Gil the Gunner by George Manville Fenn (e book reader free .TXT) 📖

sun formed a haze that the eyes could only penetrate to a certain distance.

Every one was on the look-out for the shimmering river and the patch of forest beyond, where we knew, from our spies, that the rajah had halted to gather his men together in as strong a position as he could find; and here my father expected that he would hold out while efforts were made to dislodge him from a place where our cavalry would be of no service. They would have to wait until the ranks were driven from among the trees, when the sharp charges of the lancers would scatter them in all directions.

At last, river and green woods were in view, both welcome sights, with their promises of shade and bathing, to men parched by the torrid sunshine, and half choked by the dust turned up by elephant, camel, horse, and men’s trampling feet.

I watched my father’s actions with all the interest of a young soldier, and saw how he divided his little force of cavalry, sending them forward, where they would be out of musket shot, but ready to slip like greyhounds on their swift Arab troopers, as soon as the mutineers broke out and tried to flee.

Then he sent forward the horse artillery—and how I longed to be with them—and company after company of foot, to act as supports to save the guns from capture; and as soon as the troop had taken up position, we waited for the order to fire to be sent.

But it was not despatched, for scores of the lancers came riding in, after galloping by the edge of the forest, to announce that the enemy was not there.

The rajah seemed to have shrunk from fighting; and I wondered, as we advanced once more, and saw how strong the position had been, and how easily he could have beaten a force not a fourth of his number.

We were not long in finding out the direction he had taken. A miserable-looking peasant announcing the way; and there it was plainly enough. There could be no doubt of it, for the dust was trampled, and plenty of traces lay about, showing that the little army must have been in rather a demoralised state.

“Well, we must give him no rest,” said my father; and, in spite of the heat, the march was resumed, with halts wherever a village promised water. But, fortunately, a great part of our way was near the river, whose bends offered refreshment to the thirsty horses, camels, and elephants.

Then on again till evening, when a halt was called at a good-sized village, once evidently a place of some importance, but now utterly desolate; the lands and gardens around trampled, and the traces of a large body of men having passed quite plain.

Here there was nothing for it but to bivouac, and after the customary precautions had been taken, the men were ordered to eat their food quickly, and then lie down and get all the rest they could.

The officers off duty followed their example, and I was asleep, too, when the bugle-call roused us in the middle of the cool moonlit night, and about half an hour after, we were all on the march again, a couple of natives having undertaken to act as guides as far as following the trail of the rajah’s army was concerned. The consequence was, that by the time the sun began to make its presence felt, we were many miles on our road.

“How far shall you follow them?” I heard Brace ask the colonel.

“Till I overtake them,” said my father, rather coldly. And I could see a determined look in his eyes which made me think of Ny Deen, and something like a hope that he might escape would come into my mind.

On again, after a brief halt for refreshment, and about an hour before midday advantage was taken of a great mango tope for another halt; but as soon as the sun began to decline we were off again, with the track plain before us.

Ah, it is slow work marching under a hot Indian sun; but no one complained, tramping steadily on with scouts well out in front, till it was dark, when there was another rest till midnight; and on again in the cool moonlight, with the men on the gun-limbers asleep, and those mounted nodding and swaying in their saddles, as if ready to come down. But no one fell, and the march seemed to me part of some strange dream, till the stars paled, and the orange sun came up, growing hotter and hotter, till we were all anxiously looking out for our next halting-place, and wondering how many more days must elapse before we should overtake Ny Deen.

It was sooner than we expected, for somewhere about nine o’clock there was a little excitement on in front. There was a cloud of dust, and another, and a few minutes after we could see a native horseman, sword in hand, and with his round shield banging against his shoulders, where it was hung from his neck. He was splendidly mounted, and appeared to be galloping for his life to escape from half a dozen of our lancers, the scouts, who had evidently cut him off and turned him in our direction.

He came straight for us, turning neither to the right nor the left, though there was plenty of room; and as he came nearer, we could see that his horse was sadly blown, so that it appeared as if the rider would be overtaken, and run through by the men in chase.

“The fools! They must make him a prisoner. You, Gil, you are well-mounted, gallop out, and call to him to surrender. We may gain valuable information. Take care, and—”

So spoke my father, and before he had finished, I was off at a gallop, glad of the excitement.

I was only just in time, for one too-enthusiastic lancer was closing up, and would have given point had I not struck his lance aside and seized the sowar’s rein.

“Surrender!” I shouted in Hindustani, and I pointed my sword at the blackened, dust-grimed fellow’s throat.

“Surrender! Yes, of course,” he panted. “Take me to an English officer. I am an Englishman.”

“Don’t you believe the treacherous dog, sir,” cried the foremost lancer. “He tried that on with us.”

“Yes, you thick-headed idiot,” panted my prisoner angrily. “This is only a disguise. I know where the niggers are, if you want to kill some one.”

I looked at him in wonder. “Why are you like this?” I said.

“I have brought a message from Nussoor.”

“Where?” I cried excitedly.

“Nussoor. Who is in command here?”

“Colonel Vincent,” I said.

“Thank Heaven!” he cried; and he reeled in his saddle, but recovered directly. “I’m beaten,” he said. “A terrible long round to avoid the enemy. I had to go out the other side. It was a forlorn hope.”

By this time my father and several officers had ridden up, and I exclaimed excitedly—

“This is a messenger from Nussoor.”

“Yes,” said my prisoner. “I was obliged to assume this disguise. Colonel Vincent, don’t you know me?”

“Brooke! Ah, my dear fellow, what news?”

“Bad; terrible. We were at the end nearly of our ammunition. Closely invested for many days past. People fighting like heroes; but they can hold out no longer. And, to make matters worse, that fiend, Ny Deen, is advancing on the place with a powerful force. I was nearly taken by his men.”

“How far is Nussoor from here?” said my father hoarsely.

“About fourteen miles, I should say.”

“Then that is where he has been making for,” muttered my father. “And I not to know that it was so near.”

It was all plain enough now. Knowing from spies that Nussoor was weakly guarded, and having lost his own city, Ny Deen was hurrying on to seize and entrench himself in another; one which would form a centre where his adherents might flee.

Just then I caught my father’s eyes, and saw in them a terrible look of agony, which made me think of the horrors which had been perpetrated at these places where the mutineers had gained the upper hand.

It had been horrible enough in the past; but now the rajah’s men were smarting from a sharp defeat. And I felt that they would make fierce reprisals on the hard-pressed garrison, all of whom would certainly be put to the sword.