“It probably saved us a few lives, young man, and I’ll take care that it is reported.”
As he spoke, the officer who had succeeded to the command of the column when Major Reid fell hastened to the spot, and hurriedly enquired:
“What happened just now? I was looking on, unable to send you help, when I saw some Gurkhas come up from behind and drive the pandies from that nullah.”
“He was in command,” the subaltern replied, nodding towards the ensign. “Had about twenty men with him. I never saw such a thing, and how he managed to escape unhurt I can’t understand.”
The enemy again began to press, though not so dangerously. Yet every yard had to be contested, and the odds against our fellows were enormous.
Of all those gallant officers and men none fought more pluckily than Captain Russell of the Guides; animating and encouraging his splendid fellows, he was ever nearest to the foe, as many a mutineer found to his cost. Inspired by the example, Ted emulated his brother’s courage, and with the Gurkhas did his best to retrieve the day, and always by his side fought the young officer Jemadar Goria Thapa, son of his father’s friend. As they retired towards the Ridge the boy was more than once engaged in single combat. Two assailants he had placed hors de combat with sword or pistol, when he perceived that his brother was struck, though Jim, stifling his pain, continued to fight and to inspire the men. Ted, gazing anxiously at his brother, forgot for a moment his own dangerous position, when Goria Thapa knocked him roughly on one side. Just in time! A bullet flew through the air where Ted’s head had been, and his career would have been ended there and then had not the young Gurkha officer been on the alert. At the same moment two sepoys, one being the fellow who had fired the shot, rushed at the boy, who vainly strove to fend their bayonets with his sword. One of the mutineers soon broke down his guard and lunged. The steel passed through the fleshy part of Ted’s arm, and the sepoy fell at his feet, slain by the sword of Goria Thapa. The second pandy turned to flee, but a Gurkha standing near bowled him over also, and again the little force fell slowly back, the pandies snarling just out of musket-shot, waiting for a leader brave enough to inspire them.
Our ensign’s wound was extremely painful He tied a handkerchief round the arm, and remembering his brother’s example, gave no sign. As they drew nearer to camp, two hundred men of the 9th Lancers and four hundred Sikh horse poured out to their support, charging like a thunderbolt into the enemy’s masses, whilst the few Guides and Kumaon Gurkhas, who had been left to protect the Ridge, also came out to check the rush of victorious sepoys. At that moment Jemadar Goria Thapa sank to the ground with a bullet in his thigh. Here was Ted’s chance to repay his debts! Forgetting his wounds, he dashed at the three men who were rushing to polish off the Gurkha, and again his life hung by a thread.
But a couple of his Sirmur men had sprung after him, and with their kukris they quickly despatched two of the pandies. Then with Ted’s assistance the wounded man was hurriedly carried away into the midst of their Kumaon countrymen, and safety was reached.
When Major Reid recovered consciousness, he found himself on the back of one of his faithful Gurkhas, who had carried him out of the fight. The wound, though severe, was happily not mortal. The Nepalese crowded around, their eyes plainly expressing both alarm and grief, and the man who had had the good fortune to carry their beloved chief to safety became an object of envy to his comrades.