'Left wheel into line!' he called, checking the pace to a trot to allow them the manoeuvre time.
Trumpeter Storrs blew the call perfectly: just the four notes, and a simple fifth interval - easy enough with the bugle, even at a bounce.
Hervey's own troop wheeled effortlessly, an evolution they might do in their sleep so often had they practised it. The Eleventh, behind, had a harder time of it, with more ground to make up and two ranks to form, not one. Hervey wished he were leading with lances: they were not much use to him at the rear, and the sight of them lowered might well send the enemy packing. As they stood, he could only let them pursue once the dragoons had broken the Jhauts up. He cursed himself.
He looked rear again to see if the Eleventh were close enough yet for support. His jaw dropped. Up on the rise was a line of lances and yellow kurtas. He could scarcely believe their celerity and address. Skinner's sowars had taken post as flankers, and on the commanding ground, and without a word from him.
'Draw swords!'
Out rasped two hundred blades.
Four hundred yards now, and the ground ahead was even. He put Gilbert back into a canter, glancing over his shoulder again. There was Wainwright, covering, and Perry, upright and assured. He saw Green struggling with both hands to hold his mare. This was the best time, the troop in hand, every man intent on his next word of command. In another two hundred yards or so, when he shouted
'Charge!' he would relinquish all control for a frenzied few minutes, as each man fought his own battle, self- reliant instead of, as now, knee to knee.
He glanced left. The rissalah was pulling ahead
- good! They would cut off any flight to the fortress, pin the enemy against the stream. Hervey lengthened the stride to a hand-gallop. How would the Jhauts meet them? They were still standing. Would it be with the flintlock? Surely not! Yet they showed no sign of movement. Why didn't they counter-charge? It was their only hope . . .
Then the Jhauts turned.
They're breaking!' shouted Hervey, waving his sabre their way. 'Charge!'
Four hundred cavalry at the gallop, lances couched, but swords held high. Only infantry and guns saw the sabre's point; fleeing horsemen felt its edge.
Hervey fixed on a distant tree on the centre line and pressed Gilbert for all he was worth. In seconds they were among them. There was no need of his blade at first: the Jhauts were over-matched. Skinner's sowars were doing good execution, and his own dragoons were drawing blood. Yet an unseated man, sword in hand still, received his point cleanly at the throat - foolish or determined was he? It did not matter.
He tried to estimate how many they had bolted
- two, three hundred at least. Gone like chaff in a puff of wind - no need to sound recall. He could see his objective clearly now. The lone thicket of
Now he had to pray the bund was intact, the moats not yet inundated. Was that why the Jhauts had run - their job done, the bund breached, nothing more to cover?
There was a thunderous eruption of smoke and flame from the north-east bastion, the same distance away to his left. Shot whistled overhead - miles too high, he sneered. Had their gunners no art? Had they not ranged in their idle moments? Could this truly be the fortress that had defeated Lord Lake?
He could see no movement at the
He pressed Gilbert to a final effort.
Then they were at
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SIEGE
10 December
Sir,
I have the honor to report, for the information of His Excellency the Commander-in-Chief, that, in obedience to his command, I proceeded to make a reconnaissance on the Fortress of Bhurtpore with the object of intercepting the means of inundation of its defences at what is known as the Mottee Jheel, with under my command one troop 6th Light Dragoons, one squadron 11th Light Dragoons under the direct command of Captain Rotton, and a detachment of Colonel Skinner's Horse, under Major Fraser. On advancing in the vicinity of the Bund at first light, I encountered an encampment of the enemy's cavalry, which was at once attacked and the enemy driven off without loss. The body of Colonel Skinner's Horse, acting on the initiative of Major Fraser, made a flank movement; by which they intercepted and cut up more than five hundred of the Enemy's cavalry, before they could reach an outwork in which the greater proportion of them took refuge. At this time the guns of the Fortress opened a moderate fire upon the force, but without damage.
After the affair of the Enemy's cavalry, I proceeded at once for the Bund which was found to be cut in two places, though the breaches had not been quite completed. A moderate amount of water, only, was judged to have entered the channels, and this was later confirmed by reconnaissance, the ditches of all the outworks being dry. Work was begun at once, under Lt Irvine of the Engineers, to repair the breaches, and this was accomplished by late morning. The Enemy mounted two attacks on the Bund during this time, but they were heartless affairs and easily beaten off. At thirty minutes past midday, the relieving party under the command of Brig.-General Sleigh took possession of the Jheel Bund, and, as instructed to do so, I relinquished my responsibilities in this regard.
I beg I may be allowed to express my approbation of the intelligence and zeal of Major Fraser and Lt Irvine, and that the conduct of the body of Colonel Skinner's Horse was exemplary.
Hervey led his troop into the Sixth's lines late that afternoon, his command now dispersed, but their feat of arms already the talk of the army. Edmonds had turned the regiment out in their honour, mounted ranks with swords drawn, and the quarter-guard with carbines at the present. Local rank Hervey's majority might be, but it entitled him to arms presented rather than a mere butt salute, and Edmonds would have the regiment know what a day in its annals this would surely become.
Hervey could scarce believe the material for the siege now assembling - the ordnance, the tentage, camp stores, provisions, transport; the livestock, somehow driven from Agra and Muttra with as much ease, it would appear, as a Wiltshire shepherd might press his flock along a downland drove. And the regiments, King's and sepoy, battling for good order and military discipline as they began their routine of the siege - proud, colourful, cheery, possessed of self-confidence in limitless quantity. Hervey knew that he and his men had saved them blood, and he was glad of it also because the mounted arm would after all be able to look the infantry in the eye in this affair of digging and then the bayonet.
What a scene it was. In Agra and Muttra he had known its individual elements, but only now did it appear to him as a whole. It was a scene from many a picture he had thrilled to in his youth -the Crusades, the Hundred Years' War, Cromwell and the King, the Peninsula. It mattered not where, for the principle was the same: the paraphernalia of the siege, the methodical, patient, painful marshalling of resources, and then their remorseless application, until the besieged struck their colours or had them torn down, or else the besieger, his resources
