Barclay of the Guides

by Herbert Strang

In reality the honest innkeeper reflected that in these troublous times there was always a chance that a stray bullet, or a round shot from the Feringhis' batteries, might end his customer's career—an unfortunate matter for the customer, but likely to be very profitable to himself, with the goods left on his hands. This being satisfactorily arranged, Ahmed dismissed his coolie, ordered a meal, and while he ate it pondered the difficult problem—his escape from the city.

There were batteries at intervals along the wall, from the Water bastion on the extreme north to the Ajmir gate at the south-west corner of the city. These would be fully manned during the night. The wall would be watched along its whole circumference; more loosely on the south side, no doubt, than on the north or west, for in that quarter the city had not even remotely been threatened by the besiegers. On the other hand, the sentries there being in no danger of shot or shell, would have nothing to do but watch, whereas on the west and north, and particularly on the latter, they would be in some degree concerned in keeping under cover. Further, if he left the city on the south side he would have a very long way to go before he could arrive at the Ridge, or at any of the British outposts, and there was also a chance that he might fall into the hands of the rebels as he passed through the populous suburbs. These were strongly held by the mutineers, especially Kishenganj, which would be directly in his path.

On the whole he decided that it would be best to make an attempt at the north side, somewhere between the Shah bastion and the Kashmir gate. He would have to let himself down over the wall, twenty-four feet deep, into the ditch, ascend the scarp on the opposite side, and gain the glacis; then there would be nothing but a stretch of jungly country between himself and the Ridge.

The first requisite was a rope. He had this ready in the cords by which he bound his merchandise to the camel. But to what could he attach the rope if he gained the wall safely? At any spot sufficiently quiet and secluded for him to make the attempt there was scarcely likely to be anything in the way of a staple or ring. Clearly he must provide himself with something that would serve his purpose in case of necessity. Taking advantage of his nightly visit to the stable to look after his camel, he got a stout lathi and sharpened the end of it into the form of a stake. Then he prepared a slip-knot at the end of the rope, wound the rope about his body under his outer garment, and, returning to the inn, gave his host a courteous "salaam aleikam!" and set off in the direction of the Kashmir gate.

He passed through the Koriapul bazar, which was filled with a motley throng of people of the trading classes, eagerly discussing the events of the day and the strong measures likely to follow upon the arrival of Bakht Khan. Ahmed ventured to delay for a few minutes in order to get an inkling of the general feeling of the people. Many were as confident of the ultimate success of the rebels as the sepoys themselves; but some of the older men, while as fervently desiring the crushing of the English as the rest, quietly dropped in words of caution and doubt. One of them said that he had heard from a servant of Ahsanullah, the king's physician, that that crafty old fox had foretold the doom of the city, and was suspected to be making provision for that fatal day.

Ahmed passed on. But instead of striking into the Nasirganj Road, which would bring him direct to the Kashmir gate and the main guard, he made his way by quiet and tortuous lanes, among the gardens of some of the principal residents, towards a point about half-way between the Kashmir gate and the Mori bastion. He was aware that, besides the heavy guns at the bastions, there were light guns along the whole of this part of the wall; but these could only be effectively used if the besiegers approached the city, and were, perhaps, hardly likely to be manned in force now. But when he came near enough to see them, he saw also that the gunners were on duty beside the guns, huddled together—the night was damp and chilly—and most of them, to all appearance, asleep. Now and then, however, he heard voices from these little knots of men; it behoved him to go warily. He passed along, keeping in shadow, until he reached a part of the wall where all was quiet. There was no firing either from the British lines or from the defences of the city, and the night was so still, with the brooding stillness of an imminent storm, that the slightest sound in his vicinity would have reached his ear. Pausing for a few moments for reassurance, he at length ventured to creep to the foot of the wall, and grope his way up the steps leading to the battlements, eight feet below the parapet. Half-way up he heard a faint call somewhere to his left, but it was not answered, and he went on till he gained the top.

Stealing along the battlements, he sought for some fissure in which he might plant his lathi. But he found none, and the masonry of the wall was far too hard to allow him to bore a hole in it without making a noise that was bound to attract attention. He wished he could have gone to one of the embrasures and tied his rope to the gun itself; but even if the gunners were asleep, it involved a risk he dared not run. He was at his wit's end to know what to do. Flat on his belly, to lessen the chances of being seen, he crawled along, seeking for a hole, and becoming more and more anxious as the moments fled. What if his warning should reach Hodson Sahib too late? The parapet was loopholed for musketry, but the loopholes afforded him no assistance. At length, when almost in despair, he came to a spot where a shot from one of the British guns had made a jagged rent in the parapet. Here, surely, at this fortuitous embrasure, he could put his fortune to the test. Gently unwinding the rope from about his body, he fixed the slip-knot on the lathi, and having laid this transversely across the gap, he paid out the rope until he felt it touch bottom.

Now came the critical moment. He knew that as soon as he attempted to cross the parapet there was a danger that, dark as the night was, his form might be seen. There was a gun with its group of gunners not many yards to his right. If one of the men should chance to look in his direction he could hardly escape discovery. He was thankful that the sky was overcast; indeed, his journey promised to be an uncomfortable one, for big spots of rain were falling. Perhaps these heralds of a storm might cause the gunners to huddle themselves more closely in their cloaks. But it was vain to delay; the sooner he made the attempt the better; so, one hand holding the rope, with the other he got a grip of the top of the parapet. Then he gave a sudden spring, gained the top, and grasping the rope with both hands, let himself swing free.

As he did so, there came a shout, followed by the sound of scurrying footsteps. His knuckles scraped against the wall; to protect his hands he pushed against the wall with his feet, but the result of this was to throw all his weight on his hands, and his palms were skinned as he slid rapidly down. The descent was only twenty-four feet. He touched the ground. Letting the rope go, he plunged down the scarp into the ditch, rushed across, up the counter-scarp and the glacis, and reached level ground on the other side. Then a shot flew over his head; he had been seen. Upright he would form a target, however indistinct, for the sepoys on the wall, and some of them were no mean marksmen. He dropped on hands and toes, and thus crawled as fast as he could over the soppy ground. Shots flew around him, but he escaped them all, and hurrying along until he judged that he could no longer be seen, he rose to his feet and ran at full speed across the Circular Road that encompasses the city, over a stretch of open ground, until he reached the Kudsia Road, and did not check his pace until he had got half-a-mile from the wall. And then the rain came down in a blinding torrent, and in five minutes he was drenched to the skin.

The rain favoured him in one respect—that it would keep people under cover. On the other hand, it added to the difficulties of his journey. Even on a clear night he would have found it by no means easy to find his way. He had nearly two miles to go before he could reach the British lines, and the ground was dotted with scrub and trees, and with houses and enclosures, some isolated, some clustered together. Some of the houses had been occupied before the rising by British officers and civil servants; they were now, he did not doubt, in the hands of the rebels. But his only course was to hurry forward, trusting to the good fortune that had hitherto befriended him.