The Sabre's Edge

by Allan Mallinson

  Earth gushed high above them again like a geyser. 'Christ!' cursed Hervey, realizing what more it might be. The Jhauts had not yet sortied, and it was now that they ought. 'Ensign, get your men up ready!'

  The boy - Hervey thought him not eighteen -knew at once what was wanted. In an instant he and his serjeant had a dozen men in a firing line.

  Wainwright and Needham came up the sap with the carbines, followed by Johnson. Wainwright blanched at the carnage and looked about anxiously until he saw Hervey.

  'Where's Mr Green, sir?' asked Private Needham, no less anxiously; a coverman should never lose sight of his officer (the rebuke from the night affair stung his ears still).

  'I don't know’ said Hervey, trying to take stock of the damage, and looking for an artillery officer on his feet. 'He was behind me in the sap.'

  Johnson pushed his way past the confusion. 'Sir, is thee 'ead all right? Tha's covered in blood.'

  'Yes, it's all right, Johnson,' replied Hervey, gruffly. 'Not a drop of it's my own. Why have you come up?'

  'Corporal Wainwright said we was doin' a bit o' shooting.'

  Hervey wondered why he had asked. 'Ensign, can you see anything?' he called. 'No, not a thing, sir.'

  Hervey clambered over the debris of the revetments to stand next to him. 'What is your name?' 'Leveson-Gower, sir.'

  'Is it, indeed? Your father is not, by any chance. Dean of Wells?'

  'He is, sir. Do you know him?'

  'I've heard tell a good deal of him. Now, do you think you can get your men out of this trench and up to that bit of a hillock yonder?' He indicated a long, shallow rise two hundred yards to their front.

  A gun on the long-necked bastion belched yellow flame. Hervey spied the shot almost at once. 'Coming our way, I think, Mr Leveson-Gower. Down, men!'

  They slid to the bottom of the trench, and a second or so later the big iron ball clipped the forward edge, grazed the bottom and drove itself, hissing, into the earth wall behind. 'As I was saying . .

  'Yes, sir. Of course we can. At once.' The ensign turned to look for his Serjeant. 'Detail half a dozen men to stay here until the wounded are dealt with, Sarn't Docherty. Remainder in extended line prepared to advance.'

  'Sor!'

  There followed a deal of shouting, incomprehensible to any but the Fourteenth, as the men fell in.

  'I intend joining you as soon as I'm able,' said Hervey. 'But first I want to see the gunners recovered. Who gave you your orders?'

  'The captain, sir. He's picketing the rest of the company and then he's coming here.'

  'Good. Go to it, then.'

  The ensign saluted, climbed out of the trench and drew his sword. 'Detachment will advance!'

  As quickly as red coats were scrambling out of the trench, blue ones were coming in from the sap - drivers and ammunition numbers keen to dig. A lieutenant looked horrified.

  'You are in command now, I fear,' said Hervey, briskly. 'Your captain's over there, under the blanket. There's a skirmish line out two hundred yards in front, and the bastion's got the range.'

  Private Needham came into the trench, with Cornet Green behind him.

  Hervey's brow furrowed deeply. 'Where in hell's name have you been, Mr Green?' 'I'm sorry, sir. I forgot my telescope.' 'Mr Green, you have a servant!' 'Yes, sir, I—'

  Corporal McCarthy now appeared, breathless. 'Sor, the major's compliments, sor, and please would you return at once. There's orders from the general, sor.'

  Hervey bit his lip. 'We'll speak later, Mr Green.'

  When Hervey got back to the Sixth's camp he was expecting to hear orders for the brigadier's ruse, but instead he found the entire regiment standing to their horses.

  'Durjan Sal's making a sortie, it seems,' said Joynson as Hervey took his place beside him. 'Or going to.'

  Hervey wondered if the business at the battery was connected. 'What are the orders?'

  'Childers' brigade's going clockwise about, and we're going the other way. The horse artillery will stage behind us and signal with rockets if there's a sortie when we've passed.'

  'A straightforward enough drive,' said Hervey, disappointed by his conclusion that they were about to embark on a wild-goose chase. 'I wonder if our birds will leave their covert, though?'

  'Well, someone has the wind up. How is Armstrong, by the way?'

  'He's doing well.'

  'Let's hope he continues doing well, then. Combermere's in the dumps well and truly, if this morning's anything to go by. He rode through and said the artillery had made not the slightest impression on the walls to date.'

  'That much was evident to a telescope in the garden just now. And the Jhauts have some deuced big guns in that bastion.'

  'Thirty-two-pounders, says Combermere.' Joynson nodded to his front. 'Well, that looks like the Sixteenth off. Trumpet-Major, regiment will advance!'

  But the day went as Hervey feared. Round the fortress they rode - ten miles without sight or sign of the enemy save the odd impudent ball that flew their way. None fell within a hundred yards of them, but they signalled nevertheless the defender's constant surveillance of their progress. Why would anyone oblige Combermere with a sortie when his men paraded before Bhurtpore in such strength? The Jhauts had their walls, and these were serving them very well indeed. Why should they leave their shelter?

  When the Sixth rode back into camp, it was a tired and frustrated Hervey who dismounted and handed the reins of an equally weary Gilbert to his groom.

  'I said I would go see the sar'nt-major, but it's too late. We'll go tomorrow morning.' He took the pistols from the holsters on the saddle as Johnson drew up the stirrups. 'At least they are getting closer by the hour. We may as well be at Brighton for all the good we do. And I think by today's display we have put paid to Murray's ruse having the slightest chance of success.'

  'Ay, sir.' Johnson had not the-least idea what was this ruse, but evidently his ignorance was of no moment now. 'A merry Christmas, then, sir. See thee at gunfire?'

  Hervey smiled. 'Gunfire - yes, indeed.'

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  THE SINEWS OF WAR

  Next day

  FIELD GENERAL ORDERS.

  Head-Quarters, Camp before Bhurtpore,

  24th Dec. 1825.

  Parole - SECRORA

  General for the Day to-morrow. Brigadier Whitehead.

  Field Officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Cooper. Major of Brigade, 2nd Infantry Division. Adjutant, H.M. ‘9th Regiment.

  The Advanced Posts of Buldeo Singh's Garden and Kuddum Kundee to be relieved this afternoon at three o'clock, by parties of similar strength in Infantry as directed in yesterday's Orders, from the 1st and 2nd Divisions respectively. H.M. 11th Dragoons, and 4th Light Cavalry, will relieve the two Troops at present on duty at the Posts; and the Officers commanding

  them, to consider themselves placed under the immediate orders of the General of the Day, to whom they will report accordingly.

  The remaining Guns of the Light Field Battery (from which a portion has already been attached) on duty at the Advanced Posts, are to be ordered down to join this afternoon, and to be considered as placed under the orders of the General of the Day.

  One hundred Sepoys (Goorkas) from the Sirmoor Detachment, with a proportion of Native Officers, to be sent to Buldeo Singh's Garden at three p.m.; and the Officer in Command is instructed to report himself to the General of the Day.

  Working parties for the Trenches will parade in front of H.M.'s 14th and 59th Regiments, this afternoon at four o'clock, and to be furnished as follows: by the 1st Division, for the Posts of Buldeo Singh's Garden, 200 Europeans, and 450 sepoys; by the 2nd Division, for the Post of Kuddum Kundee, 100 Europeans, and 400 Sepoys. An Engineer Officer to attend at the hour appointed.

  Officers proceeding in charge of working parties, are to be strictly cautioned to pay particular attention to the conduct of the men under their command, whilst employed on working duties, and to prevent fires being lighted in the Trenches, and any unnecessa
ry noise being made . . .

  . . . The Hon. Lieut.-Col. Finch, Military Secretary to the Commander in Chief, is appointed Prize-Agent for His Excellency and the Field-Officers of the Army.

  The second Agent, authorized to be nominated by the Captains and Subalterns, is to be selected from the Hon. Company's Service, and may be an officer of any rank.

  The General Officers commanding Divisions, and Commandants of Departments, are requested to collect, without delay, the Votes for a Prize-Agent from the Captains and Subalterns of their Divisions and Commands respectively, and will transmit them to the Adjutant-General.

  It is to be proclaimed through the several Suddur Bazaars in Camp, and Bazaars of Corps, that any person bringing in cannon-shot or shell, delivering them into the Park, to the Commissary or Deputy-Commissary of Ordnance, will be entitled to rewards, as follows:

  For every 24lb. Shot . 12 annas.

  8 & 12 ditto. 6 ditto.

  6 ditto. 4 ditto.

  13-inch shell. 2 rupees.

  10-inch ditto. 1 rupee, 4 annas.

  8-inch ditto. 1 rupee.

  The Commissary or Deputy-Commissary of Ordnance, will grant Certificates for shot or shell received, and the Commissariat is directed to pay the amount on presentation of Certificate so furnished.

  To-morrow being Christmas-Day, the usual gratuity of extra Batta to be issued to the Europeans in Camp.

  Joynson took off his spectacles. ‘Well, Gentlemen, the orders are eminently clear, if late in the arriving. The adjutant will collect votes for prize agent at evening stables. By the by, who is field officer of the day?'

  ‘I am,' said Rose.

  'The outlying picket, only, under saddle today please.'

  Rose nodded.

  'I conclude, then, by extending my own good wishes for the day. The chaplain will say prayers at eleven. That is all.'

  Joynson had called them together earlier than usual. Since the officers had taken gunfire to every man at reveille he had thought it best to capitalize on their wakefulness by holding his conference immediately after stand-down. The sun was now well up and taking the chill off the air, which even the braziers in the marquee had not managed to do when they first assembled, and the prospects for the festive day looked good.

  Hervey stayed seated as the others left.

  'I believe I may guess your thoughts’ said the major.

  'It were better not to’ replied Hervey. 'Not all of them at any rate. I was wondering earlier what we might do to tempt out Durjan Sal's cavalry.'

  'And what did you conclude?'

  'That we couldn't.'

  Joynson looked blank. 'Really, Hervey, what profit had you supposed lay in such a line of thought?'

  'When I was brigade field officer the day before yesterday, Murray told me he had conceived a stratagem by which all the Jhaut cavalry could be lured from the fortress and then destroyed, which would mean that Durjan Sal, having no means to escape if the fortress fell, could not dare risk a storming and would have to sue for peace at once.'

  Joynson nodded. 'That is artful. I wonder you didn't tell me of it.'

  'Murray said to speak to no one. He asked my opinion as to where a demonstration would have greatest effect, and I concluded the Agra gate. But thinking the more, I believe now that nothing would tempt him out, for he can risk losing his cavalry even less than losing the fortress. And it would be folly to suppose he has not made that inference for himself. Perhaps General Sleigh thinks the same and does not approve it, therefore.'

  'Mm.' Joynson nodded again, but slower.

  'You're a very clever fellow, Hervey. You ought by rights to be on Combermere's staff.’

  Hervey smiled, acknowledging the tease.

  'You know,' he continued, putting his spectacles in their case in such a way as to suggest a conclusion. 'I've seen little enough field service, but what I've seen and read leads me to believe that there's rarely a clever way to things. Better to do well what's to be done.'

  It would have been too easy to dismiss Joynson as a plodder, suited only to organizing supply for the fixed defences of the Sussex coast - which had been his former extra-regimental service. Hervey would not. Indeed, he had come to respect 'Daddy' Joynson as a man who knew his limitations to an uncommon degree, and acknowledged them. 'That would appear to be what Combermere is about, is it not - doing well what's to be done?'

  'I hope so. I hope he's listening to Anburey rather than Murray. I can't see that this business will be settled other than by powder and the bayonet. You know, I've a mind to leave things here for a while and go see Armstrong and his cohort. I've a mind that Armstrong's shovel will be a deal more serviceable in this than the whole of Murray's brigade. You'll come with me?'

  As they rode into the extensive earthworks that Buldeo Singh's garden had become, the battery at Kuddum Kundee, a furlong away, fired in unison - eight of the artillery's biggest siege guns laid painstakingly on the same point of the long-necked bastion, 250 pounds of iron hurled with a velocity which vastly multiplied that weight on impact. Hervey pressed Gilbert to the top of one of the earth ramparts just in time to observe the effect - a column of dust higher than the walls of the fortress itself. Were there troops ready to assault the breach?

  As the dust cleared, he saw there was no need of a breaching party, nor even a sign of the gunners' work. The long-necked bastion stood as before, prominent and defiant. He frowned and turned Gilbert back down the bank, muttering about Joshua and his trumpets.

  'God in heaven!' cursed Joynson, climbing from the saddle. His mare looked as if she had taken root, her legs splayed, immovable.

  'It was enough to startle a seasoned trooper, Eustace. She's very green, still.' Joynson's luck with horses was evidently not great, thought Hervey. 'Give her a lead?'

  Joynson shook his head crossly. 'No, no. I'll walk in, damn it! Serjeant Lightfoot!'

  The major's covering-serjeant took the reins. Hervey dismounted and handed his to Private Johnson.

  They set off through the tamarisk grove with Joynson still tutting about his second charger.

  'It's as well we approach on foot, anyway,' said Hervey, leading. 'The place is getting tight-packed with limbers.'

  They picked their way through the siege park like sightseers at a fair. There were piles of shot, powder kegs in dugout bays, explosive shell in others, all manner of engineer stores neatly piled, sacks of corn for the horses, tubs of salt beef, dripping, biscuit, heaps of black bread, barrels of water, firewood and quartermaster stores, and the surgeon's dressing post, empty now, though at the same hour yesterday it was a sorry butcher's shop. It all spoke of the effort and patience a siege required, the organization. Someone at least knew his job, thought Hervey. And it was as well, given the impotence of the eighteen-pounders that had just been demonstrated.

  'Steady, man!' bawled Joynson suddenly, as Private Harkness all but ran into him.

  'Sir! We need the surgeon sir! It's the serjeant-major!'

  'What?'

  'He's in the tunnel, sir. The roof's tumbled in!'

  Joynson pointed to the surgeon's tent, then set off after Hervey, running for the first time in years.

  At the foot of the drift, where the tunnel began, an artificer stopped them. 'There're too many in there, sir. It's too narrow.'

  'Stay here, Eustace,' said Hervey, unfastening his swordbelt and taking off his shako. 'No use in two of us going.'

  'My orders, sir,' said the artificer. cMy sar'nt-major, though,' said Hervey, pushing him aside.

  The tunnel was well lit by oil lamps, but silent. Hervey moved as fast he could, neither quite walking nor running, ducking lower still every few yards to avoid a roof support. It took him a while to reach the airlock.

  'Who's that?' said the crouching figure at the burlap partition.

  'Armstrong's officer. What's to do?'

  'Oh, Major Hervey, sir; it's Irvine. I'm officer of the day. The roof's fallen about fifty yards in. There are two of your men and Brigadier Anbu
rey digging the sar'nt-major out.'

  Hervey pulled aside the burlap.

  'Sir, it's awfully tight in there.'

  'Yes, thank you, Irvine.'

  It was not so well lit the other side of the burlap. Hervey could see the flicker of lamps ahead, and hear voices. He crouched lower still, and pushed on as best he could again.

  'Who's that? Surgeon?' came a voice.

  'No, sir. It's Hervey, Armstrong's officer.' Hervey could just make out Shepherd Stent on his knees beyond Anburey, shovelling earth to one side. 'Who's with you, Stent?'