The Disputed V.C.: A Tale of the Indian Mutiny

by Frederick P. Gibbon

With hardly a pause a third and fourth shell exploded among the pandies, apparently with deadly effect. Their fire slackened, died down; they wavered, and another shell fell amongst them. Panic-stricken they streamed away towards the sheltering walls. The Lancers mounted their horses; the guns scattered another shell or two amid the fugitives, and, limbering up, rattled after them.

But the surprise had failed, and there was now little chance of capturing the arch-traitor. With poignant disappointment Colonel Boldre saw the troops pouring out of the village through the north-western gate, the exit farthest from them. He gave the word, and the Irregulars galloped away to their left front to cut them off.

Ted’s Arab was both fleet and great-hearted, and he and Govind Singh were soon to the front, half a length in advance of the ragged line. It was a race, not a charge, and Ted remembered with a smile how he had once guided “The Padre” to victory. The pace of the runaways was checked by the river which, bending from the north-east, looped round the western and southern sides of the village, leaving only the eastern side open, and there were the British Lancers, now quite near to the walls. Close behind him Ted could hear the jingle of a gun and the mad galloping of its team, tearing the big weapon along with jolt and clatter. Few sights are there to surpass horse artillery galloping into action, and few sounds more musical; and the noble horses seem inspired thereby, and enter into the spirit of the movement with a zest as great as that of the men.

They were now level with the ghaut, or ford, and a few hundred yards to the west thereof. The guns unlimbered, and, after sending a couple of shells after the leading fugitives who had made good their escape, they opened on the ghaut and got range with the second shot. More than half the pandies were checked; on the one side were English cavalry and a couple of those deadly guns, on the other the only way of escape was a death-trap. Colonel Boldre despatched a body of Probyn’s Horse and of his own men under Claude to ride down to the ghaut and take charge of the prisoners. The rest continued in the track of the Nana.

Ted, Govind Singh, and a handful of the better-mounted men had kept on their way without a pause, and they quickly perceived that they were overhauling the sepoys, the hindmost of whom presently began to scatter across the fields and swampy ground, making for the woods and jungle. And after them went most of the pursuers.

But Ted and Govind Singh with some of their Jalandar men kept straight ahead. They had noticed that amongst the runagates who had stuck to the road were two or three men of consequence, to judge by their costumes and the caparisons of their steeds. And some instinct told our ensign that he in the middle of the group, decked out in a conspicuous saffron shawl, with a glittering turban, was none other than the Nana himself. Heedless of all other considerations he urged his handful onward, speeding farther and farther away from the main body, intent only on slaying or capturing the Mahratta ruffian.

They were now within a hundred yards of their quarry, and almost up with the laggards, some of whom broke away into the paddy-fields, while those who were not quick enough received short shrift from Govind Singh’s compatriots. With hardly a pause the Punjabis again swept forward, their number reduced by one. As they lessened the distance separating them from the rear-guard a couple of pandies swiftly swerved aside, off the track, and fired as the Sikhs, unprepared for the manœuvre, flew past in a bunch. The sowar on the right of Govind Singh reeled in his saddle and then his horse shot to the front, relieved of its burden, and Ted noticed that a second of his men winced, let his carbine fall, and clapped a hand to his side.

“Forward!” shouted the young officer as the men began to pull on the reins. “Forward! Never mind those two; there’s a big reward for him who catches that saffron fellow in front!”

With much reluctance the Punjabis allowed the two pandies to continue their flight unmolested. The chieftain and his body-guard were within pistol-shot, and Ted fired twice, and unhorsed the sepoy who rode next to the leader, at whom he had aimed. And suddenly the rebels turned and with savage yells charged back upon their pursuers. Ted again aimed at the leader and again missed, and the Nana’s men were upon them, three to one.

With a yell as savage as theirs Govind Singh rose in his stirrups and felled his nearest opponent with one mighty blow, and, leaning forward, buried his tulwar in the shoulder of another. Before he could recover his blade a lance was thrust into his breast, and he dropped like a log. Ted saw the fall of his right-hand man, and was near enough to cut down the striker just as another of the mutineers rode full tilt at him.