“Is the Hodson you mention the same man who rode from Kurnaul to Meerut before the affair of Ghazi-ud-din-Nuggur?” he asked.
“Yes, same chap. A regular firebrand and no mistake. He has gathered a crowd of dare-devils known as Hodson’s Horse, and they go into action with a dash that I thought was only to be found in regular cavalry. But here we are at our ghât. That is a weedy-looking Arab you are riding—plenty of bone, though. Will he go aboard a budgerow without any fuss?”
“Oh, yes. He will do most things,” was the quiet reply.
Malcolm dismounted and fondled Nejdi’s black muzzle. How little the light-hearted dragoon guessed what those two had endured together! Nejdi as a weed was a new rôle. For an instant Frank thought of making a match with his friend’s best charger after Nejdi had had a week’s rest.
It was altogether a changed audience that Havelock’s messenger secured that evening when Nicholson rode to the ridge with the troops sent from the north by Sir John Lawrence, Edwardes, and Montgomery, while the generosity of Bartle Frere in sending from Scinde regiments he could ill spare should be mentioned in the same breath.
Saumarez’s “giant of a fellow” was there, and Archdale Wilson, the commander-in-chief, and Neville Chamberlain, and Baird-Smith, and Hervey Greathed. Inspired by the presence of such men Malcolm entered upon a full account of occurrences at Lucknow, Cawnpore and elsewhere during the preceding month. His hearers were aware of Henry Lawrence’s death and the beginning of the siege of Lucknow. They had heard of Massacre Ghât, the Well, and Havelock’s advance, but they were dependent on native rumor and an occasional spy for their information, and Frank’s epic narrative was the first complete and true history that had been given them.
He was seldom interrupted. Occasionally when he was tempted to slur over some of the dangers he had overcome personally, a question from one or other of the five would force him to be more explicit.
Naturally, he spoke freely of the magnificent exploits of Havelock’s column and he saw Nicholson ticking off each engagement, each tremendous march, each fine display of strategic genius on the part of the general, with an approving nod and shake of his great beard.
“You have done well, young man,” said General Wilson when Frank’s long recital came to an end. “What rank did you hold on General Havelock’s staff?”