Jones of the 64th: A Tale of the Battles of Assaye and Laswaree

"Sahib, come here, where you can shelter," said one of the Sepoys, with whom he now found himself fighting. "You have no musket and can do nothing. Presently we will charge and then you can lead."

The enemy had taken refuge in the houses on either side of the street, and for a while their fire made progress almost impossible. But the attackers answered with the utmost spirit, sheltering wherever they could, while some, reckless of the consequences, dashed forward, burst in the doors, and fell upon the enemy. It was a most exciting time, and there is no wonder that Owen forgot all else but the fighting. He caught sight of the brawny Highlander again, his kilt all adrift in the wind, and showing unmistakable signs of the conflict. He was charging down the street with some dozen of his comrades, while three or four of the Sepoys were with the gang. Owen could not resist the temptation. He burst from his cover and dashed after them. Shots struck the ground at his feet, kicking dust into his eyes. A man thrust a musket between the lattice of a ground-floor window and fired in his face, so that the flash singed his hair. But he hardly noticed the incident. He was whole, uninjured, and there were deeds still to be done. With a shout he joined the little party, and threw himself against the doors of a house of large size. They gave with a crash, and the men were in. With a shout they flung themselves upon the enemy and then —

"Pull yourself together, man. We're in and the place is ours. Here, take a sip."

Owen sat up, giddy and confused. All he could grasp at present was the fact that Jack Simpson was beside him. Stars whirled before his eyes, the walls, the floor, the figure of an Arab and a Sepoy were strangely jumbled up with the large form of a Highlander, who lay full length, looking quietly at him, while an officer bandaged his wounded leg. There was a terrible din outside. What had happened?

"Shut your eyes and hold your tongue. Now, sip that. Right, I'll get some water."

Ten minutes later he was standing up, somewhat unsteadily, while Jack Simpson detailed the events which had just passed.

"They fought stubbornly," he said, "and we lost fairly heavily, for this street fighting is very nasty work. However, we turned them all out, and here we are, masters of the town. The guns are getting into position to bombard the fort. Now about you, old fellow! The Highlander tells me that just as you burst into the house an Arab hit you over the head with a sponging rod, and brought you down like a ninepin. My word! You are a fellow for go and dash! I saw you in the breach and afterwards as you made your rush."

Owen had indeed displayed not a little of that daring and pluck which have made our soldiers famous. The excitement of the attack had carried him away, and the sudden friendship of the Highlander had served to feed the fire. Fighting together, as if they were of equal rank and had known each other for years, the two had struggled on till they were separated. And then Owen had again joined his friend, only to be beaten to the ground, while the Highlander had a bullet through his leg. However, it was not till an hour later when he emerged from the house, walking beside the litter of the gallant Scot, that he gathered that his conduct had attracted attention. The General and his staff were standing beside the breach, while within a few yards the Highland regiment was drawn up, standing there at ease, till orders came for another advance. As Owen stumbled along, for he was still very giddy, a murmur went down the ranks, and men nudged one another. Then one of the lads tore off his bonnet and threw it into the air, catching it upon the point of his bayonet.

"Three cheers for Cornet Jones and Andrew Macnalty!"

The hoarse roar which followed might have been heard a mile away, and, as may be imagined, attracted the attention of the General and his staff. He turned, saw the bonnets in the air, and Owen and the Scot passing between himself and the ranks.

"Our friend of the fort again, I think," he said with a quaint little smile. "Did I not say that we should see more of this young officer?"

CHAPTER XIII

Special Service

"The English are truly a wonderful people, and their General is a wonderful general," wrote Scindia, when referring to the action at Ahmednuggur. "They came, looked at the pettah, walked over it, slew the garrison, and returned to breakfast. Who can withstand them?"

That was the reputation which General Wellesley and his small force obtained for themselves, a reputation which was before very long to be considerably enhanced. They took the town of Ahmednuggur, and then at once put their guns in position to bombard the fort, opening with such effect that the commander volunteered to capitulate. Thus was the initial action of the campaign rendered successful.

"We shall leave a garrison and march on at once," said the Major that evening, when he came to see our hero in his tent, for Owen was confined to his camp-bed for a few days, the blow having resulted in a slight fever, for which he had already been freely bled. "It will never do to allow Scindia and the Rajah of Berar to march up and down the country gathering supplies and recruits. At the present moment all the robbers and ruffians who have not attached themselves to Holkar are hurrying to join the enemy, and the longer we delay the more there will be of them. Our General has a reputation for hurry and dash, and you will see that he will stir them up."

However, circumstances alter the plans even of generals, and it was not till the 24th of August that the force crossed the Godavery, while Colonel Stevenson moved in the direction of Aurungabad. Then came tidings that Scindia and his ally had issued through the Adjuntah pass and had seized Jaulna in the Deccan, wheeling at once to the south-east as if about to march on the city of Hyderabad, for he had discovered that Wellesley was within forty miles of Jaulna, and the object of the Mahratta chiefs was to keep free of his force and in any case to avoid a general action.

The indefatigable Wellesley followed them, and finally compelled them to take up a position at Jaulna. On the 21st of September the whole of the Mahratta army was encamped at Jefferabad, twenty-two miles south of Jaulna, while our forces, consisting of the troops under Wellesley and Stevenson, were ten miles to the west, at Budnapore. There seemed at last every opportunity of a general engagement, and hope rose high in the two united divisions. An attack was to be made, and according to the plans of the General the troops, divided into their original divisions, were to throw themselves upon the enemy on the morning of the 24th. For this purpose they separated two days earlier, Colonel Stevenson taking the western route to the rendezvous, while Wellesley and his force went to the east.

"I shall be surprised if they do not manage to escape us," said the adjutant of the 7th cavalry, on the evening before the divisions said farewell to each other and moved off. "You see, Jones, these united attacks are most difficult to time. Everything depends on the two forces arriving on the ground practically at the same moment, and the smallest circumstance may delay one or other commander. There may be a wide and deep stream to cross, the ground encountered may be far too rough for guns, and that would mean a wide detour, or the enemy might themselves overthrow our plans by moving into another position. However, we shall do our best, and our spies will keep us informed. That brings me to your orders. A note was sent in to the C.O. after that affair at Ahmednuggur. One of the staff officers brought it, and so I expect it came direct from the General. As a reward for your conduct in the storming of the breach you were to be given opportunities of accompanying outposts and advance parties. This is an opportunity, and the C.O. has asked me to tell you off for the duty. You will take six men to-morrow, and will leave camp before daybreak. Draw rations to-night, so that you may be free of the column altogether, and be sure to send us back due information of what you find. Here is a map. On it I have drawn the route we are to follow, and have sketched in the position of the enemy. Call at the orderly tent and ask for a pocket-book for your despatches, for you will have to send back your observations in writing. My boy, you have a chance. Make the most of it."

When the adjutant had departed Owen threw his cap in the air, and would have given vent to a whoop of delight had he not been occupying a tent within the lines, while the General was situated within fifty yards. For he was to be employed upon a duty for which he had longed ever since he had joined the division. He liked his work as a cornet of cavalry immensely, but the post of advance-guard or scout fascinated him, and here he was detailed for the work. He called for Mulha, and having given him directions as to his horse, he went across to choose his men and draw the rations. Then he visited the orderly-room tent, and that done, gathered about him the dozen or so harcarrahs, or spies, who were attached to the division.

When the sun got up on the following morning it found him and his little party some five miles from the camp, dismounted beneath a tope of trees, and cooking a hasty breakfast.

"We will send the harcarrahs ahead as soon as possible, Mulha," he said, as he paced restlessly up and down, for, to tell the truth, Owen had not yet acquired the great virtue of patience which comes to men of maturer age. Any delay fretted him, and on this occasion he would gladly have neglected the meal and pushed on.

"And what of the men, sahib?" asked Mulha, when he had expressed this intention. "They will soon become fatigued if you do not study their wants. It would be wise to halt, so that man and beast may feed. Then it will matter little if no other opportunity occurs before the night comes."

And so a halt had been called, and the men had eased the girths of their saddles. And now they sat on their heels, in the accustomed position of the East, discussing their boiled rice, while they chatted quietly together. Owen was bound to confess that they were likely-looking men, these six whom he had chosen. Their uniforms were handsome and showed off their figures, while their turbans gave them an imposing appearance, which their fine horses and the lances they carried set off beautifully. At length, however, the meal was finished, girths were tightened, and the men threw themselves into their saddles. Then the harcarrahs scattered and rode off, their tats or small ponies looking very quaint beside the bigger animals of the native cavalry.

"They will go miles without showing fatigue, sahib," observed Mulha as the men rode off. "They will bring you news, and you will send it to the General."

"I shall do my best to discover something for myself," was the answer. "After all, that is what I am sent out for, though, of course, I cannot be supposed to see as much as all the spies. Still, if possible I shall get in touch with the enemy."

But an hour or more passed without incident, and it was not till it was approaching ten o'clock that our hero saw anything to attract his attention. He was riding at the head of his men, and as the sun was very hot, was taking advantage of every atom of shade to be found. In consequence the little party walked their horses at the edge of a long stretch of jungle which offered a grateful shelter. Suddenly one of the men gave an exclamation of surprise and wheeled his horse.

"Sahib, look there!" he said, lifting his lance to point across the plain towards a long eminence. "There are horsemen, and they belong to the enemy."

Owen was off his horse in an instant, and had his eye glued to the spy-glass with which he was provided. And by its aid he was able to make out that the horsemen were undoubtedly the enemy.

"There are eight of them," he said, "and they are armed with lances like ourselves. They are riding this way."

"Then perhaps, sahib – " began Mulha.

"We must capture them. They may be able to give valuable information. Let us watch them for a time, and then we will charge."

Thanks to the fact that Owen and his party were riding in the shade, they had remained completely hidden from the enemy, while the latter being out on the plain were distinctly visible. Taking advantage of this the little party reined their horses still farther back in amongst the trees and waited eagerly for the moment when they might attack. Owen hitched his sabre a little farther to the front and eased the blade, while his hand sought the butt of his pistol. As for the troopers, they fidgeted in their saddles, lifting their lances now and again, and staring from the enemy towards their young leader. Suspense is always more trying than action, and all found the waiting telling upon their patience.

"What is that?" suddenly demanded Owen. "There is a commotion amongst the horsemen, and – "

"It is one of the harcarrahs whom they have seen and are about to follow," suddenly exclaimed Mulha, pointing across the plain. "He came round the angle of the jungle, sahib, and then saw the enemy for the first time. He knows that we are here, and has turned this way."

"What are his chances?" demanded Owen quietly, as he stared out from the shadow.

"He will keep well ahead of the enemy for two miles perhaps, sahib. After that they will come up with him swiftly, for they are well mounted. They will overtake him just before he reaches us."

"Then we will interfere. Now, my men, stay quietly where you are till I give the command. Then ride out into the open, and form single line behind me. We will go through those men and scatter immediately, with the object of capturing a few."

Once more there was a restless movement amongst the troopers, while all eyes went to the native harcarrah who had so unexpectedly come upon the scene. Too late he had noticed the enemy, and now came spurring along the edge of the jungle at his utmost pace. And the Mahratta horse, seeing his object, galloped madly after him, their direction taking them diagonally across the plain. It became abundantly evident, when some five minutes had passed, that the harcarrah's pony could not live with the beasts ridden by the Mahrattas. They were gaining on him faster even than Mulha had imagined possible, and long before Owen had intended to give the order he found it necessary to emerge from the shelter of the forest.

"Walk!" he commanded. "Trot! Gallop! Now, keep your horses in hand till I give the word. Then at them!"

His sabre came out of its sheath with a hiss and went to his shoulder. He gripped his reins in his left hand, and set his feet home in the stirrups. And as he did so the pace of the little troop increased from a gentle canter to a gallop. They were sweeping along across the plain at a pace which brought a gleam of excitement to his eyes, and as yet the enemy had not seen them. But within a few seconds there was a shout and the Mahrattas drew rein suddenly.

"Do not stop, sahib. Push on! They will see that we are few and may wait for the attack."

For a few moments it seemed as if the enemy would turn tail and fly, but seeing that only a few were riding towards them, and that there was only one white man amongst them, for the turbans and dress of the troopers were distinct at that distance, they faced Owen and his men and set their horses at a trot. In a moment they were galloping, and as Owen watched them, their long lances, a formidable weapon for which they were famous, came down to the horizontal, while their pace developed into a charge. Owen stood in his stirrups and turned to his men with a smile. Then he waved them on with his sabre, and swinging round in his saddle set his horse galloping at his fastest pace. The dust flew up in columns behind him, while the hoarse shouts of the enemy came to his ears. He leaned forward, sinking low in his seat, while his eye sought for the leader of the enemy. Before it appeared possible the two parties were within a few yards of each other, and it seemed that they would meet with a terrible crash. But, almost as the lances of the contending parties crossed, the Mahrattas lost heart. Owen could see them pulling at their horses, and in a second they would have cut out to his right and so avoided the charge.

"To the right! To the right!" he shouted, while he turned his own horse in that direction. The troopers, riding almost level with him now, obeyed the order instantly, and catching the Mahrattas on the flank hurled them to the ground like ninepins. Two of the enemy were transfixed with the lances, while four who were farthest on the left managed to elude the troopers and were not upset. But Owen dashed after them without delay, while four of his men followed. The chase was a short and sharp one. Thanks to the fine horse he rode Owen quickly overhauled the nearest of the enemy, and standing in his stirrups prepared to cut the man down if he would not draw rein. Then suddenly the Mahratta twisted in his saddle, aimed a pistol at his head and fired. There was a thud as the bullet, missing the mark by half an inch, struck the saddle of the trooper behind. Then Owen's sabre came down with a crash, and the man dropped out of his saddle, stunned by the blow, the full force of which had been broken by the thick turban he was wearing. A minute later the remainder had surrendered, and Owen found himself in possession of prisoners.

"One of our men has a lance wound in the thigh, sahib," said Mulha, coming to his master, and looking at him searchingly lest he, too, should be wounded. "Three of the enemy are killed, and two slightly hurt. What are your orders?"

For answer our hero drew his handkerchief from his coat and mopped his forehead, while he looked back at Mulha. He was gasping for breath, and as yet was hardly prepared to issue orders.

"There are many hours before the darkness comes, sahib," went on Mulha. "These men have not ridden far to-day, that I feel sure of, for their horses, in spite of the charge, are fresh, and not travel-stained. It may be that the camp of these Mahrattas is near, and if that were so – "

"We must see it, and locate the position. But how can we be sure? Can the harcarrah say?"

"He may be able, sahib, but if he cannot, the prisoners will speak. Remember the ruffian aboard the pirate ship which we captured. There are ways of making men speak. I will see what can be done."

He went off to the troopers, who had now gathered the prisoners together, and had dismounted, while Owen interviewed the harcarrah, discovering that he had failed to locate the enemy. Calling two of them aside, Mulha selected one of the Mahrattas, who appeared to be the leader of the party which had been captured, and with the troopers following brought the man to Owen.

"Say where you have come from, and where the forces of Scindia and his ally are camped," he demanded sternly, as the troopers ranged themselves up beside the prisoner. "So! You cannot remember? Then we will help you. Get your carbines."

He sent the men back for their weapons, while he faced the prisoner, looking at him unconcernedly, as if his action were one of the commonest. And as Owen watched the scene, not caring to interfere, for it was important to have information, though he hardly liked to obtain it by means of threats, he noticed that the Mahratta's courage was melting. Out of the corners of his eyes the prisoner watched the troopers go to their horses and lift their carbines from the buckets in which they were carried. He heard the metallic click as the locks were drawn back, and his heart weakened. He looked pleadingly at Owen and then back at the troopers.

"I will speak, sahib. The white lord shall know. Listen, my lord, this is where Scindia and his friend, the Rajah of Berar, lie."

A trembling hand went out towards the highland from which the Mahratta horse had first appeared.

"Sahib, they are encamped on the river Kaitna, on its north bank, and only a half-hour's ride from here. We were out foraging, for provisions are scarce. Will my lord offer protection to me? These native troopers would slay me without mercy."

"Silence! This Scindia is within half an hour's ride. What troops has he?"

Mulha interrupted the man, and coolly ranged his two troopers up before him, so that their carbines might be in full evidence.

"I will tell all that I know," answered the prisoner in piteous tones. "Scindia has all his battalions with him, and there are ten thousand at least of the troops trained by the French sahibs. Of other troops, there are as many again in the foot regiments, but these are irregulars. The cavalry number perhaps thirty thousand, while we have a hundred guns. That is the full total, on my lance and tulwar, sahib."

"And quite enough I should say," burst in Owen. "Fifty thousand men and a hundred guns!"

"And within four miles, sahib," added Mulha.

"While our troops must be quite as far behind us, if not more. This is very important information, for if the enemy are so near us, and in such force, it would seem as if the combination of our two divisions would be impossible. Perhaps the Mahrattas intend to attack the divisions separately. I will ask this prisoner."

He slipped from his horse and went towards the man. Mulha accompanied him, and stepping to within a foot of the unhappy Mahratta looked into his eyes with such a sinister expression that the man quailed. "He will speak at once, sahib. Ask him the questions, and listen, dog! See that you reply on the instant, and correctly."

Mulha had little love for the class of Mahratta who had sided with Scindia, and in addition he made pretence of anger which he did not feel. Every day Owen was learning that, besides being a faithful fellow, he was an astute native, who knew his countrymen well. Had our hero been left to extract information it is more than probable that his training would have made him hesitate and decline to use threats to gain what he wanted. However, Mulha had no scruples. He knew well that the natives of the country were as prone to dissemble and give false news as they were to pilfer and murder, and he knew that stern measures were required. And how well those measures had succeeded! As the prisoner looked at Mulha and then at the troopers, with their loaded carbines, any returning courage that he may have felt oozed from his finger-tips, or through the sandals he wore. His colour changed to a sickly hue, the pallor of the East, and his lips trembled.

"Tell me more of this army," demanded Owen. "Are they now encamped, or are they preparing to march against the English?"

He waited anxiously for the answer, knowing that a great deal depended on it, and heaved a sigh of relief when the man had spoken.

"My lord can rest easy on that point. The troops of Scindia are in position for the day. They will not move till to-morrow, and not even then perhaps. They know that the British are advancing, and it is said in the camp that Scindia will attack each division in turn."

"That will do. Set a watch over the prisoners, and get ready to accompany me, Mulha," exclaimed Owen at once, his tone changing. "We must not delay an instant longer than is necessary."

His hand went to his leather pouch and he abstracted the note-book which he had obtained from the orderly-room. Then he hastily scrawled an account of his meeting with the Mahrattas, and of the information given him. Tearing the sheet out of the book, he enclosed the map, marking on it the position which he then occupied and that where the prisoner stated the enemy to be.

"I am advancing at speed to ascertain the truth of this," he wrote, "and will report at the first opportunity."

"Now, Mulha, I will select two of the men. The others must escort the prisoners back to camp. Tie their hands, and put a noose round their feet beneath the horse's belly. They must submit to that seeing that we have so few to guard them."

A few moments later he had selected one of the troopers to carry his note, and at a sharp order the man swung himself into his saddle, saluted, and galloped off at furious speed, intent on getting the note to General Wellesley in as short a time as possible. The prisoners and their escort followed, while Owen, Mulha, and the remaining trooper set their faces to the highland, and cantered toward it.

"Time is the main object," said our hero as they went along. "We will not push our horses yet, but once we have seen the position of the enemy we will send them back towards the division at a pace which will soon take us there. Keep a sharp eye open, and as we get near to the top of the rising ground, halt and dismount."