by Maud Diver
CHAPTER XXVIII.
"The work is with us; the event is with Allah." --Kipling.
"Shade, water, grass . . . Not half a bad place for a picnic, eh,Major? And I hope that plausible-looking scoundrel, talking to Norton,has provided a decent breakfast for us. Five hours of marching in thisair puts an edge on a fellow's appetite."
Richardson's remark was addressed to Desmond,--now a Major of sixmonths' standing,--whose practised eye was critically surveying thecamping-ground assigned by the local magnate, Nussar Ali Khan, to theseven British officers and their handful of native troops.
The site chosen was the topmost of two wide terraces descending to astream, from whose farther bank a great hill rose abruptly, dark withpine and ilex, and cleft into a formidable nullah. On the right, flathouse-tops of a walled native village overlooked the terrace, with itsinviting group of trees, beneath which breakfast was in preparation.On the left another elevation, crowned with huts; behind them an openfield, sloping to a ten-foot wall; and above the wall the ubiquitouswatch-tower of the Border glowered like a frown upon the face of peace.The impedimenta of the little force,--transport, field-hospital, andcamp-followers,--still trailed along a narrow lane leading from the_kotal_[1] over which they had come, to the terrace itself. Alreadygrey films of wood-smoke soared, plume-like, into the blue; and the airat ten of the morning was still keen with the sharpness of a smallfrost at high altitudes.
"Not half a bad place for a picnic," Desmond admitted mentally; thoughfor several reasons, this man,--who was a Frontier soldier by instinctand heritage,--would scarcely have chosen it himself.
But stringent military precautions were no part of the programme:Norton's escort of half a squadron, two guns, and five hundred Sikhsand Punjabis, being little more than a necessary appendage to apeaceful visitation. Such commonplaces of Frontier government as theenforcing of a fine, and the choosing of a site for an outpost mannedby friendly tribesmen, was unlikely to cause friction or stir upstrife; and Norton, standing apart from the group of officers in khaki,was listening politely to Nussar Ali Khan and his friends,--some half adozen Maliks from the fortified villages scattered among the hills.Spare, muscular men, all of them, in peaked caps and turbans,sheep-skin coats, and voluminous trousers, girded by the formidablePathan belt, with its pouches, dagger, and straight-handled sword;their bearded faces lighted up, as they talked, by flashes of whiteteeth; most of them towering half a head above the squarely-builtEnglishman, with the jaw of a bull-dog and the eyes of a hawk, whounderstood their language, their strange mingling of courage andcruelty, of simplicity and cunning, as a man only understands that towhich he has devoted a lifetime of labour and thought.
Lower down, under the lee of the village wall, a local _jirgah_[2] satwatching the influx of troops with non-committal indifference, waitingto come forward and protest their devotion to the White Queen and theBurra Sahib; their entire readiness to be bound over by the Maliks'proposals, and, in effect, to behave themselves till next time! Theutmost guarantee of good conduct that will ever be wrung out of thelawless sons of the North-western hills.
"It is enough, Khan Sahib," Norton said at length, cutting short astring of compliments that he knew by heart. "Let the _jirgah_ come tome and make their statement while breakfast is preparing."
But the Khan, indicating with a sweep of his arm the limitless time attheir disposal, declared that a matter so trifling could very well waittill the Presence and the officer Sahibs had refreshed themselves.
"It is well known among our people, Hazur," he concluded, "that yourHonour regardeth not food or rest when work remaineth to be done. Butthe matter hath already been peacefully settled with these men.Moreover, there be the officer Sahibs also, desiring breakfast; and myson hath commanded everything of the best for your Honour's reception:even wood and grass in abundance, that labour might be spared."
Having struck camp before six that morning, Norton needed no furtherpressing: and ten minutes later the eight Englishmen were breakfastingheartily on provisions that atoned in quantity for lack of quality.
Besides Desmond and the Gunners, the Deputy Commissioner, who knew howto pick his men, had secured Unwin and Montague with the Sikhs, a smartsubaltern with the Punjab Infantry, and Courtenay as medical officer.Behind them, sepoys and sowars, keeping their arms by ColonelMontague's orders, smoked or slept at their ease. Sentries had beentold off; pickets posted in front and rear; the screw guns unlimbered,and stationed with their infantry escort on rising ground at the farend of the field. Scattered groups of villagers, appearing on wallsand house-tops and on the hill to the left, squatted on their heels,watching the mild tamasha with evident interest, and exchanging broadsallies of wit with the sepoys by way of adding flavour to theentertainment.
Pipes, cigars, and a pleasant sense of wellbeing followed the meal.
"I congratulate you, Norton," Montague remarked between pulls at astumpy briar that was consoling him for muscular fowl and curriedleather. "Your Wolves of the Khanigoram are behaving likeSunday-school children at a prize giving! We can fix the site for thepost when we've rested a bit longer, and start back this afternoon, eh?"
"Yes, by all means. I have only to settle matters with the _jirgah_."
"Thank goodness, I'm booked for first leave," the other continuedconversationally. He was a plump, well-cared-for little man, hamperedby half a dozen boys and girls clamouring for education at home, andwas beginning to lose his taste for scratch picnics across the Border."This sort of thing sets one hankering for the hills. I suppose youwon't be doing wonders up Tibet way this year, Lenox? Metal moreattractive, and all that sort of thing, eh?"
"Yes, I shall stick to the Battery for the present," Lenox answered,ignoring the playful allusion: and Richardson, detecting annoyance inthe tone, put in his own oar deftly enough.
"Unwin's the lucky beggar. When do you sail, old chap?"
"To-day fortnight, praise the powers! No more dancing attendance onWaziris for eighteen good months to come." He stretched his crampedlegs contentedly. "Those Johnnies on the wall seem to be getting boredwith our show. We ought to have brought a couple of banjos along toamuse their majesties!"
It was true. Gradually, by twos and threes, the villagers were meltingaway: and Desmond, who was leaning against a tree trunk close toNorton, helmet tilted over his nose, apparently half asleep, touchedthe civilian's arm.
"I say, Norton," he said under his breath. "Take your oath it's allsquare?"
Norton looked round sharply.
"My dear man, we've eaten their food. Ever know a Pathan commit abreach of hospitality?"
"No. But it looks queer."
For by now their audience had practically disappeared. The villagewall was empty, save for one crouching figure, that sprang suddenly andsilently to its full height, and brandished a bared sword: the bladeflashing like a helio in the strong light.
"What's the _mutlub_[3] of that theatrical interlude?" Richardsondemanded with a laugh; and was answered by a signal shot from thewatch-tower behind.
In a flash all eight of them were on their feet: Montague and Lenoxshouting to their men to 'fall in.'
The order was obeyed with incredible promptness. But the Waziris hadthe advantage of playing a prepared game; and before the officers hadtime to disperse a murderous fire was poured upon them from all sidesat once: from the village, the watch-tower, and the huts on the left.Swift as magic the walls bristled with picked marksmen, armed withmatchlocks, Winchesters, and Martini Henry's stolen from Bordersentries: and it was clear that the enemy held the nullah in greatstrength.
"Massacre, by God!" Desmond muttered between his teeth as he dodged awhizzing bullet, while a second glanced off his brass buckle, andburied itself in the tree behind him.
Colonel Montague, advancing to meet his men, who came forward at thedouble, fell, mortally wounded, with two bullets through his body. Hestaggered to his feet; only to fall again, face downward, as Desmondand Courtenay hurried up
to him, and--covered by the fire of hisSikhs--carried him into comparative safety behind a stack of_bhusa_,[4] within reach of the ambulance; his bugler following closeat their heels.
"I'm done for," he panted, as they laid him down. "Make the best jobyou can of me; and prop me . . against the stack. I'll directoperations . . while I can . . hold out."
There was clearly nothing else to be done; and while Courtenay obeyedthe dying man's injunctions, Desmond made haste to join his own sowars,who were already doing smart work with their rifles, under RessaldarRajinder Singh.
By now the din was terrific. It was as if a special department of hellhad been suddenly opened up. Firing had become general from all thesurrounding hills; for an attack of this kind, once started, speedilydegenerates into a matter of _ghaza_.[5] Every moment brought freshreinforcements to the Waziris; every moment their fire grew hotter; andevery moment, through the rattle of musketry and the yells of thetribesmen, came the deep-throated duet of the sturdy little screw-gunsunder the wall, as they pitched shell after shell into the nullah, fromwhose depths a hidden foe responded with pitiless accuracy and vigour.
For, simultaneously with Montague's advance, Lenox and Richardson haddoubled to their guns through a hailstorm of humming, leaping bullets.One, passing through Lenox's coat-sleeve, grazed his upper arm; while asecond struck Richardson's breast-pocket, and was only prevented fromwounding him mortally by a pad of first-aid bandages which Courtenayhad served out to him, in joke, two days earlier. Reaching the gunsunscathed, they found the gunners at their posts, the infantry escortblazing merrily and effectively at the marksmen on the wall: and atonce opened fire on the nullah with case-shot and shell.
But their height and exposed position rendered them too conspicuous tobe missed for long by an enemy whose skill in picking off Britishofficers makes the little wars of the Frontier such cruelly costlyaffairs. In less than two minutes, a burning pain near hisshoulder-blade told Lenox he was hit. But not being disabled, he paidsmall heed to so trivial an incident at the time. The incessant firingtook up all his attention.
Before ten minutes were out, shells, case-shot, and shrapnel had allbeen exhausted. The Mahsuds were firing more steadily than ever; andon the terrace itself, the infantry and sowars were in no enviablecase. Unwin had fallen, shot through the head. Montague hadmomentarily succumbed to pain and exhaustion; and Desmond, with littleMartin of the Punjab Infantry and a Sikh Subadar, was in command ofaffairs.
Sudden faintness, and a damp discomfort down his back, warned Lenoxthat his wound must be bleeding more freely than he knew. He grippedthe shoulder of a gunner standing near him; and for an instant allthings swam together before his eyes.
"Look, Captain Sahib, look! There be fresh men on the hill."
The voice of the Havildar Major in his ear steadied his senses: and hesaw the new danger that threatened. Down the steep hillside at theirright rear, a compact body of men leapt cautiously from cover to cover;an occasional glint of sunlight on a sword-blade revealing theirprobable intent.
"I say, Dick, those devils'll rush the guns if we give 'em half achance," he said, turning to his subaltern; and without waiting for ananswer, ordered his escort to cover the hill, and prepare for a volley.
But almost before the command could be obeyed,--with a final leap and adull roar, rising to a yell of triumph,--the Waziris were upon them atclose quarters; the front ranks brandishing long knives, the rest armedwith matchlocks and rifles.
The Sikhs stood their ground sturdily: as Sikhs may be trusted to do inany straits; while the guns, firing over their heads, sent many of thefrenzied fanatics rolling over and over, with yells of a very differentnature.
Then, suddenly . . Lenox never quite knew how it happened . . he feltthe earth heave under him; some one gripped him from behind: Dick'stall figure, revolver in hand, interposed between him and the swarminghillside; and the next instant reeled against him with such violencethat both fell heavily to the ground. At once their men closed roundthem, covering them with their rifles; a Havildar and two gunnerseagerly proffering lengths of turban for bandages, since it was plainthat Richardson's wound in the thigh was no light matter.
Startled and stunned as he was, Lenox righted himself speedily; andkneeling on one knee, supported his subaltern's shoulders against theother, while a Havildar roughly bandaged the wounded leg, and bulletswhinged and whirred on all sides of them.
"Dick, you'd no business to be there. What the devil did you do?"Lenox asked, a queer vibration in his voice: for it seemed that nottill this moment had he understood the strength of the link that boundhim to the simple-hearted man who was his friend.
"For God's sake don't plague a chap with questions when he's hard hit.The thing's done; and . ." Richardson's voice trailed offinaudible,--"it's better this way . . for her." Then he roused himselfwith an effort. "We've crushed the brutes, haven't we?"
"Yes. For the present. The men behaved splendidly. Jove! here comesNorton through the thick of it all. Orders to clear out, most likely.If it's that, I wish to hell it had come five minutes sooner." AndRichardson murmured inarticulate assent.
Norton carried his message in his face.
"The Colonel has rallied a little," he said, after expressing sympathyand concern for the plight of both officers. "And he agrees with methat it is wanton sacrifice of men to hold out any longer. OnlyCourtenay and Martin untouched out of the seven of you; for Desmond'sjust had his wrist smashed, poor fellow. We must get back, as best wecan, by the lane and over the _kotal_. Desmond has despatched a partyof his sowars to Brownlow, of your corps, for reinforcements of men andammunition. His post is only nine miles off, and we can push along inthat direction. Now I must get back to the Colonel. I'll letCourtenay know he's wanted: and send a stretcher along."
With his departure, began the desperate business of dismembering gunsand loading mules under a sharp fire; gunners, drivers, and nativeofficers vieing with each other in carrying off the wounded, repulsinghand-to-hand attacks, and in many individual acts of gallantry. Whilelimbering up the guns a mule was shot, and two wheels rolled down theslope. The Havildar in charge sped after them, through patteringbullets; returning with seventy-two pounds of solid metal hanging fromeach arm. But even as he flung them down in triumph, he rolled over,with a bullet through his chest: while Richardson's orderly staggeredpast, carrying the gun itself, a matter of two hundred pounds. Suchamazing feats can flesh and blood achieve under the spur of momentaryexaltation.
And at last,--despite the catastrophe of a stampede among theammunition and ambulance mules, which left them poorer by four thousandrounds and their field hospital,--the preliminaries were accomplished.Covered by the sharp rifle practice of the infantry and sowars, men,animals, and stretchers retired, without precipitation or disorder,along the narrow lane, bounded by stone walls and rugged hills swarmingwith a jubilant enemy. For at the first signs of evacuation theMahsuds came out in greater numbers; harrying and pressing in upon thedogged little column on all sides, yet rarely offering a mark forriflemen; their lithe bodies and marvellous activity enabling them tofind cover almost anywhere.
It was heart-breaking work: for, in the soldier's vocabulary, there isno more unwelcome word than retreat; notwithstanding the fact that aretreat which covers all ranks with honour and glory is perhaps thefinest achievement possible in the great game of war. Certain it isthat the progress of Norton's broken escort through that veritabledeath-trap, to the _kotal_ where a second stand might prove feasible,was carried out by officers and men with the indomitable coolness andspirit that converts failure into 'an honourable form of victory.'
It is such crises which test the mettle of our native troops: addingfresh proof, if more were needed, of the magnificent fighting materialthat India has given into our hands. For Colonel Montague had againlost consciousness; and Martin having been shot in the calf as heentered the lane, the task of carrying out all the details of theretirement fell upon the senior Native officer, Sub
adar Hira Singh,under Desmond's orders. He and Norton, bearing the joint burden ofresponsibility, kept close together. The surface cynicism of thecivilian had been burnt up in the fire of healthy savage action; and atodd moments, when ordinary speech was possible, his admiration for theconduct of all concerned vented itself in disjointed ejaculations ofapproval that warmed the cavalryman's heart.
"Wait till I make out my report of all this," he said on one occasion."Be sure you Piffers will get all the kudos you deserve."
And five minutes later, he fell--shot through the body--into Desmond'sarms.
"Nothing . . nothing serious," he protested, while his face wried withpain. "Don't delay matters . . on my account. I can pull alongsomehow, if you'll give me an arm."
But they got him on to a stretcher, none the less; and Courtenay didall he could till a definite halt was possible.
"Bad . . is it?" the civilian asked coolly, noting the concern in theother's eyes. "Well, a man might do worse than die . . . like asoldier. But by God, I'll hang on to life somehow,--till I can draftout my report."
And hang on to life he did, in defiance of mortal pain, with a tenacityworthy of his bull-dog jaw.
At the foot of the _kotal_, Desmond called a halt; and the rearguardunder Hira Singh closed up, to hold the enemy in check, that the gunsand wounded might get over in safety before the position should befinally abandoned.
And now began the toughest bit of fighting the day had yet seen. Forthe Waziris closed with the Sikhs and Punjabis in overwhelming numbers;exchanging the clatter of musketry for the clash of steel, thesickening thud of blows given and received. But neither numbers norcold steel availed to break up that narrow wall of devoted men. Witheach gap in their ranks, they merely closed in, and fought the morefiercely: Hira Singh, with his brother the Jemadar, and a score ofunconsidered heroes, flinging away their lives with less of hesitationthan they would have flung away a handful of current coin, to gain timefor those whose safety hung upon their power of resistance.
At last,--when all had passed over the small hill behind them,--camethe order to fall back: and not till that moment had any man among themyielded a foot of space to the persistent foe, who now pressed afterthem; and, with renewed jubilations and flutterings of green standards,occupied every available position on the surrounding hills.
For two interminable hours the dreary game went on; till six ridges,that climbed to a commanding plateau, had been held and abandonedthrough shortage of ammunition. But thanks to the steadiness of therearguard, and to their leader's genius for the art of war, no furtherlives were lost; no further advantage gained by the Waziris; and atlength, heart-weary and leg-weary, they reached the plateau itself, tofind Brownlow,--with shot and shell, and two hundred Sikhs thirstingfor battle,--already there before them, having covered the nine milesin one and a half hours.
Perhaps only a soldier who has drunk his cup of blood and fire to thedregs, knows the strange mingling of emotions packed into that littleword 'relieved': and assuredly none but a soldier could enter into thejoy with which Lenox stood swaying dizzily beside his beloved guns,while he and Brownlow pitched eight-and-twenty shells into thefortified village below the last one, to their shameless satisfaction,lighting on the mosque itself, and lifting the Mullah, with his greenflag of victory, twenty feet into the air.
It was a more or less damaged and dejected party of five whichassembled in the small mess tent that night.
So much had been lost, so little gained by the day's disaster: anepitome of too many 'regrettable incidents' beyond the Border. Thecostliest item of Frontier defence is this unavoidable waste of thelives of picked soldiers. The Sikhs had lost heavily in Nativeofficers and men. Colonel Montague had succumbed to his wounds duringthe retirement. Norton and Richardson, both too severely hurt toappear at mess, were officially in hospital,--that is to say, onstretchers in two field service tents: and three out of the five men atthe mess table had brought away superfluous mementoes of Wazirimarksmanship.
Lenox himself had suffered more from loss of blood than from the fleshwound in his shoulder, which was not a serious affair; and to Desmond'sbroken wrist had been added a disfiguring slash across his cheek. Nodoubt orders and commendation awaited them: but their elation at theprospect was hushed by the very present shadow of death. For thesoldier, inured as he is, does not count death a little thing. Hecannot, any more than the rest of us, 'go out of the warm sunshineeasily.' And the thought of Montague's wife and children, of Unwin's'No more dancing attendance on Waziris,' intruded unsought, breakingthe thread of common speech.
No doubt, also, Desmond and Lenox were thinking, manlike, of their ownwives; and thanking God for wounds that would only let loose thewoman's divine reserves of tenderness, her passion for 'mothering' theman she loves. Once during the evening they exchanged a glance ofcomprehension,--the freemasonry of those who love,--and the samequestion sprang simultaneously to their minds. "How about poor Norton?Would the news bring that wife of his back to Dera Ishmael in the lastweek of March?" And Desmond decided that if it did not, Norton must bepersuaded to put up with them, and submit to Honor's ministrations, inwhose power to soothe and bless he had the faith of a little child, orof a great man; for the two are so nearly allied as to be almostidentical.
As for Norton himself, he was too much engrossed in the painful task of'hanging on to life' to trouble his head about any other matter. Thenews of his serious hurt spread through the neighbouring villages asnews only speeds in India, without help of post or wire: and when, onthe following morning, a deputation of friendly Khans waited upon theBurra Sahib, to express their sorrow and shame at so flagrant a breachof the great Border law of hospitality, and to offer help with thebringing in of dead bodies, Norton insisted on receiving them, proppedup on a chair: a broken, but unconquered remnant of the man whom theyhad feared, and loved, and obeyed, with that mixture of independenceand loyal allegiance which is perhaps England's greatest triumph inIndia.
But all his courage could not conceal the truth from their eyes: andwith one accord, these hardened men--who had no regard for death in theabstract, and an unlimited veneration for strength in any form--bowedthemselves at the Englishman's feet, and wept like children.
"Oh, Sahib, . . Father of the District, . . this is an evil thing thathath befallen," the oldest among them wailed, in deep-tonedlamentation. "How will it be with us who have so long been ruled byyour wisdom, when the light of your Honour's countenance is withdrawn?And whom will the _Sirkar_[6] send us in thy stead?"
"In less than a month the Sirkar will send fire and sword," Nortonanswered sternly. "Smoking villages, and blackened crops. A gift fora gift, a blow for a blow, is straight dealing. But for one life takenyesterday the _Sirkar_ will exact ten: of that ye may rest assured."
"Nay, but let it not be forgotten, Hazur, that we, who are present, bemen of one word, true to our salt; not as those murderers, upon whomthe wrath of Allah will be poured out like water, even upon theman-child at the breast, for yesterday's black work."
Which comfortable prediction Norton received with rather a bittersmile. It did not square with his own experience of the ironicaltangle men call Life. But for all that, it is possible that, in hisextremity, he envied these savage Sons of the Prophet their faith inthe rough justice of Allah's dispensations.
[1] Hill.
[2] Tribal council.
[3] Meaning.
[4] Chopped straw.
[5] Fanatical slaughter.
[6] Government.
