'Have the guns made a breach anywhere?' asked Strickland.
'Not that I'm aware of.'
'I'm beginning to wonder if powder is going to have any effect if solid shot hasn't.'
'Well’ said Joynson, not entirely unsympathetic with the proposition, but mindful of the need not to show it, 'I should imagine that if the foundations are attacked . . .'
There was a degree of nodding. It seemed a sound enough observation. None of them was an engineer, after all.
Rose, who had managed at last to relight his cigar, blew his habitual cloud of smoke towards the roof of the marquee. 'Pigs are the answer.'
There were smiles all round, save from Joynson. 'Not now, Hugh!'
'I don't think I'm entirely jesting,' replied A Troop's wounded buck. 'Our seat is in Kent, close to Rochester.'
Hervey had some distant recollection now. One or two others looked as though they might. But Joynson did not. 'I am none the wiser. You had better spell it out.'
'When King John laid siege to the castle there they tunnelled under the keep and then packed it full of brushwood and fat pigs and it was like the burning fiery furnace. It brought down a whole corner of the place.' He blew another cloud of smoke upwards as if to illustrate the feat.
Joynson smiled. 'And yet, Hugh, I am not minded to ask the chief engineer what is the relative combustive value of pigs and powder.’
They all enjoyed the diversion. Things had become very tedious.
'But I may tell you this,’ he continued, taking off his spectacles and placing them in their case. 'The commander-in-chief does not intend that any part of the cavalry dismount, save of its own volition.’
Smiling faces turned puzzled-looking.
'I mean simply that his lordship is calling for volunteers for the storming parties.’
All were at once energized.
'We shall do it in the old way,’ said Joynson, holding up his hand. 'And a ballot.’
The hubbub continued. 'Useless to ask when we shall be needed?’ said Rose.
'Yes,’ replied Joynson.
The adjutant cleared his throat in such a way as to bring the conference to order.
'One more thing, gentlemen. This shall be my last with you in command. Sir Ivo will be here this evening. Thank you for your forbearance this past year. That will be all.’
There was silence, and then a buzz that somehow managed to combine the keen anticipation of the lieutenant-colonel’s return with genuine regret at Joynson's supersession. There was scarce a man who would not say that the major had grown comfortably into the habit of command.
When the others had left, Hervey stood up and put on his forage cap. 'Sir, I speak for myself, but I don't doubt that were I not here any of the other captains would say the same. It has been—'
'Yes, yes, Hervey. Likely so, but we have much to be about. There are loose ends I would tie up before Sir Ivo arrives. It wouldn't do for the regiment to appear to any degree careless.'
Hervey smiled. 'Eustace, I hardly think—'
But Joynson would have no compliments. 'And you shall be able to return your attention wholly to your troop.'
That, of course, was a blessing. 'Do you want me to do anything preparatory to Sir Ivo's arriving?'
'I think not. But I should like you to be here when he does arrive. He will need to be apprised of things, and yours is the greatest knowledge of what went before.'
Lieutenant-Colonel Sir Ivo Lankester, Bt, had returned to the executive command of His Majesty's 6th Light Dragoons from his post-nuptial leave amid several thousand acres of Hertfordshire by way of Calcutta, where his bride, the second daughter of Sir Delaval Rumsey, a man of greater acres even than Lankester himself, had been hastily lodged with the Governor-General. To Hervey he looked not a day older, very content (but then, he had always appeared so), and keen to gather up the reins.
'Eustace, I heard a great deal of the regiment even in the short time I was in Calcutta, and all of it the highest praise. I really cannot thank you enough, especially since my furlough was longer, in the event, than anticipated.'
'You have our congratulations on that account, Colonel,' replied Joynson.
And at dinner Sir Ivo would see those sentiments in tangible form, for the officers would present him with a fine silver statuette of a mounted officer of the regiment, a wedding present executed by one of the best native silversmiths in Hindoostan.
'Thank you, Eustace. Thank you very much indeed.' He nodded to his orderly, who advanced on him with a small box. 'And I should like you to have this, just a little token of my gratitude.'
A silver-mounted horn snuff mull - Joynson looked genuinely abashed. 'It is very handsome, Colonel. Thank you.'
'Well then. I will tell you what I know -which is only that which the brigadier has told me - and you may then tell me how little I know.'
They all smiled. And then Sir Ivo began.
It was more than an hour by the time Joynson had related the signal occurrences, incidents and events of the past year. Here and there Hervey added some detail or opinion, but it was largely the major's occasion, and one which admirably suited his eye for detail.
Sir Ivo was well pleased both by what he heard (on the whole) and by how Joynson related it. At length he smiled again, expressed himself ready to reassume command, and called for wine. 'One thing more I would hear about, though it is a curious interest only: how did Armstrong survive his entombment?'
Hervey inclined his head and raised an eyebrow as if to acknowledge the singularity of the ordeal. 'There was a duct which conveyed air to the end of the tunnel - which was itself of Armstrong's doing - and it seems that this was somehow close enough to ensure a sufficient quantity of air, even amid the debris of the roof. But how there remained sufficient air once we began to pull him free is unclear. Certainly, Armstrong has no recollection.'
'Well, let us not speculate on the science of it. But I am intrigued to know of his design.'
'The principle appears very simple, Colonel. The duct extends the length of the working, and about eighty yards in, just behind one of the siege battery earthworks, there is a narrow ventilation shaft -masked from the enemy, of course - and the tunnel is sealed by canvas, but which the duct passes through, just to the rear of the shaft. There is a fire at the foot of the shaft which draws air from the tunnel, and this in turn draws fresh air along the duct.'
'Most ingenious’ said Sir Ivo. 'I wonder the engineers didn't think of it themselves.'
'Oh, Colonel Anburey, their brigadier, is full of praise for Armstrong,' said Joynson. 'And Combermere's made special mention in his orders.'
'Capital! Now, leave us, if you will, Hervey. I have one or two matters I would discuss with Eustace in private. And do be assured that I am most especially obliged for all you have done, too, in my absence.'
Hervey was gratified, if, like Joynson, a shade abashed. 'Honoured, Colonel.' He saluted and left them to the privacy of the orderly room.
'In truth I should have been lost without him on any number of occasions,' said Joynson when he was gone.
Sir Ivo nodded. 'I saw Combermere on the way up. He said he would have him for his staff. I think we might contemplate that when we return to Calcutta. It would be greatly to his advantage.'
'I agree.'
'Very well. Now, the storming parties you spoke of - the volunteers.'
Joynson smiled. 'A very full manger.'
'And you'll draw the names in the usual fashion?'
Joynson hesitated. 'I have had two representations.' 'Indeed?'
'Well, three indirectly. Rose for one, for obvious reasons.'
'I should be very much inclined to accept that, Eustace. He will feel it keenly that he should restore his honour in the breaches. It could only serve the regiment's esprit de corps.'
'The other is Hervey and his cornet, Green, who really is a most execrable tick. Hervey believes him to have shown cowardice on two occasions, which he cannot of course substantiate, and wan
ts to determine his mettle.'
Sir Ivo's benign expression changed. 'Good God! Never did I think to hear we should have a coward in the mess again.'
'I fear so.'
'Then I am inclined to accept Green's bid. The fact that he's made one would indicate there might be some doubt as to his infamy.'
Joynson raised an eyebrow. 'We must hope so. However - I do not know this, officially, of course - but Hervey gave him no practicable option.'
'How so?'
'Better you do not know, Colonel.' Sir Ivo sighed. 'Why does Hervey have to go too? To bear witness, I suppose?' Joynson nodded.
'Very well. And there is a fourth representation, Eustace.'
'Indeed, Colonel?'
'Yes. I shall join one of the parties. I think it only proper, my having been absent so long.'
'No, Colonel, I protest. That would be most irregular. The brigadier would surely not allow it.'
Sir Ivo smiled. 'I've spoken with him already. Oh, I'm not going to play the subaltern thrusting for promotion. I'm happy to let Green or whoever else lead. I think it right, though, that I go into the trenches and watch, at least. And you can sit in front of the regiment, where you deserve to be.' He smiled again. 'In any case, Murray says there'll not be a thing for the brigade to do!'
After boot and saddle next day, Hervey rode to Buldeo Singh's garden. He could only marvel at the difference between the Sixth's lines, with their comfortable order, and, not a mile away, the ant-like activity of the siege park, battery and earthworks. Indeed, it reminded him of nothing so much as a schoolboy's picture again - the building of the pyramids - so many were the brown-skinned labourers and so endless seemed the task.
He imagined that his purpose in going there was, however, an utterly vain thing. He had tried to persuade Armstrong that, his method proved, there was no purpose to his remaining there. To which Armstrong had replied that he was remaining for precisely the reason that Hervey himself would have stayed had the latter found himself in the same circumstances. Hervey had even spoken with Brigadier Anburey, but the chief engineer had only reinforced Armstrong's request, applauding the serjeant-major's sentiment but, further, stating that Armstrong was of the utmost material assistance. Hervey had reluctantly conceded, therefore, but hoped this morning to hear when his serjeant-major's work might eventually be at an end.
'Collins is standing your duties well,' Hervey now assured Armstrong, as they sat drinking what Johnson called a bad-mashing of tea - a drink which in any circumstances but those they now found themselves in, with periodic explosions from the siege guns and the returning cannonade whistling and buzzing overhead, would have been undrinkable.
'Are they about much?'
'No. For the last week there's been only one troop at a time under saddle. We had to have bending yesterday to keep them keen. Sir Ivo has decided to inspect the entire regiment. That at least will be something for them to work to.'
'Ay. Not a bad move.'
'He intends coming down here.'
'He's been missing the smell of powder, has he?'
'I suspect so. He's going with one of the storming parties into the trenches.'
Armstrong's face showed surprise. 'And so am I.'
'Good. I've cause to be there, too, then. I'd like to see what this 'ere tunnel does.'
'That's the reason I'm here now - to say that as soon as it's finished I want you back with the troop. The only reason I shall be in the trenches is Cornet Green, as you might imagine. There's no call for anyone else. All it will take is one lucky shell and we'll both be under the surgeon's knife. I'm not having you risk more than you have already.'
‘Aw, there's not likely to be a shell - any more than anywhere else.'
Hervey smiled wryly. 'Geordie, I am not going to be the one who has to explain to Caithlin why you're peppered with shrapnel after being buried alive. Have some compassion!'
Armstrong took another gulp of the tea, grimaced, and started rummaging in his small pack. 'Lord knows I've no ache for rum at this time of a morning, but . . .' He poured some into Hervey's mug and then his own. 'Just as you say, sir.'
Hervey did not like the tone, for it suggested the matter was not concluded, though he knew there was little enough point pressing it. 'How much further have you to dig?'
'It's gone slower than I thought since the collapse; fifty or sixty yards - three days, four at the most. Do you know when Lord Combermere's planning on an assault?'
'No, I don't. But we all know it can't be long. There's a full muster any day now, I hear.'
'Brigadier Anburey was saying the guns have brought down the major part of yon bastion's facing, but the heart of it's too solid an affair. He reckons they must have weakened it, though. He intends putting ten thousand pounds of powder under it.'
'Great God!'
'That's why I'd a mind to see it. But believe you me, sir, I've no intention of feeling it!'
The week following passed in a curious mix of tedium and fever for the army of Bhurtpore. The tunnel - or rather Armstrong's tunnel, for a second was now being driven into the north-east curtain from the sap under the great ditch, an unexpected opportunity as yet unchallenged by the enemy -made steady but slow progress, unknown to all but a few. The divisional musters, though they signalled to every man that the assault must truly be near, were nevertheless thorough affairs of inspection and repair which occupied all ranks for days before and afterwards. The names for the storming parties had been forwarded to the respective headquarters, but no choice had yet been made, or at least communicated, by the general officers commanding. Daily orders were scrutinized and discussed endlessly with a view to what they revealed of the keenly awaited date. On the second day of the new year, they announced that a lack hospital would form immediately, to the charge of which Assistant-Surgeon Murray of His Majesty's Sixteenth Lancers was appointed, and this was taken by the sweats to be proof positive of assault within the week. However, there seemed only the same requirements for working and foraging parties, for guards, pickets and advanced posts - 'of the usual strength in Cavalry and Infantry' - so that by the seventh of this first month of the new year there was an edgy listlessness to the camps.
That night, at Sir Ivo Lankester's invitation, Lord Combermere dined with the officers. He arrived at seven, just as it was dark and the night pickets had been posted, ate heartily, drank sociably and remained late. He appeared wholly content, as if events were entirely within his command. General George Stapleton Cotton, Baron Combermere, looked not unlike the Duke of Wellington himself - as Hervey had once observed in more exigent circumstances - except that the hooked nose and spare features never quite took on the duke's hawklike countenance, never quite gained the ruthless look that Hervey had noted as the hallmark of the best Peninsular generals. Yet Combermere had undoubtedly proved himself in Spain and Portugal, and indeed in Flanders and Mysore before that. And even if, as he well knew, the drawing rooms had it that his intellect did not fit him for the highest commands, were Combermere to take Bhurtpore then his name would go down in history as greater than Lake's.
Hervey studied him long this evening. He could reach no firm conclusion, however, unlike his most decided, and approving, opinion in the Peninsula. But there, of course, he had been but a cornet. Too much had passed since then for him to be wholehearted about a man he could not know more intimately. He was past hero-worship; long past. What did his opinion matter anyway, local major of King's line cavalry?
'Are you able to tell us, General, how things proceed?' asked Sir Ivo as he removed the stopper from a decanter of best port.
They were twenty at table, and though Sir Ivo's question had not been posed any louder than his conversation hitherto, his fellow diners fell silent in keen anticipation of a substantive reply.
Lord Combermere lit his cigar and leaned back in his chair. 'I am among friends, Ivo. I think I may tell you a little of how things have gone.'
There was now an almost tangible hush.
'
Five days ago I concluded that the batteries were not sufficiently effectual to breach the walls, and so a mine was commenced in the escarp of the ditch on the northern face. The engineers, however, fearing a discovery should they continue their operations during the day, sprung it at daylight on the following morning when not sufficiently advanced to have any material effect on the wall. This unfortunately alerted the enemy to our designs, as I had always feared, and so when a second attempt was made our miners were countermined from the interior before they had entered many feet. We were, of course, alert in general terms to the possibility of countermines thanks to the work beforehand of Major Hervey.' He nodded in Hervey's direction across the table.
'I'm obliged, General,' said Hervey, bowing in return.
'So this second gallery was at once blown in by us/ Combermere continued. 'I was compelled therefore to delay the assault, waiting upon the result of two mines which the admirable Brigadier Anburey is now driving into the curtain from the sap and under the ditch. Much as I regret this unexpected delay, I feel a consolation in the hope that the place will be eventually stormed with comparative facility to the troops.'
The diners all nodded in agreement.
'I have not spoken, of course, of all our activities in these respects, for to do so would be - even among friends as here - an unpardonable indiscipline. But I may tell you that I have today sent Durjan Sal a letter laying out the general extent of our preparations, the hopelessness, therefore, of his position, and calling on his surrender of the fortress - upon generous terms, I might add, to his own person. But if he should refuse the terms -and I do not believe, gentlemen, that he will - I have laid upon him other wholly reasonable terms for the laisser aller of the women and children of the fortress, who must otherwise, I fear, suffer grievously soon from our mortars and when the assault itself begins.'
Hervey 05 - The Sabre's Edge Page 31