The Gallant (42 page)

skinned men, in Rifles uniform, both of whom appeared to be wounded.

A shocked voice from behind her exclaimed, “They are Eurasians-the Eurasian bandsmen’s families! And they’ve brought them

here!”

Jenny did not need to turn around to identify the voice as that of Major Lund’s autocratic sister, Mrs. Hall. Amelia Hall was the widow of a Company nabob, who had been a member of the Court of Directors and the governor general’s Council, but for some inexplicable reason her husband’s death had left her in such straitened financial circumstances that she had been compelled to make her home with the Lunds in Ranpur-an expedient of which she constantly complained, to poor Martha Lund’s embarrassment.

“Are we expected,” she went on, with biting sarcasm, “to share our already overcrowded quarters with such as these, Mr. Melgund? Surely there are limits, even during a … a mutiny!”

Her question had been addressed to the commissioner, but it was William who answered her. He strode up the veranda steps, materializing from the darkness, and Jenny’s relief at seeing him was tempered by the fear that he might speak his mind too freely, for it was evident that he was angrier than she had ever supposed he could be.

In the hope of preventing an outburst, she went to him, calling his name, but on this occasion William was not to be silenced. He put his arms about her and turned on Mrs. Hall, his voice shaking with rage.

“I would have you know, madam, that these loyal and courageous people barricaded themselves in the magazine, and in spite of suffering many casualities and being deprived of food and water, they prevented the mutinous sepoys from entering it. They held out for forty-eight hours, against constant attack, let me tell you. Had it not been for their selfless action, we would have found nothing to blow up when we reached the magazine! These are the survivors,

madam-all that are left of them, apart from six or seven badly wounded men who must be carried here, since they cannot walk.”

Without waiting for Mrs. Hall’s reply, William turned his

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back on her. Catching sight of the Reverend Walters, he said, with a swift change of tone, “I’d be obliged if you would go down to the boat, Padre. We’ll organize stretcher parties, but … there are some who are in need of your services.

They’re too badly hurt to be moved.”

“Arnold-Colonel De Lancey, is Arnold there? Did you bring him back?” It was Bella Gillespie, Jenny realized; in her own gratitude for William’s safe return, she had forgotten that Bella’s anxiety had matched her own, only a few minutes before. She slipped from William’s embrace to clasp the adjutant’s distraught young wife in her arms, sensing what was to come.

“I’m desperately sorry, Mrs.

Gillespie,” she heard William say

regretfully. “Arnold died covering our retreat. It was … it was instantaneous; he did not suffer. We brought his body back, so that it may be given Christian burial.”

The rest of his words, uttered in a vain attempt at consolation, were drowned by Bella’s heartbroken sobs, until, with unexpected gentleness, Mrs.

Hall led her away.

Suddenly all was feverish activity, in which Jenny was caught up, so that the hours passed so swiftly she had no pause to think or grieve.

The wounded were brought up from the boat in which William’s party had made their escape, and she and the other women did what they could to ease their suffering, under the direction of the two surviving regimental surgeons and old Dr. Arbuthnot, the white-haired civil surgeon, who, himself wounded in the arm and head, gave instructions and advice from a chair.

All too soon, the basement became so overcrowded that there was scarcely space to move, and the heat was stifling. Jenny pillowed on her lap the dark head of a dying Eurasian, one of the members of the regimental band, and at his request recited the Lord’s Prayer as he died, before tearing her petticoat into strips to stanch the bleeding from an ugly wound in the chest of a pitifully wailing child.

The water

chattis,

which she and the Reverend Walters had filled so short a time before, were rapidly emptied, supplies of laudanum and spirits ran out, and from the upper part of the house the sobs of frightened children and a renewal of the cannon fire and musketry heralded another day of torment for the besieged.

Bella Gillespie came bravely to offer her help. Dry-eyed and controlled, she told Jenny that she had seen her husband to his shallow, unmarked grave, with five others.

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“Mr. Walters conducted the burial service,”

she said quietly. “And-Colonel De Lancey was right. I don’t think Arnold suffered. It-it was a clean shot, between his poor eyes.” Bitterly she added, “And now they are attacking us again, our sowars among them. It’s hard to believe that they can hate us so much, isn’t it, Mrs. De Lancey? Only a week ago Arnold’s

rissaldar,

Mohammed Azziz, was teaching Tommy

to ride. Now he is out there, trying to kill us.”

A thunderous crash, from somewhere above their heads, brought showers of plaster down, to be followed almost instantly by a second and a third, so that the whole building shook.

“They got some more damned guns from somewhere,” a subaltern, whose shattered arm had just been dressed, swore under his breath and then apologized, realizing that Jenny had heard him. “But at least we’ve got a supply of rifles-Colonel De Lancey’s party brought them from the magazine, before they blew it up.

We’ll hold our own, so long as the walls aren’t knocked down!”

But the walls, it seemed to Jenny, as the bombardment continued relentlessly throughout the day, could hardly last much longer; and unless their supply of water could be replenished, the suffering of the wounded would become unendurable, and then the fit defenders would lack the strength to hold their attackers at bay.

As for the children … She shivered. She had not seen William since early morning, although she had heard his voice; and as she held a cup, containing a few precious drops of water, to the lips of one of the Eurasian drummers, she found herself returning in memory to the early days of their marriage.

Such happy, carefree days they now seemed-days spent on their honeymoon when they had visited Henry Osborne and his family at Marshall Mount. The rolling acres of lush grassland, the quiet beauty of the Australian bush, the heady scent of the ubiquitous gum trees, the birds, bright and varied in their colorful plumage, and …

the little stone-built church, to which they had driven in the Osbornes’ wagon, passing-what had Sarah Osborne called it? Pumpkin Cottage, with its lovely garden, the roses imported from Ireland, the jacaranda from South

America or the Cape, and the wattle, golden-yellow in the sunlight … Oh, why had William been so adamant in his determination to leave all that behind and come to Indiato this?

To the guns and the dark-faced Indian soldiers, who were now their enemies.

Yet, Jenny thought, biting back the tears that ached in her throat, she loved William, and given the choice again, she knew that she would still have married him, wherever he had taken her, whatever he had asked of her. As poor, heartbroken little Bella Gillespie had reminded her, a week

ago Ranpur had been at peace. She had lain in her husband’s embrace, happy and fulfilled after their lovemaking, and she had wanted to tell him that they would have a child. But she had not been sure, so she had said nothing. It had been too soon to be sure, and she had also been afraid to tell him, aware that he feared the outbreak of mutiny was imminent and, because of it, would not welcome the news.

Jenny put down the empty cup and brushed the limp hair from her damp and sweat-streaked face before rising wearily to her feet. Perhaps, when darkness fell at last, she could again seek out the Reverend Walters and fill the empty

chattis

from the well. The sepoys took their evening meal at sunset, and usually then the firing let up, if it did not cease. She picked up one of the chattis

and was on her way to the stone steps leading from the basement when she again heard William’s voice.

“As fast as you know how, Lund,” she heard him say. “Once we start the evacuation, there must be no delay.”

Evacuation, Jenny thought, with tired dismay. were they to abandon the Residency, then, in order to seek safety elsewhere? By river, she could only suppose, since the boats were there, tied up to the wharf where William and his party had landed the previous night. Since the Residency had suffered its first attack, a guard of officers and civilian volunteers had been posted in the stone gatehouse overlooking the wharf, and-William came down the steps, peering about him in the dim light of the improvised hospital’s oil lamps. Seeing her, he came toward her, his good arm outheld. Jenny went to him, seeking strength and resolution from his presence, holding up her face William Stuart Long

to his and feeling the burning heat of his body against her own so intensely that, for a moment, she feared that he had a fever.

“No,” he said, answering her unvoiced question.

“I’m all right, my love. Just weary, as I’m sure you must be. Darling-was His arm tightened about her. “This place has become untenable. The front walls will collapse before long, and-worst of all comthe swine have scored a direct hit on our well with one of their nine-pounders. It’s just a mass of brick rubble now, so we’ll have to abandon the Residency-evacuate the children and the wounded right away, whilst it’s dark, and try to make our escape by river. We’ve three country boats, equipped with sails and oars. You’ll have to be very brave, Jenny my dearest, because-was He hesitated.

“Because you’re not coming with us?” Jenny put in, guessing what he was trying to tell her.

“I have to command the rear guard,” William said flatly. “Melgund and Lund will command the boats, but we’ll follow, just as soon as we’re certain there is no danger of pursuit.” He managed a smile. “You must not worry about me, sweetheart-we have the oared boat we returned from the magazine in last night. We shall catch up to you long before you reach Cawnpore.”

“Cawnpore, Will? But-was Cold fingers of fear clutched at Jenny’s heart. “Are they not under siege, too? Mr. Melgund said that the Nana of Bithur had betrayed them.”

“General Wheeler has some European troops, Jenny, and the last information we had was that reinforcements of the Queen’s Eighty-fourth had reached them and that a relief force was on the way from Allahabad—a regiment of Madras Fusiliers.” William gave vent to a tired sigh. “It’s

Melgund’s decision, not mine, but Lund and Sangster agreed with it. I’d have made an attempt to reach Lucknow and Sir Henry Lawrence, but it would have taken very much longer, of course, and involved traveling overland, which could be very dangerous.” He bent to kiss her. “Jenny, my sweet love, granted no pursuit and a bit of luck, we could all be in Cawnpore within twenty-four hours. I couldn’t argue with Melgund-he knows the country better than I do; and so do the others. And with so many wounded, the boats offer the best chance-the poor devils you’ve been caring for could not walk, could they? And we’ve no other transport.”

Jenny inclined her head wordlessly, and William added, with an assumption of confidence that she felt sure he had put on for her benefit, “Melgund has sent a

cossid

to Lucknow-a reliable man who was one of his house servants. At least Sir Henry will be apprised of our intentions.”

“Yes,” she echoed, but her heart was heavy with foreboding. She wanted to beg William to allow her to stay with him, but knew that he would refuse any such request. Numbly she listened while he told her the plans they had made for the evacuation.

The wounded were to be taken out first-carried, if they were unable to walk-then the children and their mothers, each party with a guard of armed men, who would accompany them in the boats.

“As soon as the first boat is loaded, it will put off, then the second. You’ll be in the third, Jenny, with the older children and the rest of the women, with those who have been guarding the gatehouse. They have a small brass cannon, which I hope they’ll contrive to load into the boat. And I’ll be after you, darling, don’t worry.” He kissed her again, with such lingering tenderness that Jenny wondered whether, like herself, her husband feared that this might be the last kiss they would ever exchange, and she clung to him in a vain attempt to put off their parting.

Regretfully but with gentle firmness he let her go. “My love, I’ll have to leave you. They’ll be waiting for me, and we don’t have too much time.

Jenny, this has to be done silently. Go with the children, the older ones, and impress on them that they must not make a sound on the way down to the wharf. Keep the Melgunds’ boy, Andrew, with you. He’s an intelligent lad, and he’ll help

to ensure that they’re quiet. And … God bless you, my darling, and keep you safe! I love you, Jenny, now and always. I love you with all my heart.”

He was gone, taking the stone steps two at a time, before Jenny could answer him, and a few minutes later the evacuation of the Residency began.

It went remarkably smoothly. Jenny found Andy Melgund and, as William had suggested, invoked his aid when the time

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came for the older children to steal silently across the pitch-dark Residency garden. Between them, they ushered the little crowd of seven-and eight-year-olds down to the wharf and on board the waiting boat. The first two boats had already shoved off, and as Martha Lund climbed the rickety gangplank, assisted by Bella Gillespie, the men on guard at the gatehouse began the awkward task of dismantling their small brass muzzleloading gun, in order to mount it in the bow of the boat.

Inevitably this caused delay, and by the time the gun had been transferred and reassembled, the other two boats had vanished into the darkness.

Major Lund, in a fever of impatience, ordered the mooring lines to be cast off, and two of the men-both British NCO’S’-WHO had been working on the gun had to jump on board as the cumbersome boat was caught by the current and started to move away from the wharf. But they gained the crowded deck unhurt, and with its single heavy lateen sail set, the boat was on its way, heading for midstream, one of the Rifles captains manipulating the steering oar at the stern.