To his relief, the sergeant of engineers heard him call out, and the small huddle of British soldiers moved slowly along the ditch to join them. To Jack’s mind, they were making enough noise to wake even the doziest sentry, and he turned to scan the battlements that loomed up behind him. He felt the tension squirm in his gut as he contemplated the sheer scale of the defences. He hoped to God that Hodson’s plan was a good one.
‘Glad to see you, sir.’ The engineer sergeant sounded as relieved as Jack felt. He was glad not to be the only one suffering from the tension. He had a feeling the four engineers had endured a more trying time than even he had. It was no small feat to manoeuvre the barrels of powder in the darkness, but they had done the job well and had arrived not long after he had taken up his own position.
‘Well done, Sergeant.’ He offered the praise and was pleased to see the flash of teeth in the gloom. ‘It’s Briggs, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You have done well, Sergeant Briggs, but for God’s sake keep the damn noise down.’ Jack spoke in a hoarse whisper, his nerves and irritation showing.
Briggs’s men let the heavy powder kegs thump into the sun-baked soil as they used the momentary pause to set their burdens down.
‘Have you everything you need?’
‘Yes, sir. We have it all to hand. Don’t you fret.’
‘It won’t go off until you are ready?’ Jack eyed the three kegs of powder anxiously.
‘No, sir. Not without a fuse.’ Briggs smiled indulgently as he saw the officer’s concern. ‘Is that the bugger there, then, sir?’ He nodded his head towards the Kabul Gate, no more than four hundred yards away from where they crouched in the fetid ditch.
‘That’s the one. Do you have the time?’
Briggs fished in his jacket and pulled out a thick-cased pocket watch. He peered at the face, angling it towards the moon so that he could read the hands. ‘We are a little behind schedule, sir.’
‘Right, we’d best get on with it then.’ Jack forced his nerves away. He flashed a smile at Aamira, who still sheltered behind him. ‘You’d best stay here.’
‘Your man can help us if you like, sir. An extra pair of hands would be right useful.’ Sergeant Briggs was quick to seek assistance.
Jack bit his tongue. ‘Very well.’ He scowled at Aamira. ‘Help the sergeant. Look lively now.’
Briggs chuckled and gave Aamira a conspirator’s wink. ‘Don’t you worry, chum. You’d think he’d be grateful for you being here. It ain’t many orderlies who would stay with their officer when they go off on some half-baked scheme like this.’
Aamira bowed her head. She was wearing a uniform that Jack had managed to borrow from the Guides’ stores. It was several sizes too large for her, but that was not uncommon. The whole Delhi Field Force had the appearance of an army that had been cobbled together, and many men had been pressed into unexpected service. With her hair bound tight and her face hidden by a dark pagdi and scarf, she easily passed for a native orderly. Her disguise would not stand scrutiny in daylight, but in the thin moonlight it would take a sharp eye indeed to spot anything awry in her appearance.
‘Ready?’ Jack’s anxiety made him sharp.
‘Hold on a mo, sir.’ Briggs ignored the officer’s urging and busied himself checking the powder kegs before handing Aamira a hefty canvas sack. ‘That’s the powder for the fuse. Don’t drop it, chum. It’ll be a bugger to find in the dark, and God help us if you split the sides.’
Aamira nodded, taking the powder sack in both arms.
‘All right?’ Briggs checked that the officer’s orderly was happy before he turned to flash Jack a smile. ‘Ready we are, sir. Let’s be off, shall we?’
Jack was warming to the engineer sergeant’s calm and easy manner. It was a trait he had seen in the best non-commissioned officers. It steadied the men, setting the example they would need if they were to face their own terrors and still do the job they had been assigned.
‘Right.’ He smiled for the first time, a fair measure of his own tension eased by the presence of the capable sergeant. ‘Follow me.’
It did not take them long to make their way to the Kabul Gate. Pressed hard against the wall, Jack began to feel safer. It would be a diligent sentry indeed who would lean over and peer in the darkness to see if something stirred so close to the base of the wall. He began to hope that the hardest yards were behind them.
Briggs and his men worked quickly. The kegs of powder were placed against the corner of the doorway. The engineer sergeant took his time, ensuring that he was completely happy with the arrangement before he began to prepare to fuse that would ignite the barrels.
Jack used the pause to sneak next to Aamira. Carefully he reached out and squeezed her hand. Her flesh was clammy under his touch, despite the heat. He would have liked to speak to her, to reassure her that all would be well. But with the party of engineers in earshot, all he could do was catch her eye and smile.
‘Right-o, sir. You might want to come back with us. I wouldn’t want to get in trouble for losing my officer. I expect the army would charge me for you, and I reckon it’d take me a good while to pay them back for the loss of a lieutenant.’
Jack followed Briggs, careful not to tread on the trail of powder he was laying. Once again Briggs took his time. The wait was beginning to gnaw on Jack’s nerves, but he bit his tongue, holding back a demand for more haste so that the sergeant could ply his trade in peace. Eventually they reached a hollow in the ground, far enough away from the gates that they would be safe but close enough that the fuse would not have to be overly long.
The small party settled in to wait, their task almost complete. They had one duty left to perform. When the assault columns were in place, a single rocket would be fired from the British lines. It would be the signal for the two parties of engineers to fire their charges and blast an entry point into the city.
The first sign of the approach of dawn appeared on the far horizon. In the city, the bells began to ring, the citizens of Delhi waking to another day with the British army encamped outside their walls. The bastions started to bustle with activity as the gunners arrived for another of day of bombardment, the batteries of heavy guns set to fire on the British lines on the ridge from dawn until dusk.
‘Where is the damn signal?’ Jack hissed the question through gritted teeth. The rocket had not been fired. He looked anxiously to the east. The colour of the sky was changing, the black of night turning from grey to pale, muted yellow as the sun crept into the sky.
‘Any minute now, sir.’ Briggs tried to calm his officer’s fears.
It did not work. ‘We should send a man back to find out what is happening. It is too damn late to launch the assault now.’ Jack lifted his head and peered across to the Lahore Gate. Despite the improving light, he still couldn’t make out the other charge that the second party of engineers would have laid in the night. ‘Bollocks.’ He cursed under his breath.
‘Any minute now, sir,’ repeated Briggs, but this time Jack heard the tension in the man’s voice.
He let his right hand fall to the holster on his hip and undid the buckle that held the flap in place, freeing the weapon so that it could be drawn in a heartbeat. His instincts were wide awake now. He was near certain that something had gone awry. This was the hardest part of being an officer. It was easy to lead men in a battalion. There, an officer’s role was fixed and ordered, the role easily defined. It was only now, alone and in an independent command, that the burden of leadership became so much heavier. As the sole officer in charge, it was down to him to decide their next move. The decision rested on his shoulders and his alone.
He glanced at Sergeant Briggs. There was enough light for him to get his first good look at the man’s face. To his surprise, Briggs was clean-shaven and looked young for his rank. He had expected to see the creased and bearded face of a veteran soldier. Instead he found himself looking at a man who by rights should still be wearing short trousers.
‘They could still be coming.’ Briggs offered the opinion. ‘The assault could have been delayed.’
Jack gnawed on his lip. He looked back to the ridge. He could see nothing. ‘If it had been cancelled, they would’ve sent a runner.’ He was talking aloud, running through his thoughts, trying to force away the doubt. ‘They wouldn’t just abandon us here. We’ll wait.’
He turned to see Aamira looking straight at him. The light was improving all the time, and from the expression on her face he could tell she was becoming more and more agitated.
‘What’s wrong?’ He slipped to her side and whispered the question, hiding the conversation with his back.
‘I have to get into the city.’ Aamira choked back her emotion. ‘I have to find my mother.’
‘Well we can’t.’ Jack’s anxiety made him harsh. ‘Not now.’
Aamira turned her face away. She stared at the city.
‘Sir!’
One of Brigg’s engineers was calling for Jack’s attention.
His heart fluttered with relief. He scrambled around, looking back the way they had come, expecting to see either a runner or the first sight of the approaching assault column.
‘Get ready to fire the . . .’ The words died in his throat. He saw nothing.
He was confused. He twisted on the spot, his head whipping round so he could glare at the man who had called for his attention, and saw his small command looking the other way. To a man they were staring at the city, and at the gate they had come to blow to smithereens.
A gate that was slowly opening.
Jack’s heart hammered in his chest. As one, the men turned to look at him, their faces betraying their alarm as the gate to the enemy fortress opened behind them.
‘Run!’ He snapped the order, the fear flushing through his veins. All his doubts fled in an instant. It was time to get the hell out of there.
He grabbed Aamira’s hand, careless of revealing the lie. He felt her fingers slide into his own, the cold touch sending a shiver running through him.
The engineers did not need to be told twice. They were up and on their feet in an instant, their heavy boots scrabbling for purchase on the dusty slope that surrounded the hollow in which they had hidden for so long.
Only Jack was armed. The engineers had left their weapons back in the lines, the need to carry the heavy explosives denying them the means to fight back. But the lack of rifles would make them quick, and with Aamira and Jack following, the four engineers burst out from the sheltered ground, their limbs pumping furiously as they broke and ran for the ridge.
‘Come on, sir!’ Sergeant Briggs glanced over his shoulder, urging Jack on.
Jack saw the widening of the man’s eyes as he noticed his officer clutching the hand of his orderly, but he did not care. He ran, pulling Aamira after him, refusing to let her slow. It was a time to gamble everything on speed and hope to God that the mutineers would be stunned by the sudden and unexpected appearance of a party of British soldiers so close to their defences.
The first shouts came from behind them. Jack could not risk turning to look. He ran on, forcing his legs to move faster, thinking of nothing save escape.
The volume of noise increased. Men were shouting, the foreign words spewing out at a great rate, the cries of surprise quickly replaced by shouted orders and the bellowed cheers of men suddenly thrown into a chase.
Jack’s party were running hard. Ahead they could see the lush greenery that smothered the south-eastern flank of the ridge. It would afford them cover, screening them from the view of the rebels and offering them a chance of escape. If they could reach the thick band of vegetation, they should be safe.
‘Come on!’ Jack found the breath to urge the men on. He felt Aamira stumble in his wake, but he hauled her forward, careless of hurting her. Through the roar of his straining lungs he heard the drumming of hooves on the hard ground behind him, the vibrations deep in the soil, as if the very earth trembled at the sound. He felt the fear then, its taste sour in his gullet as he realised that they were being chased by rebel cavalry. They were still far short of safety. In the open ground they would be easy targets for any horsemen sent after them. His hopes died in a single heartbeat. There would be no escape that day.
‘Run!’ He barked the order even as he turned, his boots scrabbling for purchase. He was pushing Aamira onwards before she understood what was happening.
Time seemed to slow. He saw the French-grey jackets of the 3rd Bengal Light Cavalry racing towards them, the twisted and snarling faces of the riders as they pursued their unexpected quarry. The first light of dawn glinted from the drawn sabres, the dozen or so blades that were now reserved for him alone.
‘Go!’ He threw his weight behind the shove, nearly throwing the girl he had come to love from her feet.
Sergeant Briggs turned as he reached the thick band of vegetation, his mouth wide as he called out in warning. But Jack didn’t hear the cry. He was already pulling his weapons free.
‘Jack!’
He risked a final glance over his shoulder. Aamira was screaming, her face contorted as she shrieked his name. Briggs had run to her side and was pulling her away, his hands tugging at her borrowed uniform.
‘Run!’ He roared his last order. His weapons were heavy in his hands and his eyes stung as the sweat poured into them, the scalding touch focusing his mind. He took a first step forward, and then another. His left hand held his revolver and he levelled it, the barrel held steady.
The enemy riders were perilously close. There was no time to aim, and he pulled the trigger as soon as he covered the end of the barrel with the face of the closest horsemen.
The gun coughed. There was little force in the shot, the bullet emerging with no more power than a child firing a toy catapult. Jack bellowed in frustration. The misfire would cost him dear.
The fastest rider keened as he raced at his target, leaning far out in the saddle ready to skewer his quarry with the point of his lowered sabre.
Jack threw his useless revolver and ran. His boots pounded on the hard-baked ground. Both hands curled around the handle of his borrowed sword, which he held at his right side, the sharpened tip pointing at the sky.
He did not run for his life. He charged.
One lone warrior against a horde.
The closest rebel rider thrashed forward, his sabre aimed at Jack’s breast. They came together in a rush. The enemy rider bellowed as he threw his weight behind the thrust just as his British riding master had taught him. With a furious roar, Jack punched his own blade across his body, swatting the thrust aside. The rider raced away, shrieking in frustration at having been denied his victim.
‘Come on!’ Jack shouted in defiance as he started to fight. He held his ground, his feet braced and his sword raised. He saw the next rider coming and ducked low, acting on nothing more than instinct.
The second man flashed past, his sabre cutting through the air inches above Jack’s head. Both riders hauled manfully on their reins, their only thought to strike down the foolish firangi.
Another of the rebels came at him from his left side. He could do nothing but throw himself to the ground, trusting to luck to keep him safe. He hit the stony soil with his shoulder. Pain seared through his body but he ignored it and scrambled back to his feet in time to parry another blade that was thrust towards him.
A surging mass of cursing horsemen swarmed around him. On the ramparts, a crowd had gathered to watch the one-sided fight. Jack looked for Aamira. Through the press of bodies he caught a glimpse of her half hidden behind Briggs. The young sergeant’s face was creased in fury as he drew a pocket knife in a final, futile defence.
‘No!’ Jack howled as he realised his efforts had been in vain. Some of the enemy riders had ignored his foolish charge, and even as he watched, they spurred towards the pair of fugitives who had yet to make it to safety. He tried to run to them, but had taken no more than two paces before two rebel horsemen bore down on him at once, their horses’
hooves fighting for purchase on the dusty soil.
He threw himself low, feeling the rush of air as the men howled past, their sabres slicing dangerously close to his flesh. The urge to fight was gone, the desperate emotion lost in his fear for Aamira’s life. Another horseman slashed hard at his side, forcing him into a desperate parry. A second blow followed the first, followed immediately by another.
Jack dodged and twisted, keeping the enemy blade at bay, bellowing in frustration as he failed to fight his way free. He countered another blow, at last knocking his foe’s blade wide. In a heartbeat he cut back with every ounce of his strength. The rider’s sword came at him in a hurried parry, but it could do nothing to prevent Jack’s blade from driving deep into his thigh.
With a cry of agony, the horseman wheeled away. It gave Jack an opening, and he lurched into a run, careless of leaving his back exposed to the rest of the marauding enemy riders that still swarmed around him. His only thought was to reach the girl he had vowed to protect.
He caught a second glimpse of her as he ran. He was closer now, able to see the desperate terror on her face. Briggs was falling away, his face bloodied, a vicious sword wound cut deep across his forehead. Even as he fell, a rebel thrust his sword home with such force that it drove clean through the engineer’s body, the bloodied tip erupting in a gory explosion between his shoulder blades.
Aamira was crying now. Jack was close enough to see the tears streaming down her face, cutting a path through the layer of dust that smothered her skin.
The rider who had killed Briggs pulled his sword from the dying sergeant’s flesh. With a fierce bellow, he raised the bloodied blade and gouged his spurs back, driving his horse at Aamira.
‘No!’ Jack tried to run, but his legs felt as if they were made of stone. An enemy rider slashed a sabre at his head and he instinctively parried the blade before ducking away and rushing forward again. More rebels swarmed past him, partially blocking his view as they turned and prepared for another charge.
The Lone Warrior Page 22