Hervey 05 - The Sabre's Edge

by Allan Mallinson

  '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.

  'His groom as well? That is most strange,' said the major, bruised by the day's cannonade and weary from the night's exertions - and yet disinclined to see the worst in the report.

  'I can't see what else to make of it,' said Hervey sharply. 'The man's unfit to command a picket, even.'

  But when they returned to camp Hervey was obliged to consider making something else of it, for into the lines soon afterwards rode Green and his groom, both of them in field order. Propriety required that he held his anger in check; reproving an officer in front of the ranks did no one credit as a rule. But the tone perfectly conveyed his state of mind. 'Well, Mr Green?'

  'Sir, I am afraid I became lost.'

  Hervey's mouth fell open. 'Lost? Lost, Mr Green?'

  'I regret so, sir.'

  Dragoons were trying their best to watch without being caught too obviously doing so.

  'Mr Green, you had better attend at once on the adjutant.'

  'Sir, if I might explain—'

  Lieutenant Perry cut him short. cYou may explain first to me, Mr Green,’ he said, glancing at Hervey and hoping for his leave. 'Report at once to my tent.’

  Green saluted.

  'And do not ride your charger through the lines, sir!’

  Green dismounted sheepishly.

  Hervey looked at Perry and nodded. It was the right thing to do. There might conceivably be an explanation that rendered his offence a lesser one than a regimental court martial would dispose of - though he could not imagine it.

  'Private Needham, a word with you,’ said the serjeant-major to the cornet's groom. Armstrong's Tyneside conveyed an unnerving degree of affability, which fooled no one within its hearing.

  Hervey concluded that his best course was to repair to his own tent to shave.

  Half an hour later, as he drank one of Johnson's fortified brews from regimental china, Perry and Armstrong came to his tent. They had first compared accounts of the night's wanderings and found them in essentials to be the same. 'Green admits to failing to rise at once to the alarm,’ said Perry. 'He went back to sleep until Needham rousted him out, and then he had to prime his pistols.’

  'Why were they not primed at evening stand-to?’ said Hervey.

  'Because he's an indolent officer,' said Perry decidedly. 'But he appears at least to tell the truth.'

  'That, or he's very calculating in his confidences.'

  Perry sighed. It wasn't the sort of remark that one officer should make of another, but Green had exhausted everyone's patience an age ago. 'By the time he was ready, it seems the regiment had moved off.'

  'And he spent the whole night trying in vain to find us?' The incredulity in Hervey's voice was marked.

  'He said he thought we would have ridden in the direction opposite to that from which the fire was c
oming, on account of wanting to fall back on the guns.'

  Hervey paused to consider the notion. 'Astonishing. Why might he believe that?'

  'Hervey, he is, as I said, an indolent and ineffectual officer. While you or I or any other would have ridden towards the sound of the firing, he it seems works with a different instinct. But it would be difficult to say that that instinct was any more than feeble. There is nothing to prove that he was . . . well, running away.'

  Hervey thought for a while again. 'Sar'nt-Major?'

  Armstrong inclined his head ever so slightly and raised an eyebrow. 'It's not for me, sir, to make comment on an officer's capability. All I can say is Needham's not a bad man. He says he kept saying to Mr Green that it seemed strange they were finding no sign of us, and saying they ought to make for the firing, but Mr Green was certain of himself. And then he says Mr Green seemed to lose his notion of where they were, so they stopped for an hour or two, and it was only at dawn that Mr Green could see which direction was camp.'

  Hervey sighed. An entirely plausible story. And yet he was not inclined to believe it. He didn't doubt Needham. Nothing that he knew of him suggested he would run from a fight. The opposite, perhaps. And Corporal Wainwright messed with him regularly; that was surely recommendation as to character. CI just can't see how an officer could think in the way Green did!'

  Green was no boon companion of Perry's, but the lieutenant was scrupulously fair. 'If every officer's instinct were the same, sir, there would be no occasion for surprise.'

  'That might be so, but I can't believe it exculpates Green. There must be something wrong with the logic, but I haven't the time to look for it,' replied Hervey, his irritation increasing.

  Armstrong could see no other conclusion either. 'Sir, with respect, if Mr Green had been a corporal we couldn't bring any charge as would stick - save failing to turn out for "alarm".'

  Hervey shook his head. 'But he's not a corporal, Sar'nt-Major.'

  'No, sir, of course he's not,' replied Armstrong, looking sideways at Perry. 'But the same evidence would apply if charges were brought. That's all I'm saying.'

  Hervey was silent a while. Then he got up. 'Mr Green had better pay a good sum to the widows' fund, then. And you had better put him on his guard, Arthur. I do truly believe we have a wrong 'un here; and I say thus saving your presence, Sar'nt-Major.'

  Armstrong said nothing. It was a confidence he would rather never have heard, but they had been together too long for Hervey to withhold even so infamous an opinion.

  Hervey looked at him sternly. Armstrong was worth a hundred Greens. No, more than that, for a worthless thing did not gain in worth by mere increase in numbers. Come what may, Armstrong and his like would never have their just desserts; no more than would Green. Hervey put down the teacup. What a powerful thing was this drink: it brought the nation to fight in Hindoostan and it paid for Green to play the gentleman. Yet Armstrong's pension, if he were to have one, would scarcely keep his family in it. But this was no time for philosophy. He nodded emphatically: 'Very well, then, gentlemen. Boot and saddle at ten.'

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  SAPPERS AND MINERS

  Two days later

  FIELD GENERAL ORDERS.

  Camp before Bhurtpore, 21 Dec. 1825

  Parole - LUCKNOW

  The nature of the operations upon which the Army is about to be employed, requiring that the Infantry Regiments should have as few calls upon them for Guards as possible, the Right Hon. The Commander-in-Chief is pleased to direct, that the following Detail only be furnished; all other Guards not included in this statement, are forthwith to be withdrawn . . .

  Hervey passed the statements to Armstrong. 'They do not directly bear on us, but it's as well to know the comings and goings.'

  Armstrong, sitting in a chair in front of him, with Lieutenant Perry to Hervey's right, took the papers and looked quickly over them.

  Private Johnson emerged from Hervey's tent with a coffee pot. 'Any more, sir?'

  Hervey gestured to the others first, then let his cup be filled with the blackest liquid he had seen in many a year. Johnson would never throw away the unexpended portion of the day's coffee ration, and so each morning he boiled up the same liquid and the same beans, throwing in more in random measure. With the addition of copious quantities of sugar, and warm buffalo milk, it was a fortifying and nourishing drink, even if only very distantly related to any that could be had in the coffee houses of London.

  'But the infantry will have a longer wait than they think, by all accounts,' said Hervey, still stirring his cup. 'The Jhaut gunners have found their mark on a good number of saps.'

  Armstrong looked puzzled. 'They are tunnelling, though, aren't they?'

  'It seems not. They can't get close enough.'

  Armstrong looked incredulous.

  So did Perry, but for a different reason. 'I don't understand, Hervey.'

  'They have to dig ventilation shafts once the tunnel exceeds a certain distance, which would rather give away the game.' Hervey took a sip of his coffee. 'And they're no fools behind those walls. There are counter-tunnels ready dug. I saw some of them myself. So I think we may safely say there will be no assault this side of the new year.'

  The Sixth had been in worse places at Christmas.

  Here at least it was warm when the sun was up, they were dry, there was firewood aplenty, and the supply of rations and powder was regular. Armstrong's expression changed to a smile. 'Corporal Stray'll be here today, sir, and a full load of rum.'

  Hervey smiled too. The officers' mess was well stocked with excellent claret, but rum was so versatile an additive. He was almost of the opinion that he would exchange it bottle for bottle. 'Very well, then. There are no further orders. Interior economy today, make and mend. And I am brigade field officer, you'll recall.'

  Perry and Armstrong rose. 'If it's all right with you, sir, I'd like to ride over and see them sappers working later on,' said the serjeant-major.

  'By all means. Don't be too hard on them, though,' replied Hervey, smiling still.

  'No indeed, sir. But I'd like to see how many of them would make colliers.'

  Hervey reported to the headquarters of the First Brigade of Cavalry at ten o'clock. There was no telling what the duty might entail. Last night had been quiet, and the siege proceeded, as they were all informed, in the usual methodical if painfully slow manner. But activity was the nature of staff work, and he could therefore expect anything. Certainly the headquarters looked well-shod. The brigade tent had yellow pennants at each end of the ridge pole, and a lance-guard at the entrance.

  There was no doubting that this was the post of Colonel Murray, a man fervent in holding to the cavalry opinion that everything mattered, from the patent shine on a pair of levee hessians to the edge on a troop man's sabre.

  The major of brigade, Captain Harris - of the 16th Lancers like Murray himself - received him with a smile. 'Well, Hervey, we have at least seen how it is done!'

  They had indeed, thought Hervey - many a time in the Peninsula. Siege after siege, it seemed in that campaign. 'I wonder if the Jhauts have.'

  'I don't know what to make of their sortie the other night, that's for sure,' said the brigade-major.

  'I thought perhaps they intended disturbing our sleep every night, but it seems not.'

  'Thirty and more dead: they could not long afford that price.' He looked disturbed suddenly. 'I've offered you no refreshment. Where is that bearer?

  But the bearer was alert to Hervey's arrival, and he now came into the big marquee that was the brigade orderly room with a tray of coffee and limewater.

  'Shukria,' said Harris, and then turned to the staff orderly. 'Inform the brigadier that Major Hervey is come, if you will.'

  'Colonel Murray wishes to see me?' asked Hervey, taking both coffee and limewater.

  Harris nodded. 'He's not long back from General Sleigh's conference. The news wasn't good.'

  'Oh?'

  But before Harri
s could make much of a beginning, the officer commanding the First Cavalry Brigade came into the marquee looking far from his usual cheery self.

  Hervey and Harris stood up as one. 'Good morning, sir,' said the former.

  'Good morning, Hervey.' He turned to the bearer. 'I'll have some of that coffee, if you please, Manesh.' Then he sank heavily into a leather armchair.

  Hervey and Harris sat down again and waited for the brigadier to begin. They were not kept waiting long.

  'How does being an infantryman appeal to you?'

  Hervey could see no sense in the question, but his recollection of the late events at Rangoon provided a prompt response. 'It does not especially appeal, sir,' he said plainly, and looking bemused. 'But we are part dragoons by name, so if there were compelling reason . . .'

  'Combermere is so troubled lest he has not enough infantry for the attack that he's contemplating unhorsing the division, leaving just Skinner's for patrol and escort work.'

  Hervey would agree that that was a compelling reason, albeit a desperate one. 'The trick, though, would be to judge the moment to dismount. We have no true idea how strong is the Jhaut cavalry, and they won't have lost their appetite for sorties completely.'

  'Just so’ agreed the brigadier. 'And Combermere's worried too about the breaching. The sappers are having a deuced hot time of it. But they reckon they'll have the first parallel open in a day or so, and then they can get some of the siege train in close. We're expected to demonstrate up and down the place, to draw attention from the real activity, but it'll be a damned tedious business. And if this Durjan Sal knows his siegecraft it will not fool him.'