In Times of Peril: A Tale of India

by G. A. Henty

  CHAPTER XIV.

  THE BESIEGED RESIDENCY.

  The Warrener's were taken to Gubbins' house, or garrison, as each ofthese fortified dwellings was now called; and the distance, short as itwas, was so crowded with dangers and disagreeables that they wereastonished how human beings could have supported them for a month, asthe garrison of Lucknow had done. From all points of the surroundingcircle shot and shell howled overhead, or crashed into walls and roofs.Many of the enemy's batteries were not above a hundred yards from thedefenses, and the whistling of musket-balls was incessant.

  Here and there, as they ran along, great swarms of flies, millions innumber, rose from some spot where a bullock, killed by an enemy's shot,had been hastily buried, while horrible smells everywhere tainted theair.

  Running across open spaces, and stooping along beneath low walls, theWarreners and their conductor, Captain Fellows, reached Gubbins' house.Mr. Gubbins himself--financial commissioner of Oude, a man of greatcourage and firmness--received them warmly.

  "You will find we are close packed," he said, "but you will, I am sure,make the best of it. I am glad to have you, for every man is of valuehere; and after the bravery you have shown in coming through theenemy's lines you will be just the right sort of men for me. I thinkyou will find most room here; I lost two of my garrison from this roomon the 20th, when we had a tremendous attack all round."

  The room was small and dark, as the window was closed by a bank ofearth built against it on the outside. It was some fourteen feet byeight, and here, including the newcomers, eight men lived and slept.Here the Warreners, after a few words with those who were in future tobe their comrades, threw themselves down on the ground, and, in spiteof the din which raged around them, were soon fast asleep.

  It was nearly dark when they awoke, and they at once reportedthemselves to Mr. Johnson--a police magistrate, who was the seniorofficer of the party in the room--as ready to begin duty.

  "You will not be on regular duty till to-night," he replied."Altogether, there are about forty men in the garrison. Eight arealways on duty, and are relieved every four hours. So we go on everytwenty hours. Only half our set go on duty together, as that gives roomfor those who remain. Two came off duty at eight this morning, four arejust going on. You will go on with the two who came off this morning,at midnight. Besides their sentry work, of course every one is inReadiness to man the walls at any moment in case of alarm, and a gooddeal of your time can be spent at loopholes, picking off the enemydirectly they show themselves. One of the party, in turn, cooks eachday. Besides the fighting duty, there is any amount of fatigue work,the repairing and strengthening of the defenses, the fetching rationsand drawing water for the house, in which there are over fifty womenand children, the burying dead cattle, and covering blood and filthwith earth. Besides defending our own post, we are, of course, ready torush at any moment to assist any other garrison which may be pressed.Altogether, you will think yourself lucky when you can get four hours'sleep out of the twenty-four."

  "Are our losses heavy?" Ned asked.

  "Terribly heavy. The first week we lost twenty a day shot in thehouses; but now that we have, as far as possible, blocked everyloophole at which a bullet can enter, we are not losing so many as atfirst, but the daily total is still heavy, and on a day like the 20thwe lost thirty. The enemy attacked us all round, and we mowed them downwith grape; we believe we killed over a thousand of them.Unfortunately, every day our losses are getting heavier from disease,foul air, and overcrowding; the women and children suffer awfully. Ifyou are disposed to make yourselves useful when not on duty, you willfind abundant opportunity for kindness among them. I will take youround the house and introduce you to the ladies, then you can go amongthem as you like."

  First the Warreners went to what, in happier times, was the main roomof the house, a spacious apartment some thirty-five feet square, withwindows opening to the ground at each end, to allow a free passage ofair. These, on the side nearest the enemy, were completely closed by abank of earth; while those on the other side were also built up withina few inches of the top, for shots and shell could equally enter them.The Warreners were introduced to such of the garrison as were in, thegreater part being at work outside the house repairing a bank which hadbeen injured during the day. Then Mr. Johnson went to one of the roomsleading off the main apartment. A curtain hung across it instead of adoor, and this was now drawn aside to allow what air there was tocirculate.

  "May I come in?" he asked.

  "Certainly, Mr. Johnson," a lady said, coming to the entrance.

  "Mrs. Hargreaves, let me introduce the Messrs. Warreners, the gentlemenwho have so gallantly come through the enemy's lines with the message.They are to form part of our garrison."

  The lady held out her hand, but with a slight air of surprise.

  "I suppose our color strikes you as peculiar, Mrs. Hargreaves," Nedsaid, "but it will wear off in a few days; it is iodine, and we arealready a good many shades lighter than when we started."

  "How silly of me not to think of that," Mrs. Hargreaves said; "ofcourse I heard that you were disguised. But please come in; it is notmuch of a room to receive in, but we are past thinking of that now. Mydaughter, Mrs. Righton; her husband is with mine on guard at present.These are my daughters, Edith and Nelly; these five children are mygrandchildren. My dears, these are the Messrs. Warreners, who broughtthe news from General Havelock. Their faces are stained, but will bewhite again in time."

  The ladies all shook hands with the Warreners, who looked with surpriseon the neatness which prevailed in this crowded little room. On theground, by the walls, were several rolls of bedding covered over withshawls, and forming seats or lounges. On the top of one of the pilestwo little children were fast asleep. A girl of six sat in a corner onthe ground reading. There were two or three chairs, and these theladies, seating themselves on the divan, as they called the bedding,asked their visitors to take.

  Mrs. Hargreaves was perhaps forty-five years old, with a pleasant face,marked by firmness and intelligence. Mrs. Righton was twenty-five ortwenty-six, and her pale face showed more than that of her mother theeffects of the anxiety and confinement of the siege. Edith and Nellywere sixteen and fifteen respectively, and although pale, the siege hadnot sufficed to mar their bright faces or to crush their spirits.

  "Dear me," Nelly said, "why, you look to me to be quite boys; why, youcan't be much older than I am, are you?"

  "My dear Nelly," her mother said reprovingly; but Dick laughed heartily.

  "I am not much older than you are," he said; "a year, perhaps, but notmore. I am a midshipman in the Agamemnon. My brother is a year olderthan I am, and he is gazetted to the Sixty-fourth; so you see, if thetimes were different, we should be just the right age to be yourdevoted servants."

  "Oh, you can be that now," Nelly said. "I am sure we want them morethan ever; don't we, mamma?"

  "I think you have more than your share of servants now, Nelly," repliedher mother. "We are really most fortunate, Mr. Johnson, in having ourayah still with us; so many were deserted by their servants altogether,and she is an admirable nurse. I do not know what we should do withouther, for the heat and confinement make the poor children sadlyfractious. We were most lucky yesterday, for we managed to secure adobee for the day, and you see the result;" and she smilingly indicatedthe pretty light muslins in which her daughters were dressed. "You seeus quite at our best," she said, turning to the boys. "But we have,indeed," she went on seriously, "every reason to be thankful. So far wehave not lost any of our party, and there are few indeed who can saythis. These are terrible times, young gentlemen, and we are all inGod's hands. We are exceptionally well off, but we find our hands full.My eldest daughter has to aid the ayah with the children; then there isthe cooking to be done by me, and the room to be kept tidy by Edith andNelly, and there are so many sick and suffering to be attended to. Youwill never find us all here before six in the evening; we are busy allday; but we shall always be glad to see you when you can spa
re time fora chat in the evening. All the visitors we receive are not so welcome,I can assure you;" and she pointed to three holes in the wall where theenemy's shot had crashed through.

  "That is a very noble woman," Mr. Johnson said, as they went out. "Shespends many hours every day down at the military hospital where, thescenes are dreadful, and where the enemy's shot and shell frequentlyfind entry, killing alike the wounded and their attendants. The marrieddaughter looks after her children and the neatness of the rooms. Theyoung girls are busy all day about the house nursing sick children, andyet, as you see, all are bright, pleasant, and the picture of neatness,marvelous contrasts indeed to the disorder and wretchedness prevailingamong many, who might, by making an effort, be as bright and ascomfortable as they are. There are, as you will find, many brilliantexamples of female heroism and self-devotion exhibited here; but insome instances women seem to try how helpless, how foolish a sillywoman can be. Ah," he broke off, as a terrific crash followed by a loudscream was heard, "I fear that shell has done mischief."

  "Mrs. Shelton is killed," a woman said, running out, "and Lucy Sheltonhas had her arm cut off. Where is Dr. Topham?"

  Mrs. Hargreaves came out of her door with a basin of water and somelinen torn into strips for bandages just as the doctor ran in from theSikh Square, where he had been attending to several casualties.

  "That is right," he nodded to Mrs. Hargreaves; "this is a bad business,I fear."

  "All hands to repair defenses!" was now the order, and the boysfollowed Mr. Johnson outside.

  "The scoundrels are busy this evening," he observed.

  "It sounds like a boiler-maker's shop," Dick said; "if only one in ahundred bullets were to hit, there would not be many alive by to-morrowmorning."

  "No, indeed," Mr. Johnson replied; "they are of course firing to someextent at random, but they aim at the points where they think it likelythat we may be at work, and their fire adds greatly to our difficultyin setting right at night the damage they do in the daytime."

  For the next four hours the lads were hard at work with the rest of thegarrison. Earth was brought in sacks or baskets and piled up, stockadesrepaired, and fascines and gabions mended. The work would have beenhard anywhere; on an August night in India it was exhausting. All thetime that they were at work the bullets continued to fly thicklyoverhead, striking the wall of the house with a sharp crack, or buryingthemselves with a short thud in the earth. Round shot and shell attimes crashed through the upper part of the house, which wasuninhabited; while from the terraced roof, and from the battery in thecorner of the garden, the crack of the defenders' rifles answered theenemy's fire.

  By the time that the work was done it was midnight, and the Warreners'turn for guard. They had received rifles, and were posted with sixothers in the battery. There were three guns here, all of which wereloaded to the muzzle with grape; three artillerymen, wrapped in theircloaks, lay asleep beside them, for the number of artillerymen was sosmall that the men were continually on duty, snatching what sleep theycould by their guns during the intervals of fighting. The orders wereto listen attentively for the sound of the movement of any body of men,and to fire occasionally at the flashes of the enemy's guns. The fourhours passed rapidly, for the novelty of the work, the thunder ofcannon and crackling of musketry, all round the Residency, were soexciting that the Warreners were surprised when the relief arrived.They retired to their room, and were soon asleep; but in an hour thealarm was sounded, and the whole force at the post rushed to repel anattack. Heralded by a storm of fire from every gun which could bebrought to bear upon the battery, thousands of fanatics rushed from theshelter of the houses outside the intrenchments and swarmed down uponit. The garrison lay quiet behind the parapet until the approach of thefoe caused the enemy's cannon to cease their fire. Then they leaped totheir feet and poured a volley into the mass. So great were theirnumbers, however, that the gaps were closed in a moment, and with yellsand shouts the enemy leaped into the ditch, and tried to climb theearthwork of the battery. Fortunately at this moment the reserve offifty men of the Thirty-second, which were always kept ready to launchat any threatened point, came up at a run, and their volley over theparapet staggered the foe. Desperately their leaders called upon themto climb the earthworks, but the few who succeeded in doing so werebayoneted and thrown back into the ditch, while a continuous musketryfire was poured into the crowd. Over and over again the guns, chargedwith grape, swept lines through their ranks, and at last, dispiritedand beaten, they fell back again to the shelter from which they hademerged. The Thirty-second men then returned to the brigade messroom,and the garrison of the fort were about to turn in when Mr. Gubbinssaid cheerfully:

  "Now, lads, we have done with those fellows for to-day, I fancy. I wantsome volunteers to bury those horses which were killed yesterday; it'san unpleasant job, but it's got to be done."

  The men's faces testified to the dislike they felt for the business;but they knew it was necessary, and all made their way to the yard,where, close by the cattle, the horses were confined. The boysunderstood at once the repugnance which was felt to approaching thispart of the fort. The ground was covered deep with flies, who rose in ablack cloud, with a perfect roar of buzzing.

  Lucknow was always celebrated for its plague of flies, but during thesiege the nuisance assumed surprising proportions. The number of cattleand animals collected, the blood spilled in the slaughter-yard, theimpossibility of preserving the cleanliness so necessary in a hotclimate, all combined to generate swarms of flies, which rivaled thoseof Egypt. The garrison waged war against them, but in vain. Powder wasplentiful, and frequently many square yards of infected ground, wherethe flies swarmed thickest, would be lightly sprinkled with it, andcountless legions blown into the air; but these wholesale executions,however often repeated, appeared to make no impression whatever on theteeming armies of persecutors.

  Their task finished, the fatigue party returned to their houses, andthen all who had not other duties threw themselves down to snatch ashort sleep. In spite of a night passed without rest, sleep was noteasily wooed. The heat in the open air was terrific, in the closelittle room it was stifling; while the countless flies irritated themalmost to madness. There was indeed but the choice of two evils: tocover closely their faces and hands, and lie bathed in perspiration; orto breathe freely, and bear the flies as best they might. The formeralternative was generally chosen, as heat, however great, may beendured in quiet, and sleep may insensibly come on; but sleep with ahost of flies incessantly nestling on every exposed part of the faceand body was clearly an impossibility.

  That day was a bad one for the defenders of Gubbins' garrison, for noless than twelve shells penetrated the house, and five of the occupantswere killed or wounded. The shells came from a newly erected battery ahundred and fifty yards to the north. Among the killed was one of Mrs.Righton's children; and the boys first learned the news when, on risingfrom a fruitless attempt to sleep, they went to get a little fresh airoutside. Edith and Nelly Hargreaves came out from the door, with jugs,on their way to fetch water.

  The Warreners at once offered to fetch it for them, and as they spokethey saw that the girls' faces were both swollen with crying.

  "Is anything the matter, Miss Hargreaves?" Ned asked.

  "Have you not heard," Edith said, "how poor little Rupert has beenkilled by a shell? The ayah was badly hurt, and we all had closeescapes; the shells from that battery are terrible."

  Expressing their sorrow at the news, the boys took the jugs, andcrossing the yard to the well, filled and brought them back.

  "I wish we could do something to silence that battery," said Dick; "itwill knock the house about our ears, and we shall be having the womenand children killed every day."

  "Let's go and have a look at it from the roof," replied Ned.

  The roof was, like those of most of the houses in the Residency, flat,and intended for the inmates to sit and enjoy the evening breeze. Theparapet was very low, but this had been raised by a line of sandbags,a
nd behind them five or six of the defenders were lying, firing throughthe openings between the bags, in answer to the storm of musketry whichthe enemy were keeping up on the post.

  Stooping low to avoid the bullets which were singing overhead, theWarreners moved across the terrace, and lying down, peered out throughthe holes which had been left for musketry. Gubbins' house stood on oneof the highest points of the ground inclosed in the defenses, and fromit they could obtain a view of nearly the whole circle of the enemy'sbatteries. They were indeed higher than the roofs of most of the housesheld by the enemy, but one of these, distant only some fifty yards fromthe Sikh Square, dominated the whole line of the British defenses onthat side, and an occasional crack of a rifle from its roof showed thatthe advantage was duly appreciated.

  "What do they call that house?" Ned asked one of the officers on theterrace.

  "That is Johannes' house," he answered. "It was a terrible mistake thatwe did not destroy it before the siege began; it is an awful thorn inour side. There is a black scoundrel, a negro, in the service of theking of Oude, who has his post there; he is a magnificent shot, and hehas killed a great number of ours. It is almost certain death to show ahead within the line of his fire."

  "I wonder we have not made a sortie, and set fire to the place," saidNed.

  "The scoundrels are so numerous that we could only hope to succeed withconsiderable loss, and we are so weak already that we can't afford it.So the chief sets his face against sorties, but I expect that we shallbe driven to it one of these days. That new battery is terriblytroublesome also. There, do you see, it lies just over that brow, sothat the shot from our battery cannot touch it, while it can pound awayat our house, and indeed at all the houses along this line."

  "I should have thought," Dick said, "that a rush at night might carryit, and spike the guns."

  "No; we should be certain to make some sort of noise, however quiet wewere. There are six guns, all loaded at nightfall to the muzzle withgrape; we know that, for once they fancied they heard us coming, andthey fired such a storm of grape that we should have been all sweptaway; besides which, there are a large number of the fellows sleepinground; and although sometimes the battery ceases firing for some hours,the musketry goes on more or less during the night."

  The Warreners lay wistfully watching the battery, whose shotsfrequently struck the house, and two or three times knocked down aportion of the sandbag parapet--the damage being at once repaired withbags lying in readiness, but always under a storm of musketry, whichopened in the hopes of hitting the men engaged upon the work; thesewere, however, accustomed to it, and built up the sandbags withoutshowing a limb to the enemy's shot.

  "There were two children killed by that last shot," an officer said,coming up from below and joining them; "it made its way through theearth and broke in through a blocked-up window."

  "We must silence that battery, Ned, whatever comes of it," Dick said inhis brother's ear.

  "I agree with you, Dick; but how is it to be done? have you got anidea?"

  "Well, my idea is this," the midshipman said. "I think you and I mightchoose a dark night, as it will be to-night. Take the bearings of thebattery exactly; then when they stop firing, and we think the gunnersare asleep, crawl out and make for the guns. When we get there we canmake our way among them, keeping on the ground so that the sentrycannot see us against the sky; and then with a sponge full of water wecan give a squeeze on each of the touchholes, so there would be nochance of their going off till the charges were drawn. Then we couldmake our way back and tell Gubbins the guns are disabled, and he cantake out a party, carry them with a rush, and spike them permanently."

  "Capital, Dick; I'm with you, old boy."

  "Now let us take the exact bearings of the place. There was a lane, yousee, before the houses were pulled down, running along from beyond thatcorner nearly to the guns. When we get out we must steer for that,because it is comparatively clear from rubbish, and we ain't so likelyto knock a stone over and make a row. We must choose some time whenthey are pounding away somewhere else, and then we shan't be heard evenif we do make a little noise. We will ask Mrs. Hargreaves for a coupleof pieces of sponge; we need not tell her what we want them for."

  "And you think to-night, Dick?"

  "Well, to-night is just as likely to succeed as any other night, andthe sooner the thing is done the better. Johnson commands the guardfrom twelve to four, and he is an easy-going fellow, and will let usslip out, while some of the others wouldn't."