The Sabre's Edge mh-5

by Allan Mallinson

  That part of the Field General Orders of 16th Instant, which directs that all property captured from the Enemy by any individual of the Army, be forthwith delivered up to the Prize Agents, and imposes the forfeiture of all claim to share, besides other penalties, on individuals who may be discovered secreting or detaining property, knowing it to be a Prize -and further requires the Agents to demand all Prize Property, wherever it may be discovered - remains in full force.

  Major Joynson took off his spectacles as he concluded. 'Well, gentlemen, from the first part it would seem that the sappers are making good progress if powder is to be brought forward.' The same assembly, his troop-captains and staff, heard the day's orders each afternoon before evening stables, and this was indeed the first intimation of true progress. 'As to the enemy,' continued Joynson, now polishing his spectacles, 'I had expected them to be more active by day and by night, yet it appears they will do no more than beat up a few grass-cutters now and then, and they surely won't venture out at night, it seems. That being said, we cannot afford to lapse in any vigilance.' He looked at each of the captains as sternly as he could, a game effort. 'As to the last, on the subject of prize money, I cannot imagine that it will amount to much, this Durjan Sal's army being scarcely well-equipped, but we had better attend to the election of these agents. I shall ask the adjutant to canvass all officers. But let it be rightly understood: whatever prize is taken is first the prize of the regiment. If it is a worthy trophy I intend that it is kept by us.'

  'Then let us hope we intercept the treasury as it makes its escape!' said Hugh Rose, smiling and blowing a great deal of smoke into the air from his cigar.

  Hervey contemplated Rose's raffish mien. He thought it a not altogether helpful pose with Riding-Master Broad, his dupe (there was no avoiding the word), sitting in the rear rank. Hugh Rose's appearance betrayed nothing of the conditions they were living in - comfortable enough, but undeniably reduced - and his thick black hair and fine features, which won him the easy admiration of his dragoons as well as their women, looked the picture of grooming, as if for a drawing room at Fort William. His remark on the pecuniary spoils of war, albeit no doubt intended in some levity, required a rebuke.

  'A happy thought indeed, Rose,' said Joynson, however, inclined more to punctilious attention to regulations than to scruple. 'But on that I fear we should have to follow General Orders. And in any case, any treasure in Bhurtpore must belong rightfully to the deposed rajah. That is why I said I do not suppose the prize money will amount to much.'

  The captains feigned disappointment.

  'Are there any questions? No? Very well, then, dinner at eight.'

  When the others were gone, Hervey spoke his mind. 'I think we might propose some more active duty. The men are restless.'

  'Yes, I know it. What activity do you imagine?'

  'Well, we could make an effort to root out these cavalry who pick off the working parties, instead of merely trying to guard everyone and everything. They're not sallying from the fort, that much we know, and they can't be coming from the east, or north across the jheels. If both brigades put up a squadron, or better still all of Skinner's Horse, to beat all the cover to the west, and stood-to every man during daylight for three days, say, we might bring them to battle.'

  'I can suggest it to Childers tomorrow. It has merit enough, even were the men not restless.'

  'It would have to be done soon, however. There's a danger that once the artillery begins they may bolt Durjan Sal. He may not have the stomach for a siege. From what I heard yesterday of Sir Charles Metcalfe's treaties with him he never imagined it would come to this.'

  Joynson nodded. 'Very well.'

  'There is one more thing I would speak of.'

  'Green?'

  'Not this time. He has had his warning. Deedes.’

  'Oh. I feared it would come.'

  'He's the most blusterous serjeant-major I've seen. There've been all manner of confusions these past ten days.'

  Joynson was silent for some time. 'Sir Ivo will be back in but a few weeks. He will know what to do.'

  'Sir, you know what to do,' said Hervey, in a tone meant to be encouraging, though the words themselves accused the major of evading his duty.

  Joynson shook his head slowly. 'I had hoped not to have this sort of trouble.'

  Hervey sympathized, for trouble it would be. The major did, however, have the advantage of being in the field. It was a far easier place in which to dismiss a man than the barracks. 'A word with the brigadier tomorrow?'

  Joynson sighed. 'O the pleasure of the plains!'

  Hervey looked at him blankly.

  'Very well. But you know, it will look very ill with the other regiments.'

  Hervey knew that too. But he knew it would look even more ill were the regimental serjeant-major to falter at a time less propitious. He said nothing, but picked up his cap and made to leave.

  'Thank you, Hervey,' said Joynson, wearily. 'I knew well enough that Deedes was incapable, but I kept telling myself it was only by comparison with Mr Lincoln.'

  The tone was a shade too despairing. Hervey turned full back. 'Sir, I know I speak for the regiment when I say that all ranks hold your stewardship in high regard. This is but trying detail, and the corrective is at hand. Sir Ivo ought to be very well pleased with what he finds.'

  Joynson looked genuinely surprised.

  In the event, it was very easily done. The major called for the RSM soon after first parade next day and told him that, with regret, it was his decision to relieve him of his duties. He was to report as soon as was practicable to the depot at Agra pending a further decision as to his employment thereafter. When Joynson recounted the interview to Hervey later that morning it was with surprise, still, at Deedes's reaction. 'You know, he seemed almost. . . pleased, relieved. He said he had always done his best - which I fear is true. He said he wished to serve on in some other position if it were possible. I don't know; there may be something in Calcutta . . .'

  'Well, I am all astonishment. I imagined he would bluster as ever.'

  'And he left camp with some dignity, too. I called in Hairsine and told him he was to be acting serjeant-major, and Deedes treated him very decently by all accounts.'

  Hervey nodded, though he had not a moment's doubt that Deedes's dismissal had been necessary. 'Well, he must have had some quality otherwise he would never have been advanced in the first instance. I imagine he felt some loyalty too, even in his exigent position.'

  'That was to have been my method if it had come to it: calling on his better self to accept things for the good of the regiment. Still, it is done now.' Joynson appeared to take no satisfaction in it, however, even with Hairsine making a difference already at orderly room.

  'Who is to take C Troop?'

  'I've told Strickland to make his senior serjeant do duty until there's time for a proper regimental board. By then Sir Ivo should be back. I'm deuced glad Strickland postponed his leave.'

  Hervey saw no reason why a board should not be held at once, but he saw no likelihood of convincing Joynson. C Troop's man would do well enough; Strickland would not have it, otherwise. 'Did the brigadier express an opinion about taking the offensive?'

  'He said he would speak with Sleigh. But it seems the guns will be going in soon and Combermere's likely to want a strong cavalry presence.'

  'We shall all say amen to that. It's well time the fort's guns were answered.'

  The guns of two bastions in particular had caused annoyance and casualties since the army had first appeared before Bhurtpore, yet could not be answered with any effect at the extreme range of the field artillery, nor even, indeed, with the long guns of the siege train yet. Only when the engineers had sapped their way to within a thousand yards or so, and built up redoubts, could the gunners try to dislodge the enemy's cannon. And dislodge them they must, for the siege guns could not pound away with the bastions commanding the ground so. A siege was an occasion when Adye's general injunction against cou
nter-battery fire did not hold.

  'I await orders on this keenly, too, said Joynson. 'Shall we take a ride to look at the ground?'

  Hervey had never before ridden ground with the major, and he was eager to do so. He wanted to learn how good was his eye for country compared with that for administration, for in spite of the banter of the camp at Agra, he was certain that the cavalry must be more active in this siege than the textbooks allowed. He had studied the accounts of Lord Lake's failure. He was certain that if the cavalry became a mere arm of the commissary then the siege would go the same way as Lord Lake's.

  They rode with only their covermen, Hervey marked by Corporal Wainwright, Joynson by the senior corporal. The major was not one for panoply, and in any case he scarcely expected trouble within the ring of scarlet around the fortress.

  Everywhere was purposeful activity. Hervey could not remember scenes the like since San Sebastian, perhaps Badajoz, even. Columns of sepoys tramped to and from great breastworks thrown up in a matter of days like molehills on greensward. Guns and ammunition wagons lumbered forward continuously, and empty wagons passed them on their way back from dumping powder, shot and shell at the batteries in anticipation of the great pounding to come. And the engineers, the sappers and miners, who opened the way for the infantry, whether by bridge or breach, worked oblivious to their surroundings, and to the enemy's guns which periodically sent hissing spheres of iron arching into the sky, then to throw up fountains of earth where they struck before bowling along the ground to knock down men and horses like skittles if they didn't look sharp.

  Hervey had observed the same curious detachment in the Peninsula, the sappers working as calmly as if they were navigators at an English cut. It was a cool courage, theirs, not one fired by dash or steadied by the touch of cloth. He wondered if it could endure as the guns began to take their toll. Sapping to the foot of the walls would be hot work indeed.

  'Do you think Durjan Sal doubts the outcome, seeing all this, Hervey?' asked the major suddenly. They had ridden for ten minutes and more in silence.

  Hervey was unsure what he had heard. 'You mean will he ask for terms?'

  'No. I mean, does he consider those walls impregnable? Does he believe we shall just go away? You could scarce call firing from those walls much of a counter-action.'

  'I confess to being surprised,' replied Hervey, watching warily as another ball arched from a distant bastion towards them.

  Joynson watched it too. It hit an outcrop of solid rock a hundred yards ahead of them, sending a shower of deadly shards in all directions.

  'But he must think those walls solid enough. And, in truth, he might be right. I've not seen their like before, I think.'

  'Do you know why it is the engineers can't tunnel?' Joynson supposed only that the ground was too hard.

  'The distance, pure and simple, is my understanding. They can't get close enough to begin a gallery.'

  'I can't say as I understand. If they can sap forward, why can't they then tunnel?'

  'Because after two hundred yards there isn't air enough to breathe, or to make for a good explosion.'

  They rode on a further half-mile in silence, or rather without a word, for Durjan Sal's guns were now speaking continually. Three of them fired at once from the long-necked bastion, the report so loud that both men looked its way. Hervey saw the homing shot first - low and straight, not plunging like the others. 'She comes our way,’ he said warily.

  Neither man moved a muscle more than had they been on parade. It was as unthinkable as it was pointless.

  Eighteen pounds of iron grazed the rocky outcrop fifty yards to their right then ricocheted half a right angle, but chippings the size of musket balls shot their way, drawing blood from Hervey's hand and his mare's shoulder.

  Joynson, on his nearside, but half a length in front, cursed as his shako was all but knocked from his head, the silver cross beneath the oilskin having stopped a stone bullet. He didn't see his mare's wound at first, looking about her legs and flanks for marks. 'Oh, God!' he cried suddenly, jumping from the saddle.

  Blood spurted from her breast as if from a stirrup pump. Joynson took off his silk stock and pressed it to the wound - a neat slice like the sabre's work. 'An artery, Hervey, for sure,' he groaned.

  If it were an artery there was nothing that they -or even David Sledge - could do. But Hervey got down and took the bandages from his valise.

  Corporal Wainwright did likewise, and Joynson's coverman the same. But Joynson's sleeves were soaked through, and the pool of blood at the mare's feet was spreading rapidly.

  'It's no good, Eustace.' But Hervey knew the major had bought the mare for his wife years ago.

  Conceding would be a doubly painful business. 'Give me a pistol!’

  Hervey took one of the flintlocks from his saddle holster, already loaded, tamped. He held it out to him. 'Shall I do it while you steady her?’

  'No, Hervey. It wouldn't do,’ said Joynson simply, taking the pistol and letting go the silk stock.

  Nevertheless, Hervey took out his second pistol and made ready. He had no idea if the major had ever shot a horse. It was the Devil's own job even without sentiment.

  'Offsaddle her, will you, Hervey,' said Joynson resolutely.

  When it was done, the major wiped his hands on his overalls, rubbed the little mare's nose, cocked the pistol and put the muzzle gently but firmly into the fossa above her left eye, angling it so as to aim at the bottom of her right ear.

  He pulled the trigger. The mare's forelegs folded, and she fell to the ground without so much as a grunt.

  Hervey was impressed - a businesslike despatch, as neat as any he'd seen. It had not been two minutes since the stone had done its worst. 'She was a fine animal,' he said, with real admiration.

  Tears welled in Joynson's eyes, which he did nothing to hide. 'She was. And I should have left her with Frances.' And then, with an almost bitter note, 'except that I couldn't have trusted her to see to her rightly.'

  Hervey thought to say nothing.

  Joynson knelt and cut off a lock of the mane. 'The last of Anne Joynson, then . . . save for Frances herself.'

  Hervey still thought it best to stay silent. Indeed, he had begun wondering how they might decently dispose of the carcass.

  Joynson's coverman was already resigned to walking back to the lines. ‘I’d swear them guns was trying to do that, sir,' he said, making ready to hand the reins to the major.

  ‘So would I, sir,' added Wainwright. 'Somebody in that fort knows how to shoot. That's for sure.'

  Hervey frowned and shook his head. 'The way that shot ran level, the gun must be a giant. It couldn't be retrained quickly enough to aim. Anyway, I doubt they can even make us out from that distance. No, a lucky shot I'll warrant.'

  That evening, however, the camp was abuzz with rumour about the accuracy of the Jhaut guns. It was confidently asserted that the gunners were Frenchmen or Italians, as there had been in native service throughout the Maratha wars. And there were wilder stories, too - that the deserters from His Majesty's artillery were directing the fire. The direst retribution was sworn for any who had changed sides, nor was it clear where a Frenchman would stand in this reckoning. Hervey did his rounds that evening well pleased with the evidence of the Sixth's fighting spirit. Even the grocer - a name that Hervey found himself thinking of increasingly, if not actually uttering - seemed more animated at dinner. Joynson, certainly, had an edge not usually apparent. It had been a dozen years and more since he had been shot over. The sudden taste of gunfire that afternoon seemed to have been an exceptional tonic.

  Hervey turned in just before midnight after walking the horse lines. They had been quiet, with nothing but an occasional whicker and grunt from the animals themselves, or an 'evenin', sir' from a sentry of the inlying picket. And although it was the picket-officer's job to check that the running lines were taut, he had inspected each of the troops' in turn. He had known enough times in Spain where a loose line had ended in runa
ways and broken legs. And he had checked, too, that the sentries knew the parole and how they were to be relieved. The men were alert, and it had given him much satisfaction to go to his tent knowing that the Sixth were as keen in their field discipline as they were in their fighting intent. He was afraid the former would be tested far longer than the latter, for what he had seen of the siege that day did not lead him to suppose there would be anything but cannonading and sapping for a month or more - save, perhaps, an obliging sortie by Durjan Sal's cavalry.

  But now he was pleased for his campaign bed, and that it was the Sixteenth - Daniel Coates's old regiment - who stood sentinel. He could rest assured. Private Johnson had placed a bowl of hot water on one of the chests, but it was now only lukewarm. Hervey undressed, put on his nightshirt, washed his hands and set to work with sponge and tooth powder. Then he unmade his bed in the nightly routine of shaking out anything that might have crawled there during the time his groom had been gone, and, satisfied at last of his safety, lay down between white cotton sheets beneath two thick woollen blankets. He took care to double them and fold the edges under, for he knew he would need their warmth on so starry a night. The pillow was soft, and he had no desire to read or to contemplate anything. He turned down the lamp to the merest glow, and closed his eyes.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  RUMOURS OF WAR

  The early hours

  From the depths of sleep, Hervey was called rudely to arms. To awake to the 'alarm' -the bugle's repeated C and E, unmistakable, and easy enough for the most frightened trumpeter to blow - had been a thrill in his cornet days, but now it meant only anxiety in the knowledge that there had been some failure. Perhaps his own? There was firing, too, distant but near enough to take account of. He turned up the lamp and began hauling on his overalls as Private Johnson, breathless, pulled back the tent flap. 'Major 'Ervey, sir!'