The Sabre's Edge (38 page)

'Sir!' The trumpet-major put his bugle to his lips and sounded the regimental call followed by the octave leap of 'prepare to mount', then the simpler repeated Cs and Gs of the executive.

'I'd like you next to me, Hervey,' said Joynson, perfectly composed. 'It'll be a deuced tricky business in this light. Perry can look after E Troop. They can ride under second squadron.'

'With respect, sir. It might be better to keep the troop in hand. You never know
—'

'Very well, very well. If you are content with that then I have no objection. Perry's able enough to have them on his own.'

Hervey would say nothing more, but he was hardly content, for the troop would be under command of the grocer until Perry returned from his galloping. Assuming, that was, that Green would actually find them. However, there were Armstrong and Collins, and he could always take the lead again before they were committed. He turned to Corporal Wainwright, who nodded his understanding and made off at once to E Troop.

Hervey had greater concerns, however. The handling of a regiment of light dragoons in troop ranks was, even by day, a testing undertaking. When the ground was unbroken, as on a review, it could pass off at the trot tolerably well, though anything beyond a couple of hundred yards led to bunching and bulging of the line to such an extent that it was difficult to recover proper dressing without coming back to a walk. When it was dark, however, and the ground broken as here, the undertaking verged on the reckless. He took out his telescope, stepped the other side of the picket tent's fire, and tried to see what was happening in the Sixteenth's lines.

Meanwhile the troop orderly Serjeants were reporting to the RSM. It was only another minute or so before Mr Hairsine could report to the adjutant that the regiment was ready. Johnson had brought Gilbert up, and Hervey now pulled down the stirrups and mounted.

'Skirmishers out?' said Joynson as Hervey closed up to his side.

'I would think it better to advance with a clear front,' replied Hervey.

'Very well. "Advance", please, trumpet-major.'

That Joynson asked for such an opinion did not in the least diminish his standing in Hervey's eyes. That he accepted it only increased it, too. Seeking support for a decision already made was the true sign of the weak-spirited.

'If it is a sortie, they might just be intent on mischief,' said Hervey, having to raise his voice against the jingle and clamour behind him (it took a fair few yards, always, before the NCOs got the dressing passable in close order). 'But it sounds a determined affair. They might be making for the guns.'

'I take my hat off to them if they are,' said Joynson, matter-of-factly.

'They know the ground better than do we.'

'But it would be a desperate affair nevertheless.'

The adjective struck Hervey forcefully. Perhaps a night sortie was indeed the act of a desperate man.

Had Durjan Sal already concluded that his fortress could not withstand a determined siege? He would have known why Lord Lake's had failed - not just for the want of heavy guns but because of the attacks by the Maratha cavalry on his siege forces. How many cavalry could Durjan Sal dispose on such a night? There was no telling, and neither was there telling the damage a resolute force could do if ever panic seized hold in the camps. 'We might have to make a wide front if they're really intent on breaking through to the guns. It will hardly be enough but it might check them for a while. I hope there's a general stand-to by now.'

Lieutenant Perry rode across the front of A Troop to report. His horse was blowing hard, for he had had him in a gallop, and Hervey was pleased with this evidence of boldness. Perry saluted as he came up to the major. 'Sir, brigadier's compliments, and would you be so good as to place the regiment in a position to support the Sixteenth. They were attacked by a large force of cavalry and their object is not clear. The Sixteenth have one troop only under saddle, and the rest are standing ground with the carbine.'

'Where will the brigadier be?' asked Joynson.

'He did not say, sir, but I presumed he intended remaining with the reserve.'

Joynson did not reply.

'It's no good presuming, Arthur. We have to know where the brigadier is!' snapped Hervey. Galloping was no use without a clear head.

Perry said nothing.

'Well’
said Joynson emolliently, 'it is the brigadier's duty to make his post known. Thank you, Mr Perry.'

'Take post with the troop, then,' said Hervey. 'They're not to answer but to the regiment.'

'Sir,' replied Perry, saluting and turning, trying hard not to sound cast-down. Joynson's thanks were welcome, but Hervey's reproof was deserved.

'A little sharp, Hervey,' said Joynson when he was gone. 'He did well to get orders so quickly.'

Hervey did not reply at once; an increase in firing in the direction of the Sixteenth's camp, though two furlongs away and more, commanded their attention. 'I think we had soon better extend, sir,' he said finally, the fusillade having gone on a full minute. 'It can't be long now before they break through.'

'I think we had,' said Joynson assuredly. 'Mr Vanneck, Second Squadron to extend to the left, please. I want them to cover as much ground as they can.'

The adjutant wheeled right and put his horse into a trot. There was no trumpet call by which the order could have been conveyed, for trumpet calls by and large regulated activity rather than conveyed changes in design. Joynson put his own horse into a lateral trot so as to be at the junction of the two squadrons.

Strickland brought Second Squadron quickly into line by the simple expedient of halting them for a time so that First Squadron cleared enough ground ahead to allow Second to trot up with the merest incline left. Once his right marker was level with First Squadron's flanker, he ordered them back to the walk and called 'dress by the right', which brought the left flank wheeling smartly round. 'Ready, Major Joynson!' he shouted.

Joynson replied at once: 'Draw swords!'

Four hundred sabres came rasping from their scabbards. A regiment drawing swords was ever a sound to thrill, more so even than a battalion fixing bayonets. Hervey smiled to himself: it was the first he had heard it in earnest in ten years. He could even forget the blunting of the edges, steel on steel.

What sight daylight would present him with this instant he could not be certain. C and A Troops were in good order in front. He could only trust that D and B were keeping both space and station in the support line, and likewise E to the rear of them. It was truly no bad thing to have a third line of sabres, a second reserve, in circumstances such as these - even if no more than a troop's worth. He would just have to trust Perry to have them in hand.

Eyes were getting used to the darkness by now, especially since there were no campfires to dazzle them any more. They could see well enough to trot, thought Joynson. But if they did they would not see the enemy until they were on top of him. Did that matter? What method in the fight could there be but a strong arm and a sharp blade?

'Trumpet-major, "trot" if you please!'

The next minute was a free-for-all of stumbling and cursing. Hervey was near to using the flat of his sword a dozen times, so bad was the barging. And then they were into a good rhythm. And just in time, for the first clash with the Jhauts came sooner than expected - on the left, so that at once there was a bending of the line and a loss of direction in C Troop. Not that Joynson, or even Strickland, could see it, for the one was too far away and the other was busy with his sabre. D Troop ran into the rear of the melee with no idea of what was happening, but Perry sensed the trouble and took E Troop at once into the breach opening with First Squadron, himself closing with the major.

'Hold hard, sir!' he shouted. 'The left flank's engaged.'

'Halt!' bawled Joynson, heaving on his reins for all he was worth.

But the whole line was now run up against the Jhaut cavalry. With both sides in no more than a trot, the collision was gentle enough, but the shock was great nevertheless.

Joynson's sabre flew from his hand as a tulwar sliced out of the dark. His coverman, stirrup to stirrup with him, lunged forward with his sabre and fended off the follow-through. Hervey could make out nothing. He lowered his head and thrust his sabre forward in the guard. Something hit the blade, not too hard. Corporal Wainwright, beside him, reins looped over his left arm, thrust forward with a pistol and fired. Joynson, his sabre hanging loose from his wrist by the sword knot, pulled a pistol from its holster and fired just as a huge Jhaut raised an axe to his charger's head. The man somersaulted backwards like a dolly at a fair.

Joynson pulled out the other pistol and fired at a man crossing left to right, but missed, leaving his coverman to finish the job with an arm's-length shot. Firing increased the length of the line as dragoon after dragoon managed to disengage his sabre long enough to draw a pistol. It seemed to gain them the initiative, for there was no shooting by return.

Joynson began shouting - bellowing -
'Forward!
'
They had saved themselves with steel, and turned the tables with shot. Now they would press home the advantage with the leg.

It was not long in the doing. Suddenly there was a great shout and then the drumming of hooves, and the Sixth knew they were speeding the Jhauts from the field. 'Follow, sir?' came voices from left and right.

But Joynson would not pursue in the dark. Even before Hervey could urge him not to give chase he was shouting, 'Re-form!' He intended closing on the Sixteenth's lines in good order and standing to until they could take stock at first light.

'I'm going to my troop, sir,
^’
called Hervey, certain he was not needed in the van any longer.

'Very well, Hervey. My compliments to Mr Perry. His action was sharp.
^’

Hervey smiled. It was so very like Joynson to be thinking thus. The men might consider him an old woman at heart, but they would always like him and therefore do his bidding willingly.

'And have your troop look for any wounded, if you please.
^’

'Sir.
^’
It went without saying that the reserve troop picked up the wounded. It would be a dangerous affair, though. A moon would be a kindness to both sides. He would send for lanterns. 'Mr Perry,
^’
he called, as he tried to make his way through the confusion of men and horses at the rear.

Eventually he found him. 'All accounted for, Hervey, save Green.
^’

'Green?
^’
Hervey sounded as worried as he was astonished.

'And his groom.
^’

'How? Where was he?
^’

'I don't think he was ever with us. I don't think he mustered. No one has seen him.
^’
'Good God! Where's his coverman?
^’
'In his place.
^’

'Well, he
^’
d better go back and bring him. And he can fetch some lanterns. We're to search the field.'

'Very well, sir.'

Hervey shook his head angrily, but swallowed hard. 'That was smart work bringing up the troop as you did. The major is well pleased.'

'Thank you, sir.'

But one man's address did not make up for the lack of it in another. Hervey continued to seethe at Green's absence as they set about searching for any who had fallen from the saddle.

At first light E Troop stood to their horses in the rear of the other four troops, fifty yards short of the Sixteenth's firing line - the line they had held since their own stand-to-arms in the middle of the night. Their search had rendered up one dragoon killed - by a ball in the back of the neck, which had very probably come from a fellow dragoon's pistol in the black confusion of the fight - and three others with sword or spear wounds, none of them too likely to be fatal. They found eight Jhauts dead or dying, but any who had been less severely injured seemed one way or another to have crawled to further cover. There were a good many dragoons riding-wounded, patched up where they stood by the surgeon's assistants, Sledge himself having beat about the ground with Hervey. Of one man, or rather two, there was no sign, however. Cornet Green was nowhere to be found. Hervey was now almost beside himself with anger. Never had an officer of the Sixth absented himself so. The word, indeed, was desertion. And in the face of the enemy.

When the light of day let them see to the range of the telescope, Joynson stood-down the regiment and issued orders to return to camp. Hervey told him of Green.