No sooner had this general won the ancient city of Delhi than he placed Colonel Ochterlony in command of its garrison, and turning his back upon it set out for Agra on the 24th of September, the very day following that on which General Wellesley had defeated Scindia[Pg 278] and his force at Assaye. This brings events up to the moment when Owen was despatched to Indore, to the court of the redoubtable Holkar. Now let us return to that young officer, whom we left a close prisoner in the tower of the palace.
Two days passed slowly for Owen in his prison, and during that time the tedious hours were broken only by the half-hour when he was marched to an adjoining room and ate his meal in the presence of the three other imprisoned officers. However, on the third afternoon after his arrival at Indore an event occurred which roused him from the lethargy which was beginning to come over him. All was still in the noonday heat, and the city of Indore seemed to be asleep. The clatter and hum of the populace had died down, for the people were following a custom in favour with the Spaniards and were indulging in a siesta. In the palace there was not a sound to be heard, while in the tower in which he was a prisoner nothing occurred to break the silence. Owen stood at the window listless and dispirited, and if the truth be told, almost asleep, when suddenly the faint sound of a distant footstep attracted his attention.
"The jailer," he thought; "but why is he coming now? It is his custom to bring me food and water just before the sun goes down. It is strange that he should[Pg 280] be here now. Perhaps he is about to make a surprise visit, for he is creeping up the stairs."
He tiptoed across to the door of his cell and listened eagerly. He could hear the almost silent footfall as the man ascended the stairs, and presently the hollow noise given out by the corridor outside as people came along it.
"He is sneaking along by the wall. I don't like this visit," thought Owen. "I wonder what he wants?"
A minute later it was clear that the man outside was within a foot of his door, and as he listened Owen could hear his deep and hurried breathing, which made it appear as if he had come up the long flight of steps two at a time. Then there was a movement of a shoe, a hand went to the lock and tried it, and then the door was shaken ever so gently. Owen eased his sabre in its scabbard, for he had even now not been disarmed. Then he dropped on hands and knees and placed his ear close to the floor. Next second he leaped to his feet with a cry of joy, for a voice called to him.
"Sahib! Sahib! Is the sahib Cornet Jones there?"
"Here! I am here, Mulha!"
The breathing was even deeper and quicker outside, and Owen heard a sigh of relief. Then the voice came even more distinctly, for Mulha, his faithful servant, had placed his lips close to the crack where the door closed.
"Master, master," he said in eager, trembling tones, "they have brought the troopers together again. They and their horses are quartered just outside the courtyard, and they have orders to move to-morrow. Yes, on the morrow they are to ride back to the General. I have[Pg 281] seen the message which they are to carry. Holkar will make war with the British, and will kill you first so that there shall be good cause. I have seen it, sahib, I say."
The poor fellow could hardly continue, for the very mention of such a fact unmanned him. His voice trembled even more, and Owen heard a sound as of a man who has only just succeeded in choking down a sob.
"Hush!" he whispered through the narrow crevice. "I'm still alive, and will give some trouble before I am killed, Mulha. Tell me more, and look carefully at the bolts. Can you loosen them?"
"Alas! sahib, there are two locks, and I have no implements. More than that, the approach to the tower is so carefully watched that I have obtained admission by the merest chance. The man on duty fell asleep as he watched, and I slipped past him. But I will try later as the evening comes, though there is little hope. Sahib, what can we do?"
"Nothing. You cannot help me. I must escape by my own efforts, and I will do so. Tell me, Mulha, where are you quartered, so that I can find you if I manage to break out?"
"I am with the troopers, minding your horse and mine," came the answer. "It is a long, low building to the right, just outside the courtyard. Sahib, the door is double-locked, and how can you escape? To-night they will murder you. I have made sure of that. These miscreants will kill you, and so make cause for war."
At that the poor fellow who was so attached to[Pg 282] Owen broke down, and the prisoner could hear his sobs. He tapped on the door to arrest the noise, and whispered again.
"Tell the men to be ready at any time," he said quietly. "If it is possible I will escape. Let them wait and be ready. Where are the guards stationed?"
"At the foot of the stairs, sahib, at the main entrance and at the exit from the courtyard. As for the troopers, they are free to move about in their quarters, but they are watched. We have seen men hovering about. This white officer too,"—Owen heard his servant grind his teeth as he spoke of the French colonel,—"sahib, I tell you that he watches every movement and every one of the guards. I have seen him in the courtyard, and I have heard him threaten death to any who allowed his prisoner to escape. Beware, sahib! This man bears you but evil friendship, and would slay you. Who knows, it may be his doing that these orders have been given to the troopers, for here in Indore he commands. Holkar is beneath his thumb, and an order from this white fiend is obeyed as if he were an emperor indeed. Hush! I hear some one moving. We will wait, sahib!"
Even Owen behind his prison door could hear the far-off sound of a step, and therefore could not feel surprise when the sounds outside told him that Mulha had moved away. However, in a moment or two he was back, and his voice was heard again.
"Farewell, sahib," he whispered. "We will wait. I believe that you will escape. If not, rest assured, we will avenge you."
He was gone. Owen could hear his faint footfall as he slipped down the stairs. Then followed silence, complete silence, broken after a little while by the awakening noises from the city outside.
"Forewarned!" said Owen as calmly as he could, though his heart beat more forcibly now that he had heard Mulha's news. "So they will murder me, and make that a cause for war, as if there was not enough already! Ah! I know whom I have to thank for this! It is the Frenchman; but why? Why?"
Why indeed? Had our hero devoted himself to elucidating the reason for such display of malice for a week or even more he would have been no nearer the answer. The fact remained that Colonel Le Pourton had taken a sudden and none too friendly interest in him, and, moreover, appeared to be in some manner connected with his earlier history. What was there which could possibly make this English youth—a poorhouse boy, a beggar almost till friends came forward to help him—an enemy to be feared by one in such high command as this French colonel? And yet——
"He fears me, and he knows something of my earlier history. His conscience hurts him perhaps. Who knows, he may have been the very one who arranged for my abduction, for I was certainly stolen when I was a child. But a Frenchman! It seems impossible."
Owen looked at the matter from all sides, and could not fail to see the unlikelihood of this man having had anything to do with him in former days; for, as he had just said, Colonel Le Pourton was a Frenchman, and we[Pg 284] had been at war with his country for a long while. True, there had been a truce every now and again, even in India, where the two nations had been struggling the one against the other. English possessions had been captured and handed back again at the end of hostilities, and the same could be said of Pondicherry and other French holdings. It was possible that this Frenchman had known, in times of peace, some of the British officers, and then——
"What is the good of worrying about the matter?" thought Owen peevishly. "My life is of far more value to me than is this matter, and I will leave it. Now, how to escape? I will get away if it is possible. But how?"
He went over to the window again and stood there, leaning against the wall and staring down at the streets beneath. And as he did so he noted the surroundings of the palace, the courtyard below with its outer gates, the sentries stationed there, magnificent men of Holkar's bodyguard. And outside the very building to which Mulha had alluded. Yes, and as he looked there was the figure of the faithful servant entering the quarters allotted to his comrades. Owen waved his hand to him, and Mulha, happening to look up at his window, as he had done many a time in the last few hours without doubt, wondering behind which his master lay a prisoner, saw the signal and answered it. Then he disappeared, and our hero saw no more of him. He followed the courtyard round to its limits, and then traced the walls which surrounded the palace. They were evidently part of the defences of the town, and were armed with[Pg 285] heavy guns, some of brass and some of iron, and all of large proportions.
"That is certainly the largest I have ever seen in my life," thought Owen as his eye lit on one piece of gigantic size which towered over the others. "Its muzzle must be a couple of feet across."
This, in fact, was the case, and the gun in question almost rivalled in size another which was captured later in this campaign in Agra—a gun so huge that a man could easily slide into the barrel. But Owen's attention was soon taken up by other matters, and for a long while he stood there, unmindful of what he saw, planning an escape. The sun sank, the last which he was to see if Colonel Le Pourton could have his way, and the short twilight lit up the city of Indore, its palace, its minarets, and its squalid hovels. The sounds in its streets died down, while close to the gates the gathering throng showed that the country-folk were about to return to their homes. They were filing through the massive entrance to Indore, and he could see a thin stream of carts and pedestrians moving away into the distance. And gradually the gloom deepened, the light disappeared, and night fell with characteristic suddenness—perhaps Owen's last. The hour approached for his assassination, and at the thought he shuddered. Then his courage revived, and the very imminence of his danger spurred him on and made him reckless of danger and difficulty, willing to attempt anything.
"We shall see," he said, as his teeth closed together.[Pg 286] "This Holkar and his French friend shall see. They have not killed me yet, and——"
He broke off suddenly and once more tiptoed across to the door, for away down below came the slither of a sandal and the well-known step of the jailer. He was coming up the stairs, and very soon he was close to the prisoner's door. He stopped, and Owen heard the clink of the platter which carried his evening meal against the stone chatti containing his allowance of water.
"My evening meal," he thought. "He will come in and place the things on the floor, and then leave at once without a word, and with only a shake of his ugly head and an oath if I ask a question. A pleasant fellow indeed, and just the one to carry out this assassination of which I have been warned. He'll go, and that is the last time I shall be disturbed till he or others come on behalf of the Frenchman."
Suddenly his breath came faster and deeper, for a thought had struck him, and he realised that, since to break out of his prison was impossible, then the only way now was to throw himself upon his keeper; and that individual was now about to pay his last evening visit. It was now or never, and in an instant his determination was taken. He changed his position slightly, and stood so that when the door opened he would be behind it. The locks grated; he heard the man swear as he struggled with the key, for one hand was filled. But in a moment the fastening was undone and the door swung open, while the jailer, taking the platter in one hand and bearing the chatti in the other, stepped into the cell. A cry[Pg 287] escaped him, for up to now Owen had always stationed himself at the window.
"What! Gone! Escaped!"
The man's jaws opened in his consternation, while the chatti dropped from his hand and crashed to the floor, splintering there and scattering the contents. Then his wits returned, and he suddenly remembered to look behind the door. In an instant his mouth opened wide to give vent to a shout of rage and astonishment, for the prisoner stood there with drawn sabre in his hand. But the sound never left his lips, for as his eye fell upon the figure of the prisoner Owen leaped forward and, putting all his force into the blow, struck the man full in the face with the hilt of his weapon. There was a sickening crash, and then the clatter of the plate as it smashed on the floor. As for the Mahratta guard, he fell like an ox struck true and sure with a pole-axe, and lay stunned and helpless on the floor.
"The first step towards liberty," said Owen grimly, sheathing his sabre. "And now to get away. I must not delay, and yet I must not spoil all by undue hurry. Of course the only sensible thing to do is to take this fellow's clothes."
That such a course was advisable could not be gainsaid, and he set to work to carry out the change without delay or hesitation. And presently he was a Mahratta in appearance and dress, save that his skin was too light. However, a handful of dust from the floor remedied that defect, and with his sabre hooked to his belt and his[Pg 288] pistol beneath his quilted jacket he was ready. He stooped and looked carefully at the jailer.
"A broken nose at any rate," he said, as he observed the man's injuries, "and for my part I have no hesitation in saying that he richly deserves it. He is stunned, and I fancy will lie insensible for some little while. I'll lash his hands behind him and make him fast to that ring in the wall."
He set to work on a portion of the jailer's waist-cloth, and tore it into long shreds which he knotted together. When he had a piece of sufficient length he turned the man on his face and lashed his hands firmly, afterwards dragging him to the ring and making the tail end of the improvised rope fast there. He had now done all that was possible, and therefore, taking the bunch of keys which the Mahratta carried at his belt when he entered, Owen coolly left the cell, carefully shut and bolted the door after him, and having shot the locks stood in the passage thinking and listening.
"What of the other prisoners?" he said to himself. "They are somewhere in this tower, though I believe on another story. No. They say that they are in no immediate danger, while their imprisonment is no affair of mine. Had they been taken with me it would have been a different matter. I must leave them, for to attempt their rescue would be to throw away all chance of escape. Here goes!"
Never before had he been in disguise, but he was a lad who took the trouble to observe, and whose interest in life and people was so great that he was not content[Pg 289] to think of himself and his own appearance alone, as is the case with some smaller minds, but noted the ways and appearance of all strangers, seeing the difference between their actions, their walk, their manner of sitting, and a thousand and one other matters which might have escaped the eye of one less wide awake. And now, thanks to that very power of observation, he fell into the characteristic light step of a Mahratta unconsciously, holding himself proudly erect as was the wont of the soldiers and servants of the mighty Holkar. He jingled the keys in his hand, and since it was useless to stand there at the top of the stairs, he descended, two steps at a time, as his jailer was accustomed to do. And very soon he was at the foot, in the big hall which gave access to the courtyard, and at his elbow was the sentry, a tall fellow wearing a steel head-piece. In the distance, suspended from the roof, was a lamp of Eastern manufacture, which shed a faint light over the place, and for an instant fear of recognition caused Owen to hesitate. But it happened that a strong night breeze had got up, and this playing into the hall and upon the lamp caused the flame to flicker and cast fitful shadows on the walls. The sentry turned to face Owen, stared at him intently, and then shouldered his pike, giving a nod of recognition.
"You will be making another journey, brother," he said in low tones, for it was well for Holkar's guards to refrain from disturbing him. "I heard the chatti and the platter fall to the ground, and I suppose you will be returning. It is the last meal which he will ever take.[Pg 290] He is well, I hope; but did you strike him? I thought I heard the sound of a blow also."
Owen stamped his foot as the man spoke, and swore in Mahratti. Turning his head, he placed his hand to his ear and growled out a reply.
"Speak not to me of the dog," he said angrily. "The fellow commanded me to set him free, and struck me to make me let him pass. That was the cause of the breakage. But he will be careful next time. I dealt him a blow in return which will keep him silent till——"
"Till his hour comes, comrade. Hah! hah! These Feringhee dogs will all pay the price for their arrogance. But, hus-s-sh! Holkar is within."
"Then I will go. Heed not the noise upstairs should the prisoner call. Let the dog lie and hunger till to-night."
Owen went across the hall holding his hand to his ear, and boldly stepped down into the courtyard. It was empty save for the sentry standing erect and alert at the gate, and Owen was in the very act of crossing to him to bid him open when a thought struck him.
"If this fellow, the French colonel, is so anxious about my safety in the cell it is just possible that he has given orders that none are to leave the palace," he thought. "This man might then suspect, for as the jailer I ought to know all about the order. Hm! That is an unpleasant thought."
While he pondered on the matter he wandered away across the courtyard, and presently found himself on the[Pg 291] wide ledge which ran along behind the wall defending the palace. It was in semi-darkness, for though a small crescent of the moon was up, clouds filled the sky and obscured the light. And here he remained for some minutes, thinking deeply and starting nervously at every sound. Suddenly a door opened at the side of the palace, some thirty yards behind him, and a flood of light poured out, illuminating a portion of one of Holkar's gardens. Owen crouched beneath one of the brass cannon beside which he happened to have been standing, and then lay flat on his face, for the figure which emerged was that of Colonel Le Pourton. He stood silhouetted against the brightly illuminated archway of the door for some few seconds, and then he strode across to the courtyard with the step of a man who has a matter of some importance to carry out. Owen followed carefully, his body close to the wall, shrouded in the dense darkness which existed there. And very fortunate for him was it that he did so; for as the Colonel came to the main entrance of the palace Owen heard him call to the sentry.
"It is time the jailer took food to the prisoner," he cried. "Bid him come to me ere he does so, for I desire to go to the cell and speak with the white man. I will return to my quarters now. Bid him come there to summon me."
And faintly the answer came back, "My lord, the prisoner is fed, and the man you ask for gone some little time. He went into the courtyard, and I have not seen him since."
The Frenchman growled out at the reply, and swinging round went to the man stationed at the outer gate, of whom he demanded whether he had seen the jailer.
"I did, some little while ago now, my lord," came the answer, while the courtyard rang with the sound of the man's pike as he grounded it on the flags. "He went across this place and on to the wall yonder, where he is now without doubt, for there is no way out and he has not returned. Unless he slipped past against the far wall, when the sentry within will have seen him."
Once more the Colonel swung round, and Owen realised with a sickening feeling of dread that he was coming across to the spot where he was in hiding. Terror of discovery and what would follow almost rooted him to the spot, and it was fortunate for him that his enemy, happening to think of some other matter, returned to question the sentry again. Owen took full advantage of the respite. Darting along the wall, he did not halt till he came to the farther end, where a flanking tower was erected preventing farther progress. There he halted, looking about him like a hunted animal, while his ears caught the approaching step of the Colonel in the distance. His danger was imminent, and discovery seemed more than certain. He drew his sabre, and then thrust it back with a sharp cry of delight. For danger sharpens men's wits at times, and Owen's mind had suddenly returned to what he had seen that day. He ran towards the approaching step, tiptoeing over the grass which bordered the wall, and halted beside the big gun which had caught his eye. There was not an instant[Pg 293] to be lost, and therefore without hesitation he unhooked his sabre and thrust it into the muzzle, lest it should strike later and attract attention. Then he sprang on to the wall, and thrust one leg into the gun. Leaning all his weight on his hands, he did the same with the other, and in less time than it takes to tell he was out of sight, swallowed by the gigantic weapon.
What if it were loaded! What if this Colonel discovered him, and taking advantage of his position fired the gun!
"It would come to the same in the end," thought Owen. "Anyhow, I am sure that I could not have found a finer hiding-place, while as for room, in here there is heaps. It is as I thought. The calibre is very much greater than one usually comes across, and the muzzle must measure quite two feet—ample room for a youngster like me. Hark! There he comes."
He held his breath, for the sound of a footstep near at hand came distinctly to his ears. He heard the Colonel move along past the gun to the wall of the flanking tower, and then his steps as he returned. Evidently he was a little uncertain of the sentry's tale, for he stepped to the wall, and leaning his hand on the muzzle of the giant gun within which his prisoner lay he leaned over and peered into the darkness of the street below.
"Not there. It is a good jump, and the fellow knows that I have given strict orders that none are to leave the palace," Owen heard him say. Then he raised his voice and called angrily to the sentry.
"Over there!" he shouted; "the jailer is not here, and[Pg 294] doubtless you have never seen him. Pass the word in that he is to be found and is to come to me without delay. See that the order is given."
He leaped to the ground and went off in the darkness, while Owen, waiting till his steps had ceased to reach his ears, dragged himself to the edge of the muzzle, and craning his head over it stared after him. The figure of the French colonel had disappeared in the gathering darkness, but within a minute it appeared again at the entrance to his quarters, where his tall frame was again silhouetted against the light within. Then he was gone again, and there was only the light, streaming out from the opening.
"He wants the jailer, and the orders are that none leave the palace," said Owen. "Very well. He shall be obeyed. I will go to him."
He swung himself out of the gun, hitched on his sabre, and crossed to the opening. A minute later he disappeared within, bent on interviewing his enemy.
"An order from this white fiend is obeyed as if he were an emperor indeed!" Owen repeated the very words to which Mulha had given utterance that same afternoon when referring to the Colonel, and boldly entered the archway through which Colonel Le Pourton had disappeared. There was a grim and determined look on his dust-smeared face which betokened recklessness, for our hero was in a corner.
"Of what use is it to me to be free of my cell and yet unable to leave the precincts of the palace?" he murmured. "Besides, there are the troopers. They cannot leave till to-morrow without an order from this man, and, well, he will have to give it. The risk is worth the attempt, and if this Colonel was so staggered at my answers to his questions, perhaps he will be even more so at my sudden appearance. If not, I will shoot him like a dog."
He moistened his lips as he drew out his pistol, and taking advantage of the light saw that the weapon was primed and ready. Within the archway he could see a long corridor, lit by a second swinging Eastern lamp of[Pg 296] perforated metal-work, and in the distance another opening. The aroma of tobacco filled his nostrils, while he distinctly saw that thin wisps of smoke were issuing from this far room. Then the French colonel was indulging in a smoke, and that pointed to the fact that he had no fears as to the security of his prisoner. Owen took heart at the sight and pushed on without hesitation, determined to get the better of his opponent. He thrust his hand beneath his coat, and treading lightly, advanced to the door.
"Who is there? Speak at once," called the Colonel.
"Your servant, sahib, come at the word of the sentry. The prisoner is fed and has settled for the night. I am told that you desire to speak with him."
"Enter. Come into the room, and listen to what I have to say. Later, we will go to his cell."
At the words Owen advanced again and stepped into the room, to find it brilliantly illuminated, while the lamp hung over a central table at which the long figure of his enemy lounged. Colonel Le Pourton had as yet no suspicion of the intention of his visitor or of his disguise, for as the escaping prisoner entered he barely glanced at him, and then returned to the work he had in hand. There were plans and maps before him, and on one of the latter he was tracing out the positions of the various British forces then in the field. At his elbow stood a massive gold box, in which was his store of tobacco, while he held between his thin lips the stem of an English clay pipe, so much beloved of our forefathers. Smoke issued in thin puffs from his lips and from his[Pg 297] nose and billowed into the room, almost hiding him from view, and obscuring some portion of the decorated ceiling, the limp Eastern hangings, and the rich mats which lay on the floor. Owen salaamed, with one hand to his forehead, while he still concealed his pistol.
"You called, my lord," he said. "I am here."
Had he cared he could have shot the Frenchman where he stood with the greatest ease and security, for Colonel Le Pourton was wont to treat all natives as if they were dust beneath his feet. It was not his custom to interrupt any matter upon which he might be engaged because a servant happened to enter his room; and so, for a minute at least, he stood there, lounging over the table, making dots upon the map with a pencil and puffing clouds of smoke into the air. At length he dropped the pencil, smoothed out the map, and slowly swung round to interview his visitor. His eyes fell first upon the stranger's elaborate turban, and then travelled to his face. He opened his lips to speak, taking the pipe out as he did so, and then his jaw dropped, his eyes seemed to start from his head, while his moustaches bristled. He staggered back to the table, and leaned one hand upon it. Then his eyes went to his sabre, which stood against the far side, a growl escaping his lips as he saw that it was out of reach. But he could shout. He could call and give warning to the sentries at the gate. Owen could almost read his thoughts, and saw his lips open again for the purpose of calling. But he had a means within his hand to silence his enemy, and at the sight his pistol flashed out from beneath his coat and in less[Pg 298] than a second Colonel Le Pourton was staring with protruding eyes down the muzzle of the weapon.
"It is much the same to me, Colonel," said Owen in the Mahratta language, wonderfully cool now that the time for action had arrived. "I was to have been murdered to-night. If you call out or attempt opposition I will fire, and will at least have the pleasure of seeing you die first. Silence, sir! Sit down!"
There was no mistaking the tone of the order, nor the fact that Colonel Le Pourton in his own apartments, looking down the muzzle of a loaded pistol, was a different individual from the proud and overbearing white officer when in front of Holkar's troops. He weakened. A cold perspiration broke out on his forehead and trickled down his temples. His nervous hands gripped the edge of the table, while what colour he had had disappeared entirely. He became a child, and feebly whined for mercy.
"I would have rescued you," he said. "It was all Holkar's doing. But you would have gone free. I myself would have seen to that."
"Silence!" Owen strode a pace nearer and placed the muzzle against his forehead.
"Another lie such as that and I will blow out your brains," he said sternly, though his heart fluttered now with excitement. "You would have set me free! You will do so. There is paper there. Here is a pen. Prepare to write."
Obedient to every command, the servile Frenchman did as he was told, and scrawled the words which Owen[Pg 299] dictated, tracing them across the paper in feeble letters which jostled one another, for his hands were trembling.
"From Colonel Le Pourton, to the officer on guard, and to those stationed at the gates. Holkar bids you pass these twenty troopers, their officer and his servant, in safety, without molestation, from the city."
"That is right, and now we can proceed," said Owen, becoming calmer as the moments passed. "Now look at me. You asked me certain questions. How did they interest you?"
He had no intention of sparing his enemy, and as the Frenchman turned a pair of shifty eyes upon his, the pistol again went to his forehead.
"I cannot say," was the trembling answer. "It was merely curiosity. I know nothing of you or yours."
Owen could see that the man was not telling the truth, and would have pushed the question. Then he frowned at his prisoner, while he still kept the weapon at his head.
"Pshaw!" he thought. "Important though the answer may be, it cannot be of such moment as is the question of escape. Some day we may meet again, and then I will find time to force him to answer. Listen," he went on. "I believe that your questions were prompted by something more than curiosity, and that you are lying to me. We may meet again, and then I will learn what you know. For the present, I have more for you to do. Stand in the corner there and strip your clothing."
By now the small store of courage possessed by the[Pg 300] Colonel was beginning to return, and he flashed back a look of defiance at our hero. But Owen gave him little opportunity of going farther. Within a moment he buffeted his enemy across the face, striking him with his open hand.
"Obey me instantly!" he commanded in stern tones. "I give you five seconds."
The Frenchman's courage was not proof against such an attack, and he collapsed immediately. Rising from his chair, he tottered to the far corner and slowly began to divest himself of his clothing, till Owen hastened him with a glance which threatened further violence. A minute later the Colonel stood naked but for a thin under-garment.
"What is in the smaller room beyond?" demanded Owen, for his eye had seen another door, wide open, and a space beyond. "But I will see for myself. Take that lamp. Now walk before me, and recollect that I will shoot you with pleasure."
Following his prisoner, he entered the chamber beyond, to ascertain that it was merely a storeroom filled with maps and other documents, and entirely devoid of windows.
"The very place for him," thought Owen. "I will have two strings to my bow on this occasion—the pass which he has signed, and the disguise which he has so kindly provided. Give me the lamp," he went on. "You will stay here while I arrange matters in the other room. I warn you that if you attempt to give an alarm I will enter and shoot you. You would have murdered me to-night[Pg 301] in cold blood, and you must not mind if I feel disposed to kill you on the smallest pretext."
He carried the lamp to the table, keeping his face to his prisoner, then he banged the door of the inner room and secured it with the key which was in the lock. Tucking the pistol into his belt, he then wrestled with a chest which stood in one corner, and by using all his strength moved it over against the door. That done, he wasted no further time on his prisoner, but rapidly donned his clothing. He was ready within a few minutes, and stood looking at himself in a fine glass of European manufacture set in a gilded frame of Mahratta workmanship.
"A little short, and distinctly youngish," he said. "But the impersonation is fairly good, and with something over my mouth will do. I'll risk it."
He was still examining his figure with some satisfaction when a step outside called his attention, and he sprang to the door and stepped into the passage. Some one was entering, and in a moment he recognised the sentry who had been stationed at the foot of the stairway leading to his prison. The man salaamed as Owen appeared, remaining with his head to the tips of his fingers, in abject humility. Owen swung round at once, so as to hide his face, while he appeared to be engaged in looking at something in the room.
"What is it?" he demanded curtly, attempting to imitate the accent of his prisoner.
"The jailer, my lord. I have searched for him—we have all searched every corner of the palace, and without[Pg 302] success. There are groans coming from the cell where the prisoner is, and we fancy that he may be there."
"Then you can ease your minds, dolts that you all are," answered Owen in rasping tones. "The man is here, engaged with me, and will remain till—till the time comes for him to visit his prisoner. Go back to your post, and bid the man at the gate make ready to pass me out. I am going without the palace for a little while."
He turned to watch the Mahratta salaaming, and then stared after his retreating figure, his heart palpitating, for discovery had been narrowly averted. When he was gone, he took the lamp again and inspected the door behind which the Frenchman was secured, and finding nothing there to disturb his mind, he slung the Colonel's sword to his belt, picked up his pistol, and drawing a silk scarf which happened to be in the room about his mouth went into the passage. Closing the door, he locked it, doing the same with the one which led into the garden. Then he tossed the keys into the bushes, flinging after them those which opened the door of the cell in which he had been quartered.
"And now for the gate and freedom," he said. "If the fellow on duty dares to stop me——"
He eased the sabre and strode on, the weapon clanking at his heels. And presently he was before the gates, to find three of the Mahrattas standing there, their pikes across their shoulders, while the gates stood wide open. Nodding curtly in acknowledgment of their salute, he passed into the street and turned in the direction opposite[Pg 303] to that in which he knew his comrades to be quartered. Then he swung into the first side street, and again to the right, till he came to the back of the building in which Mulha had told him he would find his troopers. Lights were burning within, and some feet above his head there was an open window. Owen picked up a stone and threw it in, sending a second after it. A head suddenly appeared, there was a sharp cry, and within a couple of seconds a lithe and active form had slipped through the window, dropped to the ground, and was weeping and kneeling at his feet, grasping his ankles and legs as if begging life itself from the escaped prisoner.
"Sahib, we have a ladder here. Mount and tell us all that has happened."
The native officer, whose head and shoulders now protruded from the window, lowered a light and flimsy ladder made of sacking, and sternly bade Mulha leave the officer.
"Silence!" he whispered hoarsely. "Would you that the sahib should now be taken when he has made good his escape? Silence!"
"Steady, Mulha. I'm glad to see you. Now, up we go."
In less than a minute he was standing on the floor of a loft, lit by a couple of smoky native lamps, and on which his twenty troopers had been reclining. Now, however, they stood about him exclaiming, giving vent to their joy.
"To-morrow we were to have marched, and this night——"
"I know the tale," said Owen, interrupting the native officer. "The orders are reversed. To-night we march. To-morrow—well, we may be killed. Are the horses saddled?"
"All is in readiness according to your orders, sahib."
"And is there a door by which we can get out without leading into the main street?"
"There is, sahib. The locks are opened already."
"Then listen. My jailer is lying stunned in my cell. The Frenchman who influences Holkar, and who would have killed me to-night, is a prisoner in his own apartments, and is no doubt making frantic efforts to escape or sound the alarm. I am in his place for the moment, for I have taken his clothes. The ruse may or may not succeed. If not, and the guards at the gates refuse to pass us, draw and cut them down at once. For we must not delay. We shall have to ride yet for our lives."
"Silence!" There was a buzz of excitement as Owen rapidly sketched his tale, but the native officer quelled it on the instant. He lifted his hand, and at once all became silent.
"To your horses and mount," he said. "The sahib leads, and you will follow in your order. I claim the post of honour."
There was a flash in his eye as the gallant fellow claimed to pass last out of the city, and then the troopers scattered. Running lightly over the floor, they went to the stables below, and in less than three minutes all were mounted—Owen on his favourite Mahratta[Pg 305] horse, Mulha just at his elbow, and the troopers in file behind them. It was very dark down there, but not so dark that they could not make out the outlines of the building. But in any case the horses knew where they were, and wanted only directing. At a touch from Owen's heel the party set out, and rapidly passed through the door of the building. Closing up as they gained the street, they rode in a compact body, their horses' hoofs clattering now and again as they passed over stony ground. But there had been recent rain, and thanks to that their progress was for the most part silent. At length they arrived within a hundred yards of the gate of Indore, and halted to reconnoitre.
"Hark! A horse galloping!"
Mulha lifted his hand and touched Owen's elbow, while all sat still, listening intently. And soon there could be no doubt that a horse was thundering down a neighbouring street and was coming towards the gates. More than that, the man who rode this unseen animal shouted at the top of his voice, and even at that distance Owen could see that the sentries at the gate had come together and were discussing the matter.
"The Colonel must have got free, or the jailer has been discovered," he said suddenly. "Trot! Gallop!"
He set his heels to his horse, and followed by his troopers dashed down upon the gate, drawing his sabre as he rode. And when within some fifteen yards of the gate the horse which had first roused their suspicion burst from a street close beside them, and turning to the gate crashed on towards it, its hoofs striking sparks[Pg 306] from the stones. Mounted upon the beast was a strange figure; for, if Owen could believe his eyes, there was the white leader of Holkar's forces, naked but for a light under-garment, his bare legs and arms showing and his moustaches blowing in the wind.
"Treachery! Keep the gates closed and turn out the guard. Treachery!" he shouted.
Owen waved his sabre over his head and again set his heels to his horse. It was a race, and the Colonel had barely the best of it. Dashing up to the astonished sentries, he pulled in his horse with such a jerk that the animal slid some four yards on its heels, scattering stones and sparks. Then he fell from the saddle, and leaping to his feet, rushed into the guard-house. A musket flashed, and a ball flew past the troopers. Shouts filled the air, while armed men appeared from all directions, seeming almost to rise from the ground. Then another musket flashed from the window of the guard-house, and the bullet struck Owen's sabre with a sharp metallic sound, glancing from it and hitting the wall behind.
"Hold them while I open the gate," shouted our hero, flinging himself from the saddle—an example which Mulha and two of the troopers followed, while the remainder, some with their lances, but the majority with their sabres, charged at the enemy, scattering them.
"Here is the bar. Up with it! Now pull!"
Fortunately there was no lock, and therefore little difficulty in opening the gates. In little more than a minute one was thrown back, and the way was open.[Pg 307] Owen climbed into his saddle, gave the word to his men, and was in the very act of departing when the figure of the Colonel appeared at the door of the guard-house. He was beside himself with rage, and could barely control his actions. But now was his opportunity, for the attention of the troopers was taken from the guard-house. He levelled a musket which he snatched from one of the soldiers, took as careful aim as his excitement would allow, and pressed the trigger.
"To Cornet Owen Jones," he shouted, as the bullet struck. "A legacy from Colonel Le Pourton."
He stood there at the door, clutching the woodwork and eagerly watching to see what effect his shot would have. His eyes started from his head, so great was his eagerness, and when Owen tottered and fell from his saddle the inhuman Frenchman gave vent to a shriek of joy which could be heard at the palace.
"Down! Mon dieu! He is killed! At last this matter is settled!"
There was a shout of rage from the troopers, two of them slipping from their saddles and lifting their officer. Then as they raised him to the arms of Mulha there was a fierce cry from the native officer.
"See how he gloats over the death of the sahib," he cried, his eyes blazing with wrath. "This for the French leader of Holkar's army. This for all who serve the false and treacherous chief."
He spurred towards the guard-house, mounted the steps, and cut the Colonel down with a terrific blow from his sabre. Then he turned the weapon upon the other[Pg 308] soldiers standing near, and so great was the terror that he inspired that within two minutes the guard-house, the gates, and their surroundings were cleared.
"Is the sahib lifted and cared for?" he demanded. "Tell me not that he is dead! If that be so, then I swear that we will turn and rout out more of these traitors, for I care not to live while the sahib falls."
"Come," said Mulha shortly. "He lives. The bullet has struck him hardly, but he will recover with care. Ride on, or we shall all be taken."
They galloped through the gates, one of the troopers leading Owen's horse, and did not draw rein till they had covered some five miles.
"What are the injuries? Let us see to them now while we are halted."
The officer dropped from his saddle and took Owen from Mulha. Then, with the light of the moon to help them, they exposed the wound in his side and dressed it as well as they were able.
"With care, he will recover," said Mulha with authority. "But he must have rest. To ride far will be to kill him."
"While to halt will lead to his death with equal certainty. We must ride, but not in this direction. We will make for Agra."
Turning their horses, they trotted on into the night, and, managing to elude the swarms of horsemen sent to pursue them, finally came to a halt in a shady wood some twenty miles away.
"He shall ride in a litter," said Mulha, as he and the[Pg 309] native officer discussed the question. "The journey will do no harm if taken slowly, for the injury is not so grave as appeared at first. We will construct a stretcher to be borne by two of the horses."
Two days later when they set out, Owen, now quite conscious, lay snugly in a long litter made of bamboos, the side members of which were fastened in front and behind to a saddle in such manner that even if the troopers who rode the two horses happened to let their beasts get somewhat far from one another the stretcher could not fall. And in this way they came at length to Agra and fell in with the division under command of the famous General Lake. Owen was at once transferred to the hospital.
"Bedad, now, if it wasn't that ye've the thickest hide and the sthrongest bones of enny Oi iver come across, me bhoy, ye'd be dead! 'Tis mighty lucky ye are, so ye are, and ye'll never meet wid the same again. Ye'll be dead, as dead as a donkey."
The Irish doctor who stood over the litter on which Owen reclined wagged his head knowingly while he lifted an admonishing finger.
"As dead as enny donkey, me bhoy, so ye will, and jest ye take the warnin'. 'Tis said you're a fire-eater, and that ye've seen as much of the campaign or of the fightin' as enny. Oi believe it. Where did ye start?"
"At Ahmednuggur, sir. Then we went on to Assaye."
"And from there, me bhoy? Ye've not been idle since?"
"I was sent to Holkar with a despatch, and afterwards came through here with more despatches for General Lake."
"Thin ye've been busy, because Assaye and Indore are miles from here. Bedad, it must have taken days[Pg 311] to cover the country. And what kept ye at Indore? Some fascinating beauty in Holkar's court? Ah, hah! me bhoy, don't tell me it was duty. 'Tis a little flirtation of your own ye've been looking afther, and sure that's why Holkar put ye in the jug, so it is."
The doctor roared at Owen's obvious indignation, while our hero soon joined in the laughter, for he saw that this new friend of his was only making fun. He sat up in his litter and addressed him eagerly.
"That's it, sir, and I'm dreadfully anxious to get up and out of this. When shall I be fit? I feel well and strong now, and am sure I shall be able to return to duty within a day or so."
"Ye will, will ye? Thin ye'll have to learn that ye've to stay where ye are for a week. Ha! ha! A week, me bhoy, and even thin Oi may keep ye. And jist remimber. Ye're lucky to be alive at all, so ye are, for that bit of a bullet gave ye a nasty clip. Now if it had happened to hit thrue and straight, why——"
"I shouldn't have been bothering you, sir."
"Bedad, ye would not. If it had sthruck ye true, and ye'd not had the hide ye've got, ye'd be dead, as Oi've told ye. Now lie down and sleep, or else Oi'll be havin' to place ye on dry biscuit and wather."
He was a merry soul this doctor, and for all his fun a capable and painstaking attendant on those who were sick or injured. No sooner had Owen been brought into the camp than he appeared at the tent, and having given him some broth at once attended to his wound. That was a week ago, and he had been able to pronounce[Pg 312] the injury severe, but not dangerous by any means, and likely to heal rapidly. Indeed, when another week was gone he declared that Owen might return to light duty.
"Though 'tis little lightness there'll be about it," he said, with a laugh. "Ye know it's against the ordhers to send men or officers back to anything but full duty. But what will ye have? There's some, and they're mighty few I can tell ye, who haven't that love for the work. But whin there's fightin' and heads to be broken, why, thin's the toime the soldier bhoy is keen for duty and the ranks. Sure Oi know it well afther all these years' service. If it's times of peace, and there's nothin' doin' but dhrills and barrack fatigues, field-days and guards, why, thin, there's many who would shirk if they was able, and who'd be willin' to find the right excuse. But here, whin it's war, why, bedad, there's no keepin' the bhoys. They're for duty again before their wounds are closed, so they are, good luck to thim!"
And this might be said to be the case with all our armies in the field in those days, and even till more recent times, though it is not the custom now to return men to duty before their wounds are entirely healed. In the days of the Mahratta campaign, however, European troops were few and very valuable, while actions crowded so closely upon one another that it was difficult to make good our losses. Thus the demand for men to return to the ranks from the hospitals was great, and the keenness of the soldiers to get back to their duty and to take up their arms again was a matter of congratulation to their commanders. It is not to be wondered at that Owen[Pg 313] longed to don uniform again, and fretted at the necessity which kept him in hospital. Every day he could hear the roar of guns, while the dust kicked up by passing battalions filled his tent. He begged to be sent out, and in due course obtained permission.
"But ye'll have to go gintly for a time. No gallopin' and chargin'," said the doctor. "However, there's not much fear for ye for a week or more, for I hear to-day that there is to be peace in these parts. Sit down, me bhoy. Ye're always wantin' to be standin' when ye've had ordhers to rest. Now Oi'll tell ye how matters have been goin'. Ye've heard of Delhi, and that we left Ochterlony there and marched sthrait for Agra. Well, we're here, and so's the enemy, but they're showing little spirit. 'Tis said that the city will be surrendered to us, and if that's the case, why, ye'll have a quiet time in camp for some days perhaps, and by thin ye should be fit and well. Mind, ye're to wear a bandage about the wound, and when ye turn, turn slowly, or the wound will open again."
The following day, in fact, found Owen out and about, though he did not venture to mount his horse. Long ago his dispatches had been taken to General Lake, and that officer had been to see him and interrogate him. Then, also, an officer with a strong escort had been sent back to General Wellesley to tell him of the infamous treatment meeted out to his messenger, and of the undoubted hostility of Holkar.
Meanwhile General Lake and his command had obtained further successes, as the doctor had hinted.[Pg 314] He and his force had arrived at and had invested the stately city of Agra, the key of Western India, on the 7th of October, and within two days had concluded a treaty with the Rajah of Bhurtpore, who at once supplied reinforcements. The city of Agra was defended by Scindia's men, who in former times had been under the command of British officers, for it was the custom then to permit officers to take service with foreign contingents. And no doubt this was done with a view in some small measure to counteract the influence of the many French officers who were in the service and employ of chieftains. To this day, indeed, many officers find employment with native contingents. However, the officers who had formerly commanded at Agra were now lying prisoners in the dungeons, and the defenders were in such a condition of chaos that when General Lake sent in a request that the city should be surrendered there was no one in command to reply.
Seven of Scindia's regular battalions were encamped in the glacis, and held the city of Agra and some deep sandy ravines to the south and west of the city's fort, and it became necessary to dislodge these as a preliminary to attacking the place. On the 10th of October a force was sent against them, and after meeting with stern resistance defeated them, driving them off and capturing the stately city, while the survivors of Scindia's troops, some 2500 strong, surrendered to General Lake. Our attention was now turned to the city's fort, and a battery of 18-pounders was brought to bear. These were the guns which Owen heard hammering at the walls, and it[Pg 315] was not long before their well-directed shot had made a breach which was almost practicable. At this stage the garrison surrendered, being influenced to do so by one of the imprisoned British officers. Five thousand five hundred of the enemy fell into our hands as prisoners of war, thus further reducing Scindia's power, while more than £200,000 worth of treasure was taken—a fine haul for the conquerors and for the Company. One hundred and sixty-four cannon were taken, and amongst these one of similar proportions to that at Indore, which had offered such friendly shelter to Owen. It measured 14 feet 2 inches in length, had a calibre of 23 inches, and weighed over 38 tons—a monster indeed!
The capture of Agra gave us the control of the navigation of the Jumna, and enabled several independent chiefs in that quarter, hitherto debarred from joining us owing to Scindia's power, to throw in their lot with the British.
However, we were not to have matters altogether in our own hands, for it was ascertained that Scindia had detached seven of his regular and trained battalions some little time before, and had placed them under the command of a French officer. There was also another battalion composed of fugitives from Agra, making in all 9000 infantry and 5000 cavalry, all of whom had now to fight for their pay, and who were hourly being reinforced by other stragglers, who joined the force as their only means of livelihood, hoping to be able to make up for loss of pay by wholesale robberies. Very soon their French leader lost heart and surrendered,[Pg 316] when the force was taken over by a Mahratta. For a time they hovered in the neighbourhood of Agra and then made off towards Delhi, their intention being to attack that weakly garrisoned city. They were, in fact, a menace, and a serious one, to the peace and tranquillity of the country General Lake had conquered so far, and he at once marched after them, determined to bring them to battle, finally arriving at Futtehpore with men, guns, and baggage. Owen rode with the army on this occasion, his wound being now almost healed, though his side was very stiff and at times painful.
"'Twill be all right if ye'll jest remimber all about it, me bhoy," said the friendly doctor as he watched him mount. "The ball jest cracked a couple of ribs and gave ye a nasty wound over thim. But you're right so long as you keep that plaster tight over the chest and don't exert yourself too much. Mind, no charges. No dashin' into the middle of the inemy as at Assaye. Hah! hah! We've heard. There's tales in the camp about Cornet Owen Jones—Captain Jones, perhaps, when the despatches arrive. Good-bye, me lad. Look me up when ye return to camp."
On the very evening on which the army arrived at Futtehpore a native came into camp with a chit (note) and searched for the quarters of Cornet Owen Jones. Mulha brought him to his master, standing over the man as if he expected him at any moment to throw himself upon the British officer and assassinate him.
"This fellow came to the camp an hour ago, sahib," he said, watching the native as he salaamed. "He is[Pg 317] the bearer of a note, and will say neither from whom it comes nor from what quarter. He is a stubborn fool!"
"Perhaps he has orders to keep his lips closed," said Owen. "Give me the note. Where do you come from?"
"From Catumbo, where Scindia's forces were encamped yesterday, sahib," was the answer. "I am but a humble Mahratta shepherd, and was with my flock when the army passed. They saw me and dragged me to their camp, where they questioned me. But I had seen nothing of the British, and they set me free again. As I was leaving, a messenger detained me and I was taken to the tent of a French officer. He was tall, and wore a bandage about his head and beneath his turban. I judged him to have great power."
"Colonel Le Pourton, without a doubt!" exclaimed Owen. "Then he has joined the enemy, or perhaps he has gone to them with a purpose."
"Sahib, in Indore while you were prisoner we learned many things," said Mulha. "We knew that the men of Holkar had but little love for these soldiers of Scindia, and despised them, having defeated them in battle. But they have less love for the British, and the tale was whispered in the streets that Holkar would become friendly with Scindia, and that the two together would make war against your people. May it not be that this French colonel is with the enemy with that object?"
"More than probable," admitted Owen. "But go on with your tale. This man was tall, and was a powerful sahib."
"He was, sahib. He had a hundred servants to wait upon him, and an army of horsemen as escort. I saw them encamped about his tent. He is without doubt a powerful leader. He handed me a bag of silver, and bade me carry this note to you. That is all. If I refused, or failed to do his bidding, he promised to come down upon my house and slay me and mine. There is the chit."
Owen opened the note slowly and glanced at the contents. Then a contemptuous smile wreathed his lips, and he looked up at Mulha.
"As before," he said calmly; "threats, nothing but threats. Listen to this. Here is Colonel Le Pourton's message. 'To Cornet Owen Jones, greeting from Colonel Le Pourton, commander of Holkar's forces. This is to inform you that I will give due reward for the trick you practised upon me at Indore, and for the blow that was given I will return a hundred. Think not that because Agra has fallen you and yours will conquer. Holkar will hound you out of these territories, and you and your comrades will not escape. I am a fair man, and will deal fairly with you. I give you warning that I will follow and slay you at the first opportunity.'"
It was written in Mahratti, and Owen recognised the writing to be the same as that on the pass he had obtained at Indore; but on this occasion the letters were better formed, and there was more firmness about the writing.
"You may go," he said, turning to the native. "Here is a reward for bringing the chit."
He watched the man depart, and then turned to Mulha.
"Keep an eye open for strangers, Mulha," he said quietly. "This Frenchman has some great interest in my destruction, and would have me assassinated. Were I to meet him I should have little fear, for a man who threatens is a coward."
"The sahib may count upon my watchfulness," was the answer. "Your troopers and I will set a constant watch, and any stranger who comes will be closely followed. Rest easy, sahib. You will be protected."
He went off to the men, and from that hour, whenever Owen emerged from his quarters, there was a swarthy trooper lounging up and down, his eyes carefully scrutinising all who passed, while with a warning finger and an air of authority he waved all natives away who happened to be in the vicinity. However, it was not long before the camp was struck and the troops were in motion again.
"There will be a dash. We have had information of the position of the enemy," said one of the officers, "and the orders for marching are out. We leave guns and baggage."
Indeed, very little later the force was at Catumbo, from which the enemy had only just fallen back. There was a growl of disappointment from the men, for it was hard work marching in the sun. However, the orders which were issued at once set their minds at rest, and showed them that if they were eager for the fray so also was their leader.
"We leave camp at eleven to-night," said the same officer, one of the cavalry. "General Lake knows that the beggars will slip away unless he can surprise and hold them. For that reason the horse march to-night, while the foot follow at dawn. There is fun ahead of us. You'll ride with us, my boy."
Owen had, in fact, been told off to the 29th Light Dragoons, with which regiment he and his troopers mustered that very evening. Beside them rode the 8th Royal Irish and the 27th Light Dragoons, a fine body of cavalry, strongly reinforced by five native regiments. It was pitch dark when they filed out of the camp, and for six hours they rode on in silence, following the track of the enemy. Soon after dawn had broken, and while it was still barely light, there was a thrill of excitement through the ranks, and the word was passed that the enemy were in sight.
"And in order of retreat," said Owen's new friend. "Look at them, making away as fast as they can. Put your feet well home, my lad, and get a grip of your saddle, for if I know the General only a very little, I am as sure that he will go right at them as I am that—that—well, that I'm here talking to you."
His face flushed while he rose in the saddle to peer over the heads of the troopers riding in advance and get a view of the enemy. Our hero, too, was infected with the same excitement. He felt as he had done on that memorable afternoon at Assaye. Before him, trailing along the track in full retreat, he saw Scindia's last hope, some seventeen battalions of infantry, for the most[Pg 321] part as highly trained as any European force could be, and officered by experienced men, though all their French trainers had departed. And in rear of them fully 5000 cavalry, the cream of the Mahratta horse, bold-looking if not actually very courageous soldiers. In their midst the teams struggled with no fewer than 72 pieces of cannon, beside which marched the trained gunners, men second to none even amongst white troops. That was not all, for amidst the curling clouds of dust which encircled the fleeing army, filling the mouths and nostrils of men and animals till they almost choked, were elephants in large numbers, bullock-carts, laden horses, and huge numbers of camp followers, the curse of Eastern armies, the incubus which, hanging about the neck of moving forces, has more than once brought ruin and defeat to the commander, and death or imprisonment to all attached to it.
It was a mighty gathering, and Lake could well have been excused had he decided to wait for his infantry, now well on the road, for they were to set out at three in the morning. But he knew the risks attached to a postponement of hostilities, and feared that Scindia's forces might escape him. He decided then and there to attack with his sabres, and rapidly made his plans. Meanwhile the enemy, seeing that a conflict was imminent, took up a strong position.
To give themselves time to do this they cleverly cut a large tank, thus hindering our troopers, and allowing their own men to occupy the posts assigned to the various arms, all in close proximity to the village of[Pg 322] Laswaree. In their rear ran a rivulet, with steep and awkward banks, while their right flank lay in front of the village. Their left rested on the village of Mohulpore, and their centre took up a position behind a formidable barrier of high grass, formidable because it hid their exact positions, and made it extremely difficult for cavalry to approach. And here were stationed their guns, all chained together, so as to prevent horsemen charging through them. Truly, as the reader will admit, a formidable array. Indeed, it soon became evident that the cavalry alone were insufficient for the task, and after incurring some loss Lake drew off to wait for his infantry. And presently these were in position, having made a very fine forced march. The 76th regiment, with six battalions of sepoys, were near the village of Laswaree, while the cavalry were posted to watch the enemy and to cover the advance of the attacking force with the light galloper guns which in those days accompanied our cavalry.
"They will weaken and offer to surrender," said the officer who sat his horse beside Owen. "You can see, now that the dust has settled down, that there is a good deal of commotion behind their lines, and that a number of the leaders are gathered at a council. Bet you a pair of boots there's no fight."
He heaved a sigh of disappointment and sat wearily back in his saddle, for the cavalry had worked very hard, and excitement alone had kept up their energies. Soon Owen saw that a messenger was coming from the lines of the enemy.
"They'll fight. I'll take the bet," he said. "That force will never give in to us. They have too many trained troops to do that, and remember what they call themselves. They boast that they are the Deccan Invincibles. Done with you! The boots are mine."
He grinned at the officer, a grin which denoted little merriment, but a good deal of anxiety, for Owen himself was none too sure that the enemy would not surrender. However, an hour later Lake himself went to the front of the British lines, the enemy having failed to come to terms, and advanced against the Mahrattas. Instantly the enemy's pieces opened, and a murderous hail of shot and shell tore through the long grass and into the ranks of the British, causing the native infantry to hang back. The 76th held on boldly, though their ranks were sadly torn by the fire.
"Twenty-ninth, make ready to charge!"
The command rang out in stentorian tones, and at the words each one of the troopers settled himself in his saddle and gripped his weapon.
"Twenty-ninth, keep well together and pick up all wounded and stragglers. Trot!"
The same strange feeling of elation which had filled Owen's breast on a former occasion came to him again, and he drew his sabre with an exclamation which told of delight, of relief at the end of a trying suspense. He formed his troopers up on the left flank of the regiment and rode in front of them, a horse's length in rear of the commander of the gallant 29th, who was now of junior rank, for Major Griffiths had fallen five minutes before.[Pg 324] Very soon they were in the zone of fire, canister and cannon-balls hurtling about them.
"Halt!" The commander faced about and lined up his men. Then he pointed to the enemy.
"The enemy's horse have charged our infantry and have been beaten off. The 29th will break them up and drive them off the field. Afterwards they will attack the infantry."
His sabre came out of its sheath with a swish as a roar of cheering came from the throats of the men. Even the placid, imperturbable troopers of the 7th, under Owen's command, were infected with the general excitement. They shouted their war cry and tossed their lance pennons into the air. "Trot! Gallop! Charge!"
In quick succession the orders came, the last being almost drowned by the roar of the conflict, by the deafening report of the enemy's guns, by the bark of muskets, and by the hum of the projectiles. There were the Mahratta horse hovering about the infantry, and straight at them went Owen and his comrades. Oh, it was mad, tremendous work, and there is little wonder that few of those who rode knew ought of the incidents which passed. Lances rose and fell, sabres cut this way and that, and guns and muskets flashed in their faces. The Mahratta horse, in their wild Eastern uniform, went down before the troopers almost as easily as did the long feathery grass through which the 29th rode, and in their place, as if they had risen from the earth, were two stolid lines of trained Mahratta infantry, their gleaming bayonets almost at the necks of the horses.
"Charge!" The Commander, Owen, every officer, stood in his stirrups and bellowed the order with frantic eagerness, while the troopers responded with a deafening cheer which drowned the report of the muskets. The pace increased, there was a wild mêlée, in which men fell or were violently thrown to the ground. Here and there a horse came down with a dull thud, the rider being instantly bayoneted. But they were through. The enemy was broken, and as the gallant troopers rode on they left a wide gap, a gap filled with the bodies of the fallen Mahrattas. It was breathless work, but there was no rest to be found yet, for there was a second line of infantry, a line which went beneath the hoofs of the horses as if they had never existed, and gave place to the cavalry.
"Halt! Halt and reform!"
The officer in command lifted his sabre, and at the signal troopers gathered their reins and pulled in their horses. What a sight the men were! The regiment had ridden into action as neat and as good-looking a force as could be found, and see the troopers now! Torn tunics, broken weapons, caps gone, faces covered with dust, hair dishevelled, and blood on many a face and jacket. But the faces! A grim, jaunty air was set on every man's features, an air of indescribable triumph, of excitement which, though great, still left them with ample common sense. As for courage, it could be seen in each keen pair of eyes, and as the Colonel passed down the ranks, with difficulty holding in his charger, he felt satisfied.
"Well done, 29th! Well done, indeed! But there is more. By sections wheel to the right."
Perfectly disciplined and composed of gallant fellows, the fine regiment wheeled round to the other flank and reformed the sections into line. And there, facing them, was the cavalry, a fine body of Mahratta horse, the cream of the mounted regiments in support of Scindia.