The Cannons of Lucknow (27 page)

Sir James Outram grunted. “I hope he lives long enough to get his Cross,” he said, and then, holding up his battered cane, demanded the loan of a cavalry sabre in place of it. “There was I,” he added, amid laughter, “called upon to charge by Captain Barrow and all I had in my scabbard was a General Officer's ceremonial sword, which wouldn't cut through paper, let alone a mutineer's skull! I want to be prepared for the next occasion.”

In a general mood of optimism but in a continuous downpour, the column bivouacked on the plain at the end of the causeway, officers and men sleeping on the damp ground, their weapons beside them. It was still raining next morning when they moved out, but, if uncomfortable and dispiriting, the rain was at least cool, and they covered the fifteen miles which separated them from Bunni by three in the afternoon. Barrow's troop of Volunteers rode ahead to ascertain the state of the crossing and sent back the unexpected but welcome intelligence that the British advance had been so rapid that the last of the defeated rebels from Mungalwar were still straggling over the bridge, which they had made no attempt to destroy.

Havelock himself, with Outram and the two brigade commanders and their staffs, rode up to inspect the bridge, and Alex's troop of Volunteers followed them, escorting Olpherts' horsed field-gun battery. Havelock was all smiles as he lowered his glass. The canal boats—brought with considerable labour from Cawnpore, in the baggage train—were thankfully abandoned. Olpherts' battery and the Volunteer Cavalry crossed the Sai River, meeting with no opposition, and, as the first brigade's infantry were starting to cross, Jack Olpherts fired a royal salute, in the hope that the sound would reach Lucknow and give fresh heart to its beleaguered garrison. The second brigade halted on the Cawnpore side of the river, and the hungry men, unable to light bivouac fires to cook their rations, ate the dry biscuit from their haversacks and lay down once more on the rain-soaked ground to get what rest they could.

In a native hut by the roadside, Outram and Havelock pored over a map of Lucknow, drawn by Lieutenant Moorsom of H.M.'s 52nd, and discussed and finally agreed upon a plan of action. Despite the ease of their victory at Mungalwar, both generals were aware of the formidable task now facing them. Lucknow was besieged by an estimated 25,000 to 30,000 mutineers, with well-entrenched guns, and the most recent letter from Colonel Inglis had warned that the fighting strength of the defenders had been reduced by wounds and sickness to 350 Europeans and about 300 Sikhs and loyal sepoys, all of whom had been on half rations for the past month. Failure to battle their way into the Residency would almost certainly lead to its fall, since the confidence of the loyal sepoys, already shaken by the 11-week-long siege, with no sign of relief, would be destroyed and they would abandon the defences.

On the morning of 23rd September, the rain ceased and the column marched off in high spirits, the men confident that they would succeed in reaching their objective. Even Alex, who had more idea than most of the obstacles which lay ahead, was optimistic, and Olpherts—whom the men had nicknamed “Hellfire Jack”—was in splendid humour, cracking jokes with his teams and making bets on who would be first to enter the Residency. For ten miles, under a cloudless blue sky, the advance continued without a sight of any hostile force. Everyone had eaten that morning at eight-thirty, and no halt was called until two o'clock, when Colonel Tytler rode back with Lousada Barrow to report that the enemy were in sight, three miles ahead, and that the patrol had been fired on by a cavalry piquet, which they had put to flight.

“They're holding the Alam Bagh,” Barrow said, as he waited for the generals to accompany him on a final reconnaissance. “About ten thousand of them. Their centre on high ground, covering the road, and their right protected by swamp, in a line which extends for about two miles. They've got well over a thousand cavalry, but their guns are too well masked for me to be able to estimate their number. There are two field-guns covering the road immediately ahead, though.”

Alex felt his throat tighten as he listened. He remembered the Alam Bagh as one of the summer palaces of the Kings of Oudh, situated four miles outside the city. It was famous for the magnificence of its shade trees and garden, but, like all such palaces erected by Moslem nobles, it was adapted for defence. A lofty stone wall, with turrets at each angle, enclosed the garden and, within this, the palace and its adjoining buildings offered good cover for sharpshooters and the matchlock men who normally guarded it.

“A tough nut to crack,” Charles Palliser said, grinning at the prospect. “But a pound to a penny we crack it before nightfall!”

General Havelock made his inspection and, on his return, A.D.C.s were soon galloping along the column with his orders. Colonel Hamilton's second brigade—the 78th, the 90th, Brasyer's Sikhs, and Olpherts' field battery—received instructions to turn the enemy's right. Owing to the swampy ground and the depth of water on either side of the road, it was evident that a wide detour would be necessary, and General Neill's first brigade was halted in order to allow the second to pass through it to the left. Whilst this manoeuvre was taking place, two rebel guns, well sited on a low hill, opened fire on the head of the column and Eyre's heavy guns and the 8-inch howitzers were ordered up to silence them. It was, however, some time before they could be brought up, since they could only advance by way of the road and the gun-elephants, as always, were reluctant to go forward under fire.

Further delay was caused when Hamilton's brigade encountered obstacles in the shape of deep irrigation ditches and flooded fields, so that Neill's second brigade—consisting of H.M.'s 5th, 64th, and 84th and the Madras Fusiliers, with the Volunteer and Irregular Cavalry and Maude's battery—was compelled to hold the front alone. Under a hail of case and canister, Neill led them toward a patch of dry ground where there would be room for them to deploy, but as he crossed a wide, rain-filled ditch, his horse went down, a round-shot grazing its quarters and passing only a few inches behind its rider's back. He scrambled out, cursing angrily and covered with slime, but, assisted by two of his staff, quickly remounted and continued to lead his brigade forward to the dry ground, where he was able to deploy them.

Growing impatient at the delay, General Outram yelled to Lousada Barrow to take the cavalry to cover Hamilton's turning movement, which was being threatened by a body of rebel horse, and, nothing loth, Barrow gave the order, just as Eyre's heavy guns made their appearance and, unlimbering, started to shell the enemy emplacements to their front. Outram, scorning the detour that Hamilton had made, led the squadron at a gallop across the flooded ground and they took minutes to cross a
jheel
which had held Hamilton's Highlanders up for half an hour as they struggled, thigh-deep in water and mud, to march round it. Olpherts' horsed battery came tearing after the Volunteers at a stretching gallop; a wide, rain-filled ditch—which the men of Barrow's squadron had taken in their stride—lay between the gunners and the road, and seeing this, Alex pulled up, jerking his head to it in warning. With “Hellfire Jack” riding a big rawboned chestnut at their head, the whole battery plunged into the formidable obstacle without a check. For a moment there was chaos—a wild medley of drivers, guns, limbers, struggling horses, and splashing water—and then they were out, carried by their own impetus to the farther side. As they swept past Neill's brigade and back onto the firm surface of the road once more, their guns miraculously intact, the Blue Caps cheered them excitedly and Neill himself doffed his khaki pith helmet in appreciation of their feat.

The rebel cavalry, unnerved, turned tail and fled before Olpherts could bring his guns to bear or the Volunteers come to grips with them; then as Neill's brigade advanced, Hamilton's at last completed its turning movement and attacked the right flank, driving them relentlessly back. A single 9-pounder—one of the two that had first opened fire—remained in position and continued to hurl round shot into the ranks of Neill's Fusiliers, causing casualties and impeding their advance. Well served and bravely worked, it was too far ahead to be taken by the infantry and Alex, whose halt by the ditch had left him some distance behind Barrow and the Volunteers, found himself beside young Johnson and his small troop of Irregulars.

“I believe we could take that gun, sir,” Johnson said breathlessly. “Shall we try?”

“Wait till they're reloading,” Alex cautioned. “And then go at it like stink!” He measured the distance with his eye—it was a thousand yards, but Johnson's horses were fresh. “Now!” he shouted and went with them as Johnson gave the order to charge. Twenty of the Irregulars followed him, sabres drawn, spurring their lathered horses into a gallop as reckless and headlong as that of Olpherts' gunners a few minutes before. The Oudh
golandazes
matched them for courage; they struggled frantically to reload, and even though they managed to do so, the firing number had no time to apply his portfire to the touch-hole. Johnson himself cut him down, and the glowing portfire fell, to be trampled into extinction by the sowars' pounding hooves. None of the Oudh men attempted to flee; they stood by their gun, fighting with sponge-staffs and
tulwars
, striking out at the legs of their opponents' horses and wounding several of them.

But they were outnumbered and the struggle did not last long; with the gun silenced and the gunners dead or dying, Johnson slid from the saddle of his disabled mare and, with his pistol, calmly put the poor animal out of her misery. Alex gestured to his own saddle and, with the Irregulars' young commander mounted behind him, they rode back by the way they had come, compelled to abandon the captured gun by the galling fire of sepoy sharpshooters posted on the walls of the Alam Bagh. But the Highlanders and the 5th Fusiliers were now at the gates; they battered their way in and in a savage rush cleared the enclosure, the defenders—who had seen the left and centre of their line broken and in retreat—falling back before the bayonets of the yelling, vengeful British soldiers, who shouted “Remember Cawnpore!” as they stabbed and thrust at any who opposed them.

With Johnson—both of them remounted on fresh horses—Alex returned to his own troop in time to take part in an exhilarating and triumphant pursuit, led by Outram and Barrow, which took them right up to the heavily defended Char Bagh enclosure and within clear sight of the mosques, minarets, and palaces of Lucknow itself. Six guns—two of heavy calibre—were mounted to cover the bridge across the canal and the approaches to it. On the Lucknow side, men could be seen hard at work constructing emplacements and defensive palisades, and digging trenches that bisected the road that led most directly to the Residency.

The houses and gardens on both sides of the bridge were loopholed and filled with musketeers, who poured such a hail of fire on the advancing Volunteers that, after a swift inspection with his glass, Outram ordered them to withdraw out of range. As they did so, two 9-pounders opened on them from the so-called yellow house, half-hidden by trees at the rear of the Char Bagh enclosure, to which Olpherts requested and obtained permission from Outram to reply. As his first two guns were unlimbering under Henry Delafosse's energetic command, the enemy guns—smartly handled—took up a new position, the movement screened by a high wall. They again fired with telling effect on the British cavalry, who were compelled to fall back still farther. Clear now of the buildings which had obscured their view of the open ground to their right, they saw suddenly that a body of some eight or nine hundred rebel horsemen were advancing towards them from the Bibiapoor road, and Alex gave vent to an exclamation of astonishment when he recognised the white-robed figure riding with drawn
tulwar
, at their head.

“Lou!” he shouted, trotting to the front rank of the Volunteers, where Outram and Barrow had halted, glasses raised, to study the advancing enemy. “Surely that's the Moulvi of Fyzabad, isn't it—on the grey Arab?”

Lousada Barrow swore luridly as he trained his glass on the leader of the rebel cavalry. “You're right, Alex, it
is
the Moulvi! Talk of the devil—I was just telling General Outram of the part he played in the Fyzabad mutiny. By heaven, I wish we could lay him by the heels, he's the most dangerous rabble-rouser of the lot. But the swine will make off back to the city as soon as they see us, I'm afraid. They won't try conclusions with us in the open.”

The Moulvi had been the evil genius of Cawnpore, Alex thought, a savage anger catching at his throat. It had been he at the Nana's elbow—prompting, advising, even threatening—who had been largely responsible for the initial betrayal of General Wheeler's trust and friendship. Perhaps he had also been responsible for the final treachery at the Suttee Chowra Ghat, he and Azimullah Khan and the evil Bala Bhat … drawing rein at Barrow's side, Alex said urgently, “They haven't seen us yet—look, they're still coming on. Withdraw under cover, Lou, before they do spot us. I believe we might tempt the Moulvi to delay his return to the city.”

“How?” Barrow demanded doubtfully. But without waiting for Alex's reply, General Outram gave the order for the Volunteers to withdraw to the cover of a grove of trees on the opposite side of the road. When they reached their new position, he echoed Barrow's question. “They're making for the Dilkusha Bridge—how the deuce do you propose to stop them, Sheridan?”

“By trailing my coat, sir,” Alex said. “I'm known to the Moulvi and we have a few old scores to settle.” His brain was racing as he recalled an old and well-tried trick of the Bashi-Bazouks in the battle for Silestria. Always outnumbered by the Russians, they had been compelled to resort to cunning, sending forward a few unsupported horsemen on what appeared to be a reconnaissance, and when the Cossacks gave chase, leading them into an ambush. The trick, to be successful, required fading light and the right sort of cover but … the light was fading now. There were trees and buildings and the walls of the yellow house compound to serve as the hills and forests of the Danube Valley had served the Bashi-Bazouk horsemen. And if Olpherts' guns could be so positioned as to be out of sight of the Moulvi's cavalry until they approached within range, then … Alex outlined the tactics he proposed to employ, wasting no words. Barrow frowned as he listened, but the general's dark eyes were lit by an appreciative gleam.