Draw Swords! In the Horse Artillery

by George Manville Fenn

There was a loud, jarring ring as Dick received the blow on the forte of his sword, whose back struck against the side of his helmet with a sharp rap, and the next moment the man was by, giving the young officer’s sword-arm a slight jerk before he sank backward with his arms extended, sword and reins falling from his nerveless hands.

For, like lightning, after receiving the jarring cut on his guard, Dick’s keen blade dropped to the horizontal and he delivered a fierce thrust.

Another was at him as Burnouse bounded forward, and he, too, rose to cut at the English lad, who was bringing forward his blade to the recovery in a long, sweeping stroke which had, with the strength of the wielder’s arm, the swift bound of his horse to give it impetus, so that the swarthy horseman received the blow full on his sword-arm, and passed on helpless.

A cut at the lad’s bridle-arm missed, and the man who delivered it escaped with a sharp prick in the ribs in retaliation; and the next moment Dick was borne clear of the fierce struggle, but only to turn and gallop forward to join half-a-dozen of his own men, who were together forcing double their number back as they laid about them with their long sabres, used with the full strength of their muscular arms.

Half-blind with excitement now, Dick was riding at a dark, turbaned horseman when the trumpet rang out, and his charger followed the example of those in a line with him. The next moment there was the dull roar of a gun, so close that the horses of the enemy were thrown into a state of confusion, while the artillery-men’s stood passive from the familiarity which breeds contempt.

For the opportunity had come at last, and a second gun sent forth its white puff of smoke, the sequence to the charge of grape which tore a lane through the enemy’s body of horse, now coming on at a gallop to follow up the daring attack made by the first body, which had caused such dire confusion.

This second gun checked the advance, and created havoc amongst a crowd of matchlock-men coming up behind the horse; while a third discharge seemed to be the signal for a retreat to commence.

There was a pause before the fourth gun could be fired with effect. Then it and the fifth and sixth were fired in rapid succession, while the Rajah’s horsemen now saw their opportunity, and dashed after the scattering enemy in a disorderly but brilliant charge, whose effect was to drive the enemy fleeing for their lives into the narrow streets of the city; and the rout was continued till fully half had poured over the bridge to make for the open country, while the rest sought shelter in the bazaars and lanes.

The little battle was only a matter of a few minutes, and as nothing more was to be done there, the artillery had limbered up ready to pursue; but Hulton saw that before he could get out into the open the enemy would be beyond his reach, and he halted his men where they stood, leaving the Rajahs horsemen to complete the rout.

“I couldn’t get to you, sir—I couldn’t get to you,” cried a fierce voice full of reproach, and Sergeant Stubbs rode up to Dick’s side. “Don’t say you’re hurt, sir—don’t say you’re hurt!”