He took command of the largest pulwar; armed with six cannons and manned by skilled Malays, it would serve as the flotilla’s flagship. Surama, Tremal-Naik, Kammamuri, and the prisoners followed him aboard.
It took about an hour for the thousand warriors to settle in their stations, the majority hiding below deck while a third manned the oars. The ships raised anchor at seven and set sail down the Brahmaputra in groups of three or four, a pulwar accompanying two or three baglas, the larger ships being the only ones armed with falconets.
The first day passed uneventfully; they encountered a few vessels coming upriver to sell rice in the nearby mountain villages. The second passed in the same manner, a few merchant ships and fishing boats greeted them as they approached then sailed on unconcerned by the size of the small fleet.
Aided by a strong current and an eastern wind, the ships advanced quickly and that evening reached the entrance to the canal that led to the lagoon on the outskirts of the Benar jungle.
“We’ll stop at the lagoon for a day or so while we finalize our preparations,” Sandokan told Tremal-Naik.
“What if we find one of the rajah’s ships patrolling the swamp?”
“We’ll board and sink it,” replied the Tiger of Malaysia. Then, raising his voice he shouted, “Kammamuri! Head for the lagoon!”
The pulwar, always at the head of the fleet, tacked and sailed up the canal, the other ships quickly following, having been instructed to copy the flagship’s every manoeuvre before they had set sail from Sadiya.
The lagoon was empty; the fire had burned the bulk of the jungle to the ground, black stumps and charred grass marked much of the shore. The Sikhs had likely gone back to Guwahati, certain that Sandokan and his men would not return.
The fleet dropped anchor by a small patch of green on the far side of the lagoon, a few palms and bushes that had somehow escaped the flames.
While the men prepared dinner, Sandokan summoned Tremal-Naik and Surama then sent for Bindar and the Sikh jemadar.
“We’ll strike in a day or so,” he said.
“Just give the order, sahib,” said the jemadar. “I’ve watched you during these last few days and my respect for you has grown immeasurably. It’ll be an honour to serve under you, sir.”
“I hope you’ll serve the rani as loyally as you intend to serve me,” smiled Sandokan. “You’re certain none of your men will betray you?”
“They’ll obey me without question, you have my word.”
“Very well then, let’s discuss what you’re to do.”
“By all means.”
“Once you’re in the palace, capture the rajah’s favorite.”
“And then?”
“Release the white man imprisoned in the dungeon beneath the courtyard and give him command of your troops. He’s a great warrior of unmatched courage; trust him as you would me.”
“And then?”
“Take the palace if you can. We’ll try to storm it as soon as we come ashore, but if we meet with great resistance, attack our opponents from the rear. How many men does the rajah have at his disposal, excluding your guards?”
“Three or four thousand,” replied the jemadar.
“How many cannons?”
“Two dozen.”
“Do you think his men will put up much of a fight?”
“The sepoys will, sahib, but there are only seven or eight hundred of them.”
“We won’t give them the time to organize their defences,” said Sandokan. “Bindar!”
“Yes, sir,” said the young Indian who was waiting to be questioned.
“You’ll accompany the jemadar and get whatever information you can on Captain Yanez.”
“Leave that to me, sahib,” said the jemadar. “I’ll ask my men upon my return to court.
“How will you explain your long absence?” asked Tremal-Naik. “The rajah will want to know where you’ve been.”
“I’ll tell him I was tracking the men who abducted the Prime Minister and that the trail led me far from Guwahati,” replied the jemadar. “The rajah won’t doubt my story.”
“Bindar, once you have the information you’re to return here immediately,” said Sandokan, turning to the young Indian. “I’d like to attack the city tomorrow night if possible.”
“I’ll be back before sunset, sir.”
“I’m counting on you.”
Sandokan had the small donga put into the water and motioned for the jemadar and Bindar to climb in.
“Until tomorrow night then. Safe journey.”
The two men climbed down into the donga, grabbed the oars, quickly pulled away and disappeared into the darkness.
“Now,” said Sandokan, “let’s eat.”
The night passed uneventfully; a few crocodiles swam past the ships from time to time as they searched for their evening meal, a few jackals howled off in the distance every now and then, momentarily breaking the silence that reigned over the shore.
The next day, Sandokan dispatched two bands of men to scout the area about the lagoon; Kammamuri led a dozen hillmen towards the mouth of the canal while Sambigliong and his men headed into the jungle.
His precautions, however, proved unnecessary, for the first group only spied a few cargo boats transporting a load of indigo down the river, and the second only came across a few packs of wild dogs.
An hour before sunset, the hillmen keeping watch upon the river spied a donga manned by two men advancing quickly towards the canal.
The news was immediately relayed to Sandokan and caused a lively stir among the crew.
“It must be Bindar!” the Tiger of Malaysia exclaimed happily.
“What about his companion?” asked Surama.
“A friend, I’d wager. To help him get here all the quicker.”
The little boat came within sight of the fleet a quarter of an hour later, its occupants rowing at full speed towards the flagship.
“It’s Bindar and Kechik!” exclaimed Sandokan.
The donga flew over the waters like a gull, drew up beneath the pulwar’s stern, and the two men quickly climbed aboard.
Everyone immediately gathered about the newcomers with anxious questions; Sandokan raised his hand for silence.
“Bindar, you first” he said.
“The Sikhs have been informed of your plans and await your orders,” said the young Assamese. “It only took the jemadar a few words to persuade them.”
“How many of them are there?”
“Four hundred.”
“Excellent. And Yanez?”
“He’s still imprisoned, but they’re treating him courteously. The jemadar has already gotten word to him of our plans.”
“Do they intend to exile him?”
“No decision has been made yet. The jemadar told me that the favorite sent couriers to Calcutta to find out if the captain was truly an English lord.”
“And if he proves not to be one, he’ll be executed,” said Sandokan. “Have they returned yet?”
“No, sahib.”
“By the time they do, Assam will have a new ruler. Now you, Kechik.”
“I got word to Captain Yanez through his khansama. He knows he has nothing to fear.”
“You’re certain they won’t try to poison him?”
“No, Tiger of Malaysia. The jailer is one of the khansama’s relatives; he has a dog taste the food before he serves it.”
“Surama, you must greatly reward the khansama and his kinsman,” Sandokan said, turning toward the young woman. “Those two men may have saved Yanez’ life.”
“I shall not forget them, Sandokan, I promise.”
“Do you have anything else to report, Kechik?” asked the Tiger of Malaysia.
“No, sir. But I do have one request.”
“By all means.”
“Avenge my friends, sir,” said the Malay, emotion heavy in his voice.
Sandokan’s face darkened.
“There was no need for you to ask, my friend. Bindar told me
how they died. They will all be avenged.”
Then turning toward Khampur, he added,
“Tell the crew we set sail at midnight. All cannons are to be loaded and ready. We’ll take them with us into the city.”
“It shall be done, sahib,” replied the hillman. “All my men are eager to overthrow the rajah and put Mahur’s daughter on the throne.”
“I’ll owe them a great debt,” said Surama, “and I’ll never forget their sacrifice. They’ll be greatly rewarded once I’m ruler of this land.”
“Come, Tremal-Naik,” said Sandokan. “Time to plan our attack.”
***
The flotilla raised anchor at midnight with the pulwars leading the way; as they reached the Brahmaputra they formed two columns and began to sail towards Guwahati.
Chapter 30
The Attack on Guwahati
AT TWO IN the morning the flotilla sailed past Umanada Island and dropped anchor a short distance from the Krishna temple that had served as a hideout for Sandokan and his men. All was quiet; not a soul stirred upon the riverbank.
The Tiger of Malaysia’s orders had already been relayed. They would advance towards the Siringar bastion, take the gate, then charge towards the royal palace, firing their carbines to strike fear into the city’s inhabitants.
Sandokan and Tremal-Naik had taken command of the Malays and Dyaks, which though few in number, were of unmatched courage; Sambigliong had been given command of the thirty falconets, and Khampur had divided his warriors into four battalions of two hundred and fifty men each.
Before going ashore, Sandokan approached Surama for a final word.
“Victory will soon be ours,” he said. “But no matter what happens, do not leave this ship until you receive word from me. If by some miracle our enemies should triumph, I’ve left you a large escort that will take you back to Sadiya.”
“Promise you’ll bring Yanez back to me unharmed,” said Surama, deeply moved.
“Of course, once the city is ours. I’m certain he’ll wish to take part in the battle.”
He embraced her warmly then went to join his men, who formed the vanguard of the expedition.
“Onward, my Tigers!” he shouted, drawing his scimitar. “We’ll open a path for Kamphur’s brave warriors!”
Cannons in tow, the thousand men set off, certain they would triumph, the rajah’s soldiers being no real match for them now that the Sikhs were on their side.
When the vanguard had drawn within three hundred paces of the Siringar bastion, Sandokan signalled for his men to halt and gestured for Tremal-Naik to approach.
“We’ll take care of this,” he said to the Bengali. “Load your pistols.”
“Just the two of us?”
“Just the two of us. Come.”
The two men ran towards the gate at full speed, stopping a few paces from it when a voice called down from the top of the rampart.
“Who goes there!” shouted the sentry.
“Couriers for the rajah!” Tremal-Naik replied in Hindi. “Open quickly! I bear grave news from Sadiya.”
“Who sent you?”
“Khampur.”
“One moment.”
They heard voices behind the bronze door as the guard relayed the message, then the screech of metal as the heavy latches were quickly drawn back.
“Fire as soon as they open the gate,” Sandokan whispered to Tremal-Naik.
“Ready,” said the Bengali, drawing his pistols from his sash.
A moment later the massive bronze door opened and three Assamese soldiers stepped out and shone their lanterns upon the newcomers.
Before they could utter a word, eight gunshots thundered in rapid succession, riddling the three men with bullets and knocking them to the ground.
“Onward!” thundered Sandokan, tucking his pistols in his sash and drawing his scimitar.
At the sound of those shots the Malays and Dyaks charged towards the gates, but by the time they arrived the remaining sentries had fled towards the city to sound the alarm.
“To arms! To arms!” they shouted as they raced through the streets, “We’re under attack!”
“Quickly Tigers of Mompracem!” exclaimed Sandokan. “Before the garrison has a chance to organize their defense.”
As Khampur’s men charged towards the gate, Sandokan and Tremal-Naik ran through the bastion and onto one of Guwahati’s main streets. Malays and Dyaks followed close behind, howling wildly and firing at doors and windows to keep people from rushing out to the soldiers’ aid. The hillmen stormed into the street moments later, carbines blazing, their war cries filling the air as they headed towards the palace.
That march, however, ended abruptly. Word of the attack had spread quickly and by the time the Malay and Dyak vanguard reached the market square, they found their path barred by a large wall of soldiers. Their barracks nearby, the rajah’s sepoys had rushed to their sovereign’s defence with several cannons and a small squad of cavalry.
“This is it!” shouted Sandokan. “Tighten ranks and prepare to fire. We must break through that line.”
It would not be an easy victory, for the sepoys’ ranks were comprised of the best warriors in Assam, battle-hardened men who had fought many a skirmish along the Burmese border.
“They’re better than I expected,” murmured Sandokan, bravely leading his men on the attack, “but they’ll fall nonetheless.”
A volley of gunfire greeted Khampur and his men as they stormed into the square, thinning their front line, but undaunted, the hillmen quickly raised a battery and began to fire their thirty falconets.
The battle rapidly grew fierce. Cannons thundered from both sides felling attackers and defenders, the rajah’s forces firmly holding their ground. Reinforcements arrived from every quarter; the city’s garrison, drawn by those shots, promptly joined the fray, sealing off the streets that led into the square with barricades of carts, boulders and whatever else they had at hand.
“We have to smash through the line before they outnumber us,” Sandokan said to Tremal-Naik who was fighting by his side. “Once we’ve scattered the sepoys, we’ll be masters of the city.”
He gathered two hundred men, ordered the Malays and Dyaks to the front and, ignoring the rain of bullets, charged across the square at full speed and stormed upon their enemies with parangs and kampilans flailing.
Three times Sandokan’s forces were driven back, their numbers thinned by enemy fire, but on the fourth attempt, Khampur and his battalion joined the fray and they managed at last to smash through the wall of sepoys.
The line breached, the remainder of the hillmen came barrelling forward, chopping down their foes as they attempted to flee into the adjoining streets.
“To the palace!” shouted Sandokan.
At the sight of that first defeat, panic began to spread among the rajah’s men. The soldiers that had been barricading the side streets, fearing they would be attacked from behind, fled with the sepoys as they ran past.
The hillmen, finding the path clear before them, began to run, firing at doors and windows as they advanced. No one dared peer outside. Every mat had been pulled down over every window and veranda.
Bindar, who had miraculously escaped the sepoys’ fire, despite fighting valiantly in the front lines, led Sandokan and his men down the wide street towards the rajah’s palace, but they had barely gone a few hundred paces when they were forced to stop. A pair of barricades stood before them, one behind the other, hasty constructions of carts, mats, and wooden planks both armed with several cannons.
“This won’t be easy,” said Sandokan, taking in those defences with a glance.
“Captain,” said Khampur, approaching the pirate as the enemy fired their first volley. “If you have any way of signalling the Sikhs, now would be a good time to do so.”
“They’ll join us when they can. They’re probably trying to capture the rajah and his favorite as we speak.”
“Your orders then?”
“Ready ca
nnons and have two hundred men break into the houses closest to the barricade. I want them firing down at the soldiers from every terrace and veranda.”
“Yes, Captain.”
“And send four hundred men up to the front line; I’m going to charge that barricade.”
The Assamese continued to fire, showering the attackers with bullets. Malays, Dyaks and hillmen replied in kind, while gunners fired the falconets to test the barrier’s strength.
Four hundred warriors quickly gathered in tight formation behind Sandokan and Tremal-Naik as several bands of men broke into the houses and stormed onto the terraces and verandas. When all were in place, Sandokan raised his arm and gave the order to fire.
Fifteen falconets thundered in unison, a barrage of one pound balls smashing through planks and wagons and forcing the sepoys to press against the houses while the hillmen fired from above.
“Attack!” thundered Sandokan.
Pirates and warriors charged forward as one man, but a hundred paces from the barricade three cannons thundered from their perch and drove them back with a volley of grapeshot, knocking many to the ground. Undaunted, they pressed forth once again, hurling themselves towards their opponents.
A second volley of grapeshot shot into their ranks, but this time the line held; Sandokan and his men leading the charge, the hillmen stormed over the barricade and descended upon the rajah’s soldiers with scimitars and talwars flailing.
For a moment the sepoys held their ground, then fled behind the second barricade.
Sandokan immediately had the abandoned cannons turned towards that second wall of carts and wood, while several bands of hillmen broke into the houses and raced up to the terraces and verandas.
Three hundred more warriors rushed to swell the ranks about the pirate, Khampur leading them forward. Sandokan stayed them with an arm, and signalled for the cannons to fire. Three volleys immediately rent the air, thundering in rapid succession, felling a good number of sepoys.
“Attack!” thundered Sandokan.
With a great cry the hillmen charged towards the enemy, trampling the dead and dying strewn about the street before them. This time they stormed the barricade on their first attempt, the rajah’s soldiers retreating to the vast square before the royal palace after a brief resistance.
Sandokan: Quest for a Throne (The Sandokan Series Book 6) Page 31
