Two days later
Camp before Bhurtpore, 21 Dec. 1825 Parole – LUCKNOW The nature of the operations upon which the Army is about to be employed, requiring that the Infantry Regiments should have as few calls upon them for Guards as possible, the Right Hon. The Commander-in-Chief is pleased to direct, that the following Detail only be furnished; all other Guards not included in this statement, are forthwith to be withdrawn… Hervey passed the statements to Armstrong. 'They do not directly bear on us, but it's as well to know the comings and goings.'
Armstrong, sitting in a chair in front of him, with Lieutenant Perry to Hervey's right, took the papers and looked quickly over them.
Private Johnson emerged from Hervey's tent with a coffee pot. 'Any more, sir?'
Hervey gestured to the others first, then let his cup be filled with the blackest liquid he had seen in many a year. Johnson would never throw away the unexpended portion of the day's coffee ration, and so each morning he boiled up the same liquid and the same beans, throwing in more in random measure. With the addition of copious quantities of sugar, and warm buffalo milk, it was a fortifying and nourishing drink, even if only very distantly related to any that could be had in the coffee houses of London.
'But the infantry will have a longer wait than they think, by all accounts,' said Hervey, still stirring his cup. 'The Jhaut gunners have found their mark on a good number of saps.'
Armstrong looked puzzled. 'They are tunnelling, though, aren't they?' 'It seems not. They can't get close enough.' Armstrong looked incredulous.
So did Perry, but for a different reason. 'I don't understand, Hervey.'
'They have to dig ventilation shafts once the tunnel exceeds a certain distance, which would rather give away the game.' Hervey took a sip of his coffee. 'And they're no fools behind those walls. There are counter-tunnels ready dug. I saw some of them myself. So I think we may safely say there will be no assault this side of the new year.' The Sixth had been in worse places at Christmas. Here at least it was warm when the sun was up, they were dry, there was firewood aplenty, and the supply of rations and powder was regular. Armstrong's expression changed to a smile. 'Corporal Stray'll be here today, sir, and a full load of rum.'
Hervey smiled too. The officers' mess was well stocked with excellent claret, but rum was so versatile an additive. He was almost of the opinion that he would exchange it bottle for bottle. 'Very well, then. There are no further orders. Interior economy today, make and mend. And I am brigade field officer, you'll recall.'
Perry and Armstrong rose. 'If it's all right with you, sir, I'd like to ride over and see them sappers working later on,' said the serjeant-major.
'By all means. Don't be too hard on them, though,' replied Hervey, smiling still.
'No indeed, sir. But I'd like to see how many of them would make colliers.' Hervey reported to the headquarters of the First Brigade of Cavalry at ten o'clock. There was no telling what the duty might entail. Last night had been quiet, and the siege proceeded, as they were all informed, in the usual methodical if painfully slow manner. But activity was the nature of staff work, and he could therefore expect anything. Certainly the headquarters looked well-shod. The brigade tent had yellow pennants at each end of the ridge pole, and a lance-guard at the entrance. There was no doubting that this was the post of Colonel Murray, a man fervent in holding to the cavalry opinion that everything mattered, from the patent shine on a pair of levee hessians to the edge on a troop man's sabre.
The major of brigade, Captain Harris – of the 16th Lancers like Murray himself – received him with a smile. 'Well, Hervey, we have at least seen how it is done!'
They had indeed, thought Hervey – many a time in the Peninsula. Siege after siege, it seemed in that campaign. 'I wonder if the Jhauts have.'
'I don't know what to make of their sortie the other night, that's for sure,' said the brigade-major.
'I thought perhaps they intended disturbing our sleep every night, but it seems not.'
'Thirty and more dead: they could not long afford that price.' He looked disturbed suddenly. 'I've offered you no refreshment. Where is that bearer?
But the bearer was alert to Hervey's arrival, and he now came into the big marquee that was the brigade orderly room with a tray of coffee and limewater.
'Shukria,' said Harris, and then turned to the staff orderly. 'Inform the brigadier that Major Hervey is come, if you will.'
'Colonel Murray wishes to see me?' asked Hervey, taking both coffee and limewater.
Harris nodded. 'He's not long back from General Sleigh's conference. The news wasn't good.' 'Oh?'
But before Harris could make much of a beginning, the officer commanding the First Cavalry Brigade came into the marquee looking far from his usual cheery self.
Hervey and Harris stood up as one. 'Good morning, sir,' said the former.
'Good morning, Hervey.' He turned to the bearer. 'I'll have some of that coffee, if you please, Manesh.' Then he sank heavily into a leather armchair.
Hervey and Harris sat down again and waited for the brigadier to begin. They were not kept waiting long. 'How does being an infantryman appeal to you?'
Hervey could see no sense in the question, but his recollection of the late events at Rangoon provided a prompt response. 'It does not especially appeal, sir,' he said plainly, and looking bemused. 'But we are part dragoons by name, so if there were compelling reason…'
'Combermere is so troubled lest he has not enough infantry for the attack that he's contemplating unhorsing the division, leaving just Skinner's for patrol and escort work.'
Hervey would agree that that was a compelling reason, albeit a desperate one. 'The trick, though, would be to judge the moment to dismount. We have no true idea how strong is the Jhaut cavalry, and they won't have lost their appetite for sorties completely.'
'Just so' agreed the brigadier. 'And Combermere's worried too about the breaching. The sappers are having a deuced hot time of it. But they reckon they'll have the first parallel open in a day or so, and then they can get some of the siege train in close. We're expected to demonstrate up and down the place, to draw attention from the real activity, but it'll be a damned tedious business. And if this Durjan Sal knows his siegecraft it will not fool him.'
Hervey knew the siege design well enough, for all the field officers had been apprised of it. The principal object of the engineers' work was to dig parallels in front of each of the four most prominent bastions. The most troublesome was the one they had called the long-necked bastion, its height being such as to give the clearest view of any approach within half a mile. Sapping was a hazardous enough task at the best of times, but commanded by the guns of the long-necked bastion it was nearly suicidal. 'That would be the time for a bold sortie. Better for Durjan Sal not to let the guns come into action than to take them on in a duel, no matter how commanding a position his own may have. Nothing is certain in these things, as well we know, sir.'
'Quite. It's on this that I wanted to speak with you.' He held out his cup for more coffee. 'I have an idea we could tempt his cavalry out in strength, and if we lay the trap carefully enough we could despatch the lot of them very surely.'
Hervey said nothing for the moment. A grand fight of cavalry, on the scale of Waterloo – he had never imagined such a thing again. But he was unsure of more than just how they would tempt Durjan Sal out. 'It's a fair prospect indeed, sir. But I'm afraid I do not see its purpose, except to employ the cavalry actively – and I am all in favour of that.'
The brigadier smiled in a satisfied sort of way. Tm glad you don't immediately see the purpose, for that means Durjan Sal likely as not shan't.' He sipped at his coffee, clearly relishing the ingenious-ness of his plan. cDo you think that Durjan Sal is a man who would prefer to fight to the death rather than strike his colours?'
Hervey furrowed his brow. 'On that I have no true insight. I should judge, perhaps, that since he is a usurper he is at heart a hazarder, and therefore unlikely to stick.'
'Just so. And for as long as he has his cavalry he will know – or rather believe – that if the fortress were to fall he could make good his own escape.' Hervey nodded. 'I would imagine that, yes.'
'Then what would be the purpose in destroying his cavalry?' A smile crept across Hervey's face.
The brigade-major was not yet certain of his own comprehension. 'Do you mean, sir, that Durjan Sal would be obliged to seek terms rather than risk a fight over the walls?' 'I mean exactly that, Harris. We might never need a breach.' He turned back to Hervey. 'Now, you have ridden the whole of the ground, and seen inside the walls. Guns: where might our decoy be best placed to tempt him out?'
Hervey's brow furrowed again. 'I should need a little time to consider that, sir. I made some plans and sketches-'
'Good, good! I want you to consider it carefully and let me have your opinion. But your best estimate today, if you please. And by all means go and consult your sketches. But keep the notion to yourself, Hervey. Loose tongues would be the death of it.' When he returned to the Sixth's camp that evening, Hervey found that the officers had already dined. Private Johnson was therefore despatched to bring food to his tent – hot food, for there was a distinct chill in the air already and the brazier was only just lit.
'Serjeant-major says 'e'd like a word when tha were back,' Johnson remembered, as he pulled open the tent flap.
'Well, you may tell him I'm at home. Did Corporal Stray arrive with rum, by the way?'
'Oh ay, sir. T' quartermaster made an issue after stables.'
'Good. He was also meant to be bringing some bottled fruit for the mess. You might see if any has survived.' 'Ah, so tha did know about it then?' 'The fruit? Why shouldn't I?' 'No, I mean… it sounded as though th'd 'eard what'd 'appened.' 'Happened?' 'Ay, to Corporal Stray.' 'For heaven's sake, man!'
'Corporal Stray got attacked on 'is way 'ere. They killed t'bullocks pullin' 'is cart.'
Hervey looked almost alarmed. 'And is he all right?'
'Oh ay. T'two that were wi' 'im said 'e just stood on t' box like 'e were at sword exercise. Better than Collins they said 'e were. 'E killed 'alf a dozen of 'em an' then they ran off. T' Jhauts, I mean.'
Hervey smiled. He was not in the least surprised. Corporal Stray's resolute immobility atop the hackery box might have been in part the product of his great bulk, but it was in equal part the action of an old soldier. 'The hero of the wet canteen. I hope he gets a serjeancy for it.' 'I'll be gooin', then.' 'I'd be obliged.'
A few minutes later, Serjeant-Major Armstrong came to the tent.
'Come in, Geordie; sit down. There's nothing to eat but I can offer you some good Bordoo,' said Hervey, smiling again. 'Though I gather rum is the celebratory drink tonight.'
'You heard, then? Stray? I'd 'ave given aught to see it. The big fat bugger!'
Hervey laughed. 'When was he last on parade, do you think?'
'Mounted? Lord knows. He'd never have lasted if old Soggy hadn't been quartermaster.'
Hervey poured two glasses of claret and took his seat again. 'Otherwise a quiet day, I gather?'
'Ay, sir. Farriers have been busy, and the saddlers too.'
'Well, here's to Stray and all the stout hearts like him.' Armstrong raised his glass. 'To stout hearts.'
Hervey refilled it at once, and his own. 'Johnson seemed to think there was something in particular you had?'
Armstrong frowned and nodded. 'Ay, there is. I went to see the sappers this morning, as I said. This business of not being able to dig out a tunnel – they're not doing it right.'
'Oh?' Hervey looked sceptical, even allowing for Armstrong's aptness in all field matters.
'I talked to the artificer for a fair while and he said they'd wanted to drive tunnels under the main bastions, but they couldn't go more than two hundred yards without ventilating shafts. Then the captain came – a grand man, he were, not in the least bit bothered talking to me – and he said they'd started to drive one under the west bastion but the Jhauts had spied the venting shaft and driven it in.'
'I fear it's the same the whole way round. The Jhauts will be very wary of mining. The trouble is, the sappers can't begin close enough anywhere. And as soon as it's known they're digging, they'll blow the tunnels in by countermines. The galleries are already made. I've seen them.'
Armstrong nodded. 'Ay, but these engineers aren't miners. We drove some long galleries in Hebburn pit and got the air in. Longer than two hundred yards – a lot longer.'
Hervey looked even more sceptical. 'But that would have been with steam pumps, surely?'
'Not when we were digging. We got a draught going with a furnace. Anyway, I told the captain all about it, and he said he'd think on it.'
Hervey was still doubtful. 'But how much further do you think they could go, then?'
'Well, twice as far as they reckon they can now.' 'Twice as far?' Hervey's disbelief was clear. But it did not dismay Armstrong. 'Ay, at least.' Hervey said nothing, seeming rapt in thought.
'Look, sir, why not let me lend a hand to them? The sappers, I mean. There's nothing that Collins can't do with the troop as things stand. It's nowt but working parties and escorts. It'd be good for him to have some practice.'
Hervey was not easily persuaded, though he agreed Collins was more than up to the job, especially on what seemed increasingly like garrison duties but in the field. 'I seem to recall you believed colliery a sight more dangerous than life in regimentals.'
Armstrong pulled a face. 'Aw, come on sir. I no more ran from being a collier than I have from anything.'
Hervey winced at his own crassness. It was the loss of father and brothers – and indirectly his mother – that had sent young Armstrong to the recruiting serjeant. 'No, I hadn't meant to-'
'And in any case, there's no firedamp here in 'Indoostan.'
That, too, was true. 'Very well,' said Hervey, with a smile that spoke volumes for his admiration of his old friend's spirit. 'I'll speak to the major, and if he agrees I'll speak then to the sappers.' Later that morning, after watering, an orderly arrived at the Sixth's headquarters with a most imperative request from Brigadier Anburey, the chief engineer. Joynson at once sent for Hervey.
'What is E Troop about now, Hervey?' The major's tone was just a fraction weary, but a request from a senior officer, even of engineers, was not a thing to be brushed off lightly.
'I'm sorry, sir. I had meant to speak with you about it at orders today, but it seems Armstrong's assistance is more pressing than I'd thought.' 'Just so. You'd better sit down and tell me of it.'
Hervey hardly thought it a long enough story to require comfort, but he obliged the major nevertheless. Then he told him all he knew.
Joynson listened with especial attention, removing and polishing his spectacles several times in the brief course of the explanation – a sure sign of his interest, as well, perhaps, of his anxiety. 'Well,' he said at length, firmly placing the spectacles high on the bridge of his nose. 'Anburey wants to speak to Armstrong in person. You'd better go with him.' His tone was as incredulous as had been Hervey's earlier. 'I think I should.'
Joynson nodded several times, slowly, as if contemplating something of real moment. 'You know, if Armstrong's little scheme works, we should think about making him…'
Hervey's ears pricked. He looked keenly at Joynson, now polishing his spectacles for the third time.
'There again,' said the major, now shaking his head from side to side, and as slowly as before. 'Tunnels and powder and the like… it's not the thing I myself would choose. I imagine there to be a great degree of hazard?'
Hervey nodded, but grimly. 'I fear so. But Armstrong will have it.' When they reached Brigadier Anburey's headquarters, a mile or so from the Sixth's lines, Hervey and Armstrong found a dozen engineer officers in hot debate. They saluted as they entered the marquee, and Anburey shook them both by the hand. The faces of some of the officers, however, indicated a distinct disdain; perhaps a collier in their midst was not something easily to be borne. But Armstrong was sure of his ground, even though it had not been his for twenty years. He ought indeed to be sure of it: his father and his brothers had died in a split second for the want of good method in Hebburn pit.
'Serjeant-Major, Captain Cowie has told me of the system by which you say that a tunnel may be dug beyond the normal distance without recourse to ventilating shafts. To five hundred feet, you say?'
'Ay, sir. But as I recall, there was no saying a tunnel couldn't go even further. It's just a matter of keeping the draught strong.'
Heads were shaking disbelievingly, though not Anburey's. 'If it were possible to dig such a tunnel here, the question would be whether there would be sufficient combustive air for an explosion,' he said. Then he paused, appearing to think on it the more. 'But that is not a matter to trouble you with, Serjeant-Major. Now, the officers here are all engineers skilled in surveying, bridge-building, the development of the siege and such like. None of us have practical experience of underground working comparable with yours. I want you therefore to explain in as great a detail as possible the system which you have witnessed, and then we shall decide if there is justification to put that system into effect here.'
Armstrong looked not in the slightest degree perturbed as he took the stick of chalk from the brigadier and advanced to the blackboard. Hervey wondered what recognition his scheme would bring, for it was certain that Armstrong's name would come to the attention of the commander-in-chief. He could only pray that it should not come before Combermere for posthumous honour. The mood at the major's orders, two days later, was beginning to reflect the coming season. The Sixth had always looked to stand down on the day itself, and for all ranks to share a good dinner, even in the late French war – although more than once they had found themselves horsed, with sabres drawn. But here the siege was well settled into its routine, the chance of alarms diminished; and supply, on short lines from Agra, was for once excellent. There was every prospect of a good Christmas dinner and sport.
Joynson, allowing himself a cheroot, most unusually, now came to General Orders. 'And today there's rather a good story, gentlemen: 'Head-Quarters, Camp before Bhurtpore, 23rd Dec. 1825. 'The Commander-in-Chief has received with much pleasure, the report of the excellent conduct of a Jemadar of the 4th Light Cavalry, Sheik Rangaun Ally, who was sent out with twenty Troopers to protect the Foraging Party on the 19th instant, and who, by his steady soldier-like example, and the judicious arrangement of his small force, kept off a very large body of the Enemy's Horse, saved the Foragers he was sent to protect, and brought off his Detachment in the face of the Enemy for a considerable distance, with no other loss than two men and three horses wounded. His Lordship, in consideration of the foregoing service, as well as of the high character borne by this Native Officer, is pleased to promote Jemadar Sheik Rangaun Ally to the rank of Subadar. His Lordship further directs, that his approbation may be communicated to the whole of the Party, for their steady conduct on this occasion. Officers will perceive from this occurrence, the propriety of not detaching any weak parties to a distance from Camp. The above to be explained to the several regiments in Camp, on the first Grand Parade that takes place.'
Joynson looked over his spectacles at the assembled officers. 'Well, gentlemen, as I said, a good story. And I think the latter point is clear enough, too.'
It could hardly have been made more heavily, thought Hervey.
'I wonder if Stray will be promoted jemadar?' said Rose, blowing a great deal of cigar smoke towards the roof of the marquee. There was an equal deal of laughter.
Joynson looked wryly over his spectacles. 'Well, the Eleventh are ruing their distance from camp these past couple of days. They were cut about in the outlying picket the day before last. No one killed, but the Jhauts drove them in. Not good.'
'I just wish the beggars would come out and face us instead of all this chopping at foraging parties and pickets, and feinting on our part.'
'So that we can send them all to hell, Rose?' said Joynson, peering over his spectacles again. 'And why should Durjan Sal be so obliging when he's got solid walls between him and us?'
'By the way, sir,' said Hervey, wanting to bring the conference back to its muttons. 'Armstrong is to begin today.'
Joynson looked grateful. 'Indeed, yes. Gentlemen, for those who do not know, Sar'nt-Major Armstrong is attached forthwith to the engineers to render assistance in their excavations.'
Hervey noted the final noun. It was entirely accurate without giving away the precise nature of the work.
'Serjeant Collins shall stand in his place, and E Troop shall stand ready to provide assistance as required. Oh, and Corporal Stray is forthwith posted to E Troop.'
Nicely done, thought Hervey. No one would be likely to deduce anything. Indeed, the odd smile and coarse comment suggested that the others pitied E Troop as having been made a fatigue party.
Joynson pressed on, modulating his voice just sufficiently to suggest that what he now relayed was unconnected with what had gone before. 'I am very glad to report that last night, it seems, there was an operation, entirely successful, to take the gardens before the long-necked bastion – known on our maps as Buldeo Singh's garden – and the nearby village of Kuddum Kundee. The heavy cannonade we heard this morning was directed on the two prizes, but, I am given to understand, to little effect. The engineers will now begin the planned parallel, and this will materially assist the sapping operations in that direction.'
There followed more routine information, lists of escorts and patrols, and orders for the night's pickets.
'Does anyone have a question?' asked Joynson finally. No one admitted to it.
'Very well, gentlemen. I think there will soon be rapid progress. You know what is his lordship's general design; you must act on your own cognizance when it is called for.' The assembly began to break up.
'Oh, and I have some further excellent news, gentlemen. Sir Ivo is proceeding at this time from Calcutta to rejoin us. He is expected, Deo volente within the seven days following.'
This latter news displaced all else. Hervey was full of admiration for the obvious ploy – and not a little disappointed for Joynson, who would thereby be deprived of the honour of command in the hour of victory. But that was the way of things. ??? Corporal Stray was a practical man, and as such he was not inclined to nod to something until convinced. 'See thee, Sar'nt-Major sir,' he replied, pushing his undersized forage cap back and scratching his head. 'I can't see that owt I can make'll do t'job.' The accent was not nearly as pronounced as Johnson's, but it was marked nevertheless. 'When I were prenticed at 'Untsman's-'
'Corporal Stray, I couldn't give a fart about Huntsman's. Just do as you're told. I want a wooden duct, six-inch-square, that can be extended as we dig. As simple as that.'
Stray scratched his head again. 'All right, Serjeant-Major.'
'It'd better be. And later on I'll want a burlap partition the size of the tunnel.' 'Where do I get t'wood, sir?'
Armstrong checked himself. It was, looked at from one angle, a reasonable enough question. 'Corporal Stray, the engineers' entire field park is at your disposal. Just go to the artificer over there and give him your requirements.' 'Right, Serjeant-Major.' 'But Mick, ask him nicely.'
Armstrong shook his head as Corporal Stray shuffled off.
Hervey smiled. Time and place were all the same to Corporal Stray. 'How long will it take to dig?'
'If we don't hit any rock, it shouldn't take us more than five days round the clock.'
Hervey looked again at the ground. Three hundred yards they proposed to dig. 'Geordie, seven or eight feet every hour? How are you going to keep that up? How are you going to bring out all the spoil?'
Armstrong looked assured. 'That's them engineers' worry. It'd be the same if they were sapping rather than mining. A good gang of colliers'd clear that in a ten-hour shift.' 'What is it exactly that you'll do?'
Armstrong shrugged his shoulders. 'There's no need of me at all, sir. It's just that some of the officers don't believe it'll work, and Brigadier Anburey wants me to make certain it does.' He gestured to where, covered from view by half a dozen tamarisk trees, the sappers were beginning the drift down to the level at which they would drive the tunnel to the bastion's foundations. 'See, they know what they're about right enough.'
Hervey thought they looked as though they did. 'The major's asked that I keep an eye on things, but there's no use my being here, not to begin with anyway. I'll come each morning and evening. Where will you sleep – here?'
'Ay, sir. Stray's going to need a hand too. I'd like Harkness an' all if I can. He were a cooper, if I remember right. He'll be handy with hammer and nails. And a couple of others in a day or so.'
It was a growing bill, but better, thought Hervey, than the endless fatigues and working parties. He told Armstrong he could have Harkness, and any other he thought had a particular skill. It seemed the least he could do when the regiment were otherwise so cosily set up, and safely, in their distant lines. Then he set off back through the workings to find Gilbert, and quickly, for he had arranged with Johnson for his bath to be drawn by seven. He had to watch his step, though: the paraphernalia of the sappers' siege park – and the activity, so different from that of cavalry lines, could be hazardous for an outsider. He slept little and fitfully that night. Both sides had kept up a harassing artillery fire well into the early hours, and soon after midnight there had been an alarm which saw them stood to their horses until two o'clock. It was the routine of the siege he had first come to know a dozen years before, first standing on the defensive at Torres Vedras, and then, the boot on the other foot, at Ciudad Rodrigo. Long days of boredom, occasional danger, with little opportunity for action – only the tumultuous climax, the breaching of the walls and the rushing-in of brave men bent on promotion, the 'forlorn hope', more often than not aptly named, and then the fight through the streets until the heart of the fortress struck and its flag was hauled down. It was the business of the artillery, the engineers and the infantry, the cavalry at best onlookers, at worst an appendage of the wagon train. It was true that volunteers were called for throughout the army for the forlorn hopes – and if Combermere did indeed want to dismount the cavalry they might all be in red coats soon -but as a rule a dragoon might as well be astride a screw as a blood. They had been luckier this time for sure, with the dash for the Motee Jheel and the skirmishes with Durjan Sal's cavalry, but it had been momentary and, in the greater scheme of the siege, would be quickly forgotten. Only the brigadier's ruse de guerre offered them sport, the chance of fighting en masse from the saddle in the old way.
After stand-down, Hervey shaved in plentiful hot water and then breakfasted on eggs and bacon, and very good toast. The coffee, too, was quite excellent, hot and without bitterness. There were even newspapers. They were out of range of cannon fire and it was as if they were at camp for the winter manoeuvres. It was the sole advantage of the siege over a campaign of movement, he considered. The only vexing aspect of these otherwise most congenial arrangements was the presence of Cornet Green. Hervey could barely bring himself to speak civilly to him, if at all. Besides his constant maladroitness with the dragoons, and – present to Hervey's mind still – the abominable affair of the night battle, the cornet's bearing in the mess was chafing him more and more. Green seemed unable to enter the marquee with any ease, usually bumping into something or stammering to a khitmagar. And his table manners… Once he had picked up his knife and fork he seemed unable to lay them down again until his plate was empty. It was perhaps of no great hazard to good order and military discipline (Green was hardly likely to be seated next to the Governor-General, ever), but for some reason this morning it gave Hervey increasing distress.
'Mr Green!' he said suddenly, making the unfortunate cornet cough up a part of his breakfast. 'I shall want you to do duty with the sar'nt-major today.'
'Yes, Hervey,' replied Green, his face the colour of a beetroot, though whether by way of the coughing or because of his troop-leader's attention was uncertain.
Strickland lowered his copy of the Calcutta Journal and looked Hervey in the eye. The transaction of any sort of business in the mess was distasteful, most certainly at the breakfast table. But that was not entirely the purpose of the gesture.
Hervey cleared his throat. 'Is there anything of interest in the Journal?' he asked, as matter-of-fact as he could manage.
Strickland took a sip of his coffee. 'The bishop has given a party to the ladies left behind.'
'That is very good of him,' said Hervey, in a mildly ironic tone.
'He writes very fine hymns, Hervey. Even I would concede that.' Hervey merely frowned.
By now, Cornet Green had finished his breakfast – or rather, had finished his attempt at it and had quit the mess, leaving just the two of them.
'Something must be done about Green,' said Strickland, folding his paper and laying it down. 'I feel half sorry for him.'
'I'm afraid I find not a single redeeming feature,' said Hervey decidedly.
'Can he not be persuaded to exchange? He's not short of money, and he can hardly be happy.'
'I imagine the subalterns have tried. I can't think for the life of me why he chose to come here.'
'Perhaps that is his single redeeming feature, then?'
Hervey raised his eyebrows. 'Strickland, I'm sorry to say but I think he's gun-shy.' He related once more the night affair.
'So you want him shot over in the trenches with Armstrong?' 'That's the idea.'
'Then you had better have a care yourself. I gather the brigadier has something in mind for us.'
Hervey looked at him keenly, but he had no intention of quizzing him on where he had got his intelligence. It seemed next to impossible to keep secret even an idea. When Hervey got to the tunnel workings, about eleven, he found Armstrong begrimed and resting, with an empty bottle of pale ale by his side. The lines that now permanently grooved his forehead seemed to have been conduits for the sweat which, even on so cold a day, had evidently run freely, so that from brow to the faintly receding line of his black hair was like veined marble – and the eyes, closed, like chips in the surface exposing the creamy unpolished stone beneath. His jaw looked squarer, even if the chin were a little fuller than in years past. His shoulders, broad yet compact like a bull terrier's, their strength outlined in the sodden shirt which clung to them as he lay, looked more powerful than ever. Once, the morning of Waterloo indeed, Hervey had told Armstrong that he believed him to be indestructible. And he half believed it still. He certainly prayed it was, for Armstrong's loss would be intolerable, and not only to Caithlin.
'He has not stopped for more than ten minutes since you left yesterday,' said the engineer major. 'Even my artificer turned in for a couple of hours. And he is famous for not sleeping until the job is done.'
The exchange was punctuated by three mighty explosions a hundred yards or so the other side of the clump of tamarisk trees, as the siege battery hurled a hundred pounds of iron at the long-necked bastion. Cornet Green flinched, but no more than would any man who had not expected it.
The major shook his head. 'They may as well throw pebbles at a shuttered window. There's scarcely a mark on those walls. We'll have to get them closer.'
'You don't think mining will breach them, then?'
'Oh yes, indeed. If we can get to the foundations we can have it down. I've no doubt that if there's enough air for a man to dig with there's enough for combustion. And once packed in we could always open a ventilator shaft by night when it was too late to do anything about it. It's just the time it will take, and if the Jhauts don't find us first.'
Armstrong opened his eyes. 'Sorry, sir, I didn't know you were come,' he said, getting to his feet and fastening the neck of his tunic.
'I'm sorry to disturb you, Sar'nt-Major. You've been working all night, I understand?'
'Ay, sir. I'll give it to these little brown beggars: they can dig.' 'How far have you got?'
'Just behind the battery. We opened the venting shaft just an hour ago.'
Hervey looked astonished. They had dug the drift down ten feet and driven a tunnel four feet high and as many wide for the better part of a hundred yards. 'May I see?'
'I wouldn't, if I were you, sir. You'd only get in the way. Leave it till we've driven a bit further and got the burlap in.'
Hervey was disappointed, but he was not going to ignore the advice. 'I'll go and have a look at the battery, then. How is Corporal Stray faring, by the way?' 'He's doing a good job, sir, him and 'Arkness. They've made fifty yards of ducting, and they'll be quicker once they get the extra timber.'
'Good. I take it he's not expected to go into the tunnel with it?'
Armstrong returned the smile. 'No, he's not. The idea's for the air to flow, not block it with Stray's great arse!' The trench was full of men from the light company of the 14th (Buckinghamshire) Regiment, their green plumes bobbing as they shuffled forward at the crouch. An ensign explained they were going up to form a skirmishing line in front of the guns; it seemed the Jhaut sharpshooters had been getting bolder in their sorties.
Hervey turned to the covermen. 'Go fetch our carbines!'
Even in the few minutes it now took him to get to the battery parallel, a dozen roundshot from the bastion flew over with the characteristic buzz of the bigger-calibre guns. The ensign smiled. 'I am pleased to hear that at last, sir! All the Serjeants ever talk about is the queer noise of the shot at Waterloo. I never thought I might hear it for myself.'
Hervey resisted the temptation to look behind at what Cornet Green's face revealed. CI should very much like to know why it's flying so high. They surely have the range by now.'
The answer came soon enough. Just as they debouched into the parallel a ball plunged into the breastworks where stood artillerymen enjoying the spectacle of the overshoots. It threw up a great fountain of earth and bodies, spreading the ordure of a dozen men about the battery.
Hervey and the ensign's men rushed at once to begin digging out the others. 'Bastards!' he cursed. 'They baited the trap good and proper.'
Two more roundshot ploughed ineffectually into the breast-works, empty now of spectators, though earth rained down in the trench again. The ensign burrowed with his bare hands for all he was worth, as did his men. Hervey searched for the battery's captain. He found him with half his head blown away, the clever Woolwich-trained grey matter exposed like brains in a butcher's shop. But he was breathing, with an eerie sucking noise. Hervey reached for his pistol, but before he need use it the man gave up the ghost.
Earth gushed high above them again like a geyser. 'Christ!' cursed Hervey, realizing what more it might be. The Jhauts had not yet sortied, and it was now that they ought. 'Ensign, get your men up ready!'
The boy – Hervey thought him not eighteen -knew at once what was wanted. In an instant he and his serjeant had a dozen men in a firing line.
Wainwright and Needham came up the sap with the carbines, followed by Johnson. Wainwright blanched at the carnage and looked about anxiously until he saw Hervey.
'Where's Mr Green, sir?' asked Private Needham, no less anxiously; a coverman should never lose sight of his officer (the rebuke from the night affair stung his ears still).
'I don't know' said Hervey, trying to take stock of the damage, and looking for an artillery officer on his feet. 'He was behind me in the sap.'
Johnson pushed his way past the confusion. 'Sir, is thee 'ead all right? Tha's covered in blood.'
'Yes, it's all right, Johnson,' replied Hervey, gruffly. 'Not a drop of it's my own. Why have you come up?'
'Corporal Wainwright said we was doin' a bit o' shooting.' Hervey wondered why he had asked. 'Ensign, can you see anything?' he called. 'No, not a thing, sir.' Hervey clambered over the debris of the revetments to stand next to him. 'What is your name?' 'Leveson-Gower, sir.'
'Is it, indeed? Your father is not, by any chance. Dean of Wells?' 'He is, sir. Do you know him?'
'I've heard tell a good deal of him. Now, do you think you can get your men out of this trench and up to that bit of a hillock yonder?' He indicated a long, shallow rise two hundred yards to their front.
A gun on the long-necked bastion belched yellow flame. Hervey spied the shot almost at once. 'Coming our way, I think, Mr Leveson-Gower. Down, men!' They slid to the bottom of the trench, and a second or so later the big iron ball clipped the forward edge, grazed the bottom and drove itself, hissing, into the earth wall behind. 'As I was saying..
'Yes, sir. Of course we can. At once.' The ensign turned to look for his Serjeant. 'Detail half a dozen men to stay here until the wounded are dealt with, Sarn't Docherty. Remainder in extended line prepared to advance.' 'Sor!'
There followed a deal of shouting, incomprehensible to any but the Fourteenth, as the men fell in.
'I intend joining you as soon as I'm able,' said Hervey. 'But first I want to see the gunners recovered. Who gave you your orders?'
'The captain, sir. He's picketing the rest of the company and then he's coming here.' 'Good. Go to it, then.'
The ensign saluted, climbed out of the trench and drew his sword. 'Detachment will advance!'
As quickly as red coats were scrambling out of the trench, blue ones were coming in from the sap – drivers and ammunition numbers keen to dig. A lieutenant looked horrified.
'You are in command now, I fear,' said Hervey, briskly. 'Your captain's over there, under the blanket. There's a skirmish line out two hundred yards in front, and the bastion's got the range.'
Private Needham came into the trench, with Cornet Green behind him. Hervey's brow furrowed deeply. 'Where in hell's name have you been, Mr Green?' 'I'm sorry, sir. I forgot my telescope.' 'Mr Green, you have a servant!' 'Yes, sir, I-'
Corporal McCarthy now appeared, breathless. 'Sor, the major's compliments, sor, and please would you return at once. There's orders from the general, sor.' Hervey bit his lip. 'We'll speak later, Mr Green.' When Hervey got back to the Sixth's camp he was expecting to hear orders for the brigadier's ruse, but instead he found the entire regiment standing to their horses.
'Durjan Sal's making a sortie, it seems,' said Joynson as Hervey took his place beside him. 'Or going to.'
Hervey wondered if the business at the battery was connected. 'What are the orders?'
'Childers' brigade's going clockwise about, and we're going the other way. The horse artillery will stage behind us and signal with rockets if there's a sortie when we've passed.'
'A straightforward enough drive,' said Hervey, disappointed by his conclusion that they were about to embark on a wild-goose chase. 'I wonder if our birds will leave their covert, though?'
'Well, someone has the wind up. How is Armstrong, by the way?' 'He's doing well.'
'Let's hope he continues doing well, then. Combermere's in the dumps well and truly, if this morning's anything to go by. He rode through and said the artillery had made not the slightest impression on the walls to date.'
'That much was evident to a telescope in the garden just now. And the Jhauts have some deuced big guns in that bastion.'
'Thirty-two-pounders, says Combermere.' Joynson nodded to his front. 'Well, that looks like the Sixteenth off. Trumpet-Major, regiment will advance!' But the day went as Hervey feared. Round the fortress they rode – ten miles without sight or sign of the enemy save the odd impudent ball that flew their way. None fell within a hundred yards of them, but they signalled nevertheless the defender's constant surveillance of their progress. Why would anyone oblige Combermere with a sortie when his men paraded before Bhurtpore in such strength? The Jhauts had their walls, and these were serving them very well indeed. Why should they leave their shelter?
When the Sixth rode back into camp, it was a tired and frustrated Hervey who dismounted and handed the reins of an equally weary Gilbert to his groom.
'I said I would go see the sar'nt-major, but it's too late. We'll go tomorrow morning.' He took the pistols from the holsters on the saddle as Johnson drew up the stirrups. 'At least they are getting closer by the hour. We may as well be at Brighton for all the good we do. And I think by today's display we have put paid to Murray's ruse having the slightest chance of success.'
'Ay, sir.' Johnson had not the-least idea what was this ruse, but evidently his ignorance was of no moment now. 'A merry Christmas, then, sir. See thee at gunfire?' Hervey smiled. 'Gunfire – yes, indeed.'