The Sabre's Edge

by Allan Mallinson

  'Corporal Stray, sir.'

  Hervey pushed past them both. Earth was flying back as fast as Stent could clear it, like a terrier digging out a badger. He could now make out

  Corporal Stray's great bulk, seeming to fill the remaining space. But it was Stray's shovel that worked like a machine.

  'How long has he been buried?'

  'A good ten minutes, sir,' said Stent, not checking in his own shovel work. 'The engineers had just put in another support and the serjeant-major was taking a turn at digging. And suddenly the roof just fell in.'

  'I had only just arrived myself,' said Brigadier Anburey.

  Buried ten minutes. Hervey bit his lip. How did they know the roof-fall they were clearing would not be replaced at once by more? Had the tunnel wholly collapsed, with a hollow in the ground above them? Should they not be digging from there too?

  'I've got 'is feet, Shep!' called Stray.

  'Major Hervey's here, Mick.'

  'Major 'Ervey, sir, I've got 'is feet. And they're movin'!'

  Hervey crawled past Shepherd Stent and laid a hand on Armstrong's boot. It was moving, very definitely moving.

  'Can we pull 'im out, d'ye think, sir?'

  'I don't know,' said Hervey, clawing away more earth around the foot. 'He must somehow have air under this lot. If we start to pull him out we might disturb it. How long would it take?'

  Corporal Stray, breathing heavily, didn't know either. 'Even if 'e's got a bit of air, sir, it might run out soon. It can't be owt much. What else can we do? It'll take an hour to shift this lot.'

  Hervey felt the desperation welling. 'We'll pull him! Keep digging while I get ropes.'

  'Right, sir,' said Stray, relieved not to be the one to make the decision, and pleased to have the digging to occupy him.

  'I'll get them,' said Anburey.

  'Colonel, I'd be obliged if you would stay here. I am not a technical.'

  Anburey nodded, and Hervey took off back down the tunnel like a bolting rabbit.

  Joynson had not been idle, either. There were props, lamps, picks, shovels, all manner of stores piled at the bottom of the drift - and rope. Hervey quickly explained his intention then set off back into the tunnel with the end of a coil, Corporal Wainwright playing it out and Serjeant Lightfoot attaching other lengths with deft reef knots.

  'Relay my orders, if you please, Irvine,' said Hervey as he pushed aside the burlap.

  Corporal Stray had cleared to Armstrong's calves, but earth slid his way as fast as he could move it.

  'There's a good fifteen feet of tunnel forward,' said Brigadier Anburey. 'It's that spoil which is falling back. I don't think the whole working has collapsed.'

  'He knows we're 'ere at least, sir,' said Stray, sounding as though he was taking as much comfort by it as Armstrong himself.

  The brigadier's assessment was cheering. At least they wouldn't be pulling against the weight of a dozen feet of earth. Hervey looped the rope around Armstrong's feet, binding them together tight. He thought of removing the boots, but judged it better to leave them for protection. 'Keep digging, Corporal Stray,' he said, once he had made the final hitch. 'Irvine, pull away!'

  A second or so and the rope tautened. Then it began to inch back. Then more obviously. In a minute they saw the back of Armstrong's knees.

  'Thank Christ, sir!' said Stray, digging for all he was worth.

  'It's taking too long,' said Hervey. 'He'll soon have no air.' He started clawing away at the earth with his bare hands. 'Pull harder, Irvine!'

  It was working, just. Inch by inch Armstrong's body emerged from the roof-fall, but the minutes ticked by. How in God's name could anyone go that long without air?

  In five more they saw his waist. And then he was out in one, like a cork pulling evenly from a bottle.

  'Stop!' bellowed Hervey down the tunnel.

  The rope slackened at once.

  He turned over the uncharacteristically motionless frame, desperate for some sign of life. He saw only the earth-caked shell of a man he'd once believed was indestructible - limp, like a rag doll thrown down in the mud.

  'Surgeon!' He cursed himself; he ought to have called him up before.

  Armstrong's mouth fell open, and then his eyes, the lids flickering perceptibly.

  Hervey gasped, and Stray knew they'd done it. But it was too much like the brush with death in America, when Armstrong, alone, had taken on the war party - then, as now, beyond, well beyond, the call of duty. The thought of that devotion, and its fruitless and terrible outcome in America, was too much for Hervey, and tears began welling.

  It was left to Corporal Stray to restore matters. 'Yer gave us a right scare there, Serjeant-Major, sir,' he said, in the cheeky understatement which only a corporal of his standing was allowed.

  Armstrong spat, but weakly, and closed his eyes again. 'And it won't be the last, Corporal Stray,' he croaked, barely audible. 'Be sure of it.'

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  FORLORN HOPES

  Three days later

  FIELD GENERAL ORDERS.

  Head-quarters, Camp before Bhurtpore,

  28 Dec, 1825.

  Parole - BOMBAY

  The Commander-in-Chief is pleased to appoint Brevet-Captain Hake, of H.M. 16th Lancers, to the superintendence of the Field Telegraph. An establishment of one European Non-commissioned Staff, one Lascar, and three coolies, is authorized to be attached to each Field Telegraph in use. The above appointment to have effect from the 22nd instant.

  The three Senior Field Officers of Infantry without Brigades, viz. Lieut.-Col. Commandant Fagan, Lieut.-Cols. Nation and Price, are brought on the Roster of Generals of the Day, until further orders.

  The Advanced Posts to be relieved this afternoon at three o'clock . . .

  A working party of 100 men from . . .

  A relief working party of a complete Regiment of Native Infantry . . .

  The Infantry Piquets to mount, till further orders, at five P.M. and to be withdrawn from their position at day-break; and permitted to return to their tents. The Infantry Piquets to remain in readiness to turn out at the shortest notice, as directed.

  A Foraging Party of the usual strength in Cavalry and Infantry . . .

  The Commander-in-Chief has received with much pleasure, the report of the excellent conduct of a serjeant-major of the 6th Light Dragoons, John Armstrong, who was engaged in work in the field defences at Buldeo Singh's garden in most hazardous circumstances, and who suffered burial for half an hour following the collapse of his trench, whereupon he was brought out upon the exertions of his fellow Dragoons, notably Corporal Stray of that Regiment, and after the shortest period for recovery and examination by the Surgeon, returned to his post to continue with the same hazardous work as before. His Lordship, in consideration of the foregoing service, as well as of the high character borne by this Non-commissioned Officer, is pleased to advance Serjeant-Major Armstrong one year in Service and Seniority, and likewise Corporal Stray to be advanced six months in Service and Seniority. His Lordship further directs, that his approbation may be communicated to the whole of the Party, for their steady conduct on this occasion.

  'Well, gentlemen, a handsome testimonial, if necessarily somewhat recondite in its description of events.' Major Joynson laid down his copy of the orders beside him and rubbed his hands together. 'By God, it's cold today. Are there any questions?'

  'You were going to tell us of progress,' said Strickland helpfully.

  'Indeed, I shall,' replied Joynson.

  'Where does the telegraph run?' asked Rose.

  'Agra and the two divisions of infantry.'

  There were no further questions.

  'Very well, the siege,' said Joynson, cupping his hands together and blowing into them. 'There is nothing I may say about the progress of the saps and mines. Indeed, there is nothing I can say, for that intelligence is very properly kept privy to the divisional commanders. We do, of course, know that Armstrong's tunnel has now reached almost to the long
-necked bastion - further, so I understand, than the engineers have ever known a gallery driven in such circumstances. There are others being driven now from the third parallels, but they are highly susceptible to countermines. One indeed has already been blown in.'

  'Have the guns made a breach anywhere?' asked Strickland.

  'Not that I'm aware of.'

  'I'm beginning to wonder if powder is going to have any effect if solid shot hasn't.'

  'Well’ said Joynson, not entirely unsympathetic with the proposition, but mindful of the need not to show it, 'I should imagine that if the foundations are attacked . . .'

  There was a degree of nodding. It seemed a sound enough observation. None of them was an engineer, after all.

  Rose, who had managed at last to relight his cigar, blew his habitual cloud of smoke towards the roof of the marquee. 'Pigs are the answer.'

  There were smiles all round, save from Joynson. 'Not now, Hugh!'

  'I don't think I'm entirely jesting,' replied A Troop's wounded buck. 'Our seat is in Kent, close to Rochester.'

  Hervey had some distant recollection now. One or two others looked as though they might. But Joynson did not. 'I am none the wiser. You had better spell it out.'

  'When King John laid siege to the castle there they tunnelled under the keep and then packed it full of brushwood and fat pigs and it was like the burning fiery furnace. It brought down a whole corner of the place.' He blew another cloud of smoke upwards as if to illustrate the feat.

  Joynson smiled. 'And yet, Hugh, I am not minded to ask the chief engineer what is the relative combustive value of pigs and powder.’

  They all enjoyed the diversion. Things had become very tedious.

  'But I may tell you this,’ he continued, taking off his spectacles and placing them in their case. 'The commander-in-chief does not intend that any part of the cavalry dismount, save of its own volition.’

  Smiling faces turned puzzled-looking.

  'I mean simply that his lordship is calling for volunteers for the storming parties.’

  All were at once energized.

  'We shall do it in the old way,’ said Joynson, holding up his hand. 'And a ballot.’

  The hubbub continued. 'Useless to ask when we shall be needed?’ said Rose.

  'Yes,’ replied Joynson.

  The adjutant cleared his throat in such a way as to bring the conference to order.

  'One more thing, gentlemen. This shall be my last with you in command. Sir Ivo will be here this evening. Thank you for your forbearance this past year. That will be all.’

  There was silence, and then a buzz that somehow managed to combine the keen anticipation of the lieutenant-colonel’s return with genuine regret at Joynson's supersession. There was scarce a man who would not say that the major had grown comfortably into the habit of command.

  When the others had left, Hervey stood up and put on his forage cap. 'Sir, I speak for myself, but I don't doubt that were I not here any of the other captains would say the same. It has been—'

  'Yes, yes, Hervey. Likely so, but we have much to be about. There are loose ends I would tie up before Sir Ivo arrives. It wouldn't do for the regiment to appear to any degree careless.'

  Hervey smiled. 'Eustace, I hardly think—'

  But Joynson would have no compliments. 'And you shall be able to return your attention wholly to your troop.'

  That, of course, was a blessing. 'Do you want me to do anything preparatory to Sir Ivo's arriving?'

  'I think not. But I should like you to be here when he does arrive. He will need to be apprised of things, and yours is the greatest knowledge of what went before.'

  Lieutenant-Colonel Sir Ivo Lankester, Bt, had returned to the executive command of His Majesty's 6th Light Dragoons from his post-nuptial leave amid several thousand acres of Hertfordshire by way of Calcutta, where his bride, the second daughter of Sir Delaval Rumsey, a man of greater acres even than Lankester himself, had been hastily lodged with the Governor-General. To Hervey he looked not a day older, very content (but then, he had always appeared so), and keen to gather up the reins.

  'Eustace, I heard a great deal of the regiment even in the short time I was in Calcutta, and all of it the highest praise. I really cannot thank you enough, especially since my furlough was longer, in the event, than anticipated.'

  'You have our congratulations on that account, Colonel,' replied Joynson.

  And at dinner Sir Ivo would see those sentiments in tangible form, for the officers would present him with a fine silver statuette of a mounted officer of the regiment, a wedding present executed by one of the best native silversmiths in Hindoostan.

  'Thank you, Eustace. Thank you very much indeed.' He nodded to his orderly, who advanced on him with a small box. 'And I should like you to have this, just a little token of my gratitude.'

  A silver-mounted horn snuff mull - Joynson looked genuinely abashed. 'It is very handsome, Colonel. Thank you.'

  'Well then. I will tell you what I know -which is only that which the brigadier has told me - and you may then tell me how little I know.'

  They all smiled. And then Sir Ivo began.

  It was more than an hour by the time Joynson had related the signal occurrences, incidents and events of the past year. Here and there Hervey added some detail or opinion, but it was largely the major's occasion, and one which admirably suited his eye for detail.

  Sir Ivo was well pleased both by what he heard (on the whole) and by how Joynson related it. At length he smiled again, expressed himself ready to reassume command, and called for wine. 'One thing more I would hear about, though it is a curious interest only: how did Armstrong survive his entombment?'

  Hervey inclined his head and raised an eyebrow as if to acknowledge the singularity of the ordeal. 'There was a duct which conveyed air to the end of the tunnel - which was itself of Armstrong's doing - and it seems that this was somehow close enough to ensure a sufficient quantity of air, even amid the debris of the roof. But how there remained sufficient air once we began to pull him free is unclear. Certainly, Armstrong has no recollection.'

  'Well, let us not speculate on the science of it. But I am intrigued to know of his design.'

  'The principle appears very simple, Colonel. The duct extends the length of the working, and about eighty yards in, just behind one of the siege battery earthworks, there is a narrow ventilation shaft -masked from the enemy, of course - and the tunnel is sealed by canvas, but which the duct passes through, just to the rear of the shaft. There is a fire at the foot of the shaft which draws air from the tunnel, and this in turn draws fresh air along the duct.'

  'Most ingenious’ said Sir Ivo. 'I wonder the engineers didn't think of it themselves.'

  'Oh, Colonel Anburey, their brigadier, is full of praise for Armstrong,' said Joynson. 'And Combermere's made special mention in his orders.'

  'Capital! Now, leave us, if you will, Hervey. I have one or two matters I would discuss with Eustace in private. And do be assured that I am most especially obliged for all you have done, too, in my absence.'

  Hervey was gratified, if, like Joynson, a shade abashed. 'Honoured, Colonel.' He saluted and left them to the privacy of the orderly room.

  'In truth I should have been lost without him on any number of occasions,' said Joynson when he was gone.

  Sir Ivo nodded. 'I saw Combermere on the way up. He said he would have him for his staff. I think we might contemplate that when we return to Calcutta. It would be greatly to his advantage.'

  'I agree.'

  'Very well. Now, the storming parties you spoke of - the volunteers.'

  Joynson smiled. 'A very full manger.'

  'And you'll draw the names in the usual fashion?'

  Joynson hesitated. 'I have had two representations.' 'Indeed?'

  'Well, three indirectly. Rose for one, for obvious reasons.'

  'I should be very much inclined to accept that, Eustace. He will feel it keenly that he should restore his honour in the breach
es. It could only serve the regiment's esprit de corps.'

  'The other is Hervey and his cornet, Green, who really is a most execrable tick. Hervey believes him to have shown cowardice on two occasions, which he cannot of course substantiate, and wants to determine his mettle.'

  Sir Ivo's benign expression changed. 'Good God! Never did I think to hear we should have a coward in the mess again.'

  'I fear so.'

  'Then I am inclined to accept Green's bid. The fact that he's made one would indicate there might be some doubt as to his infamy.'