set off, through the hot afternoon sunshine, to try and follow the track to the road. This reached, it would be one steady descent to Rajgunge, but, as we afterwards owned, not one of us believed that we should reach it alive.
Note 1. Budmashes are outlaws, footpads.
Note 2. Hathees are elephants.
Chapter Thirteen.“Seems too bad to leave my patient,” said the doctor. “Am I doing right?”“You have dressed his wounds, and we are going to get help for him,” replied Brace.“I hope so,” muttered the doctor. And then we toiled on and on, under the blazing sun, with our pieces growing so hot that they scorched our shoulders, but he man made a complaint, and two and two we tramped on, keeping a sharp look-out for the danger that might spring up at any moment.“We must chance an ambuscade,” said Brace, quietly. “If we are attacked, and there is cover to be had, follow me to it at once. We four, with these rifles, ought to keep a pretty good party at bay. By the way, always hold your left hand barrels in reserve. We may want them to stop a rush.”My recollection of that march is as that of some feverish dream; the sun came down with terrible power, and that which had been beautiful in the morning, from the howdah of an elephant, was now gloomy, painful, and apparently endless. Twice over we found that we had strayed from the track, and I had to turn and go watchfully back till we could see the great circular impressions of the elephants’ feet, and at last we reached the spot from whence we had started in the morning. There was the litter left by the rajah’s men when they had struck the shelter-tent, and followed us; there were the elephants’ footprints, and the marks of the stakes. But there was no sign of that which I had fondly hoped, in my parched and footsore state, might be in waiting—a couple of vehicles, ready to take us back. All was silent save the cry of a hawk soaring round and round in the blue sky, and once there came the sharp shriek of a jay.We had now reached the road along whose dusty side we steadily trudged on, till we came in sight of Rajgunge, far away below us, and now bathed in the warm, ruddy glow of the setting sun.We involuntarily halted, and, after a sharp look round for danger, stood gazing at the beautiful city, so calm and peaceful, with the golden riband-like river curving round in the evening glow, that it was impossible to think that anything could be wrong.In fear of such a catastrophe, we looked forward to seeing the smoke rising from a conflagration. But no; there was the faint haze caused by the dust trampled up by many thousand feet, and softening the outline of some of the dazzling white buildings. That was all.“Can it be possible?” said the doctor at last, after he had gazed through the little field-glass handed to him by Brace. “One could fancy it was all a false alarm, and that poor Denny’s injuries were the result of some troubles in the bazaar.”“Hist! quick!” I said sharply; and I pointed to a cloud of dust far away before us.“Our men!”But as the words were spoken, we caught sight of the glint of steel just above the dust cloud; and knowing, as we did, that they were lance-points, we obeyed a sign from Brace, and took refuge among the trees by the roadside.We were none too soon, for the cloud swept nearer, and, headed by a splendidly mounted man in a yellow caftan, belted with a rich cashmere shawl, about a couple of dozen white-clothed troopers swept by, and disappeared as they had come, in a cloud of dust.“What are they?” said the doctor, inquiringly.“Soldiers of some irregular regiment,” replied Brace, looking after the horsemen thoughtfully.“Then there is no reason why they may not be friends,” I said.“Where is their regular officer, then?” said Brace, drily. “They would not be led by a man like the one we saw.”The opinion was unanswerable, and we tramped on along the dusty road, wearied out, but kept going by the excitement; till, coming upon a group of people, whose appearance suggested that they had journeyed from the city, Brace stopped them to question them about the state of the place.For answer they rushed by us, and pursued their way, an action telling pretty plainly that some great change must have taken place, or these people would have been obsequious to a degree.The sun went down, but the heat was as great as ever; and feeling at times as if I must drop, I kept on that weary tramp. Then darkness fell, the great stars came out, and feeling that our prospects would be better of getting unnoticed into the city, now not very distant, we took heart, and tramped forward in regular military time, the swing of the march seeming to help us forward.Group after group of people were passed, but none heeded us, and no further efforts were made to stay and question them.“No,” said Brace; “we will get our answer at head-quarters.”Then, calling a halt for ten minutes, we sank down by the roadside to rest before starting for the finishing stage of our painful journey.But we had no sooner thrown ourselves down, than from the darkness ahead came the murmur of voices and the tramp of feet, very low and distant, but peculiar enough to make Brace spring up, while my heart began to beat heavily.“Draw farther back,” he whispered; “they are not country people.”Just then there was a click familiar enough to us all, and then another.“It must be some of our lads,” whispered Brace; and the next minute, as a little body of men came by, in regular military step, I heard him mutter, “Must be;” and he cried, “Halt!”“Draw—swords!” rang out in answer, and there was the peculiar grating rattle of sabres being drawn from steel scabbards.“Who is that? Sergeant Craig?” cried Brace.“Captain!” shouted a familiar voice. “Thank God, we’ve found you at last!” and a faint cheer rose up.“Quick! tell me,” cried Brace, as we pressed up to the men—“is it all true?”“You’ve heard, then, sir?” said the sergeant, with a groan.“Yes; Denny escaped and reached us.”“Poor lad! I thought he was one of the goners.”“How was it?” said Brace, sternly.“I hardly know, sir. A surprise. Everything was as usual, just at the hottest time, when they were down upon us like a thunder clap. One party made for the officers’ quarters, another for the guard, and shot down the sentries; another made the men fast in their quarters, and before we could grasp it, they had seized the whole place, and we were helpless.”“But the major—Lieutenant Barton?”“Don’t ask me, sir,” said the man, hoarsely.“Speak, man.”“I saw the major run out, sword in hand, followed by a dozen of the scoundrels, and he was shouting for the trumpeter; but before Dick Dobbs could get out, the poor major was cut down, and we were locked in, could hear the lieutenant crying for help, and there was firing going on in his quarters, and then the scoundrels came out, shouting wildly.”“Killed?”The sergeant uttered a low groan.“The wretches! the cowardly, traitorous wretches!” cried Brace. “They had murdered their own officers, and then came up to the barracks.”“Beg pardon, sir.”Brace repeated his words.“What! were the niggers mutinied too?”“Yes; did you not know?”“Not a word, sir. We were like being in prison till we managed to creep out; and then after a bit of a talk among us non-coms, as were left, we determined, as our officers were gone, to come and try and find you, sir.”“Then you were kept locked in the barracks?”“Yes, sir; and if any of us showed a head, it was made a mark for a bullet. But we could hear all that was going on. One of them sounded boot and saddle as well ’most as little Dick.”“Nay!” cried a boyish voice from the darkness.“Well, tidy enough; and then we could hear them bringing out the horses, and limbering up and forming up in the barrack yard, sir, till I could bear it no longer, and I risked the bullets so as to get a peep now and then; and I did till, with everything in order, and the ammunition chests and waggons crammed, they rode out of the yard, with the people yelling and tom-tomming like mad.”“But who—who did all this? The sepoys of the native regiment?”“No, sir,” cried the sergeant.“Then who did?”“The syces, sir.”“What?”“The whole gang of them, sir; led by Ny Deen.”“What?” said Brace again.“It has been a plot, sir, all slowly worked out. That Ny Deen is some big chief, from his ways to-day; and others with him are somebodies. They’ve been watching our drill, and quietly learning everything, till the time came, and then, at some word of command, they rushed in, carried all before them; and, after a way, they’ve gone off with guns, ammunition, and every horse except the officers’, which somehow they overlooked.”“Is this some horrible dream?” panted Brace.“No, sir; but horrid wide-awake truth,” said the sergeant, sadly. “Twenty-two of our men cut up, and as fine a troop of horses and battery of guns gone as there is in the army; and as for me, sir, I feel as if I was that disgraced, that if I’d had a carbine, I believe I should have gone up in some corner, said a bit of a prayer, and then—good-bye to it all, and shot myself dead.”“But the sentries?” said Brace, after an interval, during which we had stood as if utterly crushed by the news. “They could not have been doing their duty.”“Nay, sir, but they were,” said the sergeant, speaking with energy now, the last words he had uttered having been in a hoarse, broken voice, which told of his sorrow and despair. “Poor chaps! they saw a party of syces coming toward them in white—men they knew well enough. Was it likely, sir, that they’d think them enemies?”“No,” said Brace, sadly. “Poor lads! poor lads!”“God save the Queen, sir!” cried the sergeant, hysterically, for the poor fellow was utterly broken down, “and long life to one’s officers, whom I for one would follow anywhere, even to certain death. Yes; I’d have followed him, poor chap. But it was his doing, sir, and the likes of him; and I’ll say it now, even if I’m court-martialled for it. Lieutenant Barton brought it on us. The niggers ’ll bear a deal, but it’s only natural that they’d turn some time; and quiet as Ny Deen was, I’ve seen his eyes flash sometimes when Mr Barton was rating him, and not because he deserved it, for a better groom and a man more proud of turning out a horse well, never came into cantonments.”“Silence in the ranks,” said Brace, shortly. “Lie down all of you and rest. Gentlemen,” he continued, turning to us, “this way, please. We must consider what is to be done.”We followed him a few yards into the darkness, and Brace whispered to us to sit down, setting the example himself; but though we waited he did not speak, and at last the doctor whispered to me to say something to the captain.He heard the whispering and spoke at once, hurriedly.“I beg your pardon,” he said; “I was thinking hard about our position.”“Yes? Well?” said the lieutenant with us.“What have you decided?” whispered the doctor.“To act,” said Brace, with decision. “This mutinous rising may be one that is extending, or merely a local trouble here, at Rajgunge; but that is no affair of ours, gentlemen. We were away from our duties, on our own pleasure. We allowed ourselves to be inveigled—”“No, no,” said the doctor. “Poor Lacey gave us leave after accepting the invitation.”“The major kept to his post, and died defending it, sir,” said Brace, sternly. “We were away, and the position in which we find ourselves is a disgrace which we must wipe off.”“How?” cried my brother-officers.“As men should,” replied Brace, sternly. “As I have said, the rising is nothing to us, whether great or small. We have only one thing to study.”“To get back the guns!” I cried excitedly.Brace’s hand gripped my arm with all his force.“Yes,” he cried. “Right. To get back those guns and horses at any cost.”“Impossible!” muttered the doctor.“Tell me that, doctor,” cried Brace, “when I am wounded to the death, and you press my hand, tell me you can do no more, and say ‘Good-bye.’ There is no such word as impossible in a British soldier’s thoughts when he has to charge. Duty says forward! and he advances with a cheer. Now, gentlemen, are you with me? I am going to get back those guns. Doctor, you are a non-combatant; I am not speaking to you. Haynes, will you follow me?”“As long as I can lift an arm.”“I don’t ask you, Vincent. You are a soldier’s son, and I know that I can depend on you. There, I see my way now. Let us go back to the men.”We rose and followed him, the doctor whispering sharply, “Am I a non-combatant, Brace? This is a case of emergency, and perhaps I can use a sword as well as I can use a rifle. At any rate, I am going to try.”“’Tention!” said Brace, in a low quick voice, and the men sprang to their feet and formed in line, their figures looking weird and strange in the darkness. “Can you all hear me?”The silence which followed his question was proof that his words were heard, and he stepped back a few yards and stood listening intently before returning to face the men.“Now, my lads,” he said, “we are a mere handful in the midst, perhaps, of thousands of enemies; but we are Englishmen.”There was a loud murmur like the precursor of a shout.“Silence! Not a sound, my lads. Listen. We have been taken by surprise, and our comrades have many of them met their death through treachery, while the officers and men are disgraced by our position.”There was another murmur, but it was in protest.“Yes; I say disgraced. Ours, the smartest troop in the Company’s army, has been disarmed, and there are two courses open to us—to fly for our lives and try to make our way to the nearest station, tramping, and without our guns; or to make a bold dash, like the men you are, to get our guns and horses back. Those are the two courses open, and I am not going to insult my brave lads by asking them which course we shall take. Sergeant—men, I’m going to have those guns back. If I go down, here is Lieutenant Haynes to carry on the work. After him Mr Vincent, and after him the doctor. If we all break down, there’s Sergeant Craig. Plenty to lead you, and there isn’t a man among you who will not follow, I know.”“Not a man, sir,” said Sergeant Craig. “I’ll answer for them all.”“Please, sir, mayn’t we cheer?” said a voice in the ranks.“No, my lads,” said Brace. “I can feel your hearts are throbbing beat for beat with mine. When we get back our guns and horses you shall cheer; till then, you must work with me in silence, and with the cunning of the natives, for it is only by scheming that we can win. I know how you feel. That is all.”There was a low murmur like a thrill, and a sound as of men tightening their belts and loosening their swords. The next minute, as if it were a parade, Brace was walking along the front of the rank, and returning by the rear, followed by the sergeant and me.“A short muster, but enough,” said Brace. “Now, my lads, I propose to rest here for a couple of hours, then to march back to Rajgunge and reconnoitre the barracks when all is quiet. We may pick up one or two of our men, and, if fortunate, get the officers’ horses. Break off. We are out of sight here. Mr Haynes, post sentries. The others will try to get a couple of hours’ sleep. Silence!”In five minutes the sentries were posted and the officers lay down near the men, while we three talked in whispers about our chances of success, Brace having left us to begin steadily pacing up and down as if working out his plans.
“Seems too bad to leave my patient,” said the doctor. “Am I doing right?”
“You have dressed his wounds, and we are going to get help for him,” replied Brace.
“I hope so,” muttered the doctor. And then we toiled on and on, under the blazing sun, with our pieces growing so hot that they scorched our shoulders, but he man made a complaint, and two and two we tramped on, keeping a sharp look-out for the danger that might spring up at any moment.
“We must chance an ambuscade,” said Brace, quietly. “If we are attacked, and there is cover to be had, follow me to it at once. We four, with these rifles, ought to keep a pretty good party at bay. By the way, always hold your left hand barrels in reserve. We may want them to stop a rush.”
My recollection of that march is as that of some feverish dream; the sun came down with terrible power, and that which had been beautiful in the morning, from the howdah of an elephant, was now gloomy, painful, and apparently endless. Twice over we found that we had strayed from the track, and I had to turn and go watchfully back till we could see the great circular impressions of the elephants’ feet, and at last we reached the spot from whence we had started in the morning. There was the litter left by the rajah’s men when they had struck the shelter-tent, and followed us; there were the elephants’ footprints, and the marks of the stakes. But there was no sign of that which I had fondly hoped, in my parched and footsore state, might be in waiting—a couple of vehicles, ready to take us back. All was silent save the cry of a hawk soaring round and round in the blue sky, and once there came the sharp shriek of a jay.
We had now reached the road along whose dusty side we steadily trudged on, till we came in sight of Rajgunge, far away below us, and now bathed in the warm, ruddy glow of the setting sun.
We involuntarily halted, and, after a sharp look round for danger, stood gazing at the beautiful city, so calm and peaceful, with the golden riband-like river curving round in the evening glow, that it was impossible to think that anything could be wrong.
In fear of such a catastrophe, we looked forward to seeing the smoke rising from a conflagration. But no; there was the faint haze caused by the dust trampled up by many thousand feet, and softening the outline of some of the dazzling white buildings. That was all.
“Can it be possible?” said the doctor at last, after he had gazed through the little field-glass handed to him by Brace. “One could fancy it was all a false alarm, and that poor Denny’s injuries were the result of some troubles in the bazaar.”
“Hist! quick!” I said sharply; and I pointed to a cloud of dust far away before us.
“Our men!”
But as the words were spoken, we caught sight of the glint of steel just above the dust cloud; and knowing, as we did, that they were lance-points, we obeyed a sign from Brace, and took refuge among the trees by the roadside.
We were none too soon, for the cloud swept nearer, and, headed by a splendidly mounted man in a yellow caftan, belted with a rich cashmere shawl, about a couple of dozen white-clothed troopers swept by, and disappeared as they had come, in a cloud of dust.
“What are they?” said the doctor, inquiringly.
“Soldiers of some irregular regiment,” replied Brace, looking after the horsemen thoughtfully.
“Then there is no reason why they may not be friends,” I said.
“Where is their regular officer, then?” said Brace, drily. “They would not be led by a man like the one we saw.”
The opinion was unanswerable, and we tramped on along the dusty road, wearied out, but kept going by the excitement; till, coming upon a group of people, whose appearance suggested that they had journeyed from the city, Brace stopped them to question them about the state of the place.
For answer they rushed by us, and pursued their way, an action telling pretty plainly that some great change must have taken place, or these people would have been obsequious to a degree.
The sun went down, but the heat was as great as ever; and feeling at times as if I must drop, I kept on that weary tramp. Then darkness fell, the great stars came out, and feeling that our prospects would be better of getting unnoticed into the city, now not very distant, we took heart, and tramped forward in regular military time, the swing of the march seeming to help us forward.
Group after group of people were passed, but none heeded us, and no further efforts were made to stay and question them.
“No,” said Brace; “we will get our answer at head-quarters.”
Then, calling a halt for ten minutes, we sank down by the roadside to rest before starting for the finishing stage of our painful journey.
But we had no sooner thrown ourselves down, than from the darkness ahead came the murmur of voices and the tramp of feet, very low and distant, but peculiar enough to make Brace spring up, while my heart began to beat heavily.
“Draw farther back,” he whispered; “they are not country people.”
Just then there was a click familiar enough to us all, and then another.
“It must be some of our lads,” whispered Brace; and the next minute, as a little body of men came by, in regular military step, I heard him mutter, “Must be;” and he cried, “Halt!”
“Draw—swords!” rang out in answer, and there was the peculiar grating rattle of sabres being drawn from steel scabbards.
“Who is that? Sergeant Craig?” cried Brace.
“Captain!” shouted a familiar voice. “Thank God, we’ve found you at last!” and a faint cheer rose up.
“Quick! tell me,” cried Brace, as we pressed up to the men—“is it all true?”
“You’ve heard, then, sir?” said the sergeant, with a groan.
“Yes; Denny escaped and reached us.”
“Poor lad! I thought he was one of the goners.”
“How was it?” said Brace, sternly.
“I hardly know, sir. A surprise. Everything was as usual, just at the hottest time, when they were down upon us like a thunder clap. One party made for the officers’ quarters, another for the guard, and shot down the sentries; another made the men fast in their quarters, and before we could grasp it, they had seized the whole place, and we were helpless.”
“But the major—Lieutenant Barton?”
“Don’t ask me, sir,” said the man, hoarsely.
“Speak, man.”
“I saw the major run out, sword in hand, followed by a dozen of the scoundrels, and he was shouting for the trumpeter; but before Dick Dobbs could get out, the poor major was cut down, and we were locked in, could hear the lieutenant crying for help, and there was firing going on in his quarters, and then the scoundrels came out, shouting wildly.”
“Killed?”
The sergeant uttered a low groan.
“The wretches! the cowardly, traitorous wretches!” cried Brace. “They had murdered their own officers, and then came up to the barracks.”
“Beg pardon, sir.”
Brace repeated his words.
“What! were the niggers mutinied too?”
“Yes; did you not know?”
“Not a word, sir. We were like being in prison till we managed to creep out; and then after a bit of a talk among us non-coms, as were left, we determined, as our officers were gone, to come and try and find you, sir.”
“Then you were kept locked in the barracks?”
“Yes, sir; and if any of us showed a head, it was made a mark for a bullet. But we could hear all that was going on. One of them sounded boot and saddle as well ’most as little Dick.”
“Nay!” cried a boyish voice from the darkness.
“Well, tidy enough; and then we could hear them bringing out the horses, and limbering up and forming up in the barrack yard, sir, till I could bear it no longer, and I risked the bullets so as to get a peep now and then; and I did till, with everything in order, and the ammunition chests and waggons crammed, they rode out of the yard, with the people yelling and tom-tomming like mad.”
“But who—who did all this? The sepoys of the native regiment?”
“No, sir,” cried the sergeant.
“Then who did?”
“The syces, sir.”
“What?”
“The whole gang of them, sir; led by Ny Deen.”
“What?” said Brace again.
“It has been a plot, sir, all slowly worked out. That Ny Deen is some big chief, from his ways to-day; and others with him are somebodies. They’ve been watching our drill, and quietly learning everything, till the time came, and then, at some word of command, they rushed in, carried all before them; and, after a way, they’ve gone off with guns, ammunition, and every horse except the officers’, which somehow they overlooked.”
“Is this some horrible dream?” panted Brace.
“No, sir; but horrid wide-awake truth,” said the sergeant, sadly. “Twenty-two of our men cut up, and as fine a troop of horses and battery of guns gone as there is in the army; and as for me, sir, I feel as if I was that disgraced, that if I’d had a carbine, I believe I should have gone up in some corner, said a bit of a prayer, and then—good-bye to it all, and shot myself dead.”
“But the sentries?” said Brace, after an interval, during which we had stood as if utterly crushed by the news. “They could not have been doing their duty.”
“Nay, sir, but they were,” said the sergeant, speaking with energy now, the last words he had uttered having been in a hoarse, broken voice, which told of his sorrow and despair. “Poor chaps! they saw a party of syces coming toward them in white—men they knew well enough. Was it likely, sir, that they’d think them enemies?”
“No,” said Brace, sadly. “Poor lads! poor lads!”
“God save the Queen, sir!” cried the sergeant, hysterically, for the poor fellow was utterly broken down, “and long life to one’s officers, whom I for one would follow anywhere, even to certain death. Yes; I’d have followed him, poor chap. But it was his doing, sir, and the likes of him; and I’ll say it now, even if I’m court-martialled for it. Lieutenant Barton brought it on us. The niggers ’ll bear a deal, but it’s only natural that they’d turn some time; and quiet as Ny Deen was, I’ve seen his eyes flash sometimes when Mr Barton was rating him, and not because he deserved it, for a better groom and a man more proud of turning out a horse well, never came into cantonments.”
“Silence in the ranks,” said Brace, shortly. “Lie down all of you and rest. Gentlemen,” he continued, turning to us, “this way, please. We must consider what is to be done.”
We followed him a few yards into the darkness, and Brace whispered to us to sit down, setting the example himself; but though we waited he did not speak, and at last the doctor whispered to me to say something to the captain.
He heard the whispering and spoke at once, hurriedly.
“I beg your pardon,” he said; “I was thinking hard about our position.”
“Yes? Well?” said the lieutenant with us.
“What have you decided?” whispered the doctor.
“To act,” said Brace, with decision. “This mutinous rising may be one that is extending, or merely a local trouble here, at Rajgunge; but that is no affair of ours, gentlemen. We were away from our duties, on our own pleasure. We allowed ourselves to be inveigled—”
“No, no,” said the doctor. “Poor Lacey gave us leave after accepting the invitation.”
“The major kept to his post, and died defending it, sir,” said Brace, sternly. “We were away, and the position in which we find ourselves is a disgrace which we must wipe off.”
“How?” cried my brother-officers.
“As men should,” replied Brace, sternly. “As I have said, the rising is nothing to us, whether great or small. We have only one thing to study.”
“To get back the guns!” I cried excitedly.
Brace’s hand gripped my arm with all his force.
“Yes,” he cried. “Right. To get back those guns and horses at any cost.”
“Impossible!” muttered the doctor.
“Tell me that, doctor,” cried Brace, “when I am wounded to the death, and you press my hand, tell me you can do no more, and say ‘Good-bye.’ There is no such word as impossible in a British soldier’s thoughts when he has to charge. Duty says forward! and he advances with a cheer. Now, gentlemen, are you with me? I am going to get back those guns. Doctor, you are a non-combatant; I am not speaking to you. Haynes, will you follow me?”
“As long as I can lift an arm.”
“I don’t ask you, Vincent. You are a soldier’s son, and I know that I can depend on you. There, I see my way now. Let us go back to the men.”
We rose and followed him, the doctor whispering sharply, “Am I a non-combatant, Brace? This is a case of emergency, and perhaps I can use a sword as well as I can use a rifle. At any rate, I am going to try.”
“’Tention!” said Brace, in a low quick voice, and the men sprang to their feet and formed in line, their figures looking weird and strange in the darkness. “Can you all hear me?”
The silence which followed his question was proof that his words were heard, and he stepped back a few yards and stood listening intently before returning to face the men.
“Now, my lads,” he said, “we are a mere handful in the midst, perhaps, of thousands of enemies; but we are Englishmen.”
There was a loud murmur like the precursor of a shout.
“Silence! Not a sound, my lads. Listen. We have been taken by surprise, and our comrades have many of them met their death through treachery, while the officers and men are disgraced by our position.”
There was another murmur, but it was in protest.
“Yes; I say disgraced. Ours, the smartest troop in the Company’s army, has been disarmed, and there are two courses open to us—to fly for our lives and try to make our way to the nearest station, tramping, and without our guns; or to make a bold dash, like the men you are, to get our guns and horses back. Those are the two courses open, and I am not going to insult my brave lads by asking them which course we shall take. Sergeant—men, I’m going to have those guns back. If I go down, here is Lieutenant Haynes to carry on the work. After him Mr Vincent, and after him the doctor. If we all break down, there’s Sergeant Craig. Plenty to lead you, and there isn’t a man among you who will not follow, I know.”
“Not a man, sir,” said Sergeant Craig. “I’ll answer for them all.”
“Please, sir, mayn’t we cheer?” said a voice in the ranks.
“No, my lads,” said Brace. “I can feel your hearts are throbbing beat for beat with mine. When we get back our guns and horses you shall cheer; till then, you must work with me in silence, and with the cunning of the natives, for it is only by scheming that we can win. I know how you feel. That is all.”
There was a low murmur like a thrill, and a sound as of men tightening their belts and loosening their swords. The next minute, as if it were a parade, Brace was walking along the front of the rank, and returning by the rear, followed by the sergeant and me.
“A short muster, but enough,” said Brace. “Now, my lads, I propose to rest here for a couple of hours, then to march back to Rajgunge and reconnoitre the barracks when all is quiet. We may pick up one or two of our men, and, if fortunate, get the officers’ horses. Break off. We are out of sight here. Mr Haynes, post sentries. The others will try to get a couple of hours’ sleep. Silence!”
In five minutes the sentries were posted and the officers lay down near the men, while we three talked in whispers about our chances of success, Brace having left us to begin steadily pacing up and down as if working out his plans.
Chapter Fourteen.At the appointed time the men fell in, rested a little, no doubt, but not one had slept, and after a few words respecting the importance of silence, Brace placed himself at their head, whispered to me to come to his side, and the word was given—March!It was a strange, weird tramp along the deserted road, for not a soul was encountered; but as we drew nearer, the lights in the city were many, and from the noise and drumming it was evident that there were festivities in progress, possibly rejoicings among the natives at the fall of the British rule.But as we got on to lower ground the illuminations disappeared, and Brace pointed out that the part in the direction of our barracks seemed to be all dark.But we could, of course, make out little at that distance, and as we neared the river, Brace struck off to the right, so as to avoid the houses as much as possible, his intention being, he said, to get round till we were about opposite to our quarters, and then march boldly and silently on.“The probabilities are,” he said, “that at this hour of the night we shall not meet a soul.”About this time he called up the sergeant and questioned him, but there was little more to be communicated. Apparently there had been very little plundering; the party led by Ny Deen having its one important object in view—the capture of the horses, guns, and ammunition; and after cutting down those who resisted, and securing the rest in their quarters, they had busied themselves over their task, and marched out in triumph.“But I’m expecting, sir, that when we get back we shall find that the mob from the bazaar has been busy, and plundered and burned the whole place; and if so—”He stopped short.“Well, speak up, man. What do you mean—the wounded?”“No, sir,” replied the sergeant, as I shuddered at the horrors these words suggested; “I don’t think there were any wounded left; they did their work too well. I was thinking of the poor chargers.”“Oh!” I ejaculated, as I thought of my noble-looking Arab and its companion, and I involuntarily quickened my pace.“Steady, Vincent,” whispered the captain; and I checked myself. “Let’s hope it is not so.” Then, turning to the sergeant—“You feel sure that the officers’ horses are not gone?”“I can’t say that, sir. Only that the mutineers did not take them. They wanted to get the gun-horses and the others; that was all they seemed to be thinking about.”“Yes, that would be all,” assented Brace.“The mob may have carried off the poor creatures since, sir; I don’t know.”As we approached the outskirts, all was as anticipated, quite still, and after another whisper to the men to keep as silent as possible, we marched boldly in through the narrow lanes, threading our way for some time without hardly seeing a soul, and those whom we encountered only looked at us with curiosity or else fled at once.Twice over we became confused, losing our way, but our good luck aided us, for we recognised places which we had passed through before, and resumed our march, getting nearer and nearer to our barracks, and now hearing shouting, drumming, with the clash of music, but right away from us; and at last it was left well behind to our right.From time to time the captain halted and let the men pass by him, so as to keep a sharp look-out, and see whether we were followed.But that did not seem to enter into the thoughts of any of the natives we had passed. They were apparently thinking solely of their own safety, and at last, trembling with eagerness, we approached the gateway that we had left so short a time before; and a painful sensation of sorrow smote me as I recalled the genial face of the major and his words wishing us success as he saw us off on our pleasant expedition.“And now dead!—cruelly murdered by treachery,” I said to myself; while the painful feeling was succeeded by one of rage, accompanied by a desire to take vengeance on the men who had cut him down.But I had something else to think of now, for Brace halted the men and took me to examine the gateway, where all was silent and black. There was no armed sentry on duty, no lights in the guard-room, and a chill struck through me, and I searched the ground with my eyes in dread lest I should trip over the remains of some man by whose side I had ridden during many a parade or drill.Brace stepped forward boldly, and we passed through the gateway into the yard when, suddenly, and as silently as if barefooted, a white figure started up near us, and would have fled had not Brace caught it by the arm.“Silence!” he said in Hindustani.“Don’t kill me, master,” came in a low supplicating whisper.“Dost!” I exclaimed, for I recognised the voice.“Yes, master,” he cried, turning to me.“What were you doing here?” said Brace, sternly.“I came up when all was dark and the budmashes were all gone, master,” said the man with trembling accents. “I have been to master’s quarters.”“To plunder?” said Brace, sternly.“Master’s servant is honest and never steals,” said Dost, quickly. “Master can search and see.”“I think—I’m sure he is honest,” I said hastily. “Tell us, Dost. Who is in the barracks now?”“The dead men, master,” said the Hindu solemnly. “There is no one living there. Yes,” he added quickly, “I did hear sounds, but I could find nobody. And the mem sahib is gone.”“Where did you hear the sounds?” I asked.“By the stables, my lord. If the budmashes had not taken away all the horses I should have thought the horses were there still.”“And they are,” I whispered to Brace.“Be cautious,” he whispered back. “We must not trust this man. Dost, tell me; the major—where is he?”The man sighed, and said softly—“The burra major is dead. I have laid his body inside the mess-room. The mem sahib must have escaped or been carried off.”“You did this, Dost?” I cried, after a pause.“Yes, sahib. It was dreadful for him to lie there.”“Take us where you have laid him,” said Brace, sternly; “but mind, if you attempt to escape, I shall fire.”“Why should thy servant try to escape?” said the man simply. “This way.”“You do not trust him?” I said to Brace.“Trust?” he replied bitterly. “Who can ever trust a Hindu again?”We followed Dost across the compound, to where the blank windows of the mess-room loomed out of the darkness, and we saw that they and the door were carefully closed.“I have misjudged him, Gil,” whispered Brace; “he has been here.”As the Hindu began to open the door, we glanced sharply about the place, each holding his double rifle, ready for immediate action against human tigers, as I told myself. But all was silent and deserted, and as I looked toward the major’s quarters and thought of the pleasant English lady who had so often made me welcome in the little drawing-room she fitted up so charmingly wherever we stayed, and whose soft carpets, purdahs, and screens came back to my memory in the soft light of the shaded lamps, I shivered, and wondered what had been her fate.“I could not find the lieutenant, sahib,” said Dost, as he threw open the door.“Be on your guard, Gil,” whispered Brace to me in French; “it may be a trap after all. Hush! Look out. I thought so,” he cried; and I swung round the muzzle of my rifle, as four figures suddenly came upon us from out of the darkness at our back.The alarm was momentary, for a familiar voice said, as the point of a sword gritted in the sand at the speaker’s feet—“All right. I was growing uneasy about you, and brought three of the boys in case of accident.”“Thank you, doctor,” said Brace. “We are going in here. The major—”“Hush!” said the doctor, drawing in a hissing breath. “Stand fast, my lads.”“If you hear anything wrong,” said Brace to the three men who stood sword in hand, “you know what to do.”There was a low hiss, more than a murmur, and then we were in the darkness of the mess-room.“I’ll shut the door,” said Dost, softly.“Why?” said the doctor, quickly.“The sahib doctor can trust me,” said the man, quietly. “It is dark. I am going to light a candle. I think the barracks are quite empty, but some of the budmashes might be about seeking to rob, and they would see the light.”He closed the door, and the darkness for the moment was intense, while my heart beat with a heavy throb as I wondered whether, after all, there was treachery intended, and Brace’s words rang in my ears—“Who can ever trust a Hindu again?”The silence was awful in the moments which followed the closing of the door. There was a faint rustling sound followed by a sharp click click, which I knew was the cocking of a rifle or pistol; then came a scraping sound as of a sword-edge touching the wall—sounds which told me that my suspicions were shared; but, directly after, they were dispelled, for there was a crackling noise and a faint line of light; a repetition of the scratching, accompanied by a few sparks, and, at the third repetition, there was a flash which lit up the dark face of Dost and his white turban; then the match began to burn, and we could see his fingers look transparent as he sheltered the flame and held it to a piece of candle, which directly after lit up the mess-room, one wreck now of broken glass, shattered chairs, and ragged curtain and cloth.I saw all that at a glance, but as my eyes wandered about the room, they rested upon a couch at the side, upon which lay something covered completely by a tablecloth, whose whiteness was horribly stained.I shuddered, and tried to turn my eyes away, but I could not, and involuntarily I followed Brace and the doctor, as Dost went to the couch.“Better keep away, Gil, lad,” said Brace, in a low voice, full of emotion. “You will have enough horrors forced upon you without seeking them out.”I made no answer, but I did not retire, as Brace softly raised the cloth from the face of our commanding officer, and I saw that, though disfigured by a couple of terrible cuts, it was quite placid; and my heart warmed—in my sorrow for my poor friend—toward the Hindu servant who had so reverently treated his remains.Then a thrill ran through me, for as Brace stood holding the cloth raised, and Dost held the candle for us to see, the doctor uttered an ejaculation, pushed Brace rudely aside, and then laid his rifle on the ground, and began to tear open the light cotton garment the major wore, while his busy hands played, in the dim light, about his breast.“Here, Dost,” he whispered, “put down the light. Tear this cloth into narrow bandages. Vincent, lad, take out my pocket-book from my breast, and open it.”“Great heavens, Danby!” began Brace.“Thank Heaven, you mean,” said the doctor, in his quick, business-like way. “Good job I’m here. Dost, you fool, you shouldn’t be in such a hurry. Why, you might have buried him. The man’s not dead.”No word was uttered, but there was a quick expiration of the breath, and then a busy silence, only broken by the rustling movements of the doctor, who kept on examining and bandaging.At last he began to speak.“Wonderful how nature stops bleeding,” he whispered. “He has cuts and stabs enough to have bled any one to death, but there’s a spark left yet.”“Hist! what’s that?” said Brace, as a sound came from the door.“Right, sir,” said a voice, which I knew to be Sergeant Craig’s. “Mr Haynes is getting uneasy.”“Go and tell him,” said Brace, who was kneeling and holding one end of a bandage.I crossed to the door.“We’ve found the major,” I whispered, “desperately wounded, but alive.”“Oh!” came in one burst from the men.“Go and tell Mr Haynes.”“Best news I’ve heard to-day, sir,” whispered the sergeant, who turned and went off at the double while I stepped outside, and closed the door to satisfy myself that the light could not be seen.“No, sir,” said one of the men, “we couldn’t see a speck of it.”I hurried back to report in a whisper that all was safe, and for the next quarter of an hour I looked on till the doctor had finished his task.“There,” he said, rising, “he’s as bad as can be, but I may bring him round if we can get him to a place of safety.”“Dost can help us, perhaps,” I whispered.“Try and manage it with him, Danby,” said Brace, “while I go and see if the horses are safe. Dost, I ask your pardon for my unjust suspicions. Forgive me!”“The captain sahib did not know my heart,” was the reply; and before leaving, I caught and pressed the Hindu’s hand.Outside in the black night, where the hot wind was sighing, and the great stars blinking down, we left one man on guard at the mess-room door, and hurried round to the stables, where, to our great delight, we were saluted by a low whinnying from the horses, my two and Brace’s being safe and eagerly waiting for their supply of food. Leaving the men to feed them, we hurried to the next stables, where the major’s horses should have been, in company with the doctor’s, but the place was empty; and on continuing our quest, Barton’s and Haynes’s were all missing, while the men’s troopers were gone, and a glance at the sheds showed that not a gun or limber was left.“Back to the mess-room,” said Brace, after we had come upon several of our dead men, but had seen no trace of either of the women attached to the corps. “Heard anything?” he whispered to the sentry.“Woman scream, sir.”“No, no.”“Yes, sir; I swear to it. Heard it twice quite plain.”“Jackals on the prowl, man,” said Brace.“Must have been a female jackal, then,” I heard the man mutter, as I passed in and found the doctor and my Hindu servant by the couch.“How is he?” whispered Brace.“Well, he’s alive, and that’s all,” replied the doctor. “Dost here says that if we have him carried to a house in the town about a quarter of a mile away, he knows people who will nurse him. Will you give orders. There are plenty of light dhoolies.”“Will he be safe?” said Brace, quickly.“My life upon it, sahib,” said Dost. “I can attend him too when the master does not want me. But I can be useful to him still.”“This is no time for wanting servants,” said Brace, shortly. “Let it be as he proposes. I will get the men and the dhooly at once.”“Where will the master be when I want to follow him?”Brace hesitated for a few moments, and seemed to be about to speak out, but he altered his mind, and said slowly:“I cannot say yet. But we will keep communicating with you where the major is.”“But the master had better take me,” said Dost, quickly. “The place will be full of budmashes, and the people all about will be enemies now. How are the sahibs to know where to get food or shelter, or to get news without me? I can go anywhere—you nowhere.”“Not yet,” said Brace, meaningly; “but you are right, Dost, you shall go with us, and keep open our communications.”We went out and across to the gate, where Haynes was fretting with anxiety, but a thrill ran through the men as they found there was work on hand. The orders were given, and a corporal and four men were told off to carry the dhooly, which was found at once, and borne to the mess-room. Then the major was carefully lifted in, and with the doctor in charge and Dost as guide, the little party sallied forth with the understanding that they were to return as quickly as possible.The interval was spent in a search for food; then arms were hunted out, we officers finding that our quarters had not been plundered, and hurriedly changing our hunting garments for service uniform; and somehow as I stepped out again into the dark night, with sword belted on, and pistols ready to place in my saddle holsters, the helpless despairing feeling began to wear off.By this time the horses had been saddled and bridled, and all were ready for the next move, but the doctor did not return, and while we were waiting a faint shouting arose from below in the city.We had been well over the barracks and learned the worst, Brace sharing my surprise that so little plundering had been going on; and whilst we were standing once more in the court with the men drawn up, a picket at the gate, and one of the horses laden with provisions and ammunition, Haynes turned to me.“It’s terribly un-English,” he said; “but they would have no mercy on us.”“What do you mean?” I said.“They have declared war on us, and they ought to take the consequences.”“Explain yourself,” I said, as I felt as if I were listening to him with one ear, and for the return of our absent men with the other.“Well,” he said, “I feel as if I should like to give the scoundrels a lesson. The magazine is half full of powder, and to-morrow the wretches will be up here plundering and destroying.”“Well, what then?”“It would be so easy to lay a trap for them. Plant all the powder behind the gates, after carefully barricading them; lay a train; wait till they were all crowded together, and trying to get in, and then fire the train and blow them all to destruction.”“And who would fire the train, Haynes?” said Brace, who, unnoticed by us, had heard every word.“I feel as if I could enjoy staying behind on purpose,” said Haynes.“Hah! I’ve better work on hand for you,” said Brace, quietly. “It would do no good, and only be destroying a mob of the greatest ruffians in Rajgunge. Hah, there is the challenge at last.”In effect the doctor and the men with the dhooly came back just then.“Where’s Dost—staying with the major?” cried Brace.“No, sahib, I am here,” came from the interior of the dhooly, out of which Dost stepped as the men set it down.“What does this mean?” said Brace, angrily.“His ruse to save us,” said the doctor. “We got poor Lacey safe into comfortable quarters at the house of two of the women who washed for the men, and they are to be trusted, I think. I can do no more for him, but see to his wounds to-morrow. As soon as I had seen him right, we were coming back, when, as luck had it, we got into a narrow lane, and half-way along it, heard a noisy party coming shouting along from some festivity. Retreat was impossible, and I gave the orders to the men to draw and cut our way through, but Dost here stopped us by proposing to get in the dhooly.”“Why?” said Brace, angrily.“I’ll tell you. It was a last resource; and though the men grumbled, they lifted the dhooly, and I marched by the side. The next minute we were stopped.”“Well?”“Hang him!” cried the doctor; “he began to curse them in Hindustani for stopping his gharry, ordered them to let his servants go by, and the idiots took it that a complete change had come over the state of affairs; that Dost must have turned rajah, and was using the English as his slaves. So they all shouted with delight, let us pass, and here we are, thanks to Rajah Dost.”“Then, now for our start,” said Brace, “unless it would be wiser to stay here till morning, Dost must go out and try and obtain news of the women.”“No, no, sahib,” cried the Hindu, excitedly. “By daylight all the budmashes of the city will be up here to plunder and burn.”“Do you hear, Haynes?” said Brace, bitterly. “They may bring the punishment upon themselves.”“I have thought of the mem sahib, master,” continued Dost, “and one of the women will try and learn news for us. She will find it better than I could.”“You are right,” said Brace; and giving orders for the horses to be led in the rear, he placed himself at the head of our little column, gave the word march, and we filed out of the gate, Dost leading through the silent lanes of the city, and then round below its walls to the bridge of boats, which was passed without our having encountered a soul.In our helpless state it was felt that we could do no better than to go by Dost’s advice, for he knew the country round, and suggested that we should go on as rapidly as possible, so as to reach one of the patches of forest which clothed the slopes of the valley side opposite the city before daybreak.“And when we are there?” asked Brace.“We shall be within reach of the major sahib, and I can take the doctor sahib over to him when it is night again.”“Very well,” said Brace, thoughtfully.Then, as if remembering the great aim he had in view—“Did the scoundrels go up the valley toward the rajah’s?”“No, sahib; they brought the guns over the bridge, and some say they have gone to Ramul.”“That is only a few miles away,” said Brace, quickly, “and beyond the hills. Forward, my lads. No speaking in the ranks.”We tramped on silently for a couple of hours with the night growing darker as we went onward, the men literally reeling at times from weariness and exhaustion after the terrible day.All at once, one man fell out, and dropped upon the road side.“Halt!” cried Brace, in a low voice.“No, no, captain; keep on,” said the man. “I’m dead beat. Never mind me.”“We have no dhooly, my lad, to carry you, so we must wait till you can walk, for we must hold together now to the last. Who is it?”“Sergeant Craig, sir,” said one of the men; and Brace hurried to his side.“Why, Craig, my poor fellow, this will not do.”As he spoke, the man who had thrown himself on the ground struggled to his knees.“Some one give me a drink of water,” he cried hoarsely; and a canteen having been handed to him, he drank deeply, and then tried to rise, but failed.“You’ll have to go on, captain,” he said hoarsely. “I’ve got a bit of a hurt. I did not think it was so much as it is. Makes me a bit faint. If some one took my arm perhaps I could struggle on.”“We are close to the jungle, sahib,” whispered Dost.“Two of you support the sergeant,” cried the captain; and a couple of men being detailed for the duty, the sergeant struggled on again for about a couple of hundred yards, the last hundred being in the deep shadows of the trees; and none too soon, for a few bird notes were heard announcing the coming day. Ten minutes later sentries were posted, the horses picketed, and the men were lying down to drop asleep directly, while the doctor busily examined the sergeant’s wound.“A big and ugly one,” he said, “but nothing to mind. Made you faint, of course. There, it isn’t your sword arm.”“’Tisn’t your sword arm” rung in my ears again and again, mingled with the whistling and singing of birds; and to me the bird song had something to do with the dressing of the wound; and then all was blank, and I was plunged in a deep sleep which after some time grew disturbed, and I seemed to be back at the college, drilling, and studying under General Crucie. Then I was getting into difficulties with my fellow cadets and being sent to Coventry, as the most ill-humoured fellow they knew; and then I was awake, gazing up at the trees whose boughs shaded us from the sun, bathed in perspiration, and smelling tobacco smoke.Note 1. Dhoolies are light ambulances.Note 2. Purdahs, curtains or hangings.
At the appointed time the men fell in, rested a little, no doubt, but not one had slept, and after a few words respecting the importance of silence, Brace placed himself at their head, whispered to me to come to his side, and the word was given—March!
It was a strange, weird tramp along the deserted road, for not a soul was encountered; but as we drew nearer, the lights in the city were many, and from the noise and drumming it was evident that there were festivities in progress, possibly rejoicings among the natives at the fall of the British rule.
But as we got on to lower ground the illuminations disappeared, and Brace pointed out that the part in the direction of our barracks seemed to be all dark.
But we could, of course, make out little at that distance, and as we neared the river, Brace struck off to the right, so as to avoid the houses as much as possible, his intention being, he said, to get round till we were about opposite to our quarters, and then march boldly and silently on.
“The probabilities are,” he said, “that at this hour of the night we shall not meet a soul.”
About this time he called up the sergeant and questioned him, but there was little more to be communicated. Apparently there had been very little plundering; the party led by Ny Deen having its one important object in view—the capture of the horses, guns, and ammunition; and after cutting down those who resisted, and securing the rest in their quarters, they had busied themselves over their task, and marched out in triumph.
“But I’m expecting, sir, that when we get back we shall find that the mob from the bazaar has been busy, and plundered and burned the whole place; and if so—”
He stopped short.
“Well, speak up, man. What do you mean—the wounded?”
“No, sir,” replied the sergeant, as I shuddered at the horrors these words suggested; “I don’t think there were any wounded left; they did their work too well. I was thinking of the poor chargers.”
“Oh!” I ejaculated, as I thought of my noble-looking Arab and its companion, and I involuntarily quickened my pace.
“Steady, Vincent,” whispered the captain; and I checked myself. “Let’s hope it is not so.” Then, turning to the sergeant—“You feel sure that the officers’ horses are not gone?”
“I can’t say that, sir. Only that the mutineers did not take them. They wanted to get the gun-horses and the others; that was all they seemed to be thinking about.”
“Yes, that would be all,” assented Brace.
“The mob may have carried off the poor creatures since, sir; I don’t know.”
As we approached the outskirts, all was as anticipated, quite still, and after another whisper to the men to keep as silent as possible, we marched boldly in through the narrow lanes, threading our way for some time without hardly seeing a soul, and those whom we encountered only looked at us with curiosity or else fled at once.
Twice over we became confused, losing our way, but our good luck aided us, for we recognised places which we had passed through before, and resumed our march, getting nearer and nearer to our barracks, and now hearing shouting, drumming, with the clash of music, but right away from us; and at last it was left well behind to our right.
From time to time the captain halted and let the men pass by him, so as to keep a sharp look-out, and see whether we were followed.
But that did not seem to enter into the thoughts of any of the natives we had passed. They were apparently thinking solely of their own safety, and at last, trembling with eagerness, we approached the gateway that we had left so short a time before; and a painful sensation of sorrow smote me as I recalled the genial face of the major and his words wishing us success as he saw us off on our pleasant expedition.
“And now dead!—cruelly murdered by treachery,” I said to myself; while the painful feeling was succeeded by one of rage, accompanied by a desire to take vengeance on the men who had cut him down.
But I had something else to think of now, for Brace halted the men and took me to examine the gateway, where all was silent and black. There was no armed sentry on duty, no lights in the guard-room, and a chill struck through me, and I searched the ground with my eyes in dread lest I should trip over the remains of some man by whose side I had ridden during many a parade or drill.
Brace stepped forward boldly, and we passed through the gateway into the yard when, suddenly, and as silently as if barefooted, a white figure started up near us, and would have fled had not Brace caught it by the arm.
“Silence!” he said in Hindustani.
“Don’t kill me, master,” came in a low supplicating whisper.
“Dost!” I exclaimed, for I recognised the voice.
“Yes, master,” he cried, turning to me.
“What were you doing here?” said Brace, sternly.
“I came up when all was dark and the budmashes were all gone, master,” said the man with trembling accents. “I have been to master’s quarters.”
“To plunder?” said Brace, sternly.
“Master’s servant is honest and never steals,” said Dost, quickly. “Master can search and see.”
“I think—I’m sure he is honest,” I said hastily. “Tell us, Dost. Who is in the barracks now?”
“The dead men, master,” said the Hindu solemnly. “There is no one living there. Yes,” he added quickly, “I did hear sounds, but I could find nobody. And the mem sahib is gone.”
“Where did you hear the sounds?” I asked.
“By the stables, my lord. If the budmashes had not taken away all the horses I should have thought the horses were there still.”
“And they are,” I whispered to Brace.
“Be cautious,” he whispered back. “We must not trust this man. Dost, tell me; the major—where is he?”
The man sighed, and said softly—
“The burra major is dead. I have laid his body inside the mess-room. The mem sahib must have escaped or been carried off.”
“You did this, Dost?” I cried, after a pause.
“Yes, sahib. It was dreadful for him to lie there.”
“Take us where you have laid him,” said Brace, sternly; “but mind, if you attempt to escape, I shall fire.”
“Why should thy servant try to escape?” said the man simply. “This way.”
“You do not trust him?” I said to Brace.
“Trust?” he replied bitterly. “Who can ever trust a Hindu again?”
We followed Dost across the compound, to where the blank windows of the mess-room loomed out of the darkness, and we saw that they and the door were carefully closed.
“I have misjudged him, Gil,” whispered Brace; “he has been here.”
As the Hindu began to open the door, we glanced sharply about the place, each holding his double rifle, ready for immediate action against human tigers, as I told myself. But all was silent and deserted, and as I looked toward the major’s quarters and thought of the pleasant English lady who had so often made me welcome in the little drawing-room she fitted up so charmingly wherever we stayed, and whose soft carpets, purdahs, and screens came back to my memory in the soft light of the shaded lamps, I shivered, and wondered what had been her fate.
“I could not find the lieutenant, sahib,” said Dost, as he threw open the door.
“Be on your guard, Gil,” whispered Brace to me in French; “it may be a trap after all. Hush! Look out. I thought so,” he cried; and I swung round the muzzle of my rifle, as four figures suddenly came upon us from out of the darkness at our back.
The alarm was momentary, for a familiar voice said, as the point of a sword gritted in the sand at the speaker’s feet—
“All right. I was growing uneasy about you, and brought three of the boys in case of accident.”
“Thank you, doctor,” said Brace. “We are going in here. The major—”
“Hush!” said the doctor, drawing in a hissing breath. “Stand fast, my lads.”
“If you hear anything wrong,” said Brace to the three men who stood sword in hand, “you know what to do.”
There was a low hiss, more than a murmur, and then we were in the darkness of the mess-room.
“I’ll shut the door,” said Dost, softly.
“Why?” said the doctor, quickly.
“The sahib doctor can trust me,” said the man, quietly. “It is dark. I am going to light a candle. I think the barracks are quite empty, but some of the budmashes might be about seeking to rob, and they would see the light.”
He closed the door, and the darkness for the moment was intense, while my heart beat with a heavy throb as I wondered whether, after all, there was treachery intended, and Brace’s words rang in my ears—“Who can ever trust a Hindu again?”
The silence was awful in the moments which followed the closing of the door. There was a faint rustling sound followed by a sharp click click, which I knew was the cocking of a rifle or pistol; then came a scraping sound as of a sword-edge touching the wall—sounds which told me that my suspicions were shared; but, directly after, they were dispelled, for there was a crackling noise and a faint line of light; a repetition of the scratching, accompanied by a few sparks, and, at the third repetition, there was a flash which lit up the dark face of Dost and his white turban; then the match began to burn, and we could see his fingers look transparent as he sheltered the flame and held it to a piece of candle, which directly after lit up the mess-room, one wreck now of broken glass, shattered chairs, and ragged curtain and cloth.
I saw all that at a glance, but as my eyes wandered about the room, they rested upon a couch at the side, upon which lay something covered completely by a tablecloth, whose whiteness was horribly stained.
I shuddered, and tried to turn my eyes away, but I could not, and involuntarily I followed Brace and the doctor, as Dost went to the couch.
“Better keep away, Gil, lad,” said Brace, in a low voice, full of emotion. “You will have enough horrors forced upon you without seeking them out.”
I made no answer, but I did not retire, as Brace softly raised the cloth from the face of our commanding officer, and I saw that, though disfigured by a couple of terrible cuts, it was quite placid; and my heart warmed—in my sorrow for my poor friend—toward the Hindu servant who had so reverently treated his remains.
Then a thrill ran through me, for as Brace stood holding the cloth raised, and Dost held the candle for us to see, the doctor uttered an ejaculation, pushed Brace rudely aside, and then laid his rifle on the ground, and began to tear open the light cotton garment the major wore, while his busy hands played, in the dim light, about his breast.
“Here, Dost,” he whispered, “put down the light. Tear this cloth into narrow bandages. Vincent, lad, take out my pocket-book from my breast, and open it.”
“Great heavens, Danby!” began Brace.
“Thank Heaven, you mean,” said the doctor, in his quick, business-like way. “Good job I’m here. Dost, you fool, you shouldn’t be in such a hurry. Why, you might have buried him. The man’s not dead.”
No word was uttered, but there was a quick expiration of the breath, and then a busy silence, only broken by the rustling movements of the doctor, who kept on examining and bandaging.
At last he began to speak.
“Wonderful how nature stops bleeding,” he whispered. “He has cuts and stabs enough to have bled any one to death, but there’s a spark left yet.”
“Hist! what’s that?” said Brace, as a sound came from the door.
“Right, sir,” said a voice, which I knew to be Sergeant Craig’s. “Mr Haynes is getting uneasy.”
“Go and tell him,” said Brace, who was kneeling and holding one end of a bandage.
I crossed to the door.
“We’ve found the major,” I whispered, “desperately wounded, but alive.”
“Oh!” came in one burst from the men.
“Go and tell Mr Haynes.”
“Best news I’ve heard to-day, sir,” whispered the sergeant, who turned and went off at the double while I stepped outside, and closed the door to satisfy myself that the light could not be seen.
“No, sir,” said one of the men, “we couldn’t see a speck of it.”
I hurried back to report in a whisper that all was safe, and for the next quarter of an hour I looked on till the doctor had finished his task.
“There,” he said, rising, “he’s as bad as can be, but I may bring him round if we can get him to a place of safety.”
“Dost can help us, perhaps,” I whispered.
“Try and manage it with him, Danby,” said Brace, “while I go and see if the horses are safe. Dost, I ask your pardon for my unjust suspicions. Forgive me!”
“The captain sahib did not know my heart,” was the reply; and before leaving, I caught and pressed the Hindu’s hand.
Outside in the black night, where the hot wind was sighing, and the great stars blinking down, we left one man on guard at the mess-room door, and hurried round to the stables, where, to our great delight, we were saluted by a low whinnying from the horses, my two and Brace’s being safe and eagerly waiting for their supply of food. Leaving the men to feed them, we hurried to the next stables, where the major’s horses should have been, in company with the doctor’s, but the place was empty; and on continuing our quest, Barton’s and Haynes’s were all missing, while the men’s troopers were gone, and a glance at the sheds showed that not a gun or limber was left.
“Back to the mess-room,” said Brace, after we had come upon several of our dead men, but had seen no trace of either of the women attached to the corps. “Heard anything?” he whispered to the sentry.
“Woman scream, sir.”
“No, no.”
“Yes, sir; I swear to it. Heard it twice quite plain.”
“Jackals on the prowl, man,” said Brace.
“Must have been a female jackal, then,” I heard the man mutter, as I passed in and found the doctor and my Hindu servant by the couch.
“How is he?” whispered Brace.
“Well, he’s alive, and that’s all,” replied the doctor. “Dost here says that if we have him carried to a house in the town about a quarter of a mile away, he knows people who will nurse him. Will you give orders. There are plenty of light dhoolies.”
“Will he be safe?” said Brace, quickly.
“My life upon it, sahib,” said Dost. “I can attend him too when the master does not want me. But I can be useful to him still.”
“This is no time for wanting servants,” said Brace, shortly. “Let it be as he proposes. I will get the men and the dhooly at once.”
“Where will the master be when I want to follow him?”
Brace hesitated for a few moments, and seemed to be about to speak out, but he altered his mind, and said slowly:
“I cannot say yet. But we will keep communicating with you where the major is.”
“But the master had better take me,” said Dost, quickly. “The place will be full of budmashes, and the people all about will be enemies now. How are the sahibs to know where to get food or shelter, or to get news without me? I can go anywhere—you nowhere.”
“Not yet,” said Brace, meaningly; “but you are right, Dost, you shall go with us, and keep open our communications.”
We went out and across to the gate, where Haynes was fretting with anxiety, but a thrill ran through the men as they found there was work on hand. The orders were given, and a corporal and four men were told off to carry the dhooly, which was found at once, and borne to the mess-room. Then the major was carefully lifted in, and with the doctor in charge and Dost as guide, the little party sallied forth with the understanding that they were to return as quickly as possible.
The interval was spent in a search for food; then arms were hunted out, we officers finding that our quarters had not been plundered, and hurriedly changing our hunting garments for service uniform; and somehow as I stepped out again into the dark night, with sword belted on, and pistols ready to place in my saddle holsters, the helpless despairing feeling began to wear off.
By this time the horses had been saddled and bridled, and all were ready for the next move, but the doctor did not return, and while we were waiting a faint shouting arose from below in the city.
We had been well over the barracks and learned the worst, Brace sharing my surprise that so little plundering had been going on; and whilst we were standing once more in the court with the men drawn up, a picket at the gate, and one of the horses laden with provisions and ammunition, Haynes turned to me.
“It’s terribly un-English,” he said; “but they would have no mercy on us.”
“What do you mean?” I said.
“They have declared war on us, and they ought to take the consequences.”
“Explain yourself,” I said, as I felt as if I were listening to him with one ear, and for the return of our absent men with the other.
“Well,” he said, “I feel as if I should like to give the scoundrels a lesson. The magazine is half full of powder, and to-morrow the wretches will be up here plundering and destroying.”
“Well, what then?”
“It would be so easy to lay a trap for them. Plant all the powder behind the gates, after carefully barricading them; lay a train; wait till they were all crowded together, and trying to get in, and then fire the train and blow them all to destruction.”
“And who would fire the train, Haynes?” said Brace, who, unnoticed by us, had heard every word.
“I feel as if I could enjoy staying behind on purpose,” said Haynes.
“Hah! I’ve better work on hand for you,” said Brace, quietly. “It would do no good, and only be destroying a mob of the greatest ruffians in Rajgunge. Hah, there is the challenge at last.”
In effect the doctor and the men with the dhooly came back just then.
“Where’s Dost—staying with the major?” cried Brace.
“No, sahib, I am here,” came from the interior of the dhooly, out of which Dost stepped as the men set it down.
“What does this mean?” said Brace, angrily.
“His ruse to save us,” said the doctor. “We got poor Lacey safe into comfortable quarters at the house of two of the women who washed for the men, and they are to be trusted, I think. I can do no more for him, but see to his wounds to-morrow. As soon as I had seen him right, we were coming back, when, as luck had it, we got into a narrow lane, and half-way along it, heard a noisy party coming shouting along from some festivity. Retreat was impossible, and I gave the orders to the men to draw and cut our way through, but Dost here stopped us by proposing to get in the dhooly.”
“Why?” said Brace, angrily.
“I’ll tell you. It was a last resource; and though the men grumbled, they lifted the dhooly, and I marched by the side. The next minute we were stopped.”
“Well?”
“Hang him!” cried the doctor; “he began to curse them in Hindustani for stopping his gharry, ordered them to let his servants go by, and the idiots took it that a complete change had come over the state of affairs; that Dost must have turned rajah, and was using the English as his slaves. So they all shouted with delight, let us pass, and here we are, thanks to Rajah Dost.”
“Then, now for our start,” said Brace, “unless it would be wiser to stay here till morning, Dost must go out and try and obtain news of the women.”
“No, no, sahib,” cried the Hindu, excitedly. “By daylight all the budmashes of the city will be up here to plunder and burn.”
“Do you hear, Haynes?” said Brace, bitterly. “They may bring the punishment upon themselves.”
“I have thought of the mem sahib, master,” continued Dost, “and one of the women will try and learn news for us. She will find it better than I could.”
“You are right,” said Brace; and giving orders for the horses to be led in the rear, he placed himself at the head of our little column, gave the word march, and we filed out of the gate, Dost leading through the silent lanes of the city, and then round below its walls to the bridge of boats, which was passed without our having encountered a soul.
In our helpless state it was felt that we could do no better than to go by Dost’s advice, for he knew the country round, and suggested that we should go on as rapidly as possible, so as to reach one of the patches of forest which clothed the slopes of the valley side opposite the city before daybreak.
“And when we are there?” asked Brace.
“We shall be within reach of the major sahib, and I can take the doctor sahib over to him when it is night again.”
“Very well,” said Brace, thoughtfully.
Then, as if remembering the great aim he had in view—
“Did the scoundrels go up the valley toward the rajah’s?”
“No, sahib; they brought the guns over the bridge, and some say they have gone to Ramul.”
“That is only a few miles away,” said Brace, quickly, “and beyond the hills. Forward, my lads. No speaking in the ranks.”
We tramped on silently for a couple of hours with the night growing darker as we went onward, the men literally reeling at times from weariness and exhaustion after the terrible day.
All at once, one man fell out, and dropped upon the road side.
“Halt!” cried Brace, in a low voice.
“No, no, captain; keep on,” said the man. “I’m dead beat. Never mind me.”
“We have no dhooly, my lad, to carry you, so we must wait till you can walk, for we must hold together now to the last. Who is it?”
“Sergeant Craig, sir,” said one of the men; and Brace hurried to his side.
“Why, Craig, my poor fellow, this will not do.”
As he spoke, the man who had thrown himself on the ground struggled to his knees.
“Some one give me a drink of water,” he cried hoarsely; and a canteen having been handed to him, he drank deeply, and then tried to rise, but failed.
“You’ll have to go on, captain,” he said hoarsely. “I’ve got a bit of a hurt. I did not think it was so much as it is. Makes me a bit faint. If some one took my arm perhaps I could struggle on.”
“We are close to the jungle, sahib,” whispered Dost.
“Two of you support the sergeant,” cried the captain; and a couple of men being detailed for the duty, the sergeant struggled on again for about a couple of hundred yards, the last hundred being in the deep shadows of the trees; and none too soon, for a few bird notes were heard announcing the coming day. Ten minutes later sentries were posted, the horses picketed, and the men were lying down to drop asleep directly, while the doctor busily examined the sergeant’s wound.
“A big and ugly one,” he said, “but nothing to mind. Made you faint, of course. There, it isn’t your sword arm.”
“’Tisn’t your sword arm” rung in my ears again and again, mingled with the whistling and singing of birds; and to me the bird song had something to do with the dressing of the wound; and then all was blank, and I was plunged in a deep sleep which after some time grew disturbed, and I seemed to be back at the college, drilling, and studying under General Crucie. Then I was getting into difficulties with my fellow cadets and being sent to Coventry, as the most ill-humoured fellow they knew; and then I was awake, gazing up at the trees whose boughs shaded us from the sun, bathed in perspiration, and smelling tobacco smoke.
Note 1. Dhoolies are light ambulances.
Note 2. Purdahs, curtains or hangings.