Hervey 05 - The Sabre's Edge

by Allan Mallinson

  'Hear, hear!' said Sir Ivo, tapping the table with his palm.

  With the third tap there was a huge, distant explosion. Combermere looked puzzled rather than troubled. Hervey felt a wrench at his gut, which might not have been as great had he been forward, as Armstrong. He made to rise. 'If you would excuse me, my lord . . .'

  He did not wait for a reply. In any case, he was field officer of the day. He left the marquee, straining for his night vision, but it was not necessary. Flames and more explosions from the direction of Buldeo Singh's garden confirmed the worst. He raced to the charger lines, stumbling two or three times, and called out for saddle and bridle. Much fumbling and cursing followed before he was able to mount and leave camp - alone and at greater speed than any would have thought prudent in the direst of alarms. But it still took him a quarter of an hour to reach the garden.

  As he neared the earthworks behind the engineer park, he could see quite clearly, for it looked as though everything combustible was alight, and blazing with a great noise punctuated by more explosions. It was at once obvious what had happened. There had been a single explosion - occasioned how, it did not matter - and then the fires had spread like ripples in a pond as successive explosions sent burning residue on a search for something else to ignite - charges for the guns, torpedoes, carcasses, rockets. And that initial explosion, massive as it was, could have been only one thing: ten thousand pounds of corned powder.

  Gilbert stood the explosions well, neither did he shy from the flames. But Hervey would not take him any closer. He looked round for a horse-holder. Men were running everywhere, white and sepoy, equally dazed, but he could see no one into whose hands he could place the reins, and there was nowhere to tie a horse. He wished he'd a spancel, or even something to fashion one with. Instead, he knotted the reins and slid from the saddle, patted Gilbert's shoulder and said, 'Stay there' - as hopeless an arrangement as it was a command.

  He ran through the park and into the zigzag, but he couldn't get through for sepoys carrying out the wounded. He climbed out of the trench and over the breastworks, but he couldn't see beyond the battery for there was so much flame. And all the time the noise - like a roaring wind and cannonade.

  He turned back to go to the mouth of the tunnel. There was yet another explosion and he felt the air punched out of him as surely as if he had been struck by a pug. He hit the ground hard. His forage cap was gone, and his crossbelt was round his neck. He cursed loud and long, but he was not hurt.

  He picked himself up, gave up the search for his cap and climbed back down into the trench. The flow was now against him again, as sappers in good order doubled through towards the battery. He flattened himself against the trench wall to let them pass, then rushed through the zigzag and out through the park to find the other way into the tunnel workings. Gilbert was standing where he had left him, head up.

  "Ello, sir,' said Corporal Stray, changing hands with the reins in order to salute.

  'Where's the sar'nt-major?'

  "E's gone lookin' for yer, sir,' said Stray, as if the affair was nothing more than a night in the feringhee bazaar. 'We came across yer 'orse. T' serjeant-major were worried.'

  'He was worried! It sounded as if an arsenal had blown up in camp. Was it the tunnel?'

  'I don't think so, sir.'

  'So you weren't in it at the time?'

  'Oh ay, sir, we were in it. On us way out. But I don't think it were that.'

  Corporal Stray's phlegmatic disposition - indeed, his utter and habitual indifference to all about him - was a byword throughout the regiment. Even so, Hervey found it difficult to credit with a siege battery and an engineer park blowing themselves to oblivion close by. Yet so relieved was he at learning that Armstrong was alive that he smiled and shook his head.

  'Would yer like a wet, sir?' said Stray, holding out a flask.

  Hervey had had more than his fill of champagne and claret - and port - but he felt a powerful need of the medicinal properties of Stray's flask. He took a good draw. 'This fell from the back of your hackery, I suppose?' He smiled again.

  'Ullage, sir, we calls it in the trade.'

  'There were no bloody ullage in my establishment, Corporal Stray!' came the serjeant-major's voice. 'Good evening, sir,’ he added, throwing up a sharp salute. 'I heard the officers were dining with Lord Combermere?’

  ‘I heard the sound of ten thousand pounds of powder, Sar’nt-Major. I think we should have a word.’ He handed the flask back to Stray. 'Hold on to him a little longer, if you please, Corporal,’ he said portentously, and then led Armstrong into the shadows.

  'I know what you're going to say,’ said Armstrong once they were out of earshot.

  'Well then?’

  'I can't slip the lead-rope now. Not just as they're coming to the end.'

  'It seems to me that's a very good reason. Are you telling me they can't complete the tunnel without you?'

  'No, I wouldn't say that. I just think they'll do it better if I'm there. And I want to see it through an' all.'

  Hervey sighed. 'Look, Geordie; you're exposing yourself to unnecessary hazard. You've already had one very lucky escape, and tonight looks like a second.'

  'Aw, come on sir! What are we supposed to be about, then?'

  That was not the point, Hervey knew, but it was the point on which Armstrong was going to dig in his heels. 'I could say that you were E Troop's serjeant-major for one thing.'

  'And you'd know that I knew that Collins were doing it fine. And good for him to do it, too.’ He put a hand on Hervey's shoulder. 'Sir, I know what this is all about, and I'm grateful. But I'd rather stay, and I’m sure you wouldn't just resort to ordering me to leave!'

  'I ought to, Sar'nt-Major. I really ought to.'

  No you oughtn't, sir. And you oughtn't to concern yourself another minute. Jack Armstrong's not going to 'ave 'is 'ead blown off by owt in these kegs,' he insisted, gesturing with a thumb to the engineer park behind. 'Yon Stray's kegs'll be a sight more trouble to me when we're done!'

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  THE STORM

  Ten days later

  Camp before Bhurtpore 17th January 1826

  My Dear Somervile,

  You will forgive me for having left these several weeks empty of any communication, and it is not as if by that you might rightly infer that I have been so engaged as to exclude aught else, for the last weeks especially, though not without incident, have been but a trial of labouring and waiting. Rather, I hesitated in placing on paper anything which, were it not to reach you, might be of material advantage to the enemies of the Company and its officers.

  All the preparations are now made for the storming of The Pride of Hindoostan. And in this I must tell you of the part which our Corps has played of late, for besides the seizing of the jheels, whose possession has kept the ditches dry before us, it has fallen to no less a man than Sjt. Major Armstrong, together with a detachment of dragoons, to drive a gallery at great length - greater, indeed, than the Engineers had thought feasible - under the strongest part of the enemy's citadel, and this is now light-packed with not less than ten thousand pounds of powder. It shall be sprung at Eight o'clock in the morning, tomorrow, and shall be the signal for the storming of the fortress in as many as six places. Armstrong's exertions, and his devotion to duty, have been without equal. He has been so near killed these past weeks that I begged him to quit so exposed a place when the gallery was dug, but he would not.

  And so tomorrow we shall be through and over those infernal walls and be done with Durjan Sal and his usurping band. There shall be two breaches, if all is carried off, and two storming parties are formed of volunteers, in which the Cavalry shall play a distinguished part, I am glad to say. Lord Combermere had at first thought to dismount a large part of the Cavalry, but the arrival of the 1st Europeans lately had rendered that exigency unnecessary. I shall be with the party that storms the main breach, at the Cavalier, along with our Lieutenant Colonel, Sir Ivo Lankester, who rejoined but a
fortnight ago and is full of ardour, and Hugh Rose and others.

  Then let me tell you now of the particulars of His Lordship's design for battle . . .

  Hervey penned two pages more on the vellum foolscap which he reserved for correspondence that would travel a good distance inland, then put down his pen, picked up the last sheet and began to wave it about gently. The air was cold, with not an atom of moisture: it would not take many minutes for the ink to dry. He took up the first page meanwhile and began to read.

  When he was done, he picked up his pen again and reached for a fourth sheet. He did not imagine anything, but on the eve of such a battle - in which the Company must prevail, whatever the cost - there were certain 'arrangements' he felt obliged to mention, arrangements which, though the regimental agents in Calcutta and London were perfectly able to expedite them, needed the supervision of someone of sensibility, sensibility of Hervey's own situation.

  These things now occupied a good three-quarters of the page - nine or so inches of Hervey's small, neat hand to arrange the future for his daughter, sister, parents . . . and bibi. On this latter he was doubly insistent:

  You who know so much of these things, of my own circumstances as well as the travails that might come to a destitute bibi, will appreciate my imperative wish that no scruple should stand in the way of my will in this regard.

  And now, if you will forgive my overlong trespass into sentiment, I must say how it has been my very great pleasure in knowing you both, and in the friendship you have unfailingly shown to me. I am proud to be godfather to the offspring of your perfect union, which duty, I most fervently trust, I may discharge to its ultimate purpose.

  Believe me,

  your ever grateful friend,

  Matthew Hervey.

  The sap was quiet, voices hushed, no lights. It was a little before eight, with the merest hints of daylight in the sky behind them. Hervey had not slept. On finishing the letter he had left his comfortable, warm tent and walked the troop lines and then the picket - 'the little touch of Hervey in the night' - before setting off on foot with Green and the others to the place from which they would storm the long-necked bastion. There was a deal of time to wait still, for as they slipped into the trenches in the early hours the word was passed that the mine would be sprung not at eight but at half-past. In order, they were told, to have just a little more light to carry the breach with.

  Hervey thought he would rather have a half-hour of dark than of light for such an enterprise, but then he was not an infantryman. If that was Major-General Reynell’s wish - he personally was to direct the storming of the main breach - then be it according to his will.

  There were so many senior officers in the sap that Hervey wondered if they might yet see Lord Combermere himself. There was General Reynell, commanding the first division of infantry, a fine, whiskered foot soldier who had seen more campaigning than most men in his thirty years with the colours, and whose appetite for the fight was no less diminished by it. There was Brigadier-General McCombe of the 14th Foot commanding the first brigade, and Brigadier Paton of the 18th Native Infantry commanding the fifth. There was said to be a wager between them as to who would be out of the trench first.

  And there was Sir Ivo Lankester, wearing his pelisse coat still, feeling the chill a little but as determined as McCombe and Paton to be out of the trench at once when the mine was sprung. He exchanged a few words with Hervey and Hugh Rose when they were settled, waiting, and then said he would see if he could get a few more yards forward to be next to the brigade commanders for a better view of the explosion.

  'He's a spanker all right, sir,' said Armstrong. The consolation in letting Armstrong remain with the sappers was that E Troop and his serjeant-major now stood side by side at the point where must come the decision in this battle. 'I wish we might have a better view of it’ complained Hervey. I’d no idea the sap was going to be this deep.'

  'We'll be grateful of it when yon mine's sprung, sir. I never saw so much powder in my life. They only got the last keg in just before midnight.'

  'We must hope for a good pile of stones to scramble up,' said Hugh Rose. 'It'll be the very devil if all it does is rearrange the wall.'

  Hervey raised his eyebrows. It would not be the first time if that happened. 'Yes, indeed.' He turned and looked over his shoulder. 'Mr Green?'

  'Sir?'

  'The lieutenant-colonel has gone up the trench to be with General Reynell. You had better go up and be with him in case he has any orders.'

  'Yes sir. Which way is "up"?'

  Hervey was momentarily speechless.

  'This way, Mr Green, sir,' said Armstrong equably, making to lead him past Hervey and Rose.

  Johnson now wholly recovered the situation, whether intentionally or not. 'Tea, Mr 'Ervey?'

  Hervey smiled - though it was still too dark for any to see. 'Do you think it is why I got a ball in the shoulder at Rangoon, Johnson? Because I'd not had your tea at daybreak?'

  'Ay, 'appen tha did, sir,' replied Johnson, uncorking his patent warming flask. 'And for you, sir?' he added, directing the question at Rose, having a care to use the less familiar second person.

  'Mindful of its possible properties, I should indeed. Thank you,' drawled Rose. 'Do you think we might smoke, Hervey?'

  Hervey smiled again. 'I rather think not, Hugh.'

  There were a dozen or so of the Sixth in the trench. Their function, along with the fifty other volunteers, was straightforward - to rush the breach as soon as it was made and to hold on to it until the infantry could come up in proper order. It was ever a precarious enterprise. By rights, if the engineers and artillery did their work, it was but a headlong dash into a devastated space and then a few exchanges of fire with those of the garrison not too stunned to raise a musket. The work of carrying the fortress was then the business of the assault columns. But if the breach was feeble or incomplete it was theirs still to take it. And then they might face disciplined volleys, or the raking fire of guns not overturned in the blast. It was vulgarly called 'the forlorn hope', but no one really knew why. One or two were always killed, subalterns usually, well in the van and hoping for the reward of field promotion. But for the rank and file it was not a bad gamble: a good breach was worth a year's reckoning of service.

  Not that Hervey or Rose would be in the van. Command of the party was the prerogative of an ensign, always, and today it fell to one of the Fourteenth's, the senior regiment of foot in the army before Bhurtpore. It was Ensign Daly's eighteenth birthday, and he had shaken hands with each man of the storming party, as was customary, before taking his place next to General McCombe at the head of the sap, together with Lieutenant Irvine of the Engineers and, just behind, Sir Ivo Lankester and Cornet Green.

  There was more method in Hervey's sending Green forward than merely to give Sir Ivo a galloper. If Green showed a moment's hesitation in leaving the trench then the lieutenant-colonel would see it for himself, and all would be up. But Hervey was not entirely closed to the notion of redemption. He thought it possible that Green, with so many brave men about him, and his blood heated by the occasion, would find after all that he had the resource to do his duty, and that once it was done he would then have appetite for it in the future. However, he had determined one thing: if Green did hesitate to leave the trench - if he were still not out when he himself came up - then he would have him out at the point of the sword.

  'A bit confused, I'd say, Mr Green, sir,' whispered Armstrong to Hervey as he rejoined them.

  Hervey sighed. 'Well, Sar'nt-Major, there'll be no doubting which way to advance once the mine's sprung, so that's one thing he needn't concern himself over.'

  'No, that's true. But I gave him some wadding to put in his ears, and told him to cover them if he got a chance. I've known sound enough men become a mite addled in a thunderstorm.'

  Elsewhere about the fortress were other storming parties braced for the assault. But all would take their cue from the springing of the cavalier mine, or w
hat was now known in the Sixth - the secret at last out - as the cavalry mine, or even 'Armstrong's mine'. What Hervey had written to Somervile the evening before was as much as he knew, and a good deal at that, for Lord Combermere's staff had been generous in their information in the final waiting days. But he supposed that only Combermere himself had in his mind a complete picture of the assault, the commander-in-chief having appointed no deputy, the major-generals being with the assaulting divisions. If he should fall, it would likely as not be his quarter-master-general, the veteran cavalryman Sir Sam Whittingham, to whom the reins would pass and in due course the laurels be given. But Hervey hoped that when the fortress was taken, Armstrong's part would receive its due recognition - more so, even, than it had already. And, of course, that of Brigadier Anburey, for it had been he who had directed the preparations for the assault and had ordered the cavalier mine to be driven under Armstrong's supervision.

  And even now Anburey courted oblivion by attending the mine like an anxious midwife with her charge. He had assembled ten thousand pounds

  of the coarsest-grained powder - 'corned' powder, as it was known, as opposed to the fine 'mealed' sort - which, because of the air between the bigger grains, burned faster and therefore produced an explosion of greater force. But he did not know if this depended on a normal supply of air in the atmosphere in which the powder burned. The only way that he could be sure there would be an explosion was to have air at the end of the tunnel, and this required Armstrong's fire to be lit and Stray's duct to function. He would not, of course, ask either man to see to the work. He would not even ask one of his own. He did it himself - lighting the fire and then crawling to the end of the tunnel to be sure that air was being drawn through the duct.