Jones of the 64th: A Tale of the Battles of Assaye and Laswaree

CHAPTER XI
An Old Man's Ruse

Had some terrible earthquake suddenly occurred, and set the walls of the fort and the house attached to them tottering and swaying, those within the courtyard could not have been more dismayed. The explosion which had smashed the gates to splinters, the flash of the powder, and the tremendous roar of the upheaval, followed by the clatter of falling wood and masonry, brought consternation to the defenders, and in a moment they were transformed into cravens, some of whom stared at the open space in the wall, with its ragged edges still clad in a mantle of thin smoke, as if they were fascinated, while others crouched on the ground, their faces in their hands, dreading another explosion. Only Mulha, Owen, and the aged owner of the fort kept their senses.

"They have beaten us, sahib," said the old man sadly, as he stood beside our hero, and listened to the hoarse shouts of triumph which the enemy sent up. "They will break in now without a doubt, and we shall be killed. For myself, I shall not grieve, for I have seen the best of life and am tired of the endless struggle against these lawless people. For you and for these peons here I am sorry. You are young. The world was before you. Doubtless you have friends over the water who will grieve. All whom I love are within the house, and lest they should fall victims to these robbers I will slay them myself. Yes, they shall die easily rather than incur the ferocity of the horsemen."

"Steady! we must not be in a hurry," exclaimed Owen suddenly. "If they are sure to kill us I at any rate will make a fight first. No giving in to be peacefully slaughtered, thank you. Mulha, we'll line the gateway, and show these fellows that we are not beaten. Now listen!"

He swung round upon the old man, who stood quietly beside him, evidently resigned to his fate, and spoke as rapidly as possible, giving his orders in a tone which told that he required them to be carried out without question and without delay.

"Take half a dozen of the men and send them to us with more barrels, with stones, anything you like. We will hold the gateway if possible while they bring the things. They are to pile them in front of us. See to it immediately. Now, Mulha, collect the bravest of the men and come to the gate."

They ran across the narrow courtyard, gathering men as they went. They shouted at the top of their voices to encourage the peons, and it was not long before half a dozen of the natives had joined them, armed with tulwars or muskets, while the remainder looked on in doubt. A minute later, however, they stirred and came running forward, for Owen let them feel no doubt as to what would be their fate if the enemy broke in.

"Choose for yourselves," he cried, so that all could hear. "Do you think that those ruffians outside will spare a single one of you if you crouch and offer no resistance. They will kill you in their own particular manner. Fight while you have the opportunity. Come to the gateway, and stand shoulder to shoulder with us. We can still keep them out, and in a little while we shall have a barrier behind which we can fight."

It was very fortunate for the defenders that the Mahratta horsemen outside did not dash forward at once to capture the place, for had they come on the instant the explosion had occurred they would have burst their way in without encountering any but the feeblest opposition. But the men outside chose a very different course. While not lacking in dash at other times, they were notoriously more venturesome when attacking helpless villagers than when engaged with an enemy able to return hard knocks for those which were given. Indeed, our former campaigns with the Mahrattas had proved that this race of freebooters were as a whole somewhat deficient in courage, and it was this very deficiency which proved the salvation of those within the fort. The Mahrattas held back, for the prowess of a single Englishman was sufficient to cool their ardour, and Owen had already proved to them that he could fight. They galloped backwards and forwards before the gateway, shouting defiantly and waving their tulwars above their heads, while those who had dismounted earlier contented themselves with a desultory fire, their bullets sweeping in through the opening. Owen and Mulha made the most of the delay. By dint of setting a gallant example, by persuasion and almost by compulsion, they gathered the peons about them, and bidding them lie flat on the ground urged them to push what remained of their barrier into position. Then the men, whom the aged owner of the place had taken with him, came running from the house with bales of cloth, sacks of grain and rice, and any bulky package which would serve the purpose.

"Let them run over to the side wall, and then come along at the foot of the wall in which the rent is," Owen shouted. "They will escape the bullets by doing so. Ah, those fellows outside are troublesome!" he exclaimed, as one of the unfortunate peons, emerging into the courtyard with a sack of rice on his shoulders, suddenly pitched forward on to his face and lay there with arms and legs outstretched. "We must keep their fire down. Mulha, send four of the men whom you judge to be cool and the best shots to the top of the wall. They can fire from behind the defences we built up. Hurry, now! They are collecting to attack us. We must have everything in readiness."

He looked anxiously through the opening in the wall, now wide enough to admit ten men side by side, and sheltering behind a couple of bags of rice stared out at the enemy. It was clear that they were gathering for the assault, for their leader had already led the horsemen to a spot some two hundred yards away, where all had dismounted. And now they were returning on foot, leaving a small guard with their animals, and he noticed that every man carried a formidable tulwar in his hand, while not a few had pistols, and some daggers of eastern shape and manufacture. Owen turned his eyes towards his own command, and a thrill of misgiving went through him, for against the well-armed host outside, many of whom were clad in clothing capable of resisting a stout blow from a sword, he had but a handful of almost naked peons, whose rolling eyes and side glances showed that they were none too sure of themselves. And some of these poor fellows were armed with ponderous muskets, from which at the most only a couple of shots could be fired in a minute, while others gripped rusty tulwars. One even carried a bow and a sheath full of arrows; but very soon showed that he was possibly destined to be more dangerous to the enemy than any of his comrades. As the Mahrattas advanced he fitted an arrow to the string and peered out from behind the barricade which was fast becoming of respectable proportions. Then Owen saw him rise to his feet, take a hurried aim, and send his shaft at one of the Mahratta marksmen who had risen from his cover to cheer on his comrades.

"A good shot! Bravely done!" Owen called out, while he stood up and pointed to the man. "He is closer in than any of his fellows, and that is why you managed to reach him. A brave shot! He will be more careful next time."

Indeed, when next he peeped in that direction he saw the man slowly and laboriously crawling back; for he had advanced till very close to the gateway, and until the sharp eye of the peon had detected him. And now he was retiring, a sadder and a wiser man, with a shaft transfixing his shoulder.

"Sahib, there are eight men here who have some knowledge of their weapons," said Mulha suddenly, coming to Owen's side. "I have posted four above, and here are the others. If placed within the house, where they could send their bullets over our heads, they would perhaps compel the enemy to withdraw. In any case they would cause trouble."

He pointed to the rickety-looking native house, built against the wall opposite to that in which was the gateway, and indicated with a movement of his finger a window which occupied the central post. Owen gave a start of surprise, and putting his hand to his mouth, for the shouting outside was becoming deafening, called loudly for the old man. A moment later the four peons who had been selected by Mulha were racing for the house, following in the wake of the figure of the owner, whose grey beard streamed in the wind, while his thin legs cut across the ground at a pace and in a manner which at another time would have brought a shout of laughter from the onlookers. For this native was well advanced in years, and a thriving farm, increasing wealth and possessions, and some amount of power, had engrafted on him a degree of dignity which forbade all such active movements. He was wont to pass quietly and majestically amongst his peons, not to race across the yard with his beard and turban flying in the wind, and his thin shanks exposed far above the knee. However, necessity is the cause of many a change. In less than a minute his anxious face appeared at the window, with the four men beside him.

"We can fire well from here, my lord," he called down in his high-pitched, squeaky tones. "There is no danger of our hitting you at the gate, though I am warning the men. Look, sahib, they are coming!"

His tones rose to a shriek, and as Owen stared through the gateway he realised at once the reason for his sudden excitement. The Mahrattas were coming. Gathered in a close mass they had advanced till just within shot of the walls, and had halted while their leader harangued them, walking up and down before them and waving his tulwar. But now they were advancing once more, and on this occasion at a run, their eyes fixed eagerly upon the heads of the defenders which now appeared above the barricade erected within. Owen turned to his men and pointed to the enemy.

"You see them for yourselves," he said in significant tones. "Let them enter, and not a single man here will live to tell the story. Hold to your posts, beat them back, and slay as many as you can, and you will be proud men to the end of your days, and more than that, the news of your success will keep others from coming. Now, let each act coolly. Not a shot is to be fired from here till I give the word. Stand beside the barricade, and do not allow a single one to climb over it."

By now, thanks to the enemy for the respite which they had given, and to the frenzied labours of the men who had been carrying bags to the barricade, the circle so hurriedly erected within the gateway was of considerable dimensions. It was composed of every sort of material, of fractured barrels, piled up masonry, bales, sacks and boxes, all heaped haphazard one upon another, but for all that in such a manner as to construct a wall some four feet in height. But, though it gave excellent cover, it had one fatal fault. A resolute enemy, attacking from the other side, could, if they tried, tear the wall to pieces within a few minutes, or might with one vigorous rush overthrow it and come pouring into the yard. Everything depended on the temper of the defenders, and upon the courage which they showed.

"I will stand in the centre, Mulha, and do you take post a little on one side," said Owen. "The others will close up to us. Remember, men, there can be no turning back. I myself will shoot the first who ventures to retire."

He looked grimly round at the peons, his pistol in his left hand, while his sabre was firmly grasped in his right. There was an air of easy assurance about him, the air which he had worn when fighting Hargreaves on the ship. But in his heart he could not feel that assurance, for the result of the contest was more than doubtful. It promised to end in utter defeat and in the death of the defenders. Mulha thought that too, for as the Mahrattas charged in at the gateway the faithful native edged closer to his master, and catching his eye for the space of one second salaamed to him gravely, as if bidding farewell. There was no time for more, for like a stream which has overflowed its banks the dismounted Mahrattas, each struggling to enter the gateway, struck in a long wave against the wall, and those who happened to be opposite the entrance came struggling and stumbling through the rent. Owen lifted his hand and shouted to his men. Then as the report of their muskets broke out, and shouts of excitement began to come from the peons in answer to those of the enemy, he leaned his pistol on the top of the barricade and took careful aim at the Mahratta leader, who, seeing his design, held back for an instant. But his own men pressed him on. In a moment he was well within the gateway, and seeing the impossibility of retiring, he summoned all his courage and sprang at the white officer behind the barricade. Click! The hammer fell, but there was no answering flash. The weapon had missed, and the Mahratta had escaped. But it was only for an instant. An example was required to put heart into the peons, and Owen set it. With a shout of anger at the failure of his weapon he sprang on the top of the barricade, and shifting the pistol into his right hand threw it with all his force at the leader. There was a dull crash as the loaded butt struck his head, and then a rousing shout of triumph.

"He is down! Fight! Beat them back! Drive them from the wall!"

It was Mulha who voiced the words, and a shout of defiance and triumph burst from the peons. Desperation had hitherto helped to keep their courage up, though the numbers opposed to them brought dismay to the majority. But as Owen struck the Mahratta leader to the ground, their determination to hold the place was suddenly increased. Like a flash they saw that what he had done might be accomplished by others. They had a wall in front of them, and a white man to lead them. All was not hopelessly lost, and at the thought they threw themselves upon the Mahrattas fiercely. The struggle which followed was carried on with the utmost determination, and for a little while it seemed as if Owen and his men would drive the enemy clear of the gateway. Tulwars clashed against tulwars, muskets and pistols flashed, while the air was rent with deafening shouts, with the shriek of the wounded, and with the loud reports of fire-arms. From the wall above stones were tossed down upon the Mahrattas, while the four men posted in the window of the house kept up a steady fire. Indeed, the defenders did their utmost. But numbers were beginning to tell, while some five of the peons had already been killed or severely wounded. Owen still held his place in the centre, and standing on the barricade thrust and cut savagely at the enemy. Mulha had edged still closer, and his keen blade rose and fell, guarding a cut here, and returning it with lightning-like rapidity, or darting over there to parry a cut made at the white sahib. If bravery and determination could have brought the victory, it would have been theirs. But the Mahrattas were far too many for them, and their anger and hate had been raised to a high pitch by the losses they had already sustained. By now they were pressing against the barricade, which in one part was almost levelled. In a minute they would probably sweep the obstacle aside and force their way in. The end was close at hand, and as Owen unconsciously noticed how matters were going, and sought for a remedy as he struck with his sabre, he could think of nothing. He must stand there fighting to the last till some of the robbers threw themselves upon him and cut him to pieces.

But there was one within the fort who had a remedy, and he came to the rescue with a shriek of excitement which rose above the shouts of the combatants and the roar of the muskets. It was the old man who had first induced Owen and Mulha to enter, offering them a haven when the Mahrattas galloped out to surround them. Suddenly emerging from the house he raced across the courtyard at his topmost speed, and arriving at the stone stairway, ascended it with a succession of agile leaps, four steps at a time. Then he sped along the narrow pathway on the wall till he reached the very edge where the masonry had been blown away. No one seemed to notice him, for all were engaged in the deadly contest below, while those of the Mahrattas who still remained outside for the reason that there was no room for them within the gateway, pressed against their comrades, hoping by sheer force to drive them through the barricade. And as they pressed they watched the contest with eager eyes, failing to note the figure of the old man above.

For a few seconds he stood there, bending over a bundle which he carried beneath his arm. Then he threw off the rag which formed the outside covering, and disclosed a cask of small dimensions, to the top of which he held a smoking brand. Not till then did the enemy catch sight of him, and when they did they were helpless to interfere. Some shouted at the top of their voices to warn their comrades, while others, on the outskirts of the attacking crowd, took to their heels without a moment's hesitation. And meanwhile the old man held his small brand to the cask, till the fuse which emerged from an auger-hole began to splutter. Then he threw the brand behind him, and looking down sought for the best spot in which to toss the barrel. A moment later he had it poised above his head, and seemed to be in the very act of throwing it. And all the while the fuse spluttered, sending out a cloud of thin sulphurous smoke.

"Throw it! Blow them to atoms! Send it now, or you will be killed!"

Mulha had caught sight of the figure above, and realising in a flash what he was about to do shouted to the old man. But he did not stir, or attempt to throw his missile. He stood there, poising the barrel, looking from the struggling mass below to the spluttering fuse, as if he were fascinated; and while he waited the train which he had fired swept down the fuse with appalling rapidity. It was barely an inch from the auger-hole now, and in less than a minute it would disappear within. And then —

"Is the man mad? Throw it!" shouted Mulha, while the men stationed in the window behind repeated the warning, bellowing the words at the top of their voices, and with all the force of their lungs.

"Throw it, master! You will be blown to atoms. Toss it into the robbers and send them to the sky!"

And if they wondered why he still clung to his bomb, as if seeking his death, the Mahrattas marvelled even more. The shouts of warning had reached their ears, and not a man but had turned his eyes upon the figure above. Instantly they were thrown into a panic, and forgetful of the white officer and his peons they turned in desperate haste, and mindful only of the bomb and of the figure above they struggled to get out of the gateway with more desperation than they had shown when making the attack. There came a shriek of triumph from the old man, a shriek which set the enemy quaking.

"Forward!" he shouted, waving the barrel as if to attract Owen's attention. "Forward, sahib, and cut them up!"

"Back! Run in here well behind the wall!" cried Owen. "The poor fellow has gone mad. If we were to charge we should be blown to pieces when the powder explodes. Lie down, men, close to the wall, and wait till it is over."

"Sahib, I think he is right. Let us charge," gasped Mulha, coming suddenly to his side. "The old man has played a cunning trick upon the enemy. He has no bomb. The cask is probably empty."

If there had been any doubt about the matter the native set it at rest on the instant. Realising that the white sahib and his men were as fearful of the expected explosion as were the enemy, and that what was clear to him was not so to them, he bent down so that the enemy could not see him, and brought the cask against the side of the wall with a bang which broke it to pieces.

"Empty! See!" he shouted. "Forward! Do not delay an instant! By Allah, they will escape us!"

Then it was all a ruse! After all, the old man who owned the fort had snatched his peons and the white sahib from disaster. It was almost incredible, but none the less true. Owen grasped the meaning of the antics of the native, and at once leapt to his feet.

"After them!" he shouted. "Keep together, and do not go far from the walls. We will teach them to leave us alone in future."

Waving his sabre aloft he put himself at the head of the peons, who were now overflowing with courage and eagerness, and vaulted over the barricade. The Mahrattas were almost clear of the gateway, and as our hero rushed at them the last of the attackers fled from between the shattered walls. But they were not to escape so lightly, and had yet to receive punishment for the injury they had done. Owen saw that panic had got a firm grip of them, and emboldened by that he led his men far from the walls. Gathered in a close knot they dashed out, cutting down all who stood in their way, and did not halt till they were at least fifty yards from the walls. By then they had slain a number of the stragglers, while the rest were in full flight.

"Now, halt and pepper them with your muskets," shouted Owen at the top of his voice, for the din was tremendous, and the excitement of the peons beyond description. "Lie down here and send your bullets into them as they mount."

A few of the men happened to have their weapons loaded, and at that moment the four marksmen who had been posted on top of the wall, together with those who had been in the window, came up with their comrades, and adding their fire caused a considerable amount of execution in the ranks of the enemy, who meanwhile had rushed to their horses and were engaged in mounting them. For a little while there was a scene of the utmost confusion, for some men took any horse which happened to be nearest, while others, finding their own mounts gone, went in search of them. Finally, galled by the fire of the muskets, and filled with an unaccountable panic, the whole mass of Mahratta horse galloped away, leaving some thirty of their fellows on the ground. And long ere Owen or Mulha could inspect the wounded or interfere they were dead, slain by the infuriated defenders; for this was war to the knife, and any of the freebooters who had brought such misery to the country, and who might chance to fall into the hands of the people, could expect no mercy at all.

"That is the last that we shall see of the gang," said Owen, when they were out of sight "But in case they should take heart and return we will make ready for them. Set the men to work to rebuild the barricade, and let us have double as many sacks."

"They will not dare to come near this part of the country again," exclaimed the old native, with an emphatic shake of his head as he came up to Owen. "Still, we will be prepared. They have had a lesson, sahib, and thanks to you, they have lost their leader. But for the arrival of the white lord we should all have been slain by now."

"Thank yourself," answered Owen heartily. "We were cornered. The attack was going against us when you ran up with your bomb. To you alone we owe our safety and deliverance."

"Nay, sahib, that is not the whole truth. It is a fact that when matters were going badly for us an old man's wit saved the situation. It came as a flash to me. There was the barrel, empty as it happened, and near at hand was a piece of rag. I wetted it with a few drops of water and made a fuse while the struggle was at its height. Then I bored a hole with an instrument which happened to be handy, and seizing a brand ran to the walls. I know these marauders. Death has no favours for them. They are bold where there is no danger to themselves, and cruel to a degree; but they will not stand when such a fate awaits them. See how they ran! But though it was I who brought about their flight, I do not disguise from myself the fact that it is to the sahib that we owe our lives. The peons would have handed you over to the enemy but for your courage and opposition. Then they would surely have flinched and given in had you not set an example. Let us not argue, my lord. I who own this place am beholden to you, and I thank Allah that you rode hither this morning."

The old man almost swept the ground with his beard as he salaamed, and as Owen looked at him he knew that he was grateful.

"How many men are killed?" he asked suddenly, turning to Mulha.

"Seven, sahib, and eight are wounded. But what of my master? See here!"

He pointed to Owen's riding-boot, which had been cut right through at one spot just above the ankle by a blow from a tulwar. The blade, as sharp as a razor, had severed the leather, and had then cut to the bone. Owen laughed gaily as he looked down at the boot, for his heart was light, a huge weight was taken from his mind, and the wound was of no consequence.

"I had forgotten," he said, as Mulha bent to inspect the injury, a look of anxiety on his face. "A fellow cut at me when I was engaging a second, and I had only time to ward off the blow partially. Otherwise I fancy it would have lopped the leg off. We'll take the boot off and empty the blood out. Then a handkerchief will set the matter right. One moment, though. While these Mahrattas are galloping away let us search the bags and the pockets of those who have fallen. There are some poor fellows here, chief, who have been killed or who are wounded. It would be a fine thing to divide the spoil amongst them or their families."

"The sahib has a generous mind. We will do as he says."

The old man went off to superintend the matter, while Mulha bound up his master's injury. An hour later the look-out from the tower above announced the fact that the enemy had ridden out of sight.

"Then we will ride away," said Owen. "Bring the horses, Mulha."

Some minutes later, when the native came forward, he was leading the two animals which they had ridden that morning, and in addition four others, all of which still carried their handsome native saddles.

"This is our portion of the loot taken from the enemy, sahib," he said, with a movement of his eyes which Owen knew so well, and which showed without doubt that he was delighted. "There were thirty stray horses to choose from, and these are the pick. This belonged to their chief. The sahib will find that he is the best-mounted officer in his regiment."

A few minutes later they bade farewell to the old man and his peons, and followed by their blessings rode out from the fort, a hole being made in the barricade to enable them to do so. They were laden with provisions, which were tied to the saddles of the Mahratta horses, while Owen himself bestrode the fine animal which had belonged to their chief. Turning their faces to the hills they rode on at a steady trot, and arrived just as night was falling at the spot where the troops were camped. They were greeted with shouts of welcome, and hurriedly told their tale. Then the Major was able to impart a little information to our hero.

"Perhaps you'll not be interested," he said, with his bantering smile, "for you seem always to have some little adventure of your own afoot, but we're close to the army – Wellesley's, I mean. The news was brought in soon after you left us, and to-morrow we shall be up with the main body. There is work ahead, for we hear that some big place is about to be attacked. Make ready, Owen, for very soon, if things turn out properly, you will be one of the assaulting party, and will have an opportunity of fighting your way in through the breach made by our guns."

He forgot that this young officer belonged to the cavalry, and would hardly be engaged in such a duty. But the news roused Owen to a high pitch of enthusiasm, and when he turned in that night, and the tingling of the slight wound he had received would allow him to sleep, he dreamed that the position of affairs that day had been changed, that the Mahrattas held the gateway in the wall of the fort, and that he and the peons were engaged in a fierce attack. It was not till the figure of the chief of the Mahrattas appeared above, ready to toss a bomb upon them, that he awoke, to find the dull gleam of dawn stealing into his tent, while he himself lay shivering, his nightmare having resulted in the covering in which he was wrapped having been kicked aside. With a grumble he rolled himself in it again and fell asleep, oblivious of past and future.