CHAPTER XV

Ted's First Battle

General Anson, Commander-in-chief in India, had died a few days previously; his successor, General Barnard, received and read the despatch in silence.

He then looked up with stern face, but twinkling eyes. "Do you think, young gentlemen, that it shows good judgment to charge seventy horsemen with only six?" for the captain of the Carabineers had reported the incident to his chief.

Ted stammered out, "We didn't think, sir."

"Think! I should imagine not. You must learn caution, if ever you hope to get on in your profession."

The boys saluted and turned to go, when the general continued:

"Let me see; which of you was it who blew up the magazine at Aurungpore?"

Ted blushed as Alec replied. The general rose from his chair, shook hands solemnly as with an equal, and the ensign departed, his heart nearly bursting with pride. No amount of praise could have pleased him so much as did this simple act.

The dragoon captain found sleeping quarters for them and for their men, and they made a tour of the encampment. In the camp the British soldiers (for their six men were the only dark-skins), horse and foot, were gathered in groups talking over the strange changes that had occurred, and eagerly discussing the latest tidings. The slaughter of the helpless ladies and children in the city before them had maddened the men, and all vowed vengeance on the cruel foe.

"There's not a black regiment to be trusted, I don't care who they are," declared one.

"Oh, there may be some who are all right! we mustn't condemn the lot," replied another.

"Indeed! Who are your precious heroes, then?" sneered a third.

"Well, I don't know," the more hopeful red-coat replied; "but they say that the Guides and the Sirmur Battalion of Gurkhas are coming to help us."

"Guides and Gurkies be blowed! You'll just see; the niggers'll come as far as it suits them, then they'll kill their officers and march into Delhi. They ought to have been disarmed, Guides and Gurkies and everyone else, straight away."

"Hear, hear!" joined in the others. "We don't want no niggers helpin' us."

"They don't know much about the Guides, do they, Ted?" Alec whispered.

"They don't. But they spoke of the Sirmur Gurkhas. I wonder whether they are coming here? My cousin Charlie Dorricot is with them, so I hope they are. He's a jolly beggar is Charlie."

"They say Gurkhas are always to be trusted," Alec replied; "and from what these fellows say, it's evident they haven't mutinied so far.... Hullo! what's up now? The 'Alarm'! By Jove, the pandies are attacking us!"

A bugle had sounded the 'Alarm'; the men sprang to their feet, rushed for their arms, and prepared to fall in. In an instant the whole camp was alive.

"What is it? Who are they?"

"Over there! Look! It's an attack on our rear."

The bugle blew again, and the alarm gradually subsided. All eyes were directed towards a body of men marching wearily, but with correct, well-drilled step, along the road leading towards the British camp. They seemed dark, very short of stature, and curiously attired, and that was all that could be made out. Though not Europeans, they were evidently friends, because the "Alarm" sounded by the first bugle had been contradicted by the second call.

And now that the sepoy regiments were proving false right and left, what Asiatic corps except the Guides could be trusted so near the head-quarters of the rebels? John Lawrence would take good care that no doubtful regiments should be sent to Delhi, and that no Mussulman nor Brahman of the Bengal army should be given such an excellent chance of turning traitor at the critical moment.

The strangers drew nearer, and the camp turned out to meet them. Then the word passed from lip to lip that these were the Gurkhas--Reid's Gurkhas.

"It's the Sirmur Battalion, Alec," said Ted; and he executed a little _pas seul_ to proclaim his delight.

"Who are they?" asked some of the Tommies. "Where 'ave they come from? Can they fight?"

"Fight? Can't they just!" replied one of the knowing ones, a sergeant with a dozen years' Indian experience. "They come from Dehra Dun, up in the hills."

"I wouldn't give a dog-biscuit for all the native regiments in India," a young private declared. "They're all rotten with treachery."

"You'll never be commander-in-chief, Sammy," the sergeant retorted. "You know a dashed sight too much, and yet not 'arf enough. If you wasn't so ignorant you'd know that these Gurkies ain't natives but furriners in Injia same as us, livin' in a furrin country called Nepal, up amongst the Himalayas, which you've never 'eard on, I dare say. And the Gurky king ain't a subject of the queen, like the Injian rajahs and nawabs and nizams and such, but free and independent, like voters at an election. I've fought side by side with 'em, Sammy, and they're as good pals on a battle-field as any chaps from Battersea."

Ted and Alec laughed at the sergeant's harangue, and strolled down the road to meet the reinforcements. The short-legged, tough, little Gurkhas were almost dropping from fatigue and heat. They had marched many, many miles that day under the scorching Indian sun, and they were no more accustomed to the heat of the plains than were their British comrades.

"Hurrah for the Gurkies! Three cheers for the little 'uns!"

The cry was taken up by hundreds of the red-coats, who were now lining both sides of the road, cheering again and again as the weary Mongolians marched sturdily through their ranks with soldierly swagger. The little fellows grinned and tried to cheer and joke in return, but, being dead beat and almost famishing, the attempt was a failure. Many British soldiers ran out to help their new allies along, by lending the support of an arm or shoulder.

"That's him, Alec!" Ted, regardless of grammar, informed his chum.

He made straight for a lieutenant of the Gurkhas, a tall, jolly-looking man of about five-and-twenty, and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Please, sir," said the ensign, with great deference and as vacant an expression as possible, "is there an officer of this regiment of pandies named Dorricot, because he's wanted in camp."

"Pandies! you impudent puppy!" the enraged lieutenant replied. "Pandies! I like your cheek! My name's Dorricot. Who wants me?"

"Please, sir, I think it's a tailor with a lot of unpaid bills--"

The lieutenant opened his mouth, and, gripping Ted's wrist, looked him squarely in the face. He burst into a laugh.

"Ted Russell! What on earth are you doing here, you cheeky chimpanzee?"

He wrung Ted's hand heartily, and was unceremoniously introduced to Paterson.

"What are you doing here, Ted?" Dorricot repeated. "Your regiment has mutinied, has it not?"

"Yes. Seeing we were at liberty, the general sent for Paterson and me to come and give him a lift. We're his military advisers, ain't we, Alec?"

"Oh, Ted's altogether too modest," said Paterson. "In reality he's the actual commander here, and General Barnard takes orders from him."

"Oh, that's it, is it?" Dorricot replied. "Well, look here, come to my tent as soon as we've settled down. I want to have a talk with you."

The Sirmur Battalion passed within the lines, and General Barnard himself came out to welcome them.

"Get something to eat sharp!" he exhorted Major Reid. "Sorry you're dead beat, but we may have to turn out at any moment."

Luckily this was not necessary, as the expected attack did not come off, and the tired Gurkhas were granted a few hours' well-earned rest. Soon after they had settled down our two ensigns paid the promised visit to Lieutenant Dorricot, and fought their battles over again, talking and laughing over their several adventures, interrupting, contradicting, and agreeing with one another as they discussed the situation and the causes that had combined to bring it about.

The elder cousin was full of a natural curiosity concerning Jim's engagement, soon persuading the ensign--and in truth it was no difficult matter--to give his opinion of Miss Woodburn, her accomplishments and attractions.

"Hullo!" interrupted Charlie, as the boy waxed particularly eloquent on the subject. "You're sure it's Russell Major who's in love, and not Russell Minimus."

Ted blushed, laughed outright, and sought to change the subject; but Charlie was determined to extract further information relating to his cousin's love affairs--a matter on which he was conventionally facetious.

"So you really think that old Jim's done well--eh, young Solomon?" Dorricot resumed after a few moments' reflection.

"I tell you he's a jolly lucky chap!" declared the ensign emphatically. "Jolly lucky, I should say. You should just have seen her when she whipped her pistol out as soon as that beggar had knifed me in the _bazar_!"

"What was that, Teddy? You never told me about that."

So our ensign related the incident with great gusto, and the elder cousin whistled as he heard of the girl's coolness.

"She's the right sort for Jim," he agreed, as Ted concluded the narration. "But I must be toddling off to bed now, I'm badly in need of some sleep. By-bye, young 'un!"

"Good-night, Charlie! It's just stunning to see you again. Jim'll be downright glad when he comes; he's bound to be here in a day or two now."

"His men must be rattling good marchers if he is! I hardly think it possible."

With a hearty handshake the cousins separated, the ensigns returning to their own quarters in the highest possible spirits, looking forward with great eagerness to the coming struggle.

A few days later General Barnard advanced and gave battle to the enemy at Badli-Ka-Serai, six miles from the city. Not a soldier there but was burning to meet the traitors, but none was more keen than the little Gurkhas, who, to the delight of the amused Tommies, turned somersaults and played leap-frog when they heard that an attack was to be made.

The multitudes of sepoys fought with courage and fierce determination, but were hurled back by the little army, which occupied position after position as the mutineers recoiled. At his cousin's request Ted was allowed to act with the Sirmur Battalion until the arrival of the Guide Corps, whose absence the boy greatly regretted.

"How mad they will be to have missed this!" he whispered to Charlie as they led the Gurkhas at the double to the foot of the ridge, where they halted and attempted to dislodge the enemy by rifle-fire. The bullets whistled around, and many a gallant fellow fell, and it must be confessed that our ensign felt uncomfortable. He hoped that this waiting "would jolly soon be over", but, with the eyes of the little Mongolians upon him, he scorned to show signs of flinching even when a bullet flattened on the stone beside him. The fire had little effect on the rebel regiments above; the swarthy faces seemed to glare down upon them in demoniacal fashion, defying their approach.

At length came the welcome order to storm the ridge. With a cheer Britons and Gurkhas rose and dashed up the slope, racing like school-boys for the top. The Gurkhas yelled and shrieked, challenging the 60th Rifles to the race; the English had no breath left for cheering, but they put in all they knew, not to be outdistanced by "them Gurky chaps". The little mountaineers, however, had had far more practice in rapid climbing than their British comrades, and were soon well in front, with Major Reid and Lieutenant Dorricot at their head. Though Ted toiled manfully forward, he could only arrive at the top with the rear sections of his regiment, with whom were mixed the dark-coated English riflemen. The sepoys were standing no longer. Their ranks broken up by the furious charge from right and left, their guns taken and leaders slain, they dared no longer face the glistening bayonets and determined faces of vengeful Englishmen and furious Gurkhas, but broke and fled towards the city. After them ran the infantry, and in the plains below the cavalry charged and re-charged the flying mobs, scattering them again as they tried to reform. The battle of Badli-Ka-Serai was over.