The Disputed V.C.: A Tale of the Indian Mutiny

by Laura Elizabeth Howe Richards

  CHAPTER IX

  Defence of the Commissioner's House

  When Major Munro's eighty officers and men arrived inside the house ofrefuge, they found that the few civilians, ladies, and children ofAurungpore had all escaped thereto, having been warned in time. At thefirst sign of outbreak they had found access to the fort impossible, andhad taken refuge in the Commissioner's house, the largest and strongestin the town, situated within easy reach of all the European bungalows,and close to the fort itself. They were in sore plight when the soldiersforced their way in--another half-hour would have been too late.

  From roof, loophole, and sheltered parapet blazed the muskets of theRajputs, lending their aid to the rifles of the English gentlemen, andthe mob drew back, raging furiously, but afraid to strike at closequarters. The sad story was told; dry-eyed but heavy-hearted theresidents heard of the murder of their friends. The wounded men werespeedily given every possible assistance, and the ladies left nothingundone to alleviate their pain. To tend the sufferers was their firstcare, but the great-hearted Englishwomen insisted on taking their sharein the defence, refusing to leave the posts of danger for thecomparative safety of the inner rooms whilst there were rifles andmuskets to load and hand to the marksmen.

  Greatly to his dismay Munro found it quite impossible to send aid to thelittle garrison of the fort, the route being blocked by hundreds offanatical savages. If he should despatch even half his command to breaktheir way through they would be destroyed, and the remaining half wouldfall an easy prey to the triumphant rebels.

  The continued fusillade from the direction of the fort told him that thehandful of defenders he had left behind was being hotly assailed, and hesadly feared that he had left them there to die. Bitterly the majorregretted his error. Such concentrated fury on the part of theinhabitants had never been anticipated; he had felt sure of clearing thestreet and bringing the party safely back, and he had made a mistake.

  Colonel Woodburn's wound, though serious, was not dangerous, and beforelong Ethel was able to leave him for a short time. Whilst the soldierswere breaking their way through the crowd, she had seen her fathercarried in their midst, and had eyes for none but him. Now she lookedaround for Ted and could not see him.

  "Where is Ted Russell, Major Munro? He's not--surely he has not beenmurdered!"

  Munro was agitated, and showed it.

  "He's in the fort, Ethel; I left Lowthian, Tynan, and Russell with a fewsepoys to guard it, and they're being attacked. Listen! I ought not tohave left 'em. Leigh," he exclaimed, turning to an officer beside him,"is there nothing to be done? Can we leave those fellows to die? And ifthe fort is captured there is no escape for us!"

  Lieutenant Leigh shook his head.

  "We are helpless, sir. If we make a sortie not one of us would reach thefort, and the women would be left without protectors."

  Still the rattle of musketry kept up, and the inmates listened withtroubled hearts for the firing to cease--the signal of the capture ofthe fort and the death of its garrison.

  "It's stopped!" groaned Sir Arthur Fletcher, and a shudder ran throughthe house.

  Ethel Woodburn turned pale, shuddered, and gripped the table forsupport. Ted Russell murdered by those savages! She recalled theensign's merry looks and honest nature, and realized what a place theboy had won in her heart. Could it be possible that she would never seehim again? How terribly cut up Jim would be!

  Jim! Aye, what of him? If her own trusted, well-tried regiment could sosuddenly transform itself into a horde of fiends, what might not havehappened to the Guides, that collection of outlaws and robbers? In allprobability her lover had already been murdered. Her grief for Ted gaveway to a greater anxiety regarding the fate of her betrothed. She walkedaimlessly towards the window and looked out upon the distant mob, herthoughts far away from Aurungpore.

  "Miss Woodburn, for heaven's sake come away from the window!" Sir ArthurFletcher almost shrieked as he planted himself in front of the girl."They are not firing now, but--"

  A bullet crashed through the shattered window, and passing within aninch of the Commissioner's head, flattened itself against the far wall.Ethel awoke and skipped aside, and, seeing that she was safe, Sir Arthurfollowed suit. She had forgotten her own danger; she had not reflectedthat, even had the Guides proved true to their salt, nothing seemed lesslikely than that Jim Russell would ever see her again. She thanked SirArthur mechanically, and began to wonder how poor Jim would bear thenews of her death. Having no doubt of his great love for her, her griefwas more for him than for herself, horrible as the outlook was.

  Led by Major Munro, the men grimly went on with their work ofstrengthening the defences of the house, whilst their picked shotsreplied to the random firing.

  Suddenly another volley rang out from the direction of the fort; then asecond; then the loud irregular firing of the pandies.

  "They're not done for yet!" Munro cried. "Thank God, there is still achance!"

  For half an hour the distant firing was heard, and intense anxietyprevailed as it gradually died away. The tension was nerve-shattering;so much so, that a half-hearted attack upon the house came almost as arelief from the suspense. Strong in their defences, they once more beatthe rebels back with heavy loss, and another weary period of waitingensued.

  Volley after volley, regular and disciplined as though with blankcartridge on parade, caused their hearts to beat more wildly. What couldit mean? The volley was too heavy to have been the work of the littlegarrison, and so far the traitors had fired independently, as each manthought best, without regard to any word of command. Could help havecome?

  They looked out towards the parade-ground, and the unconcernedappearance of the groups that moved restlessly up and down destroyedthis wild hope. Besides, who could possibly have come to the rescue?They had heard the cracks of the volleys that covered the first rush ofthe battering crews. Unable to fathom its meaning, they rejoiced thereinas a proof that their comrades still held out.

  Again a lull, and again an assault upon their own stronghold, directedthis time against the rear of the house. For a space they had no time tothink of the fort, so hotly were they engaged; but the rabble lackedresolute leaders, and the budmashes would obey no commands. Thirty oftheir bravest were slain, and the others sneaked away like a pack ofwolves, beaten and cowed. So far the garrison had lost only two menkilled and one badly wounded.

  The sun was wheeling slowly downwards beyond the fort, and for a time nosound had been heard save the yells of the excited mob ebbing andflowing through the streets.

  "It seems wicked to stay here in safety, Major," Ethel whispered, "andto think of our plucky fellows at the mercy of those fiends."

  The major made no reply. For hours that same thought had made himwretched, but he knew better than she how helpless was their ownposition.

  "Could we not make a sortie?" the girl continued. "Might it not bepossible, as soon as darkness comes, for us all to make a rush for thefort? We might take them completely by surprise, and once inside, ahundred could hold it for weeks. If only we could get the guns!"

  Munro shook his head sadly.

  "A hundred to one that we should find the rebels in possession, Ethel,"he made answer, "and then all would indeed be lost. But we should neverget so far. Here we may hold our own for days--unless indeed the pandiestake the fort and are able to load the guns--but not for half an hour inthe street with women to protect and wounded men to carry. No, it is notpossible; would it were! Believe me, Ethel, there is not a man here butwould gladly take the risk if we had only ourselves to think of."

  "I know it well," she admitted, "and I know you are right; but it ishorrible, horrible to think of, and it is our fault. If we were not hereyou men could rescue them. That seems so hard."

  "Listen!" said Leigh. "I think I hear the sound of firing again. It isvery faint."

  Everyone listened intently, and Ethel could hear the ticking of herwatch. She was the first to break the silence.

  "I think I hear it. Th
e sound comes from inside the fort."

  She had hardly spoken the words when the roar of a tremendous explosionfilled their ears and almost deafened them. The house shook, and acolumn of dense smoke rose where the fort had been. They looked at oneanother with blanched faces and then at the ruin in front. That portionof the fort which contained the magazine was demolished, and somebuildings that had partially obstructed their view were dismantled orlevelled with the ground. Streams of natives rushed to and fro in wildconfusion, shrieking with pain and fear. Masses of timber and masonryfell around, killing numbers in the closely-packed streets, and thescene was one of destruction and desolation.

  Major Munro clapped his hand to his thigh; his face glowed withadmiration and enthusiasm.

  "Lowthian's done that!" he exclaimed. "He's saved the arsenal from theirclutches.----Gallant fellows!"

  "But what of Ted Russell?" Ethel breathlessly asked. "And of LieutenantLowthian and the others?" she added as an afterthought.

  Munro hesitated before replying.

  "I'm afraid there's little hope for them, my dear Ethel; though they dosay that those nearest sometimes escape better than others fartheraway." This was also an afterthought, added from a weak desire to cheer.

  The girl turned away her head to hide her emotion and returned to herfather's room. In awed whispers the men discussed the glorious act, andvarious conjectures were hazarded as to the manner of its doing and thepossibility of their comrades' escape.

  Away in the west the sun had just vanished below the horizon anddarkness set in swiftly. The vicinity of the Commissioner's house seemeddeserted, and no fresh attack was made that night. Evidently thatbloodthirsty crew was awed and its ardour damped by the appallingvengeance taken by the unbeaten handful. Scores had been killed, and yetmore injured, by the force of the explosion.

  They had been taught the lesson that it does not pay to push white mentoo far, and Munro felt assured that for that night at least the housewas safe. Yet he neglected no precaution, and guards were set on everyside, whilst the remainder of the garrison were ordered to rest whetherthey wished to or not. Few could sleep, try as they would, and a loudchallenge by one of the sentries at the rear brought men and womenflocking to the scene, ready for the fray.

  Ethel hastened to the spot, in time to see the door thrown open, and tworagged figures, black with smoke and grime, enter the house. A loudcheer was raised as the door was shut and barricaded.

  "Ted!" she joyfully cried. "You, Ted?"

  To our hero's embarrassment she stepped forward and kissed hissmoke-begrimed countenance.

  Yes, Ensign Russell had escaped! Strange to say, he and Havildar AmbarSingh, the other survivor, had been the nearest to the magazine when theexplosion occurred, and yet they had escaped its worst effects. Thehavildar had pluckily waited for the ensign when the others ran forsafety, and, as they dashed out of the room, they crashed into the thickof the triumphant pandies.

  But no attempt was made to kill them. The rebels had pulled up short asthey saw and heard the spluttering powder, wild terror in their eyes;and the foremost tried to back away from the spot. The crush was toogreat, however, though Ted and Ambar Singh had time to bore their wayinto the crowd. They remembered no more. When they came to themselves itwas dark, and they were lying amid a heap of killed and injured men,with stones and bricks scattered all around. They were both cut andbadly bruised, and Ambar Singh's foot was crushed. In the darkness theyhad been able to steal away, stumbling over dead bodies and wreckedmasonry, until they found themselves in the open. So great was the awethat had come upon the rebels that the neighbourhood was deserted, sothey crept stealthily through the streets, the havildar nearly dead withpain. Accosted once or twice, Ambar Singh had answered, passing himselfand his companion off as rebels.

  As Ted was speaking the plucky Rajput sergeant fainted away, and wascarried to the hospital-room. Munro interrupted the congratulations andshowers of questions by ordering everyone to lie down again, except theguards. Ted at least was not sorry to obey the command.

  Next day he told the tale of the defence of the fort, of the death ofLowthian, and of the heroism of Ambar Singh and his Rajputs. Men andwomen forgot their own danger for a space, and crowded round to listento the ensign's story. No need to say that he was silent respectingTynan's willingness to surrender to Pir Baksh. He used the word "we",not "I", throughout.

  "But who first thought of destroying the magazine?" asked thecommandant. "You say 'we' decided to do it. The thought would not occurto both Tynan and yourself at once."

  Ted admitted that the plan was his; also, in reply to the next question,that it was he who had fired the train.

  "But it was Tynan's job as senior officer to do that."

  "Well, you see, sir, I was the one to--to suggest it; so it was onlyfair that I should carry it out."

  "Humph!" said the major, who had his own opinion about the affair.

  "You're a plucky fellow, Russell, and it's possible that you've saved usall. The pandies seem thoroughly disheartened to-day."

  Paterson passed his arm through Ted's and whispered:

  "Well done, old man! I--I can't say what I think about it;" and as hecaught Ethel's glance of admiration, approval, and affection there wasno prouder officer in all India than Ensign Russell.

  "I hope that rascal Pir Baksh has been killed," he said presently. "Didyou know, Major, that it was he who shot the colonel?"

  "No. Are you sure, Ted? He always seemed such a plausible fellow."

  "I didn't see him myself, but Tynan told us that he saw the deed.Certainly Pir Baksh seemed to be the leader in the attack on the fort."

  "Pir Baksh!" said Havildar Ambar Singh as he limped into the room. "Thehound is surely dead. Major Sahib, I have written down the names of allmy men who perished in the fort yesterday, so that their families mayget the pension if you English win, and that their names may be recordedas true to their salt."

  "Thank you, Havildar! It's a good officer who thinks first of his men.How is your foot to-day?"

  "Better, sahib; better, thanks! I do not grudge the injury if that sonof a hyena, Pir Baksh, has been killed. If the young sahib here had notbeen resolute and taken over the command, he would have deceived TynanSahib, and we should have been delivered into their hands to bemurdered."

  "Ah!" said Munro, pricking his ears; "so Russell Sahib had to take overthe command? How was that?"

  "The other was scared, Major Sahib. True, he was but a lad, and it ishardly to be wondered at. But Russell Sahib refused to surrender, andappealed to us, and we put aside the other and looked to this one as ourleader. Ha! Russell Sahib played the man, for he threatened to shoot hiscomrade when the other objected to being blown up. He will make ageneral, will the Ensign Sahib."

  "Is this story true, Russell?" demanded Munro.

  "It's true, sir; but you oughtn't to be hard on Tynan. He was pluckyenough most of the time."

  "John Lawrence shall know about this if I live," said the major withunwonted emphasis. "All England shall know about it."

  "But you won't say anything about Tynan, sir?" Ted asked.

  "No, that wouldn't do. We must treat him as dead--ignore his presence inthe fort altogether."

  Colonel Woodburn's condition was hopeful. The bullet had beensuccessfully extracted, and he was doing well. He sent for Ted, and madehim tell the story from beginning to end. Our hero was getting rathertired of it, and Ethel was merciless. She would not allow him to cut outthe least incident. The colonel was mightily pleased.

  "Do you know," the ensign observed as they quitted the invalid's room,"in the midst of the crowd I noticed the three fanatics who set on us inthe bazaar. I expect the poor beggars are blown to bits by now."

  "I suppose there is no chance," Miss Woodburn asked, "that that poor boyTynan has survived?"

  "I'm afraid not. I think the havildar and I are the only survivors, butof course there was no time to make certain."

  "Poor Tynan!" she murmured, more to herself than
to her companion. "Ihave always felt so sorry for the boy since he joined us."

  "Have you? Why? Don't think me a brute, Ethel, if I say that since thatevent most of our fellows seem to have pitied the regiment most."

  "You have no right to say that, Ted," Ethel declared, her clear,steadfast eyes regarding the ensign reproachfully. "Tynan has lost hislife, we believe, and you know the Latin tag about speaking good ornothing at all of the dead."

  Ted was rather surprised. A few moments ago he had tried to omit allmention of Tynan's cowardice, but she had insisted on the whole truth.He recollected having read that even the most charming members of thesex were changeable and unaccountable.

  "I'm sorry," said he. "I won't say anything harsh about Tynan; but whywere you so sorry for him all along?"

  "Because it struck me as so pitiable that he made no real friends, and Inever once noticed him looking downright happy. The most he seemed toget out of life was a miserable pretence of enjoyment--a mere attempt topersuade himself that he was having a good time. His has been such awasted life, Ted. I have thought a great deal about it this morning andlast night, and it has seemed so very sad. None of the healthy pleasuresand pursuits that have meant so much to you and Paterson appealed to himin the least."

  "What have Russell and I been doing now, Miss Ethel?" a well-known voicebroke in, and Paterson joined them.

  Miss Woodburn hesitated and turned red. To speak freely with her futurebrother-in-law was one thing, to discuss serious subjects with a coupleof light-hearted ensigns at once was quite another. Ted came to therescue.

  "Miss Woodburn was saying how sorry she has always been for poor Tynan,"he explained.

  "So have I," said Alec slowly; "at least at times, when he was not inthe way, but I'm sorry to say I couldn't stand him when he was close athand. I wish now that I hadn't tried so hard to be sarcastic."

  "You would have risked your lives to save him from death or danger,"said Ethel, "but it was harder to try and save him from himself. Atleast I found it so, for more than once I resolved to try to gain hisconfidence and interest him in more sensible pursuits, but being toocowardly and selfish, I was too easily discouraged."

  "He was hardly the sort one could make a friend of," Paterson musedaloud. "You're right though, Miss Ethel, it was just selfishness andconceit on our part to regard ourselves as superior beings just becausewe didn't happen to like the sort of things he cared about."

  "We looked at everything from a different point of view," Ethel resumedafter a pause, "and got more enjoyment out of life."

  "I never saw it in that light before," said Ted, "but I think I knowwhat you mean. For instance, when we were all so excited over the race,he had no sympathy whatever with the horses or riders, but just regardedthe affair as so much money to be won or lost."

  "Yes, but don't be scornful, Ted. Think of all he has lost during hisshort lifetime by not having a healthy mind. Think of all the happinessyou have enjoyed from your love of sports and games, through yourfriendships and your admiration for what is good and right. But you arerather young quite to grasp what I mean."

  Ethel Woodburn, aged twenty-one, spoke as though she felt the wisdom ofages within her, and the boys could not help glancing at one another.She caught the glance, and her eyes twinkled as she continued:

  "One could easily see that Tynan was a spoiled child, cursed withfoolish parents. I think, Ted, that of all selfish people, those parentswho are too generous to deny their children anything, or tootender-hearted to punish them, are the most criminally selfish. Andthat's what made me so sorry for the boy. Once or twice I was on thepoint of asking you to give him a bit of your friendship, but somehow Ididn't quite like to do it."

  "Well," said Ted, "I'm sorry for my share in any rows we had, and Iforgive him his share."

  "Rather easy for us to forgive one who is dead, is it not, Ted? Can weforgive now, at this moment, those rebels who want to kill us?"

  "I suppose that you forgive 'em, Ethel, but I can't say that I do."

  "But I didn't forgive Tynan, Ted. I heard of that fight you had; infact, I met Tynan just afterwards, and very tactlessly asked him whathad happened, supposing he had met with an accident. Unluckily he hadnot had time to cool down, and--well, he laughed in my face and forgothimself. You see, his people are wealthy, but not quite--you know what Imean?--he's not a gentleman, and he hinted at the cause of your fight."

  "The cad!" said Ted.

  "Steady, old boy! I felt as if I could never forgive him, so pleasedon't imagine I'm making myself out better than you. I feel bad about itnow, and if by any chance he should escape I should find it easy toforgive him, though there's little credit in that."

  "I didn't think he could have done such a thing," said Ted. "I forgivethat mullah and his friends who knifed me, so long as I think they'veboth been killed, but if I should see 'em to-morrow I'm afraid I shouldstill remember that I owe 'em one."

  "Yet, as I said before, you'd risk your life willingly enough to savetheirs, just as they do in the story-books." Miss Woodburn laughed asshe went on: "I must say that it annoys me to read those tales entitled_A Noble Revenge_ or _Coals of Fire_, or something of the kind, wheresomeone who has been greatly injured takes his revenge by saving hisenemy from drowning, or climbs to the top story of a burning house andrescues the evil-doer, who promptly repents. It's all very noble, ofcourse; but it's such a thorough vindication, and such glory for therescuer, that a more complete triumph over one's enemy couldn't bewished for. What could one desire better than to make your enemy feelsmall, and acknowledge how much nobler you are than he?"

  "I should like," said Ted, with feeling, "to make these beggars outsidefeel small. We've drifted into a curious talk, considering oursituation."

  "Not a bit of it," said Alec. "I quite agree with you, Miss Ethel. Imust go and relieve Leigh now, and you relieve me in a couple of hours,Ted. Miss Woodburn, I'm glad we've had this talk, and I sha'n't forgetit."

  "And I must go back to father now," said Ethel, whereupon Ted turned toaccompany her.

  The colonel was fast asleep, breathing easily.

  "Good-bye for a few hours, Ethel!" said the ensign; and added in a low,hesitating tone, "You're a saint."

  "I! Oh, Ted, you little know me--you and Jim. It's easy to forgive onewho can no longer injure you, but it's hard to live your ordinary lifewith a person who wishes to injure you, or who has done so, and whohates and despises you. What a terrible prig you must think me, Ted! Iknow I can't feel like that myself. I only wish I could."

  Ted glanced guiltily round. There was no one in the room save ColonelWoodburn, and he was sleeping, undisturbed by their whispering. Seizingthe girl's hand he kissed it, awkwardly and nervously, then hastilydropping it blushed furiously.

  "There!" exclaimed the ensign jerkily. "I knew I should do it some day.I'm sure Jim never did that."

  "Oh--?"

  Ethel's face was also flushed, and she looked radiantly charming as shegave utterance to the long-drawn, quizzing exclamation, and a new lightbroke in upon Ted.

  "What! Old Jim?" he asked. "Well, who'd have thought it? Lucky beggar!It's a dainty little hand."

  "Silence, sir! I must ask you to leave the room."

  "Good-bye, then, little sister!"