The Path to Honour

by Sydney C. Grier

"Never, sahib; never!"

"Then you are not the men for me." He turned away with ostentatious disappointment, only to feel his sleeves gripped on either side by eager hands.

"We will do it, sahib, though it be more bitter than death."

"I thought I could count on you. Listen then, brothers. I want those four guns dismounted, and rolled into the marsh near at hand. We will cover your charge by advancing within musket-shot of the guns, but further we cannot go. Can I trust you to return when your work is done, without attempting to ride further?"

"Highness, you can."

"It is well. The one who returns first, bringing his men with him, shall receive my revolving pistol; to the other I will give my watch."

"The gifts of the Sahib are great as his fame," said the two Darwanis together, as they raced off to their followers. Charteris made his dispositions hurriedly. Twenty men, his best shots, were sent out under Warner to wriggle through the long grass to within range of the guns, and pick off the gunners when they attempted to fire. The rest of the Darwanis—such as possessed fire-arms, at least—were ordered to load, but remain where they were, and the Granthis to fall back a hundred yards. The eyes of all were fixed upon the favoured few, who, with upraised hands, were repeating the Kalima[2] before they set forth upon their perilous ride, but Charteris managed to convey a brief warning to the Darwani chiefs and officers near him. The forlorn hope burst forth from the low jungle that had served as cover all day—starting on the left of the advanced party, so as not to mask its fire, and as their progress was marked with shouts by their fellows, his ear caught the sound he had expected, the ring of ramrods behind him on the right. The Granthis were loading without orders.

"To the right, turn. Ready. Present." His voice rang out, and the Darwanis nearest him looked to see if he had gone mad, that he should bid them turn away from watching their champions' ride. But as his whistle reinforced the order, the chiefs whose minds he had prepared rushed among their followers, and by voice and blows forced them to obey. The sight of the Granthis at work with their ramrods betrayed the truth at once, and the wild men took a step forward with a howl, and would have precipitated themselves upon their hereditary foes if Charteris had not stopped them. The Granthis, deprived of the advantage they had anticipated, of pouring in a volley from behind on their unsuspecting allies, looked foolish, and Charteris rode forward and rated Bishen Ram, and bade him order his men to withdraw their charges. For a moment they hesitated whether to direct their fire on him—the forlorn hope was happily out of range of their present position—but the habit of discipline combined with the knowledge that the Darwanis were thirsting to fire to induce them to obey. The mask was worn very thin now, however, and Charteris hardly dared turn his eyes from them even to receive his returning heroes, who had duly dashed at the guns, dismounted them and tumbled them into the swamp, and ridden back—all that were left of them—under a heavy fire from the concealed matchlockmen on the other side. The promised rewards were duly bestowed on two gory figures, and Charteris returned to the bush which had afforded him partial shelter at intervals during the day, and wondered how long the Granthis would maintain even the pretence of obedience if Gerrard did not come.

As the thought passed through his mind, it seemed to him that a deeper and more distant boom mingled with the sound of Chand Singh's cannon, and the nearer popping of his musketry, and when he listened he heard it again. The two signal shots! Yes, Gerrard was coming, was evidently attacking the enemy's left, where their main camp was situated. At first there was no cessation either in the cannonade poured into Charteris's force or in the musketry-fire, but gradually both slackened. Evidently Chand Singh was withdrawing his forces from this front, but whether it was to employ them against Gerrard or to make good his retreat there was no means of knowing. The trying thing was that even now Charteris could not venture to loose his Darwanis on the foe, for the accession of the Granthis to Chand Singh's ranks might turn the tide in the enemy's favour, and he was not sanguine enough to hope that they would consent to remain neutral. He could only trust that the Habshiabadis were in a better condition to pursue—but when he and Gerrard met he learned that it was not so. On receiving Charteris's message, Gerrard had come on with his artillery and an escort, leaving the rest of his force to hold a detachment sent against him by Chand Singh.

"Talk about the rules of military science, indeed! Think of your trailing cow-guns unsupported through a hostile country!" cried Charteris. "But it was a regular case of night or Blücher, old boy, and I knew what a brick you were."