Armstrong looked incredulous.
So did Perry, but for a different reason. 'I don't understand, Hervey.'
'They have to dig ventilation shafts once the tunnel exceeds a certain distance, which would rather give away the game.' Hervey took a sip of his coffee. 'And they're no fools behind those walls. There are counter-tunnels ready dug. I saw some of them myself. So I think we may safely say there will be no assault this side of the new year.'
The Sixth had been in worse places at Christmas.
Here at least it was warm when the sun was up, they were dry, there was firewood aplenty, and the supply of rations and powder was regular. Armstrong's expression changed to a smile. 'Corporal Stray'll be here today, sir, and a full load of rum.'
Hervey smiled too. The officers' mess was well stocked with excellent claret, but rum was so versatile an additive. He was almost of the opinion that he would exchange it bottle for bottle. 'Very well, then. There are no further orders. Interior economy today, make and mend. And I am brigade field officer, you'll recall.'
Perry and Armstrong rose. 'If it's all right with you, sir, I'd like to ride over and see them sappers working later on,' said the serjeant-major.
'By all means. Don't be too hard on them, though,' replied Hervey, smiling still.
'No indeed, sir. But I'd like to see how many of them would make colliers.'
Hervey reported to the headquarters of the First Brigade of Cavalry at ten o'clock. There was no telling what the duty might entail. Last night had been quiet, and the siege proceeded, as they were all informed, in the usual methodical if painfully slow manner. But activity was the nature of staff work, and he could therefore expect anything. Certainly the headquarters looked well-shod. The brigade tent had yellow pennants at each end of the ridge pole, and a lance-guard at the entrance.
There was no doubting that this was the post of Colonel Murray, a man fervent in holding to the cavalry opinion that everything mattered, from the patent shine on a pair of levee hessians to the edge on a troop man's sabre.
The major of brigade, Captain Harris - of the 16th Lancers like Murray himself - received him with a smile. 'Well, Hervey, we have at least seen how it is done!'
They had indeed, thought Hervey - many a time in the Peninsula. Siege after siege, it seemed in that campaign. 'I wonder if the Jhauts have.'
'I don't know what to make of their sortie the other night, that's for sure,' said the brigade-major.
'I thought perhaps they intended disturbing our sleep every night, but it seems not.'
'Thirty and more dead: they could not long afford that price.' He looked disturbed suddenly. 'I've offered you no refreshment. Where is that bearer?
But the bearer was alert to Hervey's arrival, and he now came into the big marquee that was the brigade orderly room with a tray of coffee and limewater.
'Shukria,' said Harris, and then turned to the staff orderly. 'Inform the brigadier that Major Hervey is come, if you will.'
'Colonel Murray wishes to see me?' asked Hervey, taking both coffee and limewater.
Harris nodded. 'He's not long back from General Sleigh's conference. The news wasn't good.'
'Oh?'
But before Harris could make much of a beginning, the officer commanding the First Cavalry Brigade came into the marquee looking far from his usual cheery self.
Hervey and Harris stood up as one. 'Good morning, sir,' said the former.
'Good morning, Hervey.' He turned to the bearer. 'I'll have some of that coffee, if you please, Manesh.' Then he sank heavily into a leather armchair.
Hervey and Harris sat down again and waited for the brigadier to begin. They were not kept waiting long.
'How does being an infantryman appeal to you?'
Hervey could see no sense in the question, but his recollection of the late events at Rangoon provided a prompt response. 'It does not especially appeal, sir,' he said plainly, and looking bemused. 'But we are part dragoons by name, so if there were compelling reason . . .'
'Combermere is so troubled lest he has not enough infantry for the attack that he's contemplating unhorsing the division, leaving just Skinner's for patrol and escort work.'
Hervey would agree that that was a compelling reason, albeit a desperate one. 'The trick, though, would be to judge the moment to dismount. We have no true idea how strong is the Jhaut cavalry, and they won't have lost their appetite for sorties completely.'
'Just so’ agreed the brigadier. 'And Combermere's worried too about the breaching. The sappers are having a deuced hot time of it. But they reckon they'll have the first parallel open in a day or so, and then they can get some of the siege train in close. We're expected to demonstrate up and down the place, to draw attention from the real activity, but it'll be a damned tedious business. And if this Durjan Sal knows his siegecraft it will not fool him.'
Hervey knew the siege design well enough, for all the field officers had been apprised of it. The principal object of the engineers' work was to dig parallels in front of each of the four most prominent bastions. The most troublesome was the one they had called the long-necked bastion, its height being such as to give the clearest view of any approach within half a mile. Sapping was a hazardous enough task at the best of times, but commanded by the guns of the long-necked bastion it was nearly suicidal. 'That would be the time for a bold sortie. Better for Durjan Sal not to let the guns come into action than to take them on in a duel, no matter how commanding a position his own may have. Nothing is certain in these things, as well we know, sir.'
'Quite. It's on this that I wanted to speak with you.' He held out his cup for more coffee. 'I have an idea we could tempt his cavalry out in strength, and if we lay the trap carefully enough we could despatch the lot of them very surely.'
Hervey said nothing for the moment. A grand fight of cavalry, on the scale of Waterloo - he had never imagined such a thing again. But he was unsure of more than just how they would tempt Durjan Sal out. 'It's a fair prospect indeed, sir. But I'm afraid I do not see its purpose, except to employ the cavalry actively - and I am all in favour of that.'
The brigadier smiled in a satisfied sort of way. Tm glad you don't immediately see the purpose, for that means Durjan Sal likely as not shan't.' He sipped at his coffee, clearly relishing the ingenious-ness of his plan. cDo you think that Durjan Sal is a man who would prefer to fight to the death rather than strike his colours?'
Hervey furrowed his brow. 'On that I have no true insight. I should judge, perhaps, that since he is a usurper he is at heart a hazarder, and therefore unlikely to stick.'
'Just so. And for as long as he has his cavalry he will know - or rather believe - that if the fortress were to fall he could make good his own escape.'
Hervey nodded. 'I would imagine that, yes.'
'Then what would be the purpose in destroying his cavalry?'
A smile crept across Hervey's face.
The brigade-major was not yet certain of his own comprehension. 'Do you mean, sir, that Durjan Sal would be obliged to seek terms rather than risk a fight over the walls?'
'I mean exactly that, Harris. We might never need a breach.' He turned back to Hervey. 'Now, you have ridden the whole of the ground, and seen inside the walls. Guns: where might our decoy be best placed to tempt him out?'
Hervey's brow furrowed again. 'I should need a little time to consider that, sir. I made some plans and sketches—'
'Good, good! I want you to consider it carefully and let me have your opinion. But your best estimate today, if you please. And by all means go and consult your sketches. But keep the notion to yourself, Hervey. Loose tongues would be the death of it.'
When he returned to the Sixth's camp that evening, Hervey found that the officers had already dined. Private Johnson was therefore despatched to bring food to his tent - hot food, for there was a distinct chill in the air already and the brazier was only just lit.
'Serjeant-major says 'e'd like a word when tha were back,' Johnson remembered
, as he pulled open the tent flap.
'Well, you may tell him I'm at home. Did Corporal Stray arrive with rum, by the way?'
'Oh ay, sir. T' quartermaster made an issue after stables.'
'Good. He was also meant to be bringing some bottled fruit for the mess. You might see if any has survived.'
'Ah, so tha did know about it then?'
'The fruit? Why shouldn't I?' 'No, I mean ... it sounded as though th'd 'eard what'd 'appened.' 'Happened?' 'Ay, to Corporal Stray.' 'For heaven's sake, man!'
'Corporal Stray got attacked on 'is way 'ere. They killed t'bullocks pullin' 'is cart.'
Hervey looked almost alarmed. 'And is he all right?'
'Oh ay. T'two that were wi' 'im said 'e just stood on t' box like 'e were at sword exercise. Better than Collins they said 'e were. 'E killed 'alf a dozen of 'em an' then they ran off. T' Jhauts, I mean.'
Hervey smiled. He was not in the least surprised. Corporal Stray's resolute immobility atop the hackery box might have been in part the product of his great bulk, but it was in equal part the action of an old soldier. 'The hero of the wet canteen. I hope he gets a serjeancy for it.'
'I'll be gooin', then.' 'I'd be obliged.'
A few minutes later, Serjeant-Major Armstrong came to the tent.
'Come in, Geordie; sit down. There's nothing to eat but I can offer you some good Bordoo,' said Hervey, smiling again. 'Though I gather rum is the celebratory drink tonight.'
'You heard, then? Stray? I'd 'ave given aught to see it. The big fat bugger!'
Hervey laughed. 'When was he last on parade, do you think?'
'Mounted? Lord knows. He'd never have lasted if old Soggy hadn't been quartermaster.'
Hervey poured two glasses of claret and took his seat again. 'Otherwise a quiet day, I gather?'
'Ay, sir. Farriers have been busy, and the saddlers too.'
'Well, here's to Stray and all the stout hearts like him.'
Armstrong raised his glass. 'To stout hearts.'
Hervey refilled it at once, and his own. 'Johnson seemed to think there was something in particular you had?'
Armstrong frowned and nodded. 'Ay, there is. I went to see the sappers this morning, as I said. This business of not being able to dig out a tunnel - they're not doing it right.'
'Oh?' Hervey looked sceptical, even allowing for Armstrong's aptness in all field matters.
'I talked to the artificer for a fair while and he said they'd wanted to drive tunnels under the main bastions, but they couldn't go more than two hundred yards without ventilating shafts. Then the captain came - a grand man, he were, not in the least bit bothered talking to me - and he said they'd started to drive one under the west bastion but the Jhauts had spied the venting shaft and driven it in.'
'I fear it's the same the whole way round. The Jhauts will be very wary of mining. The trouble is, the sappers can't begin close enough anywhere. And as soon as it's known they're digging, they'll blow the tunnels in by countermines. The galleries are already made. I've seen them.'
Armstrong nodded. 'Ay, but these engineers aren't miners. We drove some long galleries in Hebburn pit and got the air in. Longer than two hundred yards - a lot longer.'
Hervey looked even more sceptical. 'But that would have been with steam pumps, surely?'
'Not when we were digging. We got a draught going with a furnace. Anyway, I told the captain all about it, and he said he'd think on it.'
Hervey was still doubtful. 'But how much further do you think they could go, then?'
'Well, twice as far as they reckon they can now.'
'Twice as far?' Hervey's disbelief was clear.
But it did not dismay Armstrong. 'Ay, at least.'
Hervey said nothing, seeming rapt in thought.
'Look, sir, why not let me lend a hand to them? The sappers, I mean. There's nothing that Collins can't do with the troop as things stand. It's nowt but working parties and escorts. It'd be good for him to have some practice.'
Hervey was not easily persuaded, though he agreed Collins was more than up to the job, especially on what seemed increasingly like garrison duties but in the field. 'I seem to recall you believed colliery a sight more dangerous than life in regimentals.'
Armstrong pulled a face. 'Aw, come on sir. I no more ran from being a collier than I have from anything.'
Hervey winced at his own crassness. It was the loss of father and brothers - and indirectly his mother - that had sent young Armstrong to the recruiting serjeant. 'No, I hadn't meant to—'
'And in any case, there's no firedamp here in 'Indoostan.'
That, too, was true. 'Very well,' said Hervey, with a smile that spoke volumes for his admiration of his old friend's spirit. 'I'll speak to the major, and if he agrees I'll speak then to the sappers.'
Later that morning, after watering, an orderly arrived at the Sixth's headquarters with a most imperative request from Brigadier Anburey, the chief engineer. Joynson at once sent for Hervey.
'What is E Troop about now, Hervey?' The major's tone was just a fraction weary, but a request from a senior officer, even of engineers, was not a thing to be brushed off lightly.
'I'm sorry, sir. I had meant to speak with you about it at orders today, but it seems Armstrong's assistance is more pressing than I'd thought.'
'Just so. You'd better sit down and tell me of it.'
Hervey hardly thought it a long enough story to require comfort, but he obliged the major nevertheless. Then he told him all he knew.
Joynson listened with especial attention, removing and polishing his spectacles several times in the brief course of the explanation - a sure sign of his interest, as well, perhaps, of his anxiety. 'Well,' he said at length, firmly placing the spectacles high on the bridge of his nose. 'Anburey wants to speak to Armstrong in person. You'd better go with him.' His tone was as incredulous as had been Hervey's earlier.
'I think I should.'
Joynson nodded several times, slowly, as if contemplating something of real moment. 'You know, if Armstrong's little scheme works, we should think about making him . . .'
Hervey's ears pricked. He looked keenly at Joynson, now polishing his spectacles for the third time.
'There again,' said the major, now shaking his head from side to side, and as slowly as before. 'Tunnels and powder and the like . . . it's not the thing I myself would choose. I imagine there to be a great degree of hazard?'
Hervey nodded, but grimly. 'I fear so. But Armstrong will have it.'
When they reached Brigadier Anburey's headquarters, a mile or so from the Sixth's lines, Hervey and Armstrong found a dozen engineer officers in hot debate. They saluted as they entered the marquee, and Anburey shook them both by the hand. The faces of some of the officers, however, indicated a distinct disdain; perhaps a collier in their midst was not something easily to be borne.
But Armstrong was sure of his ground, even though it had not been his for twenty years. He ought indeed to be sure of it: his father and his brothers had died in a split second for the want of good method in Hebburn pit.
'Serjeant-Major, Captain Cowie has told me of the system by which you say that a tunnel may be dug beyond the normal distance without recourse to ventilating shafts. To five hundred feet, you say?'
'Ay, sir. But as I recall, there was no saying a tunnel couldn't go even further. It's just a matter of keeping the draught strong.'
Heads were shaking disbelievingly, though not Anburey's. 'If it were possible to dig such a tunnel here, the question would be whether there would be sufficient combustive air for an explosion,' he said. Then he paused, appearing to think on it the more. 'But that is not a matter to trouble you with, Serjeant-Major. Now, the officers here are all engineers skilled in surveying, bridge-building, the development of the siege and such like. None of us have practical experience of underground working comparable with yours. I want you therefore to explain in as great a detail as possible the system which you have witnessed, and then we shall decide if there is justif
ication to put that system into effect here.’
Armstrong looked not in the slightest degree perturbed as he took the stick of chalk from the brigadier and advanced to the blackboard. Hervey wondered what recognition his scheme would bring, for it was certain that Armstrong's name would come to the attention of the commander-in-chief. He could only pray that it should not come before Combermere for posthumous honour.
The mood at the major's orders, two days later, was beginning to reflect the coming season. The Sixth had always looked to stand down on the day itself, and for all ranks to share a good dinner, even in the late French war - although more than once they had found themselves horsed, with sabres drawn. But here the siege was well settled into its routine, the chance of alarms diminished; and supply, on short lines from Agra, was for once excellent. There was every prospect of a good Christmas dinner and sport.
The Sabre's Edge Page 29
