good luck, sir.’
‘Good luck, eh?’ Baird nodded, then took Arthur’s hand in his great fist and squeezed it firmly as he shook.‘That’s damn good of you. Thank you. Here, Sergeant Graham, give me that jug.’
‘I’ll not be Sergeant for much longer, sir!’ the man grinned as he handed the arrack back to his commander, and patted the standard resting across his knees. ‘It’s Lieutenant Graham, the moment I plant this in the breach.’
Baird smiled. ‘Och, you’ll be dead before you even make the breach, you bloody fool.’
The men of the forlorn hope laughed nervously and Baird passed the jug to Arthur. ‘Have a drink, Wellesley.’
Arthur was about to refuse. He was tired, he had a headache and the last thing he wanted was any drink to cloud his mind. Then he looked at the men sitting round him and watching his reaction. Most of them were as good as dead, he realised with a stab of pity. So he made himself smile, as he instinctively wiped the rim of the jug on his sleeve and raised it.
‘Your health, gentlemen!’ He nodded and then took a steady draught of the fiery liquid before lowering the jug and handing it back to Baird. The Scot gave him a hearty wink and took a gulp before passing the jug on. ‘I’ll try to save a few of Tipoo’s men for you, Wellesley.’
‘If you wouldn’t mind?’ Arthur grinned for a moment, then his expression became serious again. ‘Good luck then, sir.’
‘Aye.’ Baird was reflective for a brief moment. ‘We’ll need it sure enough.’
Arthur returned to his command post. Behind him, over four thousand men in the reserve column were crouched in the sweltering discomfort of the rear trenches. He pulled out his fob watch and dabbed his brow on the back of his sleeve. It was almost time. The siege guns continued their relentless pounding and all seemed quite still on the walls of Seringapatam. Only a handful of tiny figures were in view on the ramparts, keeping watch on the English forces.
As the hands of his watch closed together at noon there came the shrill call of a whistle and at once a wave of redcoats erupted from the forward trenches, as if they were bursting up from the very earth itself. The men of the forlorn hope dashed forward behind Sergeant Graham as he held the rippling standard aloft, then they surged across the shallow current of the south Cauvery and up the far bank, dripping and glistening as they sprinted towards the ragged gap in the city wall.
The main column had swiftly formed up in companies, and rippled forward across the river as the first of the defenders to appear on the walls began to fire on the attackers. Arthur saw Sergeant Graham clamber on to the highest point of the rubble piled in the breach. He thrust the standard down and beckoned to his men, and then lurched to one side and collapsed. The standard slowly began to topple, before one of the men of the forlorn hope snatched at it and held it up. Beyond the wall, Arthur glimpsed scores of men in flowing white tunics armed with muskets scrambling up to the crest of the debris, and a vicious and unequal struggle began.
Already, Baird and his first company were emerging from the river and surging up into the breach. Arthur caught a brief glimpse of the Scot, swinging his claymore, before he disappeared beyond the wall, closely followed by his men. Not a single enemy soldier still lived in the breach or on the ramparts immediately either side of it. Redcoats appeared on the battlements, fanning out to the left and right and charging into the dense ranks of the defenders who were only now spilling out of the bastions further along the wall. For an instant Arthur could not help but envy those who were storming the Tipoo’s defences.All the months of painstaking preparation, long marches across inhospitable country and the back-breaking labour of trench-digging would be forgotten amid the explosive exhilaration of being part of that wild attack.
Arthur stared towards the trenches.The last of Baird’s men had cleared the near bank and there was no chance now of confusing the columns. He cleared his throat and shouted the order. ‘The reserve will advance!’
Sergeants relayed the order and the sepoy battalions and the Swiss de Meuron regiment of mercenaries that fought for the Company clambered out, grateful to quit the fetid misery of the trenches. As soon as the reserve was formed up Arthur led them down to the river and they waded across, muskets held high as the slack water eddied about their waists. On the far bank they halted in front of the wall to await further orders while Arthur went ahead with his aide, Fitzroy, and the grenadier company from the Swiss regiment. The rubble was loose beneath their boots and Arthur had to use a hand on the masonry to steady himself as he made his way up into the breach. The crest and reverse slope were covered with bodies, mostly Tipoo’s men, taken with the bayonet or shot down at point-blank range. Sergeant Graham lay sprawled on his back, slack-jawed, staring lifelessly towards the heavens. Gunfire crackled on either side and Arthur could see distant figures fighting at close quarters for possession of the bastions and towers along the wall.Ahead of him the streets of Seringapatam were silent and still as its people took shelter in their homes and prayed to their gods for deliverance, or mercy.
The two men climbed the nearest steps on to the wall to gain a better view of the fighting. Away to the north, the action seemed concentrated around the water gate on the wall that looked out over the main channel of the Cauvery. In the other direction, Arthur could already see a swarm of redcoats surging towards the Mysore gate.
‘Looks like Tipoo’s men are on the run,’ Fitzroy said as he shaded his eyes, squinting in the same direction as Arthur.
‘It looks that way,’ Arthur conceded after a moment.‘In which case, we must take measures to ensure that the slaughter doesn’t get out of hand. Go down to the reserve and order the sepoys to stand down. They are not to be allowed to enter the city.’
Fitzroy raised his eyebrows.‘They’re not going to like that, sir. You know the rules of war. The place has been taken by assault. By rights they should have a free hand.’
‘That’s not going to happen,’ Arthur replied firmly. ‘Tipoo’s people had nothing to do with his decision to wage war on us. They are not going to share his fate.And I am certainly not going to throw them on the mercy of Madras sepoys. I want the de Meuron regiment drawn up in front of the breach. They are not to let any soldiers into the city. Clear?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Fitzroy saluted and climbed down from the wall to relay Arthur’s orders. Meanwhile Arthur stared out over the city. The sound of gunfire was already fading away, apart from occasional bursts as the attackers discovered a few remaining pockets of Tipoo’s men. Rising above the city was the palace and Arthur realised that if the ruler of Seringapatam could be found and persuaded to surrender, then the city might yet be spared the worst ravages of defeat. Otherwise, the marauding bands of redcoats would unerringly find their way to stores of drink and then, fuelled by arrack and the fire in their blood, they would carry murder, destruction and rape to every corner of the city.
As soon as Fitzroy returned they set off towards the palace, stepping round the bodies that lay behind the wall. When they turned into the avenue that led to the palace gates they saw several companies of redcoats waiting outside.
‘It’s the 33rd.’ Fitzroy pointed. ‘And over there - Major Shee.’
Arthur hurried across to Shee. ‘What news?’
Shee stiffened his back as he made his report.‘Enemy’s beaten, sir. Just winkling out the last few of ’em. There’s a few hundred still sheltering in the palace. General Baird has asked them to surrender.’
‘Baird? Where is he?’
‘Through there, sir.’ Shee nodded at the gate.
Arthur and Fitzroy made towards the arch and cautiously walked through into a large courtyard. Baird had his back to them, and was staring at the facade of the palace. Several of Tipoo’s men stared back warily from the palace entrance. More men stood at the windows of the building. At the sound of boots crunching on gravel Baird glanced back over his shoulder, and then turned to greet Arthur. There was no triumph in his expression, just weariness.
‘Ah, Wellesley, it’s all but over now. I’m just waiting for the
‘Terms, sir?’ Arthur asked. ‘What terms?’
‘Surrender of the palace and the men sheltering there, including two of Tipoo’s sons. In exchange, the palace and all those in it will be placed under the protection of your regiment.’
‘What about Tipoo, sir? Where is he?’
‘The
