“An’ ’oo the dickens is young Bardoor?” asked a rifleman.
“He is our prime minister and commander-in-chief in Nepal. He offered to bring an army down to help you English two months ago, and now the government has accepted his offer.”
“An’ so ’e’s goin’ to wipe out the rebels, eh, all hon ’is own ’ook?”
The Gurkha did not understand all this.
“What chance will those dogs have,” said he, “against ten thousand Gurkhas? Truly, he will slay them all!”
“Bedad, then,” interrupted an Irishman, “tell him, will ye, wid me compliments—Privut O’Brien’s compliments—to lave a few fer us. Sure, we’re wishful to git hould av some av thim Cawnpore and Lucknow haythen. Tell him to bear that in moind.”
Then the Gurkhas began to speak of their own beloved country of Nepal, by the mighty snow-clad Himalayas, of its wonderful beauty, and of its unequalled sport and wealth of animal life; and the Englishmen tried to explain the extent of their empire and the wonders of London, and told of their mighty ships of war and great sea-borne commerce. They also related the histories of their regimental colours, of the recent Crimean War, and of the fights between Wellington and the French. The Nepalese were very much interested in all the tales of war, for they also had tattered regimental colours of which they were very proud, and which had cost them many lives.[1]
[1] Before the end of the siege Riflemen and Gurkhas spoke of one another as “brothers”, and at the close of the war the Sirmur Battalion begged that it might be granted a uniform similar to that of their brethren of the 60th, the request being willingly granted. The 2nd Gurkhas are very proud of the little red line on their facings, and the uniform thus gained at Delhi they wore in London at King Edward’s Coronation forty-five years later.
By this time the Gurkha hospital was very full. More than half of those five hundred men had been stricken down, and the Guides had also suffered severely. And the great city still defied the British power.
A few more reinforcements were coming in, but no heavy guns had yet arrived. One or two new Sikh and Mohammedan cavalry corps and Punjab infantry regiments, recruited from the Sikhs, Punjabi Mohammedans, Jats, Pathans, and Dogras, as well as the Kumaon Gurkha Battalion (now the 3rd Gurkhas), were fighting on our side. The big Sikh horsemen, who were proud of their new uniform and despised the rebel cavalry, quickly snatched at opportunities to cover themselves with glory. The “Flamingoes”, as Hodson’s Horse were called, had not been in camp many days before they were in action, distinguishing themselves in a way that none but the very best of troops dare attempt. Faced by a greatly superior force, Hodson, with supreme confidence in the steadiness and valour of his men, feigned a retreat, and when he had drawn the enemy into the open by this manœuvre, the Flamingoes turned round at his command and charged into the black mass. The foemen hesitated, confused and bewildered; they glanced at the steady line of stalwart, bearded cavaliers, heard the thunder of the galloping horses almost upon them, and were routed, broken and scattered before the oncoming of those determined Sikhs and Pathans.