At the Point of the Bayonet: A Tale of the Mahratta War

by G. A. Henty

At seven o'clock in the evening, a deep and almost continuous roar of guns broke out.

"The assault has begun!" Harry exclaimed. "We shall not see much, but we may get some idea as to how things are going from the lookout."

It was too dark for the movements of troops to be seen, but the quick flashes of the guns on either side, and a play of flickering fire along the top of the wall showed that the storming party was approaching. The attack was made in three parties: one advanced against a battery which the defenders had established outside the walls, at a spot where its fire would take in flank any force advancing against the point towards which the fire of the English guns had been directed; another was to attempt a gateway near the breach; while the central column, consisting of five hundred Europeans and a battalion of Sepoys, was to attack the breach itself.

For a time the roar of firing was incessant. The alarm had been given as soon as the British columns advanced from the wood. Notwithstanding this, the right column advanced straight against the battery, captured it, and spiked the guns. The left column, as it approached the gate, came upon a deep cut filled with water and, having no means of crossing this, they moved to the support of the force attacking the breach. This had been greatly delayed. The ground to be crossed was swampy, with many pools and, in the darkness, numbers lost their way, and the force arrived at the point of attack in great confusion.

A small party of twenty-three men only--of the 22nd Regiment, under Lieutenant Manser--who formed the forlorn hope, crossed the ditch, breast high in water, and mounted the breach. In the confusion that reigned among the troops, some of the officers had lost their way, and there was no one to assume the command or to give orders; and Lieutenant Manser, finding that he was unsupported, and could not with a handful of men attempt to attack either of the bastions, from which a terrible fire was being maintained, made the men sit down and shelter themselves as well as they could, in the debris of the breach; while he himself recrossed the ditch to summon up the support. In this he failed. All order was lost, and the men who formed the forlorn hope were at last called back, and the whole force retired, suffering heavily from the terrible fire to which they were exposed. Eighty-five were killed and three hundred and seventy-one wounded.

A more deplorable and ill-managed assault was never made by British troops. As Harry had thought possible, Lord Lake had treated the capture of Bhurtpoor as if it had been but a little hill fort. He had made no attempt to carry out regular siege operations but, trusting to the valour of his troops, had sent them across a considerable distance of plain swept by the enemy's fire, to assault a breach defended by some of the bravest tribesmen of India; and had not even issued commands which would have ensured order and cohesion in the attack.

The lesson that had been taught was not sufficiently taken to heart. Some more batteries were placed in position and, on the 16th, opened a heavy fire against the wall on the left of the former breach, which had been repaired during the two nights following its successful defence. So heavy was the fire from the new batteries that another breach was made in the course of a few hours. The Jats stockaded it during the night, but the timbers were soon knocked to fragments and, for five days, a continuous cannonade was maintained and a large breach formed.

It was necessary to find out how wide the ditch was, and three native cavalry and three British troopers, all dressed as natives, suddenly dashed out of the camp. At a short distance behind them a number of Sepoys ran out, as if in pursuit, discharging their muskets as they did so. Just as the six horsemen arrived at the ditch, two of the troopers' chargers were made to fall. The native havildar shouted to the soldiers on the wall to save them from the accursed feringhees, and show them the nearest entrance to the city. The soldiers pointed to a gate near the breach and, as soon as the men had again mounted, the havildar rode with them along the ditch, and made the necessary observations.

Then they put spurs to their horses, and rode off--the Jats, on seeing that they had been deceived, opening upon them with musketry. Their excitement and fury, however, disturbed their aim, and the six horsemen rode into camp unhurt, and reported that the ditch was not very wide, and that it did not seem to be very deep.

Portable bridges were at once constructed. These were to be carried by picked men, who were instructed in the best method of pushing them over the ditch. To prevent the recurrence of the confusion that had been, before, caused by the assault in the dark, it was determined that it should be made in daylight and, on the following afternoon, the storming party moved forward. It consisted of four hundred and twenty men from the European regiments, supported by the rest of those troops, and three battalions of native infantry. Colonel Macrae was in command. The whole of the batteries opened fire, to cover the movement and keep down that of the besieged.