CHAPTER XIV
A Glorious Victory
Jogging along on his fine Mahratta horse, now showing some trace of thehard work it had done on this eventful day, with the troopers of hisregiment behind him and Mulha somewhere near at hand, Owen passed withthe army of Wellesley, if such a term could be given to the handful ofmen who formed the command, down the face of the Mahratta army. And likeall his comrades, whether of the non-commissioned ranks or otherwise, hewas filled with an indescribable feeling of elation. The chances ofvictory were small. Utter defeat seemed to face the gallant divisionmarching to the banks of the Kaitna, and but for the stalwart figure ofWellesley at the head of the line confidence might well have beenshaken. But not a man hung back. The soldiers in the ranks of the twoHighland regiments following in the wake of the General displayed theutmost courage and coolness. They might have been marching to take theirposition on a parade ground, and not to hurl themselves againstfifty-five thousand of the enemy. They joked, called loudly to oneanother, and laughed as they watched the hurried movements of Scindia'sbattalions.
"See you later, I hope," sang out Jack Simpson jovially as his Sepoybattalion filed past our hero.
"We've got a nut to crack to-day, old fellow, and we shall be lucky ifwe manage it. Look at the General!"
He laughed aloud as he pointed with his drawn sword to the figure of thecommander, then in the very act of guiding his horse down the bank andinto the river. "Ah! There go the guns! Well, good-bye for the present,and mind you and those boys of yours make the most of your horses."
He was gone with another wave of his sword and a shout of farewell, andvery soon Owen saw the gallant young fellow wading through the river. Bythen the guns of the enemy had opened with a rapid and fierce fire whichbegan to have its effect, for men and animals were falling. Some of theshot even reached the ranks of the cavalry where they were drawn upbeside the entrance to the ford, and Owen felt a sudden thrill of fearand pity as a trooper a few paces to his right tottered and fell, ashapeless mass, from his saddle.
"War! That's war, my lad," said the Adjutant, who happened to ride up tohim a moment before. "You or I might have the same happen to us at anymoment. A soldier has to expect such things. It is part of his life andhis duty. Look at Scindia's men. They are changing front and makingready to oppose us. 'Pon my word, if we win to-day it will be thegreatest battle ever fought in India. We are a mere handful comparedwith those battalions over there. Hah! That's better. There go theguns!"
It was indeed a glad sound to listen to when the British guns, someseventeen in number, having been dragged into position by theirbullock-teams, opened against the enemy, vainly attempting to keep downthe storm of shot issuing from the hundred huge brass pieces owned byScindia. Owen fixed his eyes upon the guns, watching the flashesbelching from the muzzles, the recoil of the weapons, and the fervid andfurious haste of the gunners as they threw themselves upon thedischarged piece, sponged it out, and ran in another charge.
"It's our turn now, Jones," said the Adjutant. "Bear in mind the factthat our infantry are the backbone of this little army, but that victorycan hardly be complete without a force of cavalry. When we charge,charge home, through and through them. Lead your men at any number. Takeno notice of odds, and you will find that the troopers will follow. Theybelieve in their officers, and will ride with you anywhere. There! In afew hours perhaps we shall be rejoicing."
He jerked his rein and went off down the front of the cavalry, merry andconfident. But the very fate which had befallen one of the troopers wassoon to be his, for as the cavalry arm of the division trotted down tothe ford, to the accompaniment of the booming of cannon, there was acrash at his feet, a blinding flash, and when the dense smoke had blownaway, the jovial Adjutant of the 7th native cavalry lay dead, mangled bythe shot of the enemy. Owen felt sad as he passed, and reverentlyuncovered his head. But his thoughts were soon distracted, for shotpassed him every minute, and ere he had gained the far bank four of hismen had fallen.
"Now we shall be in the middle of it," he thought. "The General hasplaced his men, and, hurrah! they are advancing!"
Was there ever such a bold venture undertaken by a British force!Wellesley had very coolly placed his force in two lines, the firstcomprising the 78th Highlanders and two Sepoy battalions, with advancedpickets to the right, while his second line comprised the 74thHighlanders and also two Sepoy battalions, while in rear of all were the19th Light Dragoons and three slender cavalry regiments, of which Owen'scorps formed one. As for the guns, they had by now practically ceasedfire, for the enemy's pieces dominated the place, and had already shotdown the majority of the draught teams. In addition, they were plyingour thin lines with shell and grape, which were having a terribleeffect. It looked as if all would be swept away. Then, too, Scindia hadmade arrangements to meet the move of his opponents. Seeing that it washis left which was threatened, he swung his battalions and guns roundtill they faced in a line drawn south and north, looking towards thejunction of the two rivers, while a second line was at right angles tothis and took up position on the south bank of the river Juah.
And now our first line was advancing, with the great Wellesley at itshead--advancing against a force more than five times its own strength,for this portion of the Mahratta army was at least of that number. Itwas an amazing sight, and it is not to be wondered at that theFrench-trained battalions of Scindia gasped, that their officers werethunder-struck at such audacity, while Scindia felt sudden doubts. Butwhatever their thoughts, our men gave them little time to indulge inthem. There was a flash along that stubborn little line as the bayonetscame down to the charge. It was to be war this time with the cold steel,and the ominous sight caused a disturbance in the ranks of the enemy.The little force of attackers looked weirdly dangerous--its silence, thegrim coolness of its leader and his men, struck dismay now into thehearts of the dusky Mahrattas. But for very shame they could not flee.They stood their ground, then hesitated ere the bayonets reached them,and gave way; this finely disciplined French-trained army shuddered atthe sight of a kilted line of born fighters with their Sepoy comrades,and fled! And after them, plunging in amongst them with many a wildHighland yell, or with the high-pitched bellow of excitement to whichthe native gives vent, went the gallant fellows, slaying, dashingdefiant groups aside, pouring with irresistible impetus over guns andcrumpling up the advanced lines of the enemy. Not then did they pause,for there was still work to be done and they were eager for it. Thefierce hail of cannon-shot and grape to which they had been subjected,and under which they had suffered severely, had left its sting in theranks, and our men fought to conquer, laughing at the enormousodds--fought perhaps as they never fought before. They drove the firstline back upon the second, stationed along the south bank of the Juah,and, heedless of the fact that their opponents were now increased,hurled themselves upon the doubled line, smashing it, sending it inutter rout across the river, where later our slender cavalry came uponthe fleeing troops and completed the work. It was magnificent, ifterrible. Chaos now reigned supreme in the neighbourhood of Assaye, andon every hand were fleeing men, cavalry and foot, stampeding horses andcamels, bellowing oxen, and the thunder of guns. For the latter hadopened again. All that had been accomplished had not been achieved inthe space of a minute. Some time had passed since our men threwthemselves upon the Mahratta main body; and as they swept on and drovethe whole of the infantry force over the Juah, the gunners on theMahratta side, practising a favourite trick, had thrown themselvesbeneath their guns as if they were slain. Once the troops had passed on,however, they sprang to their feet, and slewing the cannon round pouredshot and shell into the victors. It was as if the contest had begun allover again, and the sight brought consternation for a moment to theminds of the British. Not for long, however. Wellesley, who seemed to beeverywhere, placed himself at the head of the Ross-shire Highlanders,while Owen and his regiment galloped up to help. Then they retracedtheir steps under a murderous fire, and after a great struggle capturedthe guns. It was he
re perhaps that they met with the fiercestopposition, for the gunners and the infantry attached as their escortclung to their pieces manfully, while the former showed themselves to beskilled artillerists. However, they were swept aside, and the field wasours. The battle of Assaye was fought and won, and once again wasBritish pluck and endurance successful.
When the whole tale came to be unfolded, it was hard to say which arm ofour service had behaved the best. But that each had done their dutythere could be little doubt. In any case, the cavalry came out of theconflict with added glory, for the 19th Dragoons, finding a huge forceof Mahratta cavalry about to charge down upon the second line, composedof the 74th and Sepoys, who had suffered very severely under the fire ofthe enemy, hurled themselves headlong against the mass, turned the ranksof the horsemen, and drove the whole force into the river with frightfulslaughter.
We had been engaged in deadly strife for upwards of three hours, andafter the march which they had previously accomplished, one of twentymiles, in the heat of the sun too, it can be imagined that our finefellows were exhausted. But they had much to compensate them, for theyhad thrashed a magnificent force greatly outnumbering them, and equippedin a manner which aroused the envy of all our officers. They hadcaptured ninety-eight guns, the camp of the enemy, and numerous animals,not to mention seven standards and a huge mass of stores. And thisvictory had cost us more than a third of our force in killed andwounded, while the enemy left almost as many dead on the field, thecountryside being covered in all directions with their wounded. Thus wasScindia's power checked, and the reader will not feel surprise to readthat this chief soon showed a wish to make peace with the British.
Cornet Jones of the 7th native cavalry bore his part manfully in thevarious phases of the strenuous fight, and for the first time in hislife learned what it was to charge home with a handful of men into theclustered ranks of a mounted enemy charging in the opposite direction.At an early hour in the struggle he and his troopers, following theother troops of the regiment, had splashed through the Juah and hadspread out into line, when they had dashed through and through thefleeing foot-soldiers of Scindia. That had been simple work, though itwanted a good horseman to sit his animal and use his weapon effectively;and on one occasion the charge of the troop to which our hero wasattached had almost proved its last, for of a sudden, having burstthrough a mass of footmen, it found itself confronted by a battalion ofsoldiers which had faced round and, encouraged by their officers andhelped by their French training, were preparing to mow them down withtheir fire. There was not an instant to be lost, and the captain of thetroop rode on without hesitation.
"Charge!" he shouted in Hindustani. "Don't give them the opportunity toget loaded. Charge home with the lance."
Owen jammed his hat well down on his head, gripped his sabre, and edgedhis horse a little in advance, so as to line up with his leader, for herode in front of the left half of the troop. There was a fierce shout,in which he joined, standing high in his stirrups, and then the pace ofthe horsemen increased suddenly. Spurs went to the flanks of the pantingbeasts, and the line, solid, swarthy, and unbroken, bore down upon theenemy like a tornado. Owen saw the flash as the bayonets of the men ofthe French-trained battalion came down to the charge, he watched theofficers turn and address their men encouragingly, and noted that theyslipped into the ranks, for to have stayed in front would have been tobe killed to a certainty. Then there was a sudden silence, while a lineof dusky faces and gleaming Mahratta eyes seemed to stare into his. Aflash and a rolling volley followed, while bullets swept through theair, screeching past his ear. There was a thud near at hand, and turninghe was just in time to see his captain pitch forward on his head and liedoubled up in the grass, with his horse, half-killed, lying partially onhim.
"The captain sahib is down!" shouted the native officer attached to thetroop. "Sahib, you command!"
Owen was the leader. The troop depended upon him for its actions. Alleyes followed his figure. In a flash he realised his responsibilities,and took them with unbounded eagerness. The bayonets were almosttouching him now. He rose in his stirrups again, waved his sabre, andthen plunging spurs into the flanks of his Mahratta horse he burst intothe ranks of the enemy--cutting, cutting, cutting and slashing to rightand left; never parrying, so far as he could remember, but alwayscutting and slashing, dashing here and there, and ever moving forward.They were through! The battalion had disappeared almost completely, andon every hand Mahratta enemies were bolting for their lives. Guns andaccoutrements strewed the ground, there was a horse here and thereplunging madly, and as Owen pulled at his rein and holding up his sabrebrought the troop, or what remained of it, to a halt, a horse camethundering past them, its rider dragging at the end of the stirrup,bumping over the grass and rough ground, frantically endeavouring tofree himself. How often has such a thing occurred on the field ofbattle! How many gallant fellows have lost their lives in such a manner!Crash! A Highlander who sat on his knees some little way off, evidentlywounded, lifted his weapon and fired at the animal, bringing it to theground.
"That is one of the French officers," said Owen. "Send two men torelease him from the stirrup and bring him here. And send back four menfor our officer. What are our losses?"
He beckoned to the native officer, and spoke to him sharply.
"There are six down," was the answer, "and the captain sahib is badlyhurt. He is stunned, perhaps worse, by the fall, for his horse was hit.What will your movements be now, sahib? You are in full command."
Owen looked about him, for he could not forget that he belonged to the7th regiment of cavalry, and his duty was to rejoin at the firstopportunity. And very soon he was trotting away towards them, at thehead of his men, while his late leader was being conveyed back to thelines of the British. It was then that the troop, now with diminishednumbers, learned that a mass of horsemen, fully a thousand strong, wasbearing down upon them, sent to revenge the defeat of the battalionwhich Owen and his men had just broken. There was no escaping. To fleewould be to set the worst example. Owen's mind was made up in a minute.
"Shout and bring your lances down when I lift my sabre," he called out,as he trotted up and down the lines of his troop. "Mind! Shout, andbring the pennons down with a swing."
An old cavalry soldier had given him that piece of advice some weeksbefore, and in the hour of difficulty he remembered it. Placing himselfat the head of the troop, he set out to meet the advancing horsemen at atrot, which soon increased to a steady canter. And as he advanced it wasclear that the courage of this small force was already having its effectupon the horsemen of Scindia. There was an air of irresolution aboutthem, and men on the flanks broke away, and, turning, galloped out intothe plain, while their leader, a swarthy native, dressed in brilliantuniform and turban, pulled his own animal back a little closer to theleading rank, sure sign that he too was not as eager as he had been.
"They will break if we charge! Shout!"
Owen swung his sabre over his head and bellowed at the top of his voice.Then singling out the Mahratta leader he put his horse full at him, andmeeting him end on rode over him, throwing horse and rider to one sideas if they were as light as a feather. And after him swarmed thetroopers, infected with the fire and dash of their young leader, theireyes flashing and their nostrils distended. Excellent masters of theirhorses, they kept their seats steadily, and sitting very low, plungedinto the already disheartened ranks of the enemy with a crash and ashout which could be heard afar off. And once more they were successful.The horsemen melted away, and when five minutes had gone the field wasclear and the troop was lined up again, standing at their horses' headsto give the animals a breather.
"Mr. Jones, I think? Gallantly led, Mr. Jones. I watched you break upthe Mahratta battalion and the cavalry. Go and report to your commander,and say that the General has discovered that the guns are still in thehands of the enemy, and that he is about to lead the Highlanders back tocapture them. Your commanding officer is to support with his cavalry.Ride now, and fast."
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br /> It was one of the staff officers, and Owen hardly waited to salute withhis sabre. He swung himself into his saddle and shouted the order tomount. Then, nicely gathered together, in case of unforeseen attack, hetook his troop over to the spot where the 7th were now collecting, anddelivered his message.
"Truly a young fire-eater," said the staff officer as he rode on. "Thereis stuff behind that young officer. He allows his excitement to work himup to a point where he would charge an army with a handful, and yet hedoes not neglect method and due precaution. On a field like this, wherecaution must not be practised, where dash is the only element likely tosucceed, and where loss of success means annihilation that young chap isjust the man. A regular young fighter!"
He pencilled a note in his despatch-book and turned his horse to thespot where the Highlanders were gathering. And very soon the General andhe were leading the men back against the guns. As for Owen, he fell inwith his regiment, and rode back with them to the field, their beastsall white with heat after their exertions. And in the hour that followedhe faced as murderous a fire of shot and grape as ever in hisafter-life, and when the action ceased and the enemy were beaten, foundhimself still the junior cornet of his regiment, but promoted to ahigher place for all that, for some of the officers had perished.
"And I prophesy promotion to higher rank, Mr. Jones," said the Colonel,drawing him aside that evening, as the troop dismounted in the linesassigned to them. "The staff officer who witnessed your charge has beenover to ask about you and report your conduct. I am pleased. More thanpleased, Mr. Jones. It is seldom that I have seen a young officer riseto distinction so rapidly. These are the times for action, when a youngfellow who has courage and go and who has discretion also can carve away for himself in the world. It would not surprise me to hear that theGeneral was about to reward your very gallant services."
Never before in his life had our hero been able even to imagine abattlefield after hostilities had ceased, and on this evening, as hecarried out the duties assigned to him, this time in the absence of allfervour and excitement, his kindly young heart was rent many a time. Forwar cannot be waged without misery--misery on the field of conflict, andperhaps worse misery and destitution in the homes of those who havefallen. On the battlefield, however, the sights are so numerous that intime the old campaigner becomes accustomed to them, though none the lesspitiful. And here was Owen, surrounded by wounded and killed, helping tobring in the men of his own regiment, and carrying water and cheerfulmessages to any man upon whom his search-party happened to stumble. Itwas dark by now, and they worked with the aid of torches or any lampobtainable. The stretcher-bearers of the various companies had longsince proved too few, while some had been shot down. And the regimentalsurgeons had so many upon their hands that long lines of wounded awaitedtheir offices. There were groaning soldiers beneath each waggon andtent, and here and there they encountered some wretched Mahratta,dragging himself along painfully, in the vain hope of getting beyond thecamp, little thinking or believing that the British succoured friend andfoe alike. Yes, it was all very sad and heart-rending, and very veryimpressive to a young fellow like our hero. And in time he and hissearch-party came to a group of Highlanders, all in their shirt sleeves,engaged in burying comrades who had fallen some four hours before underthe murderous fire of the French-trained gunners. Owen looked into thetrench, saw the poor fellows laid out side by side, and turned sick andfaint. For with all his dash he was but a young soldier, who loved thefight but was horrified by the sight that followed; whose heart wastender, and who in his softer and ordinary moods would have shrunk fromcausing pain to any one.
"Come over and have something to eat," said one of his brother officers,meeting the party at that moment and seeing at a glance the condition ofthe last-joined cornet. "A dram of spirit and something to fill yourstomach will make you look on matters differently in a little while.Wait though. We will stay till the end of the service."
They stood beside the rough trench while an officer of the Highlanders,his bonnet beneath his arm, and his voice all shaky, read the servicefor the dead. Then they went back to their lines, the officer talkingcheerfully all the way and speaking of the victory. He took Owen by theshoulder and made him sit down on the edge of an ammunition-box, andthere watched as he drank the spirit and ate some of the rations whichhad been issued.
"No one is likely to want you after this, youngster," he said, "and soyou will turn in. No? No argument, if you please. That is an order. Yourservant will see to you."
He was led off by Mulha, and thoroughly worn out with all that hadhappened--with his adventurous morning ride, his fortunate discovery ofthe enemy, and the fierce conflict which had been waged--he very soonfell into a deep sleep. As for the kindly officer who had taken him inhand, when he and the other officers were gathered round the camp-firethat night there was no name more often on his lips than that of OwenJones.
"I found him almost fainting as he saw those gallant Highlanders laid intheir grave," said the officer, "and I can tell you it did me good towatch the lad. You've all heard how he charged right home to-day, how hefound the enemy, and practically gave us the opportunity for which wehave so long sought. Well, isn't it a good thing to know that behind allthe lad's courage and dash there is a finer feeling still, and that heis man enough not to be ashamed to show it?"
"He is a credit to us," was the Colonel's answer. "Owen Jones is acapital fellow."
Jones of the 64th: A Tale of the Battles of Assaye and Laswaree Page 15