The Gallant (46 page)

drawn by teams of elephants and escorted by cavalry. Cook had a spyglass in his pocket, and with its aid he and William identified the troops as those of the rebels, coming apparently from Cawnpore.

“They go to do battle with the

lal-kotes

who move forward from Arrahpore, it is said,”

Akbar Khan announced grimly, adding in his own tongue, “We must make a further detour, lest we encounter them. Even so, I believe that, if Allah wills it, we shall reach our destination by first light tomorrow. But we must travel all this day, Cook sahib. Tell the colonel sahib what I have said. It will be hot, but it is not safe to linger here.”

His estimate proved accurate. Dawn was breaking when the bullock cart came abruptly to a halt, and, hearing English voices, William thankfully thrust the canvas covering aside, to find himself confronted by an officer, with a patrol of the Madras Fusiliers at his back. The men, in shirtsleeve order, with blue linen covers and sun curtains over their caps, were almost all bearded and deeply tanned, their clothes dust-caked and filthy. They looked like men who had gone for a long time without sleep, William thought, but their rifles were leveled at the cart in menacing fashion, and two NCO’S had seized Akbar Khan and dragged him forcibly from his horse.

William lost no time in identifying himself, and when Harry Cook joined him, picking wisps of straw from his person, the young Fusilier officer grinned broadly and waved to his men to release their prisoner.

“Forgive me, gentlemen,” he

apologized, his grin fading, “for according you so rough a reception; but we have to be careful. The Nana of Bithur is reported to be bearing down on us with some four thousand rebel troops and the Lord knows how many guns-and spies have been plaguing the life out of us for the past couple of days, in every guise you can imagine. We’ve been ordered to halt here, to await the arrival of General Havelock’s force from Allahabad. I can only say that they cannot come too soon, as far as we’re concerned … although we had hoped to take Futtehpore before they got here. Er-my name is Cleland,

gentlemen-Lieutenant Cleland, Madras Fusiliers.” He gestured to the road behind him.

“I’ll take you to our

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corn

manding officer, Major Renaud, if you’ll be good enough to come with me.”

“Permit us to take leave of the noble fellows who brought us here,” William responded. “All three are Indian officers of our regiment, and we owe our lives to them.”

“Oudh Lancers, sir? Men who have

remained loyal?” Cleland questioned, eyes narrowed as he studied the three tall men in their peasant garb.

“By heaven, Colonel, we could put them to good use, if they were willing to stay with us. The only cavalry we have are two squadrons of irregulars, of doubtful loyalty, under Lieutenant Palliser.

I’m sure Charlie Palliser would jump at them, given the chance.”

But when both William and Harry Cook tried to prevail upon them to take service with the British force, Akbar Khan, speaking for all three, rejected their overtures.

“Cook sahib, I beg you, tell the colonel sahib that we will not betray our salt. We will not take up arms against the Company’s soldiers, but we will not fight against our brothers, either. We ask the colonel sahib’s leave to depart from here and return to our homes.”

It went against the grain to give his consent, but William gave it nonetheless, respecting the old rissaldar

major’s principles and his transparent honesty in stating them as he had. All three men refused money.

“We ask no reward, Colonel

sahib. Only that you will remember that three of the Lancers did their duty and were not guilty of mutinous conduct.”

They left as they had come, the

daffadars

driving the bullock cart, and Akbar Khan riding ahead of them on his swaybacked country-bred horse, his turbaned head held high.

William watched them go and then wearily followed Lieutenant Cleland in search of his commanding officer.

Major Sydenham Renaud was seated cross-legged at the roadside, drinking tea from a battered tin mug, with two other officers similarly engaged beside him. He was a good-looking man, with a heavy, dark mustache and chin whiskers, and clad, like his soldiers, in a grimy, sweat-stained shirt, with the blue linen sun curtain attached to his pith helmet.

“They’re calling us Neill’s blue-caps, Colonel,” he

volun

teered, patting his head covering. “But, by heaven, these inventions of Colonel Neill’s have been a godsend on the march, I can tell you.”

Hospitably he poured two more cups of strong, black tea and introduced his companions.

“Captain Spurgin, who joined us yesterday at Arrahpore, having come up by river steamer with a company of our men and two light guns. And Lieutenant Arnold, both of my corps.

Cleland says you are from Ranpu’r?”

William supplied details of the outbreak of mutiny in Ranpur and of his and Cook’s escape as briefly as he could. When he described the evacuation of the Residency and the decision to send the three boatloads of survivors to Cawnpore, he saw Renaud’s dark eyes widen.

“ColonelDe Lancey, have you not heard the terrible news from Cawnpore?”

“Rumors only, Major,” William answered, his throat tight. “We were hoping and praying they were not true.”

“I fear they are true,” Renaud told him regretfully. “By the basest act of treachery, after General Wheeler’s garrison had held out heroically for three weeks, the accursed Nana of Bithur offered honorable terms of surrender, which he had no intention of abiding by. The poor people in the entrenchment had lost over half their number during the siege; they had exhausted their food and ammunition and their medical supplies comthey could resist no longer. They accepted the terms and the infernal Nana’s promise of safe conduct and boats to convey them to Allahabad by river. But when they were embarking in the boats, at a place called the Suttee Chowra Ghat, they were ambushed and massacred.” Renaud’s voice shook with bitter anger. “There is, alas, no possibility of error, Colonel. We received an eyewitness account of the ghastly affair. I sent one of my officers back to Allahabad with the news, which, I understand, has been sent by telegraph to Lord Canning and Sir Patrick Grant in Calcutta. Hence my orders to halt here and await the arrival of General Havelock’s force-the main body of our relief force-which left Allahabad five days ago. We expect and hope to rendezvous with them this evening or early tomorrow morning. It’s a fervent hope, Colonel De Lancey, because, as probably Cleland told you, the archtraitor, the Nana, is reliably

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reported to be heading this way with an estimated force of four thousand rebels, bent on annihilating us!”

William was silent as the terrible truth sank in, and Harry Cook put in flatly, “We saw some of them on our way here, sir.

Cavalry and two heavy guns, drawn

by elephants.”

Renaud grunted. “We meted out justice to every rebel we caught between here and Allahabad,” he said, his tone still angry. “After the news from Cawnpore reached us. They are hanging by their treacherous necks from trees along the roadside, as a warning of the retribution to come. But I confess I’d give my immortal soul to put a rope round the Nana’s fat neck, by God I would! He showed no pity for the defenseless women and children, De Lancey-our witness told us that they were shot down and sabered with the men. And the boats that were purportedly to take them to safety were set on fire!”

And he had sent Jenny to the place where so many innocents had been savagely slaughtered, William thought, in an agony of self-reproach.

God forgive him, he had risked her precious life at the hands of the foul swine who had shown no pity for other defenseless mortals, when they had been at his mercy… . He put down his mug, so nauseated that he could not drink the strong black brew.

With wordless sympathy, Captain Spurgin took a flask from the pocket of his stained white shirt and passed it to him, as Renaud added vehemently, “We’ll retake Cawnpore, never fear, De Lancey. If any of your people from Ranpur are being held captive there, we’ll free them, if it’s the last thing we do, the very last!” As if to emphasize his promise, he added, “We’re preparing to break camp. As soon as General Havelock catches up with us, we shall move out to meet the Nana, with Futtehpore our immediate objective. Take heart, Colonel-we truly do mean business!”

And so, it became apparent, did General Havelock. The white-whiskered little general’s arrival was signaled by the skirl of Highland pipes as the long, hot day drew to a close. With Major Renaud’s small force lining both sides of the road, the 78th Highlanders marched up, brave in their tartan, with kilts swinging and their pipers playing the regimental march, “Pibroch o’Donuil Dhu.” Behind them, rank on rank, came the Queen’s 64th, followed by a regiment of Sikhs, two companies of the Queen’s 84th, a six-gun field artillery battery, and-Havelocks only cavalry-twenty

mounted volunteers, including officers from mutinied native regiments, civil officials, and planters, led by a big, broad-shouldered captain with a black beard.

Behind them, strung out over several miles, came their baggage wagons, ammunition tumbrils, and camp followers, in a seemingly endless line.

Havelock’s men had marched sixty miles in five days, through torrential rain and pitiless sun; they were exhausted and suffering badly from exposure, having snatched what sleep they could on the bare ground, for the wagons carrying their tents had failed to keep pace with them. But despite their fatigue, after brief greetings were exchanged the combined force immediately moved on, coming finally to a halt some four or five miles from Futtehpore.

Here the order came to take ground on the open plain, pile arms, and break their fast, and the weary men flung themselves down to rest at last.

Their rest was short-lived. William-who, instead of joining Lieutenant Palliser’s irregulars, had gone with Harry Cook to offer their services to the volunteer cavalry-had scarcely had time to exchange a dozen words with his commander, Captain Lousada Barrow, when a mounted

reconnaissance patrol came galloping back, under fire from guns somewhere out of sight.

“This is it, my friends!” Barrow exclaimed exultantly. “Our first chance to get back at the damned rebels! We’ve a few spare horses, Colonel De Lancey-pick which you fancy and join us, by all means, both of you. Come on-there’s no time to be lost!”

Bugles sounded the call to arms, men rushed to their lines, and General Havelock was on his horse, his aides galloping this way and that with his orders. The Enfield riflemen of the 64th took up the position in a copse ahead of and to the left of the main body and returned the rebels’ fire, holding their attempted advance with steady, accurate volleys, as the British field guns were rushed up and swiftly brought into action.

The rest of the infantry was deployed into columns, and Wil

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Ham found himself galloping at Captain Barrow’s heels to guard the right flank, his ears ringing with the thunder of the guns.

The battle was soon over. The eight

field guns were handled with such verve and speed by their veteran gunners that the rebels’ own artillery was quickly disabled and abandoned; and when the range closed to almost point-blank and the British infantry charged with the bayonet, the rebels broke into headlong flight, making no attempt to save their guns.

The order came for the cavalry to pursue the fleeing enemy, but only Captain Barrow’s handful of mounted volunteers responded-despite the urging of Lieutenant Palliser and his Sikh

rissaldar,

the irregulars hung back, refusing to charge, and the volunteers were recalled.

“Devil take the swine!” Barrow exclaimed wrathfully, as they trotted disconsolately back to their own lines. “What an opportunity lost, thanks to their cowardice! They’ve been disaffected for some time, I fancy, and only Charlie Palliser’s pleas persuaded Renaud to keep the irregulars with us. Well, I don’t doubt the general will send them back to Allahabad, and we’ll be the only cavalry in his command-just twenty of us!”

He snorted indignantly and then added, with a laugh, “But we’ll take over the best of their horses-the bastards can march sixty miles back, and be damned to them!”

The town of Futtehpore was taken without resistance.

General Havelock permitted his sorely tried troops twenty-four hours rest, and then they marched on, meeting and defeating elements of the rebel forces at a fortified village called Aong-where the gallant Renaud was among the casualties-and again at a bridge over the Panda Nudi River, which the rebels had attempted but failed to blow up.

William took part in both battles, his actions those of an automaton, his mind filled only with the desire to reach Cawnpore. The evening after they had crossed the swollen Panda Nudi and were halted in a fresh downpour of monsoon rain, attempting to light bivouac fires to cook their long-awaited meal, two native spies were brought in by one of the volunteer cavalry patrols.

William did not see or speak to them, but word went round, in whispers, passed from man to man, that the spies had told

the general that more than two hundred British women and children were alive and being held in captivity in the city of Cawnpore.

“Survivors of the massacre of General Wheeler’s garrison, it seems,”

Captain Barrow told him, with gruff sympathy, when he returned from an officers’ conference with General Havelock. “And others, who sought refuge there after Wheeler’s surrender. Your wife could be among them, De Lancey, and your friends from Ranpur. At least two hundred, General Havelock told us. As you will expect, the general has ordered us to assemble at once-we are going on to Cawnpore, my friend, and we shall not stop until we’ve taken the place!”

Once again the bugles shrilled, and the now-depleted force assembled, their untasted rations thrust into their haversacks, their faces grimly set as they formed up in their ranks.

General Havelock, his white head bared, strode out to address them. He confirmed the rumor concerning the two hundred women and children held captive by the Nana, and then, raising his drawn sword above his head, he cried in ringing tones, “By God’s help we shall save them, or every man of us die in the attempt! I am trying you sorely, men, but I know the stuff you are made of. Think of our women and tender infants in the power of those devils incarnate who have already massacred the soldiers of the garrison, in base betrayal of their promise to free them!”