Gil the Gunner: The Youngest Officer in the East

by George Manville Fenn

Then thud, and like the slow pulse-beats of doom, thud—thud—each gun spoke out from our little line, and at every flash there was a white puff of smoke, which slowly rose, and we saw beneath the vapour, how at each discharge of grape an open lane was torn through the savage crowd.

But these closed up, and they still came on, those behind forcing those in front, till they were within twenty yards.

Never had those guns been served with such rapidity before, nor with such regular motion. The men worked like machines, and as calmly, but our case was becoming desperate. Round after round tore through them, but with fanatical rage the survivors came on, and in another few moments we knew that they would be among us with their keen tulwars and sheltering shield.

But not a man shrank. I knew it was hopeless to think of limbering up, and carrying off the guns; we should have been cut down at once; and rendered desperate by our position, every man at liberty pressed forward to try and defend the gunners, who still toiled on.

“Why don’t the lancers charge again?” I thought, as I thrust savagely at a man who was making a cut at a gunner, and a cold feeling of despair began to attack me, as I thought of mother and sister behind the barricade over our heads, and that Brace’s gallant troop would be utterly cut to pieces, and the guns turned against my father when he advanced.

“Ny Deen will get his wish,” I thought, as I thrust again with all my force and saved the life of the man who was ramming the gun beside me.

“The lancers—where are the lancers?” I thought again; and at that moment a line of men came in among us, and formed a slight hedge of lance-points which darted rapidly out between the gunners whenever one was threatened. Half the men had been dismounted, and while they helped to keep the enemy at bay, a ragged volley suddenly roared above our heads where the brave defenders of the place had collected to give us their little aid.

That volley was so fresh and unexpected that, blazing out as it did, close to the enemy, they fell back for a few moments. Only a few, but long enough to enable the men of one of the most crowded-up guns to send its charge tearing through the foe. Then another spoke, and, with yells of despair, the wave swung back a little. Another volley from the barricade staggered them more, and the fire of the guns increased in regularity, while all at once I found that we had more room; the lancers had been withdrawn. A few more shots into the mass made them waver. “Cease firing!” rang out, and the trampling of horses began once more, as the lancers passed through us, and hurled themselves at full gallop against the crowd.

That finished the attack, for the enemy turned and fled, throwing into disorder reinforcements coming up; and as the lancers retired in single file, right and left, we played round shot between them, and finished the discomfiture of the attacking force, which rolled back into shelter among the houses at the back.

Then, amidst frantic cheers, a portion of the nearest wall was thrown down, and the guns were dragged into the enclosure, the lancers followed into the shelter; and, as a part of our men repaired the breach, and the guns were mounted ready for the next advance, such a scene of weeping, shouting, and embracing took place as is beyond description, and can only be recalled with a choking sensation of the throat.