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

by Laura Elizabeth Howe Richards

  CHAPTER XXVI

  Lucknow Relieved

  Pushing forward with all speed past Mainpuri and Bewar, Colonel Boldrearrived in the British camp on November 13th, shortly after Sir ColinCampbell had assumed command of the Relief Force. The column wasencamped within and around the grounds of the Alambagh, a big mansionenclosed by a high wall, three or four miles south of Lucknow. Here theymet many of their Delhi friends, who had come down with Colonel HopeGrant, and one of the first to greet them was Alec Paterson. There wasplenty to say on both sides.

  Ted found that Alec, who still limped a little in walking, had beenappointed an extra aide-de-camp by the brigadier, who had noticed thelad's great energy and thoroughness at Delhi. Alec told his chum howglad he was that his name had been cleared, and wanted to know all aboutthe trial at once; but Ted was too anxious to look round the camp andfind out the notables, so, observing that the story would keep, he askedAlec to act as guide. Paterson, by the way, did not mention the littlefact that he had greatly distinguished himself under Greathed at Agra onthe way down, and had been recommended for promotion. Ted found that outfrom another source.

  "We advance to-morrow," the aide-de-camp informed his chums, and brokeoff abruptly to call their attention to a big, square-shouldered man inblue tunic, white cords, and jack-boots. "Here, do you see that man withthe reddish hair and beard? He's a plucky chap. He's a clerk, not asoldier, but he's done a feat that any man might be proud of."

  "What's he done?" asked Claude.

  "Well, he don't look much like a mild Hindu or any other sort ofAsiatic, does he? But he volunteered to disguise himself and breakthrough the rebel lines with a note from Outram and plans of the enemy'sweak points and advice for Sir Colin. And he did it. Fancy a man of hisbuild and hair and features disguised as a native of Oudh! He must havea nerve. But he got through, and the general now has the plans; and ifwe succeed, Kavanagh will deserve a share of the credit. He's in theVolunteer Cavalry now."

  "I want to see Sir Colin," said Ted. "Is he likely to be about?"

  "I'll point him out if we see him. And who do you think is going toconduct the force to-morrow?"

  "Who? How should I know?"

  "Why, Lieutenant Roberts, the Artillery D.A.Q.M.G. at Delhi. That youngman will be a major-general before any of us commands a battalion. He'sa wonderful fellow, but so modest that nobody is jealous."

  "Fine-looking lot those Highlanders!" Alec observed as they passed agroup of men wearing the kilt and bonnet and white gaiters.

  "They're the 93rd, I suppose," said Ted. "Hoot, mon, what for do ye nodon the kilt yourself, Sandy?"

  "I should like to," Alec replied. "The 93rd's a grand regiment, and I'mproud of being a countryman of theirs."

  "Hear, hear!" said Ted. "They look fit."

  The three friends entered the Alambagh enclosure.

  "Who are those two?" asked Claude, nodding towards a couple ofdistinguished-looking officers who were walking about slowly, in earnestconversation.

  "Ssh!--not so loud. Why, the older man is Sir Colin himself, and thetaller one with glasses is General Mansfield, his chief of staff."

  "Oh!"

  The boys looked with keen interest upon the commander-in-chief. They sawa spare man, with a slight stoop, but a soldier to the backbone--anelderly man with furrowed brows, bearing the marks of long and arduousservice; but there was no sign of weakness about the firm mouth, or theeyes so clear and alert.

  "Yes, that's the commander-in-chief," said Paterson again. "Now, Ted,I've shown you round, and it's your turn to enlighten me now. I onlyknow the bare facts that you have been cleared, and that Tynan is ahowling cad."

  So Ted had once more to tell what had befallen Tynan and himself atLahore, and when he had finished the narrative, Alec asked:

  "And what became of Pir Baksh?"

  "He was condemned to death and shot the day before I left Lahore.Colonel Woodburn and Munro were almost as pleased as I was when thetruth came out, for I really think that they believed that I had beenunjust to poor Tynan. But Ethel Woodburn had stuck up for me throughthick and thin."

  "Miss Woodburn is the nicest, jolliest girl in India," said Alec withconviction, "and your brother's a jolly lucky fellow."

  "He is so. Yes, she's all that and more, and she kept my spirits up whenI was feeling jolly well down in the mouth. Wasn't she glad when I wascleared! It was almost worth while having gone through it all. I don'tsuppose I'll ever see Tynan again. Poor beggar, I'm sorry for him, for Idon't think he ever meant to do it."

  "What became of those Rajputs he'd bribed?"

  "They were dismissed from the service. Dwarika Rai begged my pardonbefore he went. He said that he hadn't understood that his evidencemight disgrace me until it was too late for him to draw back, and Ibelieved him."

  "It was a funny business altogether," was Claude's opinion, given in atone of unusual thoughtfulness. "The man must have been mad."

  "He was a born cad," said Paterson, "and deserved the same fate as PirBaksh."

  "I don't agree with you," said Ted. "I think there's some good in him."

  "Precious little. But I haven't time to argue; I must make a strategicalretirement. See you to-morrow."

  After Alec's departure Claude and Ted found their way to the roof of theAlambagh, where were one or two officers whom they did not know. Overthe expanse of wooded plain they caught glimpses of the mosques andminarets and gilded spires of Lucknow, rearing their heads above theabundant foliage of the parks and great gardens. The city seemed tostretch as far as the eye could reach, and they both experienced acurious thrill as they gazed thereat.

  "And that's where Sir Henry Lawrence died, and where Outram and Havelockare now," observed Ted, almost in a whisper.

  "Eighty-seven days they held out before Havelock got through," Claudereflected aloud. "It was a grand defence. I wonder whereabouts theResidency is?"

  "Over there, due north," said a voice beside them.

  "Thank you!" Claude replied; and they looked at the speaker, aclean-shaven man with hair inclined to wave, attired in a dress thatseemed singularly out of place there, even among so great a variety ofuniforms. He wore a blue frock-coat, and his white trousers wereunstrapped; there was a white cover to his cap, and hunting-spursadorned his shoes.

  "Where are you youngsters from?" he asked.

  "Delhi," Ted replied. "We've just arrived with some Irregular Horse."

  "Delhi! And you two had the luck to take part in the siege?"

  "I served all through," Ted answered with a little pride. "I went therewith the Guides."

  "Lucky young cub! Wish I could have taken my boys there."

  "Rummy customer!" was Claude's comment, as the stranger turned away."Who is he?"

  "I wonder. Looks more like a sailor than a soldier. But whoever he is,he's accustomed to command; I could see that. But I fancy it's time tofind our way back to our own lines."

  At 9 a.m. next day the column moved off in high spirits, LieutenantRoberts conducting the advance, with the aid of a native guide he hadsecured. The enemy had been led to believe that the movement would bemade direct, by the northern route taken by Havelock two monthspreviously. But from the Alambagh the column struck eastwards for theDilkusha (Heart's Delight) Palace. The ruse was successful. Having madetheir plans to meet the direct assault, the sepoys were not prepared forthe flanking movement, and no time was given them to strengthen thedefences of the positions now threatened. Outside the wall of theDilkusha Park the column halted until a large enough breach had beenmade by the guns, and Ted watched the Highlanders of the 93rd pulling upcarrots in a field, and, after a hurried scrape, munching them withgreat content.

  The obstruction was short; a portion of the park wall was soon brokendown, and in went the Highlanders, eager to close. But the rebels hadfled. A staff-officer, short and slight, trotted past as Ted's Arab waspicking its way over the fallen masonry.

  "There goes plucky wee Bobs!" he heard a sergeant of the 93rd remark tohis mate; and Ted
recognized the officer as Lieutenant Roberts. It wasthe first time he had heard the affectionate nickname bestowed upon themuch-loved hero by the soldiers of forty-five years ago. Roberts, anartillery officer, had, of course, never served with the 93rd, but the"Scotties" had seen much of him lately, and even so early in his careerhe had won a place in their hearts rarely filled by any whose name isnot prefixed by "Mac". "Bobs" they had christened him, "Plucky weeBobs". To be known by such a name among these gallant fellows of the93rd--the famous Thin Red Line of Balaclava--told of unusual coolnessand daring.

  Ted saw Lieutenant Roberts shoot ahead to reconnoitre, a native trooperfollowing. The artillery officer halted, gazed in front, and signalledfor the guns to advance. As he did so the roar of cannon thundered frombehind the yellow palace. The rebels had opened point-blank upon the twosolitary horsemen from a hidden battery, cutting the orderly's horse intwo, and the trooper fell beneath his dead steed. Roberts was seencoolly to dismount in the face of the guns, and a loud huzza rose fromthe throats of the Highlanders as he dragged the orderly from under theweight, though the grape whizzed about them.

  Under his direction the guns advanced, and the mutineers did not stay totest the British marksmanship, but made off with all speed in thedirection of the Martiniere. Almost without a pause the cavalry canteredacross the high swards of the Dilkusha Park, the startled deer scuddingaway on all sides in vain endeavour to escape the noise.

  As the Horse Artillery and cavalry drew nearer, the Martiniere wasquickly deserted, and Boldre's Horse and a few squadrons of regulars andirregulars pursued the sepoys as far as the canal. There was no dressedline of thundering horses, for the troopers broke off in threes orfours, whenever they saw a chance of engaging the pandies; and Ted,spurring after Govind Singh, who, having the start of him, was hotly inpursuit of one body of rebels, suddenly saw his friend Boldre busilyengaged with three faithless sowars and in sore plight. Turning toClaude's aid, he drew off one, and, with a clever thrust, was able todisable the man's sword-arm. Boldre, who was no swordsman, by good luckcut down a second, and the third fled as Ramzan Khan came up at agallop.

  "Thanks, Russell!" said Claude. "But look out! here are half a dozenmore."

  Perceiving that the two Englishmen were separated from their comrades, anumber of rebel troopers--men of the Irregular Cavalry who had desertedHenry Lawrence at Chinhut five months before--charged down upon thelittle group with sharp, angry cries. Before the lads had resolved howto withstand the shock, Ramzan Khan shot out to meet the pandies, andthere was nothing for it but to back him up.

  "Plucky beggar! He'll be killed!" groaned Claude; but to their amazementthe orderly showed himself a consummate wielder of the sword. He swervedaside as they bore down upon him, and slashed at the nearest rebel as hepassed, the man tumbling like a sack of flour from his horse. Parrying ablow, he disarmed another by a turn of the wrist, and smote a third overthe shoulder just as Ted arrived on the scene and made for the pandy onhis orderly's right. Ted swung his sword aloft--and then his head seemedto split, and he saw the stars dancing in their courses. The sword fellfrom his grasp, but his knees instinctively retained their grip, and theblood streamed down his face.

  "I'm not killed anyhow," said he to himself, and began to look abouthim. Ramzan Khan was engaged with two at once, and the cruel-lookinglittle pandy at whom he had ridden was clearly getting the better ofBoldre. Ted urged his restive Arab alongside the sepoy's horse, and,having no sword, clutched the man by his tunic collar and under his leftarm, and putting forth all his strength, he swung him from the saddle.Before he could drop him, the sowar, turning half round in the air, gothis knee on the neck of Ted's horse and aimed a vicious cut at hiscaptor. The blow would have done for Ted, had not Claude been able tostrike up the sword and give the point, and the pandy sank at thehorse's feet. Ramzan Khan's remaining opponents had fled.

  "You've saved me twice to-day, Russell," said Boldre quietly. "Are youhurt?"

  "I don't know. Something struck me in the face, but I can't imagine whatit was. It seems as if my nose is bleeding."

  Claude roared most ungratefully.

  "Why," said he, "as you charged the pandy, he suddenly backed his horseaway from Ramzan Khan, and your Arab cannoned into it, and,half-rearing, he threw up his head and caught you full on the nose asyou were leaning forward. Then I drew the pandy's attention from you."

  "Is that how it was? Where did my sword go?---- Ah! there it is; butwhat an ass I am!"

  "Why particularly so?"

  "I never had the sense to use my pistol." He took out his Deane andAdams revolver and fingered it regretfully, adding to the orderly asthey turned back towards the Martiniere and again joined theircomrades:

  "We owe our lives to your courage and skill, Ramzan Khan. You arebleeding. Are you hurt?"

  The Mohammedan grinned, showing his even teeth and the whites of hiseyes.

  "It is nothing. I owed you a debt, sahib, so let there be no talk ofthanks. It was for this purpose that my father sent me to ride by yourside."

  "I thank you no less," Ted assured him; and added, "You can use yoursword."

  "Ah! my father taught us. He is indeed a swordsman. He will be pleasedthat I have proved of service."

  As they drew near to the Martiniere Claude exclaimed:

  "Hullo, there's our friend of yesterday! Why, of course it's Peel! Whatduffers we were not to guess!"

  Peel! Captain Peel of H.M.S. _Shannon_, commanding the famous NavalBrigade with the big guns from the man-of-war at Calcutta. Yes, he itwas who had shown them the position of the Residency. Right glad werethe troops in Ladysmith of the aid of the sailors and their splendidguns, and glad were the raisers of the Lucknow siege when Peel and hisjolly tars came to bear a hand.

  The sailors had unyoked the stolid bullocks--"cow-horses" theycontemptuously termed them--and were hauling on the drag-ropes, drawingthe mighty engines of destruction along as though they were but woodentoys, and the Punjabis of Boldre's Horse gazed in bewilderment at thisnew species of Feringhi. Shorter men than themselves, but what giants instrength!

  "Who are they, sahib?" asked Govind Singh. "Is it a new kind of soldierlike those big warriors in petticoats we first saw yesterday?" And Tedtried hard to explain to the Sikhs how Britain's chief strength lay, notin her comparatively small army, but in her glorious navy.

  "But why are they doing coolie work? They are indeed strong asbullocks."

  "Do bullocks take a pride in their work, or can they do it half sowell?" Ted replied. "These men love their guns, and they rejoice intheir strength, and so they are invincible."

  In all probability Ramzan Khan had saved our hero's life that Novemberafternoon, but the same night he was fighting desperately against anequally remorseless foe, against whom his orderly's swordmanship was ofno avail. For he was again down with cholera, and this time a far worseattack than the slight one at Delhi, and when his chums left his bedsidenext morning they hardly dared hope to see him again. For days he laybetween life and death, and then, thanks to a tough constitution and ahealthy life, he rallied and began to pick up.

  The Martiniere, in which he lay, was a vast palace built by ClaudeMartin, a French adventurer who had amassed great wealth in Lucknow. Itwas a curious building, with statues placed wherever they would stand,in grotesque profusion. The Frenchman had hoped to sell the palace tohis friend the King of Oudh, naming a price of one million sterling. Butthe monarch had laughed at the idea, informing old Monsieur Martin thatby their law the property would belong to the sovereign on the death ofthe owner. So Martin determined to outwit the king, and prepared his owntomb within the building. In due course Claude Martin died and wasburied therein, thus circumventing his royal master, for no Mussulmandare live in a building in which the body of an unbeliever has lain.Previous to the siege the Martiniere had been used as a school for thechildren of soldiers.

  As Ted lay in helpless pain the booming of the guns never seemed tocease. In spirit he was back again with the Gurkhas on the Ridge,wat
ching Brind's battery pounding at the walls of Delhi. At last thethunder of the cannon ceased, and he fell asleep. When he woke up AlecPaterson was talking to the doctor, and he heard the latter say: "Ithink he's all right now; he's had a bad time, though."

  "Hullo, Alec! Has Brind breached the walls yet?"

  "Brind? You're wandering, old man; we're just outside Lucknow." And,faintly remembering, Ted began to collect his scattered wits.

  "I've been dreaming," said he. "I thought we were still on the Ridge. Iremember now. Sir Colin is attacking to-day, isn't he?"

  "Not to-day; we're retreating to-day."

  "What? D'you think you can pull my leg so easily?"

  "It's a fact. The force is retiring, and I've come on with instructions.Listen! Those are Blunt's guns."

  "And do you mean to say that we're leaving Lucknow to the rebels?"

  "I do."

  "And Outram and Havelock, and the women and children?"

  "No," laughed his chum; "we've brought them away. I've just ridden fromthe Dilkusha, where preparations are being made to receive them. I'vebeen ragging you. We have relieved Lucknow, but, not being strong enoughto hold the town, Sir Colin is retiring on Cawnpore. He means to sendthe women to Allahabad and wait for reinforcements. You've missed a lot,old man. Your luck deserted you this time."

  "How did our fellows behave?"

  "Boldre's Horse? Hardly engaged. The brunt of the work fell on the 53rd,93rd, and 4th Sikhs. It was fine to see the two last regiments storm theSikanderbagh, the Sikhs going off with a rush and the Highlanders afterthem, racing like mad. A Highlander jumped first through the breach andwas killed, then Sikhs and Pathans and Highlanders all mixed. It wasfine! The Englishmen and Irishmen of the 53rd did some good work too."

  "Have you seen Havelock and Outram?"

  "Rather! Saw the meeting between them and Sir Colin and Hope Grant.Havelock looks bad; I'm afraid he's a dying man. I wouldn't have missedthese last few days for anything, Ted. Did you hear where I went thenight you were taken bad?"

  "No. Were you on a _daur_[26]?"

  [26] A surprise expedition on a small scale.

  "Not exactly. We had run out of ammunition almost, and Sir Colin was madwith the responsible artillery officer. He sent for little Roberts, andasked if he could find his way back to the Alambagh in the dark with amob of camels to bring back the ammunition before morning. It was adangerous bit of night-work, but Roberts said he'd do it. So the chieftold him to get one hundred and fifty camels and an escort from Grant,and also take back the wretched artillery officer and leave him at theAlambagh in disgrace. Roberts had left his native guide in charge ofsome Afghans, but the fellow had given his guard the slip, and he wasfloored. However, without letting on, he asked for an escort of nativecavalry. Grant wished him to take English lancers, but Roberts saidEnglishmen were too noisy and jingly, and helpless if separated. Incharge of the escort were Younghusband and Gough, and I begged leave atthe last moment.

  "Roberts was in a sweat. Before the previous day he'd never been overthe ground, and the night was black, and we were liable to wander in anydirection but the right one, and unless he got back with the ammunitionwithin a few hours all the general's plans would be upset. However, withhis usual genius for doing the right thing, he landed us within a shortdistance of the Alambagh, and went on alone to explain, being afraidlest the garrison, mistaking us for rebels, should fire and stampedethe _oonts_ (camels), and then we should be left. He soon came back tosay that they were getting the ammunition-boxes ready, so we quicklyloaded the camels and got back in good time. Sir Colin was awfullypleased with him. It was rather exciting. If young Roberts lives longenough he'll be a great man."

  "He's a jolly decent fellow."

  "Yes, I saw him do another fine thing a day or two ago. We'd capturedthe mess-house close to the Residency, and Roberts planted the UnionJack on the top as a signal that we should soon rescue them. He wasexposed to the rebel fire, and they soon bowled the flag over. Up hewent again, and though they missed him they brought the staff downagain. He set it up a third time, and for the third time they knocked itdown. But he beat 'em in the end."

  "Good!"

  "There was a drummer-boy named Ross," Alec continued, "who did a similarthing. When the Shah Nujif, the highest mosque in Lucknow, was captured,he climbed like a monkey to the very top, and there he blew the 93rd'sbugle-call towards the Residency while the pandies were making a targetof him. Only a kid of twelve too! But I must go now, old chap. Hopeyou'll be all right for the final assault."

  A few days after the arrival of the rescued garrison of Lucknow at theAlambagh, Ted Russell was on his legs again, and the risaldar GovindSingh was describing the part Boldre's Horse had played in the assault.The veteran's deep-set eyes flashed as he spoke of deeds of daring, whensuddenly he changed his tone and his countenance softened.

  "He is indeed dead, sahib," he said quietly. "I saw his grave, and theytell me that the English words on the tombstone mean that he tried to dohis duty. The old Mohammedan was right."

  Ted understood that the grim Sikh was referring to his hero, Sir HenryLawrence, and he asked Govind Singh to tell him more about the saintlywarrior. They strolled into the grounds, and in the square theirattention was attracted by a solemn group, who stood bareheaded anddowncast. Ted approached, in time to see a coffin lowered.

  "Who is dead?" he asked in a whisper of a sergeant of the 93rd, whostood by. The Highlander looked dourly at his questioner.

  "Wha should it be but the best of a'?" said he.

  "Not Havelock?"

  The Highlander nodded, and continued to gaze into the grave. It wasindeed the hero of the First Relief of Lucknow who had died, anddisappointed the millions who had looked forward to welcoming thevictorious soldier home to England.