CHAPTER XXIII

Ted Extinguishes Himself

"Where shall I find Ensign Russell?" enquired a messenger from head-quarters as he approached the outpost. Ted was quickly found, and his agitation may be imagined when he learned that General Nicholson had sent for him. Nervously, reverently, and full of sorrow, he entered the tent. The somewhat stern and haughty look, so well known to all evil-doers who had chanced to cross his path, had vanished from the great man's countenance as he greeted the boy.

"So, young man, you've escaped unwounded?"

"Yes, sir, ... at least only very slightly."

"Ah, your arm, I see!" began the general. "Perhaps you can guess why I sent for you? Somehow I took a strange liking to you that day I arrived on the Ridge, ... though I ought not to approve of disobedience," continued the wounded man, smiling.

Ted bent his head and was silent.

"You are the son of Major-general Russell, I hear? I knew your father well. I served with him in Afghanistan, and he will be a proud man when he hears that by an act of conspicuous bravery you perhaps averted a disaster to a whole column."

John Nicholson was silent for a few moments before resuming:

"I have since heard how you distinguished yourself when your regiment mutinied. You have begun well, keep on in the same way. Put duty first, and your country may one day be proud of you, as she is to-day of Tombs and Brind and Reid."

Here the wounded general was interrupted by the entrance of Sir Archdale Wilson, who, with grave and anxious face, had come to enquire as to the condition of his second in command.

Nicholson turned to him.

"This is the lad, Wilson, of whom we were speaking yesterday. You received a report from the officer commanding the 4th Column, stating how Ensign Russell had helped to bring it safely in."

Ted stood by with downcast eyes, and as he fumbled nervously with his sword-hilt he looked anything but a hero. Once or twice he opened his mouth as though he wished to speak, but could not overcome his nervousness.

General Wilson spoke cordially and kindly to him.

"So you are Ensign Russell? I must tell you that your storming of that nullah was worthy of the best traditions of our young officers. I am proud of commanding an army in which deeds of heroism are of daily occurrence, and young as you are, on General Nicholson's advice, I intend to mark my appreciation by recommending you for promotion. Whilst awaiting formal confirmation, I take upon myself to raise you to subaltern rank. Good-day, Lieutenant Russell!"

"Good-bye, lad!" echoed Nicholson.

"Thank you, sir!" Ted mumbled and moved away, then stopped in some confusion, and again made as if to speak, but the eyes of the two generals were turned away.

Anticipating some such reward for his brother's display of courage and resource, Jim had accompanied him to the camp, and was now walking up and down at some distance from the general's tent.

"Well, what is it, old boy?" he asked excitedly, for Jim was feeling proud of his younger brother's distinction.

For a few paces the boy walked on without replying. Then he said quietly and wearily:

"They complimented me about something or other. I'm sick of it."

"What's the matter, young 'un, you look miserable? Is your cut smarting, or had you set your heart on promotion and feel disappointed? It's a shame! I think you ought to be promoted!"

"No, it isn't," Ted contradicted testily.

"Ted, whatever is the matter?"

"Oh, I'm not well, Jim! I'm sorry I'm such a brute."

"You look bad, young 'un; you must have that cut seen to. I thought you were queer as we came along."

Ted turned on his heel.

"Don't wait for me," he muttered, and retraced his steps towards the tent he had just quitted, leaving Jim staring in bewilderment. Recognizing the ensign, the sentry gave admittance without question. General Wilson was still with his junior, and both turned their heads as he entered.

"Well, Russell, what is it?" General Wilson asked with surprise.

"I'm very sorry, sir," faltered Ted, "I've been deceiving you."

"How? What do you mean?"

"I never meant to attack that nullah or rescue the fellows in it," the boy replied, now speaking eagerly and hurriedly. "I never knew there was such a place. I had lost a lot of my men, sir, and as the enemy were being reinforced in front, I ordered the men to double back to where I thought our supports were. The ditch was hidden from us by an embankment, and we stumbled into the midst of the rebels, and if it hadn't been that the Gurkhas are so sharp and never get flurried, we'd all have been cut up, sir. As it happened, the pandies were more surprised than we were, and they thought, I suppose, that we were in force, and so they cut away. And everyone thought I had done it on purpose, and they didn't give me a chance to explain. And then, as everyone has been congratulating me, and I hadn't denied it at once, I found it still harder to explain afterwards. And--well, sir, after what you and General Nicholson said just now, I couldn't stand it any longer. And I'm very sorry, sir."

General Wilson glanced at General Nicholson, who laughed The former laid his hand on Ted's shoulder.

"Don't be alarmed, youngster," he said; "I think I see how it was. Of course I can't send in the recommendation now. You understand that, of course?"

"Of course, sir."

"Come here, Ensign Russell," said John Nicholson.

Ted approached.

"I like to shake hands with an honest man. Oblige me by taking my hand--I can't take yours very well."

Gently and reverently Ted pressed the hero's hand, then silently turned and left the tent, lighter at heart than when he had entered it.

Almost boisterously he greeted his brother, who had anxiously retraced his steps, and was now awaiting him.

"I'm all right now, Jim!" he cried, and proceeded to relate the whole story, concluding:

"You'll explain to Charlie and the others, won't you? I don't like to. There's a good fellow!"

"I'm rather glad it's turned out this way, young 'un," said the elder. "I knew you were plucky enough before, now I know you're something better."

"I say, Jim," Ted blurted out after a few moments' silence, "suppose Tynan's been done the same way?"

"Done? What way?" asked the slower Jim.

"I mean that perhaps someone began praising him for something he'd never done, and didn't give him a chance to put it right at once, and then he stuck to it for fear that people would blame him for not denying it straight off. If it has happened that way I'm sorry for him, for he'll be jolly miserable."

"It's hardly likely," said Jim.

* * * * *

Outside the dying man's tent a few fierce tribesmen from Hazara and wild cut-throats from Bannu (in these two provinces Nicholson had been commissioner) had collected from the various Punjab regiments, and were loudly lamenting the supposed death of their idol.

"Jan Nikkulseyn is dead! The great sahib is no more!" they wailed, as Ensign Russell appeared before them.

"Tell us, _huzoor_[24]" a veteran native officer eagerly demanded, "is he indeed dead?"

[24] A title of respect.

Ted assured the men that their idol still lived; but they shook their heads, crying that the English were merely trying to keep the death a secret, and the wailing recommenced still more noisily. A loud voice from the other side of the canvas thundered:

"Budmashes! Why do ye disturb my peace with that unseemly noise? Wali Khan, drive the rascals away and thrash them well! Know ye then that Jan Nikkulseyn is still very much alive!"

At the sound of the well-known voice a cry of joy went up, and Wali Khan, the old subadar-major, at once proceeded to carry out his order with vigour. So he mercilessly thrashed those whose chorus he had just been leading, scattering them in all directions.

"Allah be praised!" yelled the men of Bannu, as they jumped out of reach of Wali Khan's stick. "Allah be praised! Nicholson Sahib is indeed alive!"

He only lingered, however, for a very short time. On the 23rd September, 1857, John Nicholson died at the early age of thirty-five, having done his duty to God and to his country. Heavy were all British hearts that day, not only with the Delhi army but throughout the Punjab. May our country never lack such a son in time of trouble!

The tidings of his death were soon proclaimed along the border, and men went about heavily as though mourning for a father. Many a villainous fellow, whose evil ways and dark deeds had incurred the displeasure of the commissioner, felt a sense of personal loss now that Jan Nikkulseyn--his father and mother and hero--was no more.

Shortly after the arrival of the news, a number of his devotees in Bannu (a place which has been described as a "hell upon earth", because of its wickedness, before Nicholson was made commissioner thereof) gathered together to mourn their beloved chief. A _malik_, or headman, rising, spoke of the general's virtues, his love of truth and justice; then, suddenly ending, cried:

"Oh, my brothers, what good is there in life now that our sahib is dead?"

As he uttered the last word, the malik drew a knife quickly across his throat, and fell in their midst--a corpse.

"He speaks truly! What is there to live for now?" cried others. But a pious man of great influence arose, and, stretching forth his hands to restrain them, spoke:

"My children, think ye that our dead master would approve of this? Our brother was mistaken; that is not the way to honour him. Let us rather seek to learn something of the God who was worshipped by Nicholson Sahib."

The listeners considered and approved this idea, and forthwith a number set out for Peshawur. From that town a visit was paid to the nearest missionary, with the result that several were converted to the Christian faith.

To this day, when the wind blows strongly between the mountains, men along that frontier declare that they hear the tramp of Nicholson's war-horse.

* * * * *

The heroes of the Siege of Delhi were without number, but of all the regiments engaged, the Sirmur Battalion had carried off the highest honours. With tooth and nail had they defended their post, by day and by night, for more than three months. No fewer than twenty-six distinct and determined attacks (one lasting all day and all night) had been made on them by overwhelming hordes of the enemy, by brave men bent on obtaining possession of that all-important post, and twenty-six times had they been hurled back by the handful of loyal, steadfast little highlanders.

Their dogged achievements were not passed by unnoticed.

Twenty years later, when the Prince of Wales paid his visit to India, he held a review of British and Native troops on the historic Ridge, and the 2nd Gurkhas (the old Sirmur Battalion) were given the place of honour in front of Hindu Rao's house, the post with which the corps will ever be associated.

On that spot the prince spoke to them of the heroic deeds of their predecessors, and conferred upon the regiment the title of "The Prince of Wales' Own Gurkhas"; and you can imagine how the little men, listening on that spot to the words of the great Queen's son, would feel their hearts stirred within them, and would resolve that they would play their part as their fathers had done, that the regiment might never suffer disgrace.

The Guide Corps was also awarded a special recognition of their services (though not at the same date), the queen granting them the title of "The Queen's Own Corps of Guides", a compliment of which they are justly proud. The king is now the colonel of both the "Guides" and the 2nd Gurkhas, the latter being the corps that distinguished itself so greatly with the Gordon Highlanders at the storming of Dargai a few years ago.

To return to our story. The capture of Delhi broke the back of the mutiny. By that feat the British gained the upper hand and kept it, and thenceforward their part was to attack and hunt the rebels from one place to another, instead of being constantly attacked and pressed themselves. The regiments that had taken part in the siege of the Mogul capital were despatched to various points, to join the different forces engaged in subduing the revolt.

Charlie Dorricot was too seriously injured to take any further part in the campaign, and he had left for England before Lucknow was finally relieved. Alec Paterson had been less seriously injured, and was on his feet again within a fortnight.

Captain Russell and the Guides returned to the Punjab, for that corps, as well as the Sirmur Battalion, had suffered terribly during the three-months' fighting, and they were not employed in Sir Colin Campbell's campaign along the Ganges. Jim, however, succeeded in obtaining his majority towards the conclusion of the Sepoy war, and not very long afterwards he was given the command of one of the newly-raised Punjab infantry regiments.

Ted, with his usual good luck--as his brother did not forget to inform him,--was remembered by General Wilson, and was attached to one of the regiments that was now ordered to reinforce the Lucknow Relief Force.

But before he could join his new regiment an order came for him to proceed to Lahore, where a court of enquiry would decide whether he or Tynan was unfit to wear Her Majesty's uniform. The court consisted of Colonel Bratherton and two captains. Tynan, Pir Baksh, and Dwarika Rai swore on oath to the truth of the statements made before their officers at Aurungpore. Colonels Woodburn and Munro gave evidence as to the character borne by the two ensigns, and related all they had gathered from Ambar Singh. Ethel Woodburn and Sir Arthur Fletcher corroborated.

Unfortunately for Ted, Ambar Singh, the havildar, could not be traced. He had evidently been restored to health, for all that could be discovered pointed to the fact that he had re-enlisted in one of the newly-enrolled regiments, and was probably with Sir Colin Campbell.

In his evidence Ted flatly denied all Tynan's statements, one by one.

First, he swore that he was positive Tynan had pointed out Pir Baksh by name as the man who shot Colonel Woodburn; secondly, that Tynan had cursed Pir Baksh more than once as a ringleader; and thirdly, that Tynan had never suggested blowing up the arsenal, nor indeed had any idea that such a step was contemplated. Fourthly, that Tynan had tried to prevent him from lighting the train, and that there could have been no possible doubt of his intention when struggling for possession of the light.

Ted's evidence and the manner in which it was given impressed the court favourably. Tynan's did not. His manner was not convincing, and it was evident that he shrank from the gaze of the other ensign. Still, there were three witnesses for him, and Ted's word stood alone.

Then came new evidence to spring a surprise upon Ted's party. Two sepoys of the Rajputs deposed that Ambar Singh had confessed to them that his conscience upbraided him for having taken money from Russell Sahib to blacken the character of the dead ensign--meaning Tynan Sahib.

The feeling in court at once swung round in Tynan's favour, and the officers of the 193rd looked at one another aghast. Sir Arthur Fletcher smiled. He knew something about native witnesses. Ethel quietly whispered to Lieutenant Leigh, who was acting as counsel for Ted, and his face brightened.

"Admitting the probability of bribery," he said, "what, then, is the evidence of these two men worth? Mr. Tynan has had better opportunities and more time than Mr. Russell to resort to such means--and, I may say, a far greater supply of the wherewithal to bribe."

But in reply to questions of the opposing counsel, Munro admitted that when Dwarika Rai first gave evidence there was practically no possibility of collusion with Tynan. Dwarika Rai had at that moment heard that he was alive, and Tynan was evidently greatly surprised to see Dwarika Rai.

The court retired to consider their judgment. The evidence was in favour of one--the bearing and character in favour of the other. They reported to Sir John Lawrence that they could arrive at no decision in the matter. The great man listened attentively, and proceeded to give the matter his consideration. Something must be settled without delay, he resolved, for the position was intolerable for that one of the two ensigns who had right and justice on his side.

Sir John requested the senior of the three officers to remain when the others retired. Colonel Bratherton was a power in the district, with an excellent reputation among the Sikhs and an unusually intimate knowledge of the men he commanded.

"Tell me your private opinion about this affair, Bratherton?" asked the chief commissioner.

Colonel Bratherton was silent and thoughtful for some time.

"Well, Sir John, the evidence is against young Russell, but somehow I'm convinced that he's straight and that the other is not."

"Um!"

A look of annoyance came over those masterful eyes, and the broad brow was knit in perplexity. But not for long. A humorous twinkle took the place of the frown, and the ruler of the Punjab presently whispered to the soldier, whose expression of deep concern gradually resolved itself into a smile in sympathy with his chief. They conferred for at least ten minutes before the colonel rose to take his leave.

"I'll arrange it all, Sir John," said he. "There will be little difficulty, for I have the very men we want. Kendal will do it admirably, and he can make up to the life. Where shall we be, though, if they both hold out?"

"Both?" Sir John's eyes sparkled as he added: "You forget there will be a third--Pir Baksh. But of the ensigns one is evidently quite unscrupulous, and will no doubt give himself away."