In quick succession the orders came, the last being almost drowned by the roar of the conflict, by the deafening report of the enemy's guns, by the bark of muskets, and by the hum of the projectiles. There were the Mahratta horse hovering about the infantry, and straight at them went Owen and his comrades. Oh, it was mad, tremendous work, and there is little wonder that few of those who rode knew ought of the incidents which passed. Lances rose and fell, sabres cut this way and that, and guns and muskets flashed in their faces. The Mahratta horse, in their wild Eastern uniform, went down before the troopers almost as easily as did the long feathery grass through which the 29th rode, and in their place, as if they had risen from the earth, were two stolid lines of trained Mahratta infantry, their gleaming bayonets almost at the necks of the horses.
"Charge!" The Commander, Owen, every officer, stood in his stirrups and bellowed the order with frantic eagerness, while the troopers responded with a deafening cheer which drowned the report of the muskets. The pace increased, there was a wild mêlée, in which men fell or were violently thrown to the ground. Here and there a horse came down with a dull thud, the rider being instantly bayoneted. But they were through. The enemy was broken, and as the gallant troopers rode on they left a wide gap, a gap filled with the bodies of the fallen Mahrattas. It was breathless work, but there was no rest to be found yet, for there was a second line of infantry, a line which went beneath the hoofs of the horses as if they had never existed, and gave place to the cavalry.
"Halt! Halt and reform!"
The officer in command lifted his sabre, and at the signal troopers gathered their reins and pulled in their horses. What a sight the men were! The regiment had ridden into action as neat and as good-looking a force as could be found, and see the troopers now! Torn tunics, broken weapons, caps gone, faces covered with dust, hair dishevelled, and blood on many a face and jacket. But the faces! A grim, jaunty air was set on every man's features, an air of indescribable triumph, of excitement which, though great, still left them with ample common sense. As for courage, it could be seen in each keen pair of eyes, and as the Colonel passed down the ranks, with difficulty holding in his charger, he felt satisfied.
"Well done, 29th! Well done, indeed! But there is more. By sections wheel to the right."
Perfectly disciplined and composed of gallant fellows, the fine regiment wheeled round to the other flank and reformed the sections into line. And there, facing them, was the cavalry, a fine body of Mahratta horse, the cream of the mounted regiments in support of Scindia.
The 29th were in motion again, their pace gathered way, and soon they were pushing on at a gallop. Then the tale of a few minutes ago was repeated—they were charging the enemy. And these boastful Deccan Invincibles, these horsemen whose appearance was so magnificent, turned and fled, and were driven like a herd of frantic sheep from the field of battle. The lances and blades of the troopers cut into them, covering the ground with their corpses, and in a miraculously small space of time the cavalry were gone, utterly routed by one regiment of British horse.
What need to tell more? This battle of Laswaree rivalled that at Assaye, and ended in a pronounced victory, though on this occasion the French-trained battalions were worthy of their reputation and stood and fought to the end. The men who served the enemy's guns stood to their pieces till they were disposed of by the bayonet, proving themselves to be courageous in the extreme. Laswaree, in fact, was no easily-won victory. There was stubborn material to deal with, and our men on that eventful day proved, if proof were ever necessary, that Britishers could fight, that native regiments officered by British officers were staunch to the backbone, and[Pg 327] that our forces in India were as fine, as brave, and as disciplined and full of dash as any we have possessed.