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

He pencilled a note in his despatch-book and turned his horse to the spot where the Highlanders were gathering. And very soon the General and he were leading the men back against the guns. As for Owen, he fell in with his regiment, and rode back with them to the field, their beasts all white with heat after their exertions. And in the hour that followed he faced as murderous a fire of shot and grape as ever in his after-life, and when the action ceased and the enemy were beaten, found himself still the junior cornet of his regiment, but promoted to a higher place for all that, for some of the officers had perished.

"And I prophesy promotion to higher rank, Mr. Jones," said the Colonel, drawing him aside that evening, as the troop dismounted in the lines assigned to them. "The staff officer who witnessed your charge has been over to ask about you and report your conduct. I am pleased. More than pleased, Mr. Jones. It is seldom that I have seen a young officer rise to distinction so rapidly. These are the times for action, when a young fellow who has courage and go and who has discretion also can carve a way for himself in the world. It would not surprise me to hear that the General was about to reward your very gallant services."

Never before in his life had our hero been able even to imagine a battlefield after hostilities had ceased, and on this evening, as he carried out the duties assigned to him, this time in the absence of all fervour and excitement, his kindly young heart was rent many a time. For war cannot be waged without misery – misery on the field of conflict, and perhaps worse misery and destitution in the homes of those who have fallen. On the battlefield, however, the sights are so numerous that in time the old campaigner becomes accustomed to them, though none the less pitiful. And here was Owen, surrounded by wounded and killed, helping to bring in the men of his own regiment, and carrying water and cheerful messages to any man upon whom his search-party happened to stumble. It was dark by now, and they worked with the aid of torches or any lamp obtainable. The stretcher-bearers of the various companies had long since proved too few, while some had been shot down. And the regimental surgeons had so many upon their hands that long lines of wounded awaited their offices. There were groaning soldiers beneath each waggon and tent, and here and there they encountered some wretched Mahratta, dragging himself along painfully, in the vain hope of getting beyond the camp, little thinking or believing that the British succoured friend and foe alike. Yes, it was all very sad and heart-rending, and very very impressive to a young fellow like our hero. And in time he and his search-party came to a group of Highlanders, all in their shirt sleeves, engaged in burying comrades who had fallen some four hours before under the murderous fire of the French-trained gunners. Owen looked into the trench, saw the poor fellows laid out side by side, and turned sick and faint. For with all his dash he was but a young soldier, who loved the fight but was horrified by the sight that followed; whose heart was tender, and who in his softer and ordinary moods would have shrunk from causing pain to any one.

"Come over and have something to eat," said one of his brother officers, meeting the party at that moment and seeing at a glance the condition of the last-joined cornet. "A dram of spirit and something to fill your stomach will make you look on matters differently in a little while. Wait though. We will stay till the end of the service."

They stood beside the rough trench while an officer of the Highlanders, his bonnet beneath his arm, and his voice all shaky, read the service for the dead. Then they went back to their lines, the officer talking cheerfully all the way and speaking of the victory. He took Owen by the shoulder and made him sit down on the edge of an ammunition-box, and there watched as he drank the spirit and ate some of the rations which had been issued.

"No one is likely to want you after this, youngster," he said, "and so you will turn in. No? No argument, if you please. That is an order. Your servant will see to you."

He was led off by Mulha, and thoroughly worn out with all that had happened – with his adventurous morning ride, his fortunate discovery of the enemy, and the fierce conflict which had been waged – he very soon fell into a deep sleep. As for the kindly officer who had taken him in hand, when he and the other officers were gathered round the camp-fire that night there was no name more often on his lips than that of Owen Jones.

"I found him almost fainting as he saw those gallant Highlanders laid in their grave," said the officer, "and I can tell you it did me good to watch the lad. You've all heard how he charged right home to-day, how he found the enemy, and practically gave us the opportunity for which we have so long sought. Well, isn't it a good thing to know that behind all the lad's courage and dash there is a finer feeling still, and that he is man enough not to be ashamed to show it?"

"He is a credit to us," was the Colonel's answer. "Owen Jones is a capital fellow."

CHAPTER XV

Holkar the Treacherous

"The sahib's coffee. In an hour it will be light."

Mulha, the faithful Mahratta who acted as servant to Owen, kneeled at the feet of the figure rolled in a blanket beside the fire, and wakened his master with a gentle touch of the hand. "Chota hazree, sahib," he said. "Rise and warm yourself before the fire. In a little while it will be time to be starting."

Owen yawned and sat up lazily. Then he opened his eyes with a start, and remembering where he was, leaped to his feet, throwing off the blanket which covered him.

"I had forgotten. I was dreaming," he said. "Are the men up?"

"See them, sahib. They have groomed and fed the horses. They are now eating, and within half an hour will be ready to mount. It will still be dark then."

"And we must be off again as soon as we can see. Good coffee, Mulha. You're a capital fellow! One wants something really hot on a morning like this, for it must be nearly freezing."

Owen paced up and down as he ate his little breakfast, the cup of coffee and the piece of cake or toast with which Europeans in the East are wont to commence the day. He stamped his feet to restore the circulation, and shivered, for the chill air before the rising of the sun bit keenly. And as he paced to and fro his eye went ever and anon to the busy scene about him. Some twenty native troopers, for the most part still swathed in their blankets, for the native feels the chill air even more than does the European, were bustling round and about the half-dozen fires which blazed amongst the trees. Some were grooming their horses, while others had already performed that duty and were settling saddles and kit in right position. Stalwart and soldierly-looking were these men, and as our hero inspected them he felt proud – proud that he was part of the regiment to which they belonged, and prouder still that he, Cornet Jones, of the 7th native cavalry, was in full command of them. It was a red-letter day in his life, and he was determined to make the most of his opportunity. For reward had come his way, as the colonel of his corps had prophesied, and a special mission, of some gravity, had been entrusted to him. It was on the second morning following the magnificent victory at Assaye, when the camp and surroundings were beginning to assume an orderly appearance, that a trooper, one of the General's bodyguard, rode over to the lines of the 7th, and wending his way in amongst the horses and the tents, finally drew up in front of the tent allocated for orderly-room work.

"From the General," he said, as he handed in a note.

The Colonel tore it open as he lifted his eyebrows in surprise, for it was somewhat early for a message from headquarters, and there was little stirring after the victory, Scindia and his men having taken themselves away. Then he called loudly for his own orderly and gave him a message.

"Call the sahib, Cornet Jones," he said shortly, "and send him to me." Ten minutes later our hero found himself outside the tent occupied by General Wellesley, standing before that redoubtable officer and two members of his staff. And once again Owen was filled with that indescribable feeling approaching fear. For the General seemed to read him as if he were a book, and before this man, whose name was destined to become a household one throughout the civilised world, a humble cornet, however high his spirits, was apt to feel immeasurably small and insignificant. However, he managed to return the glance of the General with his accustomed frankness, and a moment later was listening to his words.

"We have to thank you, Mr. Jones, for the very valuable discovery which you and your men made for us in locating Scindia," said the General slowly. "But for that information, reaching me as it did in convenient time, this campaign might have been greatly extended in this area. I am informed also that you handled a troop of the 7th very well. In fact, that you took them through one of the French-trained battalions, and afterwards against a large force of horsemen. I note those acts while telling you that such behaviour is only what I expect of every officer, and indeed there is little doubt that at Assaye all under my command behaved nobly. But your name has now been brought to me on more than one occasion, and I must take some notice of that. You are young, but, I understand, quite an old soldier now. It is too early for you to receive the promotion which is your due, and I have therefore sent your name forward in my despatches, recommending that you be gazetted to the rank of captain, such gazette to date from the time when the despatch reaches the Governor-General."

Owen breathed heavily. A mist rose in front of his eyes, while one of his legs would insist on twitching, so that he had the utmost difficulty in remaining strictly at attention. The General and his officers, as they looked keenly at him, noticed that Cornet Jones's colour had suddenly heightened, and that there was a little movement at the corner of his sensitive mouth. They guessed that the information just imparted had somewhat upset our hero. But they did not know that in the mist still hanging before his eyes appeared the figure of the fine sergeant who had fought for him when a boy, stalwart and gallant, the upholder of all that was right, manly, and honourable, and beside his red tunic the elegant form of Mr. Halbut, the powerful Director, his friend, who had lifted him from the gutter, and who, standing aside to watch how he fared, was ever ready with his encouragement. In a flash his words occurred to Owen: "Let the lad rise by his own exertions. I will use no personal interest, sergeant. If there is stuff in him, let him prove it to us."

"I was saying that the gazette would date from the time of the despatches reaching the Governor," said the General, after a little pause, for he saw that Owen was distressed. "I also added that if His Excellency were so minded – and I fully recommended the course – the gazette might with fairness be antedated to the very day of Assaye. It will be a matter of some three months perhaps before we have an answer, and by then, Mr. Jones, you will be more experienced and able to bear promotion. And now, I have something else to say."

He turned to his staff officer and took a map from him, which he placed so that Owen could see it plainly. "This is Indore, Mr. Jones," he continued. "That is where Holkar has his headquarters. No doubt you have heard of him as a powerful chieftain, and robber, I might almost add. We have fears that he will raid the possessions of the Company at any time, and we desire to have information of his movements. You will obtain a despatch from this office, and will ride to Indore. There you will see this Mahratta chief, and amplify what I have said in the despatches. You will be able to tell all that there is to say about the battle of Assaye, and the sweeping defeat suffered by Scindia. When that task is done you will ride on to General Lake, who is in the neighbourhood of the city of Delhi, and will acquaint him with the progress of these operations. That will do, thank you, Mr. Jones."

Owen followed the course of his journey on the map, saluted, and was about to turn when the General arrested him with a movement of his hand.

"You will understand that the mission is a difficult and delicate one," he said, still in the same even tones, as if speaking of an everyday occurrence. "This Holkar is not to be trusted. He might murder an envoy instead of welcoming him, and you will therefore carry your life in your hands. I have chosen you for certain reasons, and because you speak the Mahratta tongue. You may decline the task if you wish, for I could not give a definite order for such a dangerous mission."

He turned on his heel, curtly acknowledging Owen's salute. But this kind-hearted and brilliant general was an astute leader, as he had already proved, and he knew to a nicety the gallant feelings which filled Cornet Jones's breast, ay, and that of every officer in his command. The mission was a dangerous one, and Owen had been selected partly because of the reputation he had so early won and partly because of his facility with the language. The General knew well enough that this young officer, overrunning with zeal and enthusiasm, would have accepted the most forlorn of forlorn hopes with eagerness.

"You say that the lad has shown shrewdness?" he asked his staff officer as they entered the tent. "You have heard that said of him?"

"I have, sir," was the answer. "The Major who came out from home with him told me of his little adventure in Sumatra, and of his well-devised plan of escape. The lad started young, sir, and has seen much for his age. A hard life when he was a mere boy sharpened his wits, and now there is something more to spur him on and keep him up to the mark. He has a friend at home whose commendation is more to him even than yours, and you will see his object is to rise."

That was why Owen was away from the camp, and why the fires which he and his men had lit were now out of sight of the army at Assaye. He had twenty men and Mulha, and they were already beyond the reach of their friends and traversing a country which was undoubtedly still occupied by large bodies of the enemy. And their destination was Indore in the first place, and afterwards the army under General Lake.

"Time to move," he said at last, as he walked to the edge of the wide tope of trees and looked out into the open. "There comes the light, and we want to make the utmost of it. To horse there. Mount!"

In a compact little body, their lances carried in the rest and their pennons blowing out bravely in the breeze, the little force kept on its way all that day, trotting a few miles and then walking their horses, and halting to slacken girths every three hours, for to obtain the best work from a horse he needs as much and more consideration than does the rider. Owen was as yet somewhat strange to the management of horses, but his men were masters with the animals, and thanks to their teaching he had already commenced to learn that a careful rider is as mindful of his mount's comfort as of his own. He will see that the bit fits well, neither too tight nor too loose, that the saddle sits well down and does not rest upon the prominent portions of the back, and if possible that some sort of ventilation is obtained beneath the saddle. In a hot country, too, where linings are apt to become saturated with use, and where ridges and lumps are prone to form in consequence, the horseman does well to inspect such matters constantly.

"It will take us a week to get to Indore, I calculate," said Owen that evening as they made their camp in another convenient tope of trees, for it was their aim and object to avoid observation. "That is, of course, if we are not molested. I believe the General is of opinion that Scindia will be anxious to make a truce. In fact, some of his vakeels were in the camp the day after Assaye. But meanwhile we might be pounced upon, and then we should be in a sorry plight if the enemy were very numerous."

And so each night, as darkness closed down upon them, sentries were posted at the edge of the trees, and Owen made a point of visiting them twice at least during the night. At length, however, they arrived within a few miles of Indore, and now that concealment was no longer necessary they rode well in the open, and gaining a side road, turned from it into a main thoroughfare which led to the city.

"There are horsemen, sahib," said Mulha suddenly, pointing towards the city. "They are issuing from one of the gates, and I do not like their manners. They would seem to be prepared to give us trouble."

"Then we shall have to ride on the alert," was Owen's answer. "I have an important message for this Holkar, and it is very necessary that there should be no blows between the horsemen and ourselves; for though they are Mahrattas, they are not yet at war with us. We will tie a cloth to one of the lances, and raise it as they get nearer."

Mulha at once went to the troopers, and very soon a huge white turban was attached to one of the lances in place of the usual pennon.

"Now we will ride in close order," said Owen; for on the march discipline had been relaxed, and the ranks were broken at times, men jogging up beside one another to chat, and then on to another companion. Now, however, they closed in, and, with Owen at their head and the man with the white-pennoned lance just in rear of him, trotted on to Indore. Meanwhile the horsemen who had appeared were joined by others who could be seen streaming out through the gates of the city, and presently there were a thousand at least of them.

"A dangerous-looking lot," thought Owen as he rode along. "They seem to me to be the class of soldiers who ask few questions before commencing an attack, and leave explanation till afterwards. However, I will see that there is no room for error."

He beckoned to the man with the white pennon, and directed him to ride a few paces in advance.

"You will hoist your flag now," he said, "and if they do not heed it you will retire to the men and fall into your place."

A quarter of an hour later the body of Mahratta horse had approached to close quarters, and when within some three hundred yards a shout burst from their ranks and they flourished their arms in the air. Then smoke belched from the mass, and a score of bullets swept over the heads of Owen's troopers.

"Wave the flag," shouted our hero, beginning to feel a little anxious, for the firing still continued, and one of the horses pawed the air and rose on his hind legs, having been struck by one of the missiles. "Unsling your carbines, men, but do not fire. If they push us we will answer, but I wish to enter the town in friendship. Ah, there is their officer!"

The firing ceased as the troopers drew their carbines from the buckets, and a horseman was seen to canter out from the ranks of the Mahrattas. He raised his hand in the air, and then waved it to either side, shouting an order the meaning of which could not be ascertained at that distance. At once there was a movement amongst the Mahrattas and they broke into two parties, those on the flanks galloping off with many a shout, waving their arms in the air, and looking altogether very formidable.

"Going to surround us," said Owen to Mulha as the latter came up beside him. "They look an ugly lot of fellows, and could easily cut us to pieces."

"And no doubt would do so if they were not to distinguish a white sahib amongst us," was the answer. "These men and their ruler have caused tales to spread throughout the land. They are fierce and treacherous, and it is said that they will rob and slay friend and foe alike. Also, sahib, it is said that no Mahratta's word is of more weight than is a feather. I fear this Holkar, and shall be glad when we are out of his territories."

Holding up his hand, our hero brought his little party to a halt, while the Mahrattas, galloping like the wind, surrounded them, and then came to a halt within some hundred yards. And a very forbidding and formidable lot they looked. As Owen gazed at them anxiously, for it appeared as if at any time they might ride over his small command, he could not help admiring the easy seat of these robbers, for Holkar's horse were little better. The men seemed to be a part of the animals they rode, while they had added to their appearance by the richness of their dress. There was no standard uniform amongst these troopers. They wore what they wished, and in consequence the ring about Owen and his party displayed many a brilliant colour. In many cases turbans were discarded for metal head-pieces of Eastern design and workmanship, while not a few wore chain-mail over their necks and shoulders. Then, too, their arms were of every pattern, some having the carbine, a great number lances, while all may be said to have carried tulwars.

"Truly a formidable host, sahib," whispered Mulha as he looked askance at the Mahrattas. "And yet they are no more in numbers than those horsemen against whom you and your troop charged at Assaye. Look at your men. They are uneasy, and yet they bear themselves proudly. They are commanded by Jones Sahib, and they are content."

Indeed, it needed but a glance at the troopers to show that, although they were not entirely sanguine as to the result of this encounter, yet they had confidence in their youthful leader; for, as the shouts of the Mahrattas rose and some few slipped from their horses with the evident intention of firing at the central party, the eyes of the troopers went to Owen's face and figure, and then back again, with undaunted mien, to the surrounding horsemen. Such is the power which a European of Owen's stamp, and however youthful, has over the native. But matters were again approaching a critical stage, and as the strangers seemed to take but little notice of the white pennon, Owen without hesitation rode out from amongst his men and trotted towards the officer who had given the order which had caused the Mahrattas to divide. He was a magnificently dressed native, swarthy as any, and wearing a glittering aigrette in his turban. The hilt of his tulwar flashed as he turned to Owen, while ever and again there was a scintillation from some portion of his dress as the sun's rays struck there. He halted and watched Owen as if in uncertain mind. Then he called out an order, and at his command a dozen of his men galloped up beside him, and the whole party advanced to meet the white officer.

"Greeting," said Owen in the Mahratta tongue. "I come from His Excellency to your chief. What means this firing? Is not the flag of peace easily seen, and are we not on friendly terms with your ruler? Answer. What means the firing?"

For answer the leader of the horsemen shot his tulwar back into its sheath with a click, and then advanced still nearer.

"Holkar makes no explanation of what seems good to him," he said haughtily. "He sent me here to kill or capture. You are prisoners. You will return with me."

"On certain terms," answered Owen curtly, "and see that you consider them well, for what has befallen Scindia and his hosts may yet befall you and your men. I am no prisoner. I came as His Excellency the General's vakeel, and I and my men will ride into the city, escorted if you will, but free, carrying our arms, and at liberty to depart when our business is done."

"High tones for one who has so few to back his wishes," sneered the native, casting his eye in the direction of the troopers. "What if we who are so many as to be able to eat you up, to ride over you and leave no trace of your having been, decide to conduct you to the city as prisoners? That were a great fall for the pride of a white officer."

Owen shrugged his shoulders, and made a movement to turn his horse.

"We have met and vanquished almost as many before," he said with as much coolness as he could muster, "and we will try again. If one shot rings out from your ranks I will charge, and you will see who is the better able to ride over the other. As for you, if you decide to carry out this threat I promise that even your chieftain shall not protect you, for, remember, I am an envoy, and I come in peace, beneath the white flag, which is sacred to us all."

Without deigning to turn his head he trotted back to his men, and at his order the carbines were slipped into their buckets and the lances came down in readiness for a charge.