The Sabre's Edge

Joynson nodded. 'That is artful. I wonder you didn't tell me of it.'

'Murray said to speak to no one. He asked my opinion as to where a demonstration would have greatest effect, and I concluded the Agra gate. But thinking the more, I believe now that nothing would tempt him out, for he can risk losing his cavalry even less than losing the fortress. And it would be folly to suppose he has not made that inference for himself. Perhaps General Sleigh thinks the same and does not approve it, therefore.'

'Mm.' Joynson nodded again, but slower.

'You're a very clever fellow, Hervey. You ought by rights to be on Combermere's staff.^’

Hervey smiled, acknowledging the tease.

'You know,' he continued, putting his spectacles in their case in such a way as to suggest a conclusion. 'I've seen little enough field service, but what I've seen and read leads me to believe that there's rarely a clever way to things. Better to do well what's to be done.'

It would have been too easy to dismiss Joynson as a plodder, suited only to organizing supply for the fixed defences of the Sussex coast - which had been his former extra-regimental service. Hervey would not. Indeed, he had come to respect 'Daddy' Joynson as a man who knew his limitations to an uncommon degree, and acknowledged them. 'That would appear to be what Combermere is about, is it not - doing well what's to be done?'

'I hope so. I hope he's listening to Anburey rather than Murray. I can't see that this business will be settled other than by powder and the bayonet. You know, I've a mind to leave things here for a while and go see Armstrong and his cohort. I've a mind that Armstrong's shovel will be a deal more serviceable in this than the whole of Murray's brigade. You'll come with me?'

As they rode into the extensive earthworks that Buldeo Singh's garden had become, the battery at Kuddum Kundee, a furlong away, fired in unison - eight of the artillery's biggest siege guns laid painstakingly on the same point of the long-necked bastion, 250 pounds of iron hurled with a velocity which vastly multiplied that weight on impact. Hervey pressed Gilbert to the top of one of the earth ramparts just in time to observe the effect - a column of dust higher than the walls of the fortress itself. Were there troops ready to assault the breach?

As the dust cleared, he saw there was no need of a breaching party, nor even a sign of the gunners' work. The long-necked bastion stood as before, prominent and defiant. He frowned and turned Gilbert back down the bank, muttering about Joshua and his trumpets.

'God in heaven!' cursed Joynson, climbing from the saddle. His mare looked as if she had taken root, her legs splayed, immovable.

'It was enough to startle a seasoned trooper, Eustace. She's very green, still.' Joynson's luck with horses was evidently not great, thought Hervey. 'Give her a lead?'

Joynson shook his head crossly. 'No, no. I'll walk in, damn it! Serjeant Lightfoot!'

The major's covering-serjeant took the reins. Hervey dismounted and handed his to Private Johnson.

They set off through the tamarisk grove with Joynson still tutting about his second charger.

'It's as well we approach on foot, anyway,' said Hervey, leading. 'The place is getting tight-packed with limbers.'

They picked their way through the siege park like sightseers at a fair. There were piles of shot, powder kegs in dugout bays, explosive shell in others, all manner of engineer stores neatly piled, sacks of corn for the horses, tubs of salt beef, dripping, biscuit, heaps of black bread, barrels of water, firewood and quartermaster stores, and the surgeon's dressing post, empty now, though at the same hour yesterday it was a sorry butcher's shop. It all spoke of the effort and patience a siege required, the organization. Someone at least knew his job, thought Hervey. And it was as well, given the impotence of the eighteen-pounders that had just been demonstrated.

'Steady, man!' bawled Joynson suddenly, as Private Harkness all but ran into him.

'Sir! We need the surgeon sir! It's the serjeant-major!'

'What?'

'He's in the tunnel, sir. The roof's tumbled in!'

Joynson pointed to the surgeon's tent, then set off after Hervey, running for the first time in years.

At the foot of the drift, where the tunnel began, an artificer stopped them. 'There're too many in there, sir. It's too narrow.'

'Stay here, Eustace,' said Hervey, unfastening his swordbelt and taking off his shako. 'No use in two of us going.'

'My orders, sir,' said the artificer. ^cMy sar'nt-major, though,' said Hervey, pushing him aside.

The tunnel was well lit by oil lamps, but silent. Hervey moved as fast he could, neither quite walking nor running, ducking lower still every few yards to avoid a roof support. It took him a while to reach the airlock.

'Who's that?' said the crouching figure at the burlap partition.

'Armstrong's officer. What's to do?'

'Oh, Major Hervey, sir; it's Irvine. I'm officer of the day. The roof's fallen about fifty yards in. There are two of your men and Brigadier Anburey digging the sar'nt-major out.'

Hervey pulled aside the burlap.

'Sir, it's awfully tight in there.'

'Yes, thank you, Irvine.'

It was not so well lit the other side of the burlap. Hervey could see the flicker of lamps ahead, and hear voices. He crouched lower still, and pushed on as best he could again.

'Who's that? Surgeon?' came a voice.

'No, sir. It's Hervey, Armstrong's officer.' Hervey could just make out Shepherd Stent on his knees beyond Anburey, shovelling earth to one side. 'Who's with you, Stent?'

'Corporal Stray, sir.'

Hervey pushed past them both. Earth was flying back as fast as Stent could clear it, like a terrier digging out a badger. He could now make out

Corporal Stray's great bulk, seeming to fill the remaining space. But it was Stray's shovel that worked like a machine.

'How long has he been buried?'

'A good ten minutes, sir,' said Stent, not checking in his own shovel work. 'The engineers had just put in another support and the serjeant-major was taking a turn at digging. And suddenly the roof just fell in.'

'I had only just arrived myself,' said Brigadier Anburey.

Buried ten minutes. Hervey bit his lip. How did they know the roof-fall they were clearing would not be replaced at once by more? Had the tunnel wholly collapsed, with a hollow in the ground above them? Should they not be digging from there too?

'I've got 'is feet, Shep!' called Stray.

'Major Hervey's here, Mick.'

'Major 'Ervey, sir, I've got 'is feet. And they're movin'!'

Hervey crawled past Shepherd Stent and laid a hand on Armstrong's boot. It was moving, very definitely moving.

'Can we pull 'im out, d'ye think, sir?'

'I don't know,' said Hervey, clawing away more earth around the foot. 'He must somehow have air under this lot. If we start to pull him out we might disturb it. How long would it take?'

Corporal Stray, breathing heavily, didn't know either. 'Even if 'e's got a bit of air, sir, it might run out soon. It can't be owt much. What else can we do? It'll take an hour to shift this lot.'

Hervey felt the desperation welling. 'We'll pull him! Keep digging while I get ropes.'

'Right, sir,' said Stray, relieved not to be the one to make the decision, and pleased to have the digging to occupy him.

'I'll get them,' said Anburey.

'Colonel, I'd be obliged if you would stay here. I am not a technical.'

Anburey nodded, and Hervey took off back down the tunnel like a bolting rabbit.

Joynson had not been idle, either. There were props, lamps, picks, shovels, all manner of stores piled at the bottom of the drift - and rope. Hervey quickly explained his intention then set off back into the tunnel with the end