Meanwhile firing was going on overhead, which was returned by our men, who killed one or two of the enemy. But the latter were so well screened by the trees around them that it was difficult to get a shot at them at all. I do not know how matters might have ended, but suddenly someone called out that there were more men coming up the hill. No one knew who they were, for they were a long way off, and could only be seen every now and then as they appeared in and out of the trees. Sepoys they were we knew, but were they friends or enemies?
I felt too exhausted to get up and look at them, as all the others were doing, until there was an exclamation from someone that the new arrivals were Ghoorkas. I had felt certain that they would turn out to be Manipuris, who would put an end to us in a very short time. But when opinion became divided as to their identity, the longing for life which we all possess so strongly surged up into my brain, driving me nearly crazy with excitement, and hope, that takes so much killing, rose again within me.
Still we were doubtful. We could see as they came nearer that they wore Kharkee, but the uniform worn by the Jubraj’s men was almost identical with that of the Ghoorkas. We sounded our bugle, and it was answered by the advancing party; but then we remembered the Manipuri bugle call was the same as that of the 43rd Ghoorka Rifles, to which regiment Captain Cowley belonged. We got out our only pocket-handkerchief, tied it to a stick, and waved it about, but we could not see whether that signal was returned or not. The time which had elapsed since they were first sighted seemed hours; it was in reality only a few minutes.
Gradually they advanced nearer, running up the hill as fast as they could, and then the majority cried out that they were the Ghoorkas from Cachar. I shut my eyes, for I could not bear the strain of watching them while their identity was uncertain. But at last a Sahib was descried amongst them, and all doubt was over; they were the Ghoorkas, and we were saved. I remember someone asking me if I would make one last effort and run down the hill to meet them, as the firing was still going on, and a stray bullet might even then find its billet; and I remember getting up, with a mist in my eyes and a surging in my head, and running as I have never run before or since down the hill, helped along by two of the officers.
I remember putting my foot on a stone which rolled away from under it, and gave my ankle a wrench which sprained it, and turned me sick and giddy with pain; and I remember meeting Captain Cowley, and seeing his men rushing past me up the hill, and then I remember nothing more for some time. I did not faint, but I believe I sat down on the side of the road and sobbed, for the strain had been more than I could bear after all the horrors of the previous two days, and tears were a relief.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Saved—Captain Cowley pursues the enemy, and we fall on our feet—Have to wear Sepoys’ boots—Halt at Leimatak—Transitions of climate—Manipuri attack—Tables turned on them—Shortness of food—The Nagas—Cross the Jhiri and regain the British frontier.
We were saved! That was the one thought in my mind when I was able to recover my senses sufficiently to be able to think at all. Saved from the terrors of starvation, and from the hands of our enemies; and in my heart I thanked God for having given me the strength which had enabled me to bear all the misery and weariness of the last few days. We human beings are so given to forgetfulness, and fail so often to remember that we owe thanks to Providence for preserving us when man’s help is of no avail. We are ready enough to thank our fellow-men for what they do for us, but we forget the rest. This time I can honestly say that I thanked God from the bottom of my heart.
As I sat there by the side of the road, bereft of everything I possessed in the world save only the clothes I wore, I did not think of what I had lost, but only of the life that was still mine. This world is very good and pleasant to live in. Home and friends are very dear to one at all times. But all these are never so precious as when we see them slipping from our grasp, and feel that even our breath, and the lifeblood coursing through our veins, are to be taken from us; then alone do we fully rouse ourselves to action, while we struggle and fight for the life that is so dear.