The Cannons of Lucknow (28 page)

“You're a man after my own heart, Sheridan,” he observed, smiling. “I worked a ploy like this with the Bheels once, and Lake used it—on a grand scale, of course—at Laswaree. He used his cavalry to invite a charge and then wheeled 'em to attack the enemy's flanks, leaving his guns an unimpeded field of fire in the centre. I believe it's worth a try, even on the off-chance of bagging a prisoner of the Moulvi's importance … eh, Barrow?”

“It's damned risky, sir,” Barrow demurred. “But it might work.”

“Everything we've done has carried an element of risk,” Outram qualified. “And when have we not been outnumbered?” He glanced about him, shrewdly assessing the position. “Olpherts' guns will have to be carefully placed—send for him, will you please? There's no time to be lost if we're to have a hope of bringing this off. How many men do you want with you, Sheridan?”

“Two, sir,” Alex answered promptly. “My two best roughriders—Mahoney and Cullmane.” They settled details of the route he would take, and when Olpherts trotted up, the general said gruffly, “Right, then, Sheridan—off you go and good luck to you. We'll set your ambush for you.”

The ruse almost succeeded. Alex rode forward, with Mahoney and Cullmane, making no attempt at concealment. He saw the Moulvi bring his cavalry to a halt, saw him raise a spy-glass to his eye and after careful inspection wave his followers on at a cautious trot, wheeling them so as to face the possible menace of an attack. As the distance between them shortened, he heard Olpherts' guns open fire—apparently on their original target. Glancing over his shoulder, he realised, with a quickening of his pulses, that Outram had been as good as his word.

In addition to the supposed reconnaissance party he himself was leading, two of Olpherts' guns had been brought into view, with twenty of Johnson's sowars as their only support, to act as bait to the trap. The capture of three British cavalrymen might not have been temptation enough but two guns and a scanty escort must, even to the wily Moulvi, seem a wholly desirable prize. Of the other two guns and the hundred-strong Volunteers there was now no visible sign. He grinned at Cullmane,

“Ride for the guns, Cullmane,” he ordered “And make all the row you can. You've just spotted the Pandies and you're panicking—trying to warn Captain Olpherts of the danger he's in. Go it as if the Gallant Tips were behind you and a fox in view!”

“Or better still as if you'd a bottle of good Irish whiskey inside you,” Mahoney quipped, grinning too.

Cullmane needed no urging. He flung back a cheerful insult and rode like the fine horseman he was, heedless of the obstacles in his path, emitting a series of ear-splitting “View Hulloo's,” and turning in his saddle to gesticulate wildly in the direction of the Moulvi's advancing horde. The gunners of Olpherts' half-battery played up magnificently to his lead. With Hellfire Jack himself tugging at the traces, they brought their guns round to bear on the rebel cavalry, fired two rounds of grape at extreme range and, failing to reach their target, started to limber up as if in sudden alarm. Then, their escort bunched protectively round them, they made off at a gallop towards the road, guns and limbers swaying perilously as they thudded across the broken, waterlogged ground, seemingly with the intention of retiring to the Alam Bagh. The Moulvi detached two hundred or so of his horsemen in pursuit as the battery vanished from sight behind a high-walled garden. To Alex's chagrin, the Moulvi himself remained with the bulk of his force, which he brought unexpectedly to a halt, spyglass again to his eye as he subjected the surrounding countryside to a prolonged scrutiny.

“The bastard's not going to fall for it, sir!” Mahoney exclaimed, his voice harsh with disappointment.

“He's being cautious,” Alex returned impatiently. “The devil take him!”

The moment had come when he would have to trail his coat to some effect, he knew, or lose forever the chance of enticing the Moulvi of Fyzabad into the trap so carefully prepared for him. Some of the rebel cavalrymen were taking matchlocks from slings and saddle-holsters, and he winced involuntarily as a fusillade of shots whined overhead, a few coming unpleasantly close. The range was long, but most Oudh Irregulars were good marksmen, even when mounted, and he heard Mahoney swear as a spent musket-ball struck his horse, causing it to rear and whinny. It would behoove them to retire; no ordinary reconnaissance patrol would stay under fire from so large a force in normal circumstances. He glanced around and saw that a second and slightly larger body of Pandy sowars, armed with lances, had also been detached and was now cantering off to the right of where he and Mahoney were waiting, for the obvious purpose of cutting off their retreat to the Alam Bagh. Theirs and Olpherts' … he rose in his stirrups, checking their position in the vanishing glow of the sunset, measuring the distance with his eye.

“Is your animal all right, Sergeant?” he asked. Receiving Mahoney's assurance that it was, he added crisply, “Then ride like hell back to the road! Don't wait for me.”

“But, sir, you—”

“I'll be right behind you,” Alex promised. “On your way, lad.”

The sergeant obeyed him, driving spurs into his horse's flanks and heading, at an oblique angle, for the road. Half a dozen of the Moulvi's sowars went after him with yells of derision, but the Moulvi continued to sit his motionless grey Arab, the spy-glass still to his eye, the main body of his followers equally motionless at his back. Clearly their suspicions had not been allayed. Alex bit back a sigh. He swung his own borrowed charger right-handed and then, as if only now aware that the way back to the Alam Bagh was about to be contested, he changed direction, succeeding—as he had hoped he would—in drawing the detached body of horsemen in pursuit.

Like Mahoney, he headed back towards the road at an angle, taking a line that would bring him well within the Moulvi's vision. It was now or never, his mind registered, as he drew level, his horse fully extended. Would hatred and the memory of old scores as yet unsettled overcome suspicion? He glimpsed the grey as it made a sudden surge forward and then he was past, listening for the thud of hooves pounding after him as he jerked his sweating animal into a second swift change of direction which almost brought it to its knees.

Ahead of him he could see Mahoney, well in advance of his pursuers and, at the road verge, the Volunteers coming from concealment and making their expected move forward in an extended line, to invite the enemy's charge.

He was within less than a hundred yards of them when, without warning, his horse stumbled and went crashing down, flinging him over its head. Winded, he lay where he had fallen, facedown on the rough ground, momentarily expecting to be ridden down by the Moulvi's horsemen as they charged in answer to the challenge. He heard the guns open and the sound of galloping hooves and realised, dazedly, that both sounds were receding. They had faded into the distance—and the guns to silence—when, bruised and shaken but otherwise unhurt, he finally picked himself up.

Outram himself, with Palliser leading a spare horse, came to meet him as he stumbled across the damp, sandy space that separated him from the road. The light had almost gone and it was difficult to read the expressions on their faces. Alex let Charles Palliser assist him to mount and then, looking down at him, saw that he was smiling. “We failed, didn't we?” he asked uncertainly.

“We failed to bag the Moulvi,” General Outram admitted. “But I wouldn't say the ambush was a failure, my dear Sheridan … and you played your part magnificently! So did the Volunteers. Damn, they went out and routed close on six hundred Pandy!”

“But surely they didn't charge, sir? If they had, I shouldn't be here.”

Outram laughed. “No, we charged them as planned, from either flank, leaving the guns in the centre. And they turned tail and fled. We chased them as far as we could. Knocked quite a few of them down, too. The light's gone, so it's impossible to say how many, but Olpherts' gunners accounted for at least fifty from the detached squadron.” He clapped a friendly hand on Alex's shoulder. “We'll call it a day, shall we? And not a bad day, Sheridan, not a bad day at all, my dear fellow.”

They rode back to the Alum Bagh, to find the British column already occupying both Palace and walled enclosure, with bivouac fires springing to life on all sides of the newly captured stronghold. As they neared the battered gateway, a staff officer galloped up with a despatch for Outram.

The general read it by the light of a lucifer, frowning; then his expression changed.

“Thanks be to God!” he exclaimed, his voice not quite steady. “Thanks be to God … My friends, Delhi has fallen! General Archdale Wilson has retaken Delhi! Make it known to your commands, gentleman … for what better inducement could we be given to succeed in our own task than this wonderful news?”

He put spurs into his weary horse and dashed off in search of General Havelock, the cheers of the Volunteer Cavalry, as the news was made known to them, echoing behind him in the swiftly falling darkness.

“The tide is turning in our favour at last,” Lousada Barrow said. “For which I, too, say thank God.”

Rain started to fall again, as piquets were posted and guns mounted to guard against any possible night attacks, but in spite of the rain, more cheers rang out as the news that Delhi was once more in British hands reached regiments and batteries. Since only a few of the tents had come up, most of the men were compelled to spend their third night on the waterlogged ground, but the intelligence from Delhi had put them in good heart, and there was general disappointment when they learned the following morning that no immediate attack on Lucknow was to be made. General Havelock, showing his accustomed consideration for the men he commanded, ordered that tents were to be pitched and the day spent in rest and recuperation. An attack by rebel cavalry on the baggage train delayed the arrival of the tents until just before midday. It was beaten off by the baggage guard from the 90th Light Infantry but not until Olpherts' battery, with the Volunteer Cavalry, had gone to their aid.

Throughout the day, the roar of guns could be heard from Lucknow—the defenders, evidently, were being subjected to a heavy bombardment, to which they replied with spirit. Not all the rebel guns were turned on them, however; those mounted behind a screen of trees near the Char Bagh bridge fired continuously at extreme elevation on Havelock's Force, and round-shot ricocheted among the tents, causing a number of casualties. All Eyre's efforts, with his howitzers and 24-pounders, failed to silence them, but he kept at it tirelessly, refusing to rest. For the Volunteer and Irregular Cavalry also there was little time to rest; patrols had to be sent out and a lengthy reconnaissance made to ascertain enemy gun positions covering the approaches to the Residency.

Alex went out, with Lousada Barrow, on a final reconnaissance ordered by General Outram, late in the afternoon. All day, he and General Havelock had been debating plans for the attack, which was to be launched next morning, and it was rumoured that the two generals were not in complete agreement as to the best route to follow. Outram, who knew Lucknow well, having been both Resident and Chief Commissioner for several years before the mutiny, was not in favour of the plan which Havelock had put forward and he said so forcibly, as he trotted toward the city with his staff and escort.

Alex, who was also reasonably familiar with the geography of the sprawling, densely populated city, listened with interest to the snatches of conversation he could hear, conscious that whichever route was finally chosen would, inevitably, present hazards none of them could foresee.

The most direct route was by the road they were now on, crossing the Char Bagh bridge and thence straight through the heart of the city for a mile and a half, entering the Residency through the Bailey Guard gate. This being the route the rebels were expecting the British force to take, it was strongly defended, and spies told of palisades and trenches across the road and every house loopholed and filled with riflemen. Havelock considered that it would prove impossible or, at best, cost the lives of half his force. His own plan was to move across the open ground to the southeast, seize a building known as the Dilkusha Palace, bridge the River Gumti under cover of its walls, and then move round the city to its northwest angle, recrossing the river by an iron bridge immediately in front of the Residency and under the protection of its guns. Near the iron bridge and on the north bank of the Gumti, a palace with a walled garden—the Padshah Bagh—offered an excellent defensive position for his troops to assemble in before crossing the five hundred yards of open ground which separated it from the Residency.

In theory, this was an admirable plan, Outram conceded.

“But how the devil,” he demanded, of no one in particular, “does General Havelock imagine he can move his artillery—and the elephant battery in particular—across country so waterlogged it's virtually a morass? It can't be done, can it, Cooper?”

Major Cooper, newly appointed to command of the column's artillery, hesitated. “General Havelock asked my opinion, sir,” he answered finally. “I said I believed we could manage well enough with Maude's and Olpherts' batteries. But, of course, Eyre's
is
a different proposition. It will take time and—”

“Too much infernal time!” Outram growled. “But General Havelock won't move without his heavy guns.” He pulled up and subjected the distant Char Bagh bridge and enclosure, and the yellow house behind, to a lengthy scrutiny with his field glass. The rebel guns were still throwing their round-shot into the British camp and puffs of white smoke, rising above the trees, revealed their position to the watchers. “On the other hand, Major,” Outram said thoughtfully. “If we brought Eyre's 24-pounders along the road at first light and mounted them there”—he pointed—“he could knock out those two and the guns in the yellow house before our main body began the advance. Then once across the bridge, the assault brigade under General Neill could advance along the left bank of the canal until it reaches open ground, then swing left by the Sikander Bagh and advance to the Residency by the plain between the river and the Kaiser Bagh. Maude's battery could cover the crossing and Olpherts' accompany Neill.”