Bayonets Along the Border (14 page)

She tossed her head. It must be the heat getting her down. Barton said that she would be safe and the fort, he had insisted, was impregnable. She had no need to worry. Alice opened her window wide to catch
what she could of the almost imperceptible breeze and lay down on the bed and directed her thoughts towards Simon.

That evening, not quite liking to embarrass the
jemadars
with her presence in the mess, she remained in her room with a bowl of rice and retired early, although sleep eluded her in that hot little room. Eventually, she walked out onto the battlements, wrapping a shawl around her and exchanging nods and smiles with the sentry patrolling there. She sat staring up at the blue bowl of stars – was there anywhere but here, far away from street lights and other urban illuminations, where they shone so brightly? The hills, coloured indigo now in the semi-darkness, loomed everywhere. It was not cold but she found herself shivering and crawled back onto her bed, managing to find sleep just before dawn.

She spent the next day, rewriting her copy and staying in her room. She emerged disgracefully late the next morning and decided not to draw attention to her tardiness by asking for something from the cookhouse. She was not hungry anyway. Later she sought out
Subedar Major
Khan, a tall man with a face as black as soot and a few threads of silver beginning to appear in his equally black beard. He, in particular, had been cordial to her, in an avuncular way, in the mess.

‘Congratulations, General,’ she greeted him. ‘I hear that you are now in command.’

The Afridis teeth flashed amidst the blackness. ‘Ah, yes, memsahib. Soon I shall be Viceroy, you know.’

‘I am sure it won’t be long.’ Then Alice allowed the smile to leave her face. ‘I hear that we might have visitors before long. Do you think that these men will be here soon?’

Before the question could be answered, a patrol of riflemen appeared
trotting down the hill towards the great gate. Then, in the distance, Alice’s ear picked up a faint thumping sound that, as she strained, grew gradually louder. It was the sound of hundreds of drums being beaten.

The
subedar major
inclined his head towards the west. ‘There you have your answer, memsahib. They will be here within one quarter of an hour, I would say,’ he gave a sad smile. ‘At least my family will be reunited.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Ah, memsahib, you will find this strange. You see, I have one son who is serving in the garrison here and two more,’ he pointed up the Pass to the west, ‘with those tribesmen coming here. We fight each other.’ He shrugged. ‘It is the way of our people.’

‘Good gracious.’ Alice drew in her breath to question him further, but the tall soldier leant over the parapet and barked an order. The gate swung open to allow the patrol to enter, then it was locked and a bar of timber lowered across it to secure it. Then, at a further command, a bugler sprang to attention in the square below and the alarm was sounded.

Subedar Major
Khan turned back to Alice. ‘That patrol will tell me that we are about to be attacked by many men, madam,’ he announced gravely. ‘We shall be fired upon down from those hills,’ he indicated with his head. ‘It would be better, then, if you would go to your room and stay there, memsahib. You will be safe there.’

‘Of course,
Subedar
. But is there any news of Captain Barton? He hoped to be here with reinforcements by at least today, I understood.’

‘No, madam and the telegraph line to the other forts and to Peshawar has been cut. Now, if you will excuse me.’

She bowed her head and retreated to her room. There, for a moment, she reflected on the strange ways of the Pathans. If brother was fighting brother here and sons fighting their father, could the slender allegiances to the Queen Empress created by the British be relied upon? She shook her head. God knows. Then, she thrust her loaded revolver through the sash at her waist, grabbed her notepad and pencil, wound a scarf around her head as protection against the sun and crept back to the embrasures.

As she watched, she saw the garrison, all dressed in their field service uniforms of sand-coloured khaki and with tightly wound turbans of the same colour on their heads, trot out and fall into line in the square within the walls. They all carried Martini-Henry rifles and had long sword bayonets swinging from their belts. Alice felt reassured as the men fell into impeccable lines, as straight as those of guardsmen, and then, on the commands of their
havildars
, deployed and quietly climbed to man the ramparts.

Alice retreated to her room quickly and then reappeared carrying the field glasses that Simon had left with her. She levelled them up the Pass towards the west and focused them. The road was empty, so she swung the glasses up to the right and higher, refocussing them to gain more distance onto the mountain slopes that swept down to the road. She caught her breath as she saw them now: hordes of tribesmen dressed in a variety of colours, swarming over the landscape, looking like ants at that range as they undulated over the swelling hillside. She tightened the focus and she could see that they all seemed to be carrying rifles and many were bearing flags and banners of green and black. The drums were now louder and the noise boomed back down from the hills.

She drew in her breath again.
There were so many of them!
How could the fort withstand attacks from such a host – particularly if they could fire down onto the interior of the fort from the hills? She looked upwards around her. The sides of the hills, of course, did not rise vertically and she estimated that the nearest firing positions commanding the interior would be at a range of some three hundred yards, so it was true that this fort was better sited than Fort Maude. The distance, at least, would demand expert marksmanship to kill at that range. Yet the Pathans were supposed to be splendid shots!

Turning the binoculars back to the road, she saw the vanguard of the attackers now appearing around the bend and swelling out from behind so that they completely occupied the Pass. So many, again! She pulled out her small dress watch. It was exactly twelve noon. How long could the fort hold out against such a host?

The bugle rang out again and the defenders were now lining the walls, with enough men, it seemed to Alice, for each embrasure to be occupied. She took up position just outside her room, behind the kindly old
havildar
to whom she had spoken earlier. He turned his head to her and gave her a warm smile. She forced herself to smile back reassuringly. It wouldn’t do for a memsahib, even less a
havildar
, to display concern.

Orders were now shouted and the men rested their rifles on the stonework, some kneeling, some standing, according to the varying levels of the firing step. None of the men yet aimed their rifles for the Pathans were not within range. Alice looked keenly to see any sign of anxiety among the riflemen. But there seemed none. They merely settled down, waiting, comfortably it seemed, not even adjusting the sights on their rifles, for no range orders had yet been given.

Alice was immediately reassured at the cool discipline exhibited by these Khyber Riflemen. It could have been soldiers of a foremost British regiment of the line that she was observing. Despite the sun, now at its highest, they seemed to be as cool as guardsmen.

Picking up the glasses again, Alice saw that the Pathans were now climbing higher up the hills and spreading out, obviously to gain better vantage points for sniping. Clearly, they were not just a rabble. Someone was directing the attack. Someone was in command.

The defenders still held their fire and Alice noted the
subedars
and the
havildars
were now walking carefully, fully erect, behind the riflemen. She caught the eye of
Subedar Major
Khan, who brusquely waved her back from the firing positions and to her room. Chastened, she crept back inside.

She opened the box of cartridges and took handfuls and deposited them in the pockets of her riding breeches, so that they exaggerated the curve outwards of the jodhpurs. She looked again at the Webley. She had no idea of its range but, obviously, it would be useless at long range, so having no effect on the snipers. It was a close-quarters weapon. Useful only if the fort was overcome and the Pathans swarmed up the stairway to her room … She gulped. Well, that wouldn’t happen, she had been assured of that.

Sitting on her bed disconsolately, Alice heard an order barked outside and then repeated around the walls. To hell with this! She was not going to stay in this stuffy little room waiting for her door to be knocked down by some knife-carrying tribesman! She crept outside again and realised that some shots were now being fired on the fort from the surrounding hillside. Nothing, however, seemed to be having any effect on the defenders, who were now all studiously adjusting the
rear-sights on their rifles in response to the orders given.

Alice crouched next to the old
havildar
, who had now taken up his position at one of the embrasures. He turned, with a frown, and she grinned and put her finger to her lips, indicating her revolver. His frown disappeared and was replaced by a grin. ‘Be careful, memsahib,’ he grunted. ‘These men are good shots.’ He pointed towards the lines of tribesmen, now gradually approaching the walls.

Whatever she was about to say in reply was drowned by an outburst of firing from the hills and the road below. It evoked no response from the defenders for the firing was badly directed and still at long range and the officers were showing no sign of giving orders to return the fire. They were clearly biding their time – in for the long haul.

Then there was a huge shout from without the walls and, looking over the
havildar
’s shoulder, Alice saw that the mob was now rushing towards the walls. An order was shouted by
Major Subedar
Khan, to be repeated by the other
subedars
commanding the firing positions. Immediately, all the riflemen at the embrasures nestled their rifle butts to their cheeks and sighted down the long barrels of the Martini-Henrys. But still they waited. Then a second command was shrieked and repeated and the embrasures came to life in a volley of flame.

Through the smoke, Alice glimpsed men on the hillsides throwing up their arms and falling. Yet many more still came on. As one man, all the sepoys inserted another cartridge in their magazines and then fired again. They continued to do so until the battlements were wreathed in smoke and Alice fell back, the sour taste of cordite on her lips, her cheeks blackened by gunpowder and half deafened by the sound of gunfire.

As the order to cease firing rang out, she took another look over
the embrasure. The defenders’ disciplined firing had taken its toll. Bodies, looking like children’s rag dolls in their variously coloured cotton clothing, lay scattered along the side of the hills and across the road. The Pathans were retreating and finding cover. Then, a bullet thudded into the stonework by her head and another glanced off and pinged away. The snipers were finding the range now and the
havildar
at her side ducked his head and waved her away.

Alice crawled back into the open doorway of her room and wondered if the
subedar major
’s sons were deliberately firing at him. Perhaps it was a family feud that had caused a rift – or just some silly and deadly game these strange people were playing? She shook her head in bewilderment again.

For perhaps ten minutes there was comparative quiet around the fort, except for the exchange of shots between the snipers and the defenders at the embrasures, consistently from the attackers and desultory from the soldiers. Alice realised that they had obviously been told to conserve their ammunition and wait for the tribesmen to leave their cover. Then she heard the drums – so ever-present, so threatening! – increase their beat and the screaming and shouting began again, to mark the beginning of another attack.

Once again, the
subedars
screamed orders – obviously telling the defenders to hold their fire – and then, at the commands, the volleys began again, their crashing sound mingling with the drums and bouncing the echoes back from the mountainsides until Alice, crouching just away from her open doorway, thought that her eardrums would burst with the noise. Then, again, the orders to cease fire and the beginning again of the individual rifle duels.

So it continued throughout the afternoon, as the sun blazed down.
During a momentary pause, Alice realised that she must make some contribution to the defence, for clearly her revolver was of little use. She looked around her room and ripped off the bed the cotton sheets, which she tore into strips, then cut some of them into squares with her nail scissors, to use as pads. Thrusting the pads into her pockets, she threw the strips over her shoulder, poured water from her jug into her washing bowl and picked up the bowl and, crouching as best she could, carried her load onto the platform behind the embrasures and then, awkwardly, down the steps into the square below. Immediately, bullets thudded into the ground around her and she realised that she was a target for the snipers looking down from the hills. Perspiring, she scurried into the cookhouse.

Immediately, she saw
Subedar Major
Khan sitting on a table while a sepoy was trying to cut away his tunic to reach a wound in his upper arm. ‘Go back to your room, memsahib,’ he shouted to make himself heard above the din. ‘Dangerous here.’

‘It’s dangerous everywhere,
Subedar Major
,’ she shouted back. ‘I must help. Here, let me do that.’

She thrust the sepoy aside, and sawed away at the tunic with her scissors. The bullet seemed to have passed straight through the arm, chipping the bone, so that she did not have to probe for it, thank goodness, although it was bleeding profusely. Using one of her pads, she bathed and cleaned the wound, and bound the bandage onto it tightly, to restrict the bleeding.

‘Well done, memsahib,’ grunted the
subedar major
through clenched teeth. He pushed himself off the table and gestured around.