to cover. Maxwell can manage that.’
A distant rumble and rattle drew their attention to a dozen British guns being hauled into position opposite the enemy line.
‘About time,’ said Fitzroy. ‘Now they can have a taste of their own medicine.’
But even as the artillery crews urged their draught bullocks forward the Mahratta gunners were shifting their aim from the ford and a moment later the first rounds landed around the limbered British guns and their crews, chewing up the soil in small explosions of earth and grass.
‘They’re using grapeshot,’ Fitzroy observed.
An instant later the enemy gunners hit their first target as the leading pair of a team of bullocks shuddered under the impact of the heavy lead balls and collapsed dead in their traces, bringing the rest to an abrupt halt. Two more guns were knocked out before the British could reply and it was clear to Arthur that any intention he had of destroying the enemy artillery before his infantry advanced was doomed to failure. The Mahratta artillery crews knew their business well and were firing almost as fast as the remaining British guns. It was clearly a desperately unequal exchange and as chain shot shattered the wheels of yet another of his guns, Arthur realised that the time had come for his infantry to advance into the teeth of the enemy fire.
‘Give the order for the artillery to withdraw.’
As Fitzroy spurred his mount over to the guns Arthur turned the bay back to his waiting infantry and rode down the line giving his orders to each battalion commander in turn to make certain they knew exactly what was expected of them. The officer commanding the pickets on the right flank, Colonel Orrock, was a florid-faced Company veteran. As Arthur explained about the danger of approaching too close to Assaye he was certain he smelled spirits on the man’s breath. But there was no time to upbraid the man and once Orrock confirmed that he understood his orders Arthur rode on to the other battalions, finally taking up position behind the kilted Scotsmen of the 78th on the left flank. He nodded to Colonel Harness and the latter bellowed the order to advance, and the rest of the line followed suit, tramping up the slight rise in echelon.
As the line reached the crest the British regiments had their first sight of the dense mass of the enemy line waiting for them five hundred yards away. The Mahratta guns stood a short distance in front of the infantry, spread across the ground from the Kaitna to Assaye. The survivors of the first guns Arthur had sent forward had lost most of their horses and bullocks and could not join the advance. Arthur knew that meant that all he had available to him now was a handful of the guns assigned directly to the regular battalions.
The fire of the enemy guns slackened for a moment as they saw the approaching line of redcoats, and then flame-stabbed smoke rippled along the line again. Some shot went high, ripping through the air close overhead; some fell short and ripped up the ground ahead of the British infantry. But those that were on target cut bloody paths through the British line, which were hurriedly closed up as the battalions continued forward at the same measured pace.The air was filled with the booming roar of cannon and the whirr of iron shot passing close by, and still Arthur’s men did not flinch, but advanced with stolid determination towards the enemy guns. Then, at sixty paces, Colonel Harness ordered his men to halt and make ready to fire. Just ahead of them the Mahrattas, with equal courage and discipline, still worked their guns, firing into the British line at point-blank range.
Primed and cocked, the British muskets rose up, aiming at the gun crews.
‘Fire!’ Harness shouted.
There was a deafening crash and a blanket of greasy smoke blossomed in front of the 78th and at once the muskets were lowered as the Scotsmen drew another cartridge from their pouches, bit off the ball and tipped the powder into their muzzles, together with the waxed paper, spat the ball in after and packed the lot down firmly with their ramrods. Pans primed, they raised their muskets again and Harness cried out the order to unleash another volley.
Even as the sound of the last shot died away, Harness called for his men to fix bayonets and advance. Arthur rode forward with them, through the swirling smoke, emerging to see that the guns directly in front of the 78th had almost all been silenced. Miraculously, two full crews still remained, and still stood by their weapons, loading another round of grapeshot. As soon as he saw them, Harness increased the pace and the redcoats with their feathered bonnets and flapping kilts charged home. The Mahrattas snatched up their ramrods, handspikes and any other weapons that were to hand and threw themselves at the British. Despite their courage, the fight was over in a moment and the gunners lay where they had fallen around and under their cannon.
‘The 78th will re-form and reload!’ Harness yelled, and his men quickly closed up to face the block of enemy infantry behind the guns, barely more than a hundred yards away.The din of their shouted war cries and beaten drums contrasted sharply with the cool silence of the British ranks.
To his right, Arthur saw the battalion of sepoys halt to fire a volley at the gun crews in front of them and then they too charged home with the bayonet. Meanwhile, as the 78th began to advance again, the enemy infantry raised their muskets and fired a volley. The range was long and most shots missed, but some found their mark and men spun round and collapsed under the impact, before tumbling on to the trampled grass. Arthur felt the bay lurch beneath him and begin to topple to one side. Instantly he dropped the reins, kicked his feet free of the stirrups and threw himself clear just before the horse hit the ground and rolled over.The impact drove the breath from his lungs and for a moment he crouched on hands and knees, gasping for air.
‘Sir!’ A hand lifted him under the arm and pulled him up.‘Are you hurt?’
Arthur waved his hand as he struggled to breathe. ‘Fine . . . Just winded.’
He glanced round and saw that it was the young grenadier officer who had carried the bastion at Ahmadnagar, Lieutenant Campbell. ‘Thank you, Campbell. Now, my hat, if you please.’
The officer plucked it from the ground and handed it to Arthur. ‘I need to re-join my men, sir.’
‘By all means.’
Campbell trotted forward a few paces to catch up with his men just as Harness halted the 78th fifty paces from the enemy and calmly called out the order to fire another volley, as if it was just another parade ground exercise.
‘Fire!’
The volley thundered out and a withering storm of lead slashed through the Mahratta troops so that most of the men in the front line went down. This time there was no second volley and Harness immediately followed up with the order to charge with the bayonet. The enemy, having already witnessed the slaughter of the artillery crews, shuffled back several paces, and then the first of them turned to run, and in moments the panic was contagious and they broke and ran. With a roar of triumph the 78th ran after them, bayoneting the few who were brave enough to stand their ground.
As he caught his breath Arthur looked to the right and saw the sepoy battalion next in line charge home, and the panic from those men who had fled from the 78th communicated itself along the line so that those opposite the sepoys also broke and fled before the redcoats. Arthur felt a moment’s satisfaction at the sight of his plan bearing fruit. No native unit in India could have withstood the large, fierce men of the 78th, and once they broke Scindia’s line the other units had collapsed, just as Arthur had hoped they would. He turned to look for the groom who had been told to follow his general at a discreet distance with a remount. The man had already seen the bay fall and was trotting forward, leading Diomed by the reins. Retrieving his pistols, sabre and telescope from the dead bay, Arthur climbed into the saddle and ordered the groom to return to Maxwell’s reserve regiment of native cavalry.
From the vantage point of the saddle Arthur could see that Harness had managed to recall his men and the 78th was once again forming up as it waited for further orders. The Company officers were having less luck with their men who, having broken the Mahratta line, were excitedly running down and killing their enemies. For nearly a thousand yards the enemy line was destroyed and the ground between the two rivers was covered with figures streaming away from the British regulars and sepoys. To Arthur’s delight he estimated that thirty or forty guns had been captured. Without artillery, Scindia’s power would be broken and the best he could hope for was a war of brigandage against his British opponents.
Beyond the fleeing enemy Arthur noticed several large groups of Mahratta cavalry riding forward, heedlessly knocking aside their fleeing compatriots on the ground. He looked round and saw that the two four-pounders allocated to the 78th were trundling up a short way behind the regiment.Turning Diomed, he rode over to the officer in charge of the guns.
‘See those horsemen approaching? I want you to unlimber just ahead of the 78th and fire grape into any body of horsemen who venture within range, understand?’
