by G. A. Henty
CHAPTER XII.
DANGEROUS SERVICE.
On the morning of the 17th of July the troops rose with light heartsfrom the ground where they had thrown themselves, utterly exhausted,after the tremendous exertions of the previous day. Cawnpore was beforethem, and as they did not anticipate any further resistance--for thewhole of the enemy's guns had fallen into their hands, and the Sepoyshad fled in the wildest confusion at the end of the day, after fightingwith obstinacy and determination as long as a shadow of hope of victoryremained--they looked forward to the joy of releasing from captivitythe hapless women and children who were known to have been confined inthe house called the Subada Khotee, since the massacre of theirhusbands and friends on the river.
Just after daybreak there was a dull, deep report, and a cloud of graysmoke rose over the city. Nana Sahib had ordered the great magazine tobe blown up, and had fled for his life to Bithoor. Well might he behopeless. He had himself commanded at the battle of the preceding day,and had seen eleven thousand of his countrymen, strongly posted,defeated by a thousand Englishmen. What chance, then, could there be offinal success? As for himself, his life was a thousandfold forfeit; andeven yet his enemies did not know the measure of his atrocities. It wasonly when the head of the British column arrived at the Subada Khoteethat the awful truth became known. The troops halted, surprised that nowelcome greeted them. They entered the courtyard; all was hushed andquiet, but fragments of dresses, children's shoes, and otherremembrances of British occupation, lay scattered about. Awed andsilent, the leading officers entered the house, and, after a glanceround, recoiled with faces white with horror. The floor was deep inblood; the walls were sprinkled thickly with it. Fragments of clothes,tresses of long hair, children's shoes with the feet still in them--athousand terrible and touching mementos of the butchery which had takenplace there met the eye. Horror-struck and sickened, the officersreturned into the courtyard, to find that another discovery had beenmade, namely, that the great well near the house was choked to the brimwith the bodies of women and children. Not one had escaped.
On the afternoon of the 15th, when the defeat at Futtehpore was known,the Nana had given orders for a general massacre of his helplessprisoners. There, in this ghastly well, were the remains, not only ofthose who had so far survived the siege and first massacre of Cawnpore,but of some seventy or eighty women and children, fugitives fromFutteyghur. These had, with their husbands, fathers and friends, ahundred and thirty in all, reached Cawnpore in boats on the 12th ofJuly. Here the boats had been fired upon and forced to put to shore,when the men were, by the Nairn's orders, all butchered, and the womenand children sent to share the fate of the prisoners of Cawnpore.
Little wonder is it that the soldiers, who had struggled against heatand fatigue and a host of foes to reach Cawnpore, broke clown and criedlike children at that terrible sight; that soldiers picked up thebloody relics--a handkerchief, a lock of hair, a child's sock sprinkledwith blood--and kept them to steel their hearts to all thoughts ofmercy; and that, after this, they went into battle crying to each other:
"Remember the ladies!" "Remember the babies!" "Think of Cawnpore!"Henceforth, to the end of the war, no quarter was ever shown to a Sepoy.
One of the first impulses of the Warreners, when the tents were pitchedin the old cantonments, and the troops were dismissed, was to ride withtheir father to the house of the ranee. It was found to beabandoned-as, indeed, was the greater part of the town--and an oldservant, who alone remained, said that two days previously the raneehad left for her country abode. Major Warrener at once drew out apaper, saying that the owner of this house had shown hospitality andkindness to English fugitives, and that it was therefore to bepreserved from all harm or plunder; and having obtained the signatureof the quartermaster-general in addition to his own, he affixed thepaper to the door of the dwelling. The next day he rode out with hissons and twenty of his men to the house where the boys had first beensheltered. The gates were opened at his summons by some tremblingretainers, who hastened to assure them that the ranee, their mistress,was friendly to the English.
"Will you tell her that there is no cause for alarm, but that we desirean interview with her?" the major said, dismounting.
In a minute the servant returned, and begged the major to follow him,which he did, accompanied by his sons. They were shown into a grandreception room, where the ranee, thickly veiled, was sitting on acouch, surrounded by her attendants, Ahrab standing beside her.
The ranee gave a little cry of pleasure on recognizing the boys, andAhrab instantly signed to the other attendants to retire. Then theranee unveiled, and the major, who had remained near the entrance untilthe attendants had left, came forward, the boys kissing the hands thatthe ranee held out to them.
"I have mourned for you as dead," she said. "When the news of thathorrible treachery came, and I thought that I had let you go to death,my heart turned to water."
"This is our father, dear lady," Ned said; "he has come to thank youhimself for having saved and sheltered us."
The interview lasted for half an hour; refreshment being served, Nedrecounted the particulars of their escape. Major Warrener, on leaving,handed the ranee a protection order signed by the general, to show toany British troops who might be passing, and told her that her namewould be sent in with the list of those who had acted kindly to Britishfugitives, all of whom afterward received honors and rewards in theshape of the lands of those who had joined the mutineers. Then, withmany expressions of good-will on both sides, the major and his sonstook their leave, and, joining the troops below, rode back to Cawnpore.
For three days after his arrival at Cawnpore General Havelock restedhis troops, and occupied himself with restoring order in the town.Numbers of Sepoys were found in hiding, and these were, as soon asidentified, all hung at once. On the third day Brigadier-General Neilarrived, with the two hundred and twenty men of the Eighty-fourth, whohad been hurried forward-a most welcome reinforcement, for Havelock'sforce was sadly weakened by loss in battle, sunstroke, and disease. Onthe 20th the army marched against Bithoor, every heart beating at thethought of engaging Nana Sahib, who, with five thousand men and a largenumber of cannon, had made every preparation for the defense of hiscastle. At the approach of the avenging force, however, his courage,and the courage of his troops, alike gave way, and they fled withoutfiring a shot, leaving behind them guns, elephants, baggage, men, andhorses, in great numbers. The magazine was blown up, and the palaceburned, and the force, with their captured booty, returned to Cawnpore.
During the advance to Cawnpore the zeal and bravery of the youngWarreners had not escaped the notice of the general, who had named themin his official report as gentlemen volunteers who had greatlydistinguished themselves. On the return from Bithoor, on the evening ofthe 20th, he turned to them as he dismounted, and said, "Will you cometo my tent in two hours' time?"
"Young gentlemen," he said, when they presented themselves, and had athis request seated themselves on two boxes which served as chairs, "inwhat I am going to say to you, mind, I express no wish even of theslightest. I simply state that I require two officers for a service ofextreme danger. I want to send a message into Lucknow. None of theofficers of the English regiments can speak the language with anyfluency, and those of the Madras Fusiliers speak the dialects ofSouthern India. Therefore it is among the volunteers, who all belong tothe northwest, that I must look. I have no doubt that there are many ofthem who would undertake the service, and whose knowledge of thelanguage would be nearly perfect, but there are reasons why I ask youwhether you will volunteer for the work. In the first place, you havealready three times passed, while in disguise, as natives; and in thesecond, your figures being slight, and still a good deal under theheight you will attain, render your disguise far less easy to bedetected than that of a full-grown man would be. If you undertake it,you will have a native guide, who last night arrived from Lucknow witha message to me, having passed through the enemy's lines. Youunderstand, young gentlemen, the
service is one of great honor andcredit if accomplished, but it is also one of the greatest risk. Icannot so well intrust the mission to the native alone, because I darenot put on paper the tidings I wish conveyed, and it is possible,however faithful he may be, that he might, if taken and threatened withdeath, reveal the message with which he is charged. I see by your faceswhat your answer is about to be, but I will not hear it now. Go firstto your father. Tell him exactly what I have told you, and then send methe answer if he declines to part with you--bring it me if he consentsto your going. Remember that in yielding what I see is your owninclination, to his natural anxiety, you will not fall in the veryleast from the high position in which you stand in my regard. In anhour I shall expect to hear from you. Good-night, if I do not see youagain."
"Of course father will let us go," Dick said when they got outside thetent. Ned did not reply.
"Dick, old boy," he said presently, as they walked along, "don't youthink if I go alone it would be better. It would be an awful blow tofather to lose both of us."
"No, Ned," Dick said warmly, "I hope he will not decide that. I know Ican't talk the lingo as you can, and that so I add to your danger;still sometimes in danger two can help each other, and we have gonethrough so much together--oh, Ned, don't propose that you should goalone."
Major Warrener--or Colonel Warrener as he should now be called, forGeneral Havelock had given him a step in rank, in recognition of themost valuable service of his troop during the battles on the road toCawnpore--heard Ned in silence while he repeated, as nearly as possibleword for word, the words of the general. For some time he was silent,and sat with his face in his hands.
"I don't like you both going, my boys," he said huskily.
"No, father," Dick said, "I feared that that was what you would say;but although in some respects I should be a hindrance to Ned from notspeaking the language, in others I might help him. Two are alwaysbetter than one in a scrape, and if he got ill or wounded or anything Icould nurse him; and two people together keep up each other's spirits.You know, father, we have got through some bad scrapes together allright, and I don't see why we should not get through this. We shall bewell disguised; and no end of Sepoys, and people from Cawnpore, must bemaking their way to Lucknow, so that very few questions are likely tobe asked. It does not seem to me anything like as dangerous a businessas those we have gone through, for the last thing they would look foris Englishmen making their way to Lucknow at present. The guide who isgoing with us got out, you know; and they must be looking out ten timesas sharp to prevent people getting out, as to prevent any one gettingin."
"I really do not think, father," Ned said, "that the danger ofdetection is great-certainly nothing like what it was before. Dick andI will of course go as Sepoys, and Dick can bind up his face and mouthas if he had been wounded, and was unable to speak. There must bethousands of them making their way to Lucknow, and we shall excite noattention whatever. The distance is not forty miles."
"Very well, boys, so be it," Colonel Warrener said. "There is much inwhat you say; and reluctant as I am to part with you both, yet somehowthe thought that you are together, and can help each other, will be acomfort to me. God bless you, my boys! Go back to the general, and sayI consent freely to your doing the duty for which he has selected you.I expect you will have to start at once, but you will come back here tochange."
General Havelock expressed his warm satisfaction when the boys returnedwith their father's consent to their undertaking the adventure. "Iunderstand from Colonel Warrener," he said, addressing Ned, "that youare intended for the army. I have deferred telling you that on the dayof the first fight I sent your name home, begging that you might begazetted on that date to a commission in the Sixty-fourth. Your namewill by this time have appeared in order. There are only two ensignsnow in the regiment, and ere I see you again there will, I fear, bemore than that even of death vacancies, so that you will have got yourstep. I will do the same for you," he said, turning to Dick, "if youlike to give up your midshipman's berth and take to the army."
"No, thank you, sir," Dick said, laughing. "By the time this is over, Ishall have had enough of land service to last my life."
"I have already sent down a report to the admiral of your conduct,"General Havelock said; "and as a naval brigade is coming up underCaptain Peel, you will be able to sail under your true colors beforelong. Now for your instructions. You are to inform Colonel Inglis, whois in command since the death of Sir H. Lawrence, that, although I amon the point of endeavoring to push forward to his rescue, I have nohope whatever of success. Across the river large forces of Oudeirregulars, with guns, are collected, and every step of the way will becontested. I must leave a force to hold Cawnpore, and I have onlyeleven hundred bayonets in all. With such a force as this it isimpossible, if the enemy resists as stubbornly as may be expected, forme to fight my way to Lucknow, still more to force my way through thecity, held by some ten or fifteen thousand men, to the Residency, I maysay that I have no hope of doing this till I am largely reinforced.Still, my making a commencement of a march, and standing constantly onthe offensive, will force the enemy to keep a large force on the roadto oppose me, and will in so far relieve the Residency from some of itsfoes. You see the importance of your message. Did the enemy know myweakness, they would be able to turn their whole force against theResidency. Tell our countrymen there that they must hold out to thelast, but that I hope and believe that in a month from the present timethe reinforcements will be up, and that I shall be able to advance totheir rescue. Colonel Inglis says that their stores will last to theend of August, and that he believes that he can repel all attacks. Thenative who goes with you bears word only that I am on the point ofadvancing to the relief of the garrison. So if the worst happens, andyou are all taken, his message, if he betrays it, will only help todeceive the enemy. You will start tonight if possible. I leave it toyou to arrange your disguises, and have ordered the guide to be at yourfather's tent at nine o'clock--that is, in an hour and a half'stime--so that if you can be ready by that time, you will get well awaybefore daybreak. There is a small boat four miles up the river, thatthe guide crossed in; he hid it in some bushes, so you will crosswithout difficulty; and even if you are caught crossing, your storythat you are Sepoys who have been hiding for the last few days willpass muster. Now, good-by, lads, and may God watch over you and keepyou!"
Upon their return to Colonel Warrener's tent they found their friendsCaptains Dunlop and Manners, and two or three of the officers mostaccustomed to native habits and ways, and all appliances for disguise.First the boys took a hearty meal; then they stripped, and were spongedwith iodine from head to foot; both were then dressed in blood-stainedSepoy uniforms, of which there were thousands lying about, for thegreater portion of the enemy had thrown off their uniforms beforetaking to flight. Ned's left arm was bandaged up with bloody rags, andput in a sling, and Dick's head and face were similarly tied up, thoughhe could not resist a motion of repugnance as the foul rags wereapplied to him. Both had a quantity of native plaster and bandagesplaced next to the skin, in case suspicion should fall upon them andthe outside bandages be removed to see if wounds really existed; andDick was given a quantity of tow, with which to fill his mouth andswell out his cheeks and lips, to give the appearance which wouldnaturally arise from a severe wound in the jaw. Caste marks werepainted on their foreheads; and their disguise was pronounced to beabsolutely perfect to the eye. Both were barefooted, as the Sepoysnever travel in the regimental boots if they can avoid it.
At the appointed time the guide was summoned, an intelligent-lookingHindoo in country dress. He examined his fellow-travelers, andpronounced himself perfectly satisfied with their appearance.
Outside the tent six horses were in readiness. Colonel Warrener, andhis friends Dunlop and Manners, mounted on three, the others were forthe travelers; and with a hearty good-by to their other friends in thesecret, the party started.
Half an hour's riding took them to the place where the boat wasconceale
d in the bushes; and with a tender farewell from their father,and a hearty good-by from his companions, the three adventurers tooktheir places in the boat and started.
Noiselessly they paddled across the Ganges, stepped out in the shallowwater on the other side, turned the boat adrift to float down with thestream, and then struck across the country toward Lucknow.
They were now off the main road, on which the Oude mutineers collectedto oppose the advance of General Havelock were for the most partstationed. Thus they passed village after village, unchallenged andunquestioned, and morning, when it dawned, found them twenty miles onthe road toward Lucknow. Then they went into a wood and lay down tosleep, for even if any one should enter accidentally and discover them,they had no fear of any suspicion arising. They were now near the mainroad, and when they started--just as it became dusk--they met variousparties of horse and foot proceeding toward Cawnpore; sometimes theypassed without a question, sometimes a word or two were said, the guideanswering, and asking how things went at Lucknow.
The subject was evidently a sore one; for curses on the obstinateFeringhee dogs, and threats as to their ultimate fate, were their onlyreply.
Eighteen miles' walk, and a great black wall rose in front of them.
"That is the Alumbagh," the guide said; "the sahibs will have a bigfight here. It is a summer palace and garden of the king. Once pastthis we will leave the road. It is but two miles to the canal and wemust not enter the city--not that I fear discovery, but there would beno possibility of entering the Residency on this side. Our only chanceis on the side I left it; that is by crossing the river. We must workround the town."
"How far are we from the Residency now? I can hear the cannon veryclearly;" and indeed for the last two hours of their walk the boomingof guns had been distinctly audible.
"It is about five miles in a straight line, but it will be double bythe route we must take."
Turning to the right after passing the dark mass of the Alumbagh, thelittle party kept away through a wooded country until another greatbuilding appeared in sight.
"That is the Dilkouska," the guide said. "Now we will go half a milefurther and then sleep; we cannot get in to-night."
In the afternoon they were awake again, and took their seats on a bankat a short distance from any road, and looked at the city.
"What an extraordinary view!" Ned said. "What fantastic buildings! Whatan immense variety of palaces and mosques! What is that strangebuilding nearest to us?" he asked the guide.
"That is the Martiniere. It was built many years ago by a Frenchman inthe service of the king of Oude. Now it is a training college. All thepupils are in the Residency, and are fighting like men. Beyond, betweenus and the Residency, are several palaces and mosques. That is theResidency; do you not see an English house with a tower, and a flagflying over it, standing alone on that rising ground by the river?"
"And that is the Residency!" the boys exclaimed, looking at thebuilding in which, and the surrounding houses, a handful of Englishmenwere keeping at bay an army.
"That is the Residency," their guide said; "do you not see the circleof smoke which rises around it? Listen; I can hear the rattle ofmusketry quite distinctly."
"And how are we to get there?" the boys asked, impatient to be at worktaking part in the defense.
"We will keep on here to the right; the river is close by. We will swimacross after it gets dark, make a wide sweep round, and then come downto the river again opposite the Residency, swim across, and then we aresafe."
