Gil the Gunner is a Webnovel created by George Manville Fenn.
This lightnovel is currently completed.
“As men should,” replied Brace, sternly. “As I have said, the rising is nothing to us, whether great or small. We have only one thing to study.”
“To get back the guns!” I cried excitedly.
Brace’s hand gripped my arm with all his force.
“Yes,” he cried. “Right. To get back those guns and horses at any cost.”
“Impossible!” muttered the doctor.
“Tell me that, doctor,” cried Brace, “when I am wounded to the death, and you press my hand, tell me you can do no more, and say ‘Good-bye.’
There is no such word as impossible in a British soldier’s thoughts when he has to charge. Duty says forward! and he advances with a cheer.
Now, gentlemen, are you with me? I am going to get back those guns.
Doctor, you are a non-combatant; I am not speaking to you. Haynes, will you follow me?”
“As long as I can lift an arm.”
“I don’t ask you, Vincent. You are a soldier’s son, and I know that I can depend on you. There, I see my way now. Let us go back to the men.”
We rose and followed him, the doctor whispering sharply, “Am I a non-combatant, Brace? This is a case of emergency, and perhaps I can use a sword as well as I can use a rifle. At any rate, I am going to try.”
“‘Tention!” said Brace, in a low quick voice, and the men sprang to their feet and formed in line, their figures looking weird and strange in the darkness. “Can you all hear me?”
The silence which followed his question was proof that his words were heard, and he stepped back a few yards and stood listening intently before returning to face the men.
“Now, my lads,” he said, “we are a mere handful in the midst, perhaps, of thousands of enemies; but we are Englishmen.”
There was a loud murmur like the precursor of a shout.
“Silence! Not a sound, my lads. Listen. We have been taken by surprise, and our comrades have many of them met their death through treachery, while the officers and men are disgraced by our position.”
There was another murmur, but it was in protest.
“Yes; I say disgraced. Ours, the smartest troop in the Company’s army, has been disarmed, and there are two courses open to us–to fly for our lives and try to make our way to the nearest station, tramping, and without our guns; or to make a bold dash, like the men you are, to get our guns and horses back. Those are the two courses open, and I am not going to insult my brave lads by asking them which course we shall take.
Sergeant–men, I’m going to have those guns back. If I go down, here is Lieutenant Haynes to carry on the work. After him Mr Vincent, and after him the doctor. If we all break down, there’s Sergeant Craig.
Plenty to lead you, and there isn’t a man among you who will not follow, I know.”
“Not a man, sir,” said Sergeant Craig. “I’ll answer for them all.”
“Please, sir, mayn’t we cheer?” said a voice in the ranks.
“No, my lads,” said Brace. “I can feel your hearts are throbbing beat for beat with mine. When we get back our guns and horses you shall cheer; till then, you must work with me in silence, and with the cunning of the natives, for it is only by scheming that we can win. I know how you feel. That is all.”
There was a low murmur like a thrill, and a sound as of men tightening their belts and loosening their swords. The next minute, as if it were a parade, Brace was walking along the front of the rank, and returning by the rear, followed by the sergeant and me.
“A short muster, but enough,” said Brace. “Now, my lads, I propose to rest here for a couple of hours, then to march back to Rajgunge and reconnoitre the barracks when all is quiet. We may pick up one or two of our men, and, if fortunate, get the officers’ horses. Break off. We are out of sight here. Mr Haynes, post sentries. The others will try to get a couple of hours’ sleep. Silence!”
In five minutes the sentries were posted and the officers lay down near the men, while we three talked in whispers about our chances of success, Brace having left us to begin steadily pacing up and down as if working out his plans.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
At the appointed time the men fell in, rested a little, no doubt, but not one had slept, and after a few words respecting the importance of silence, Brace placed himself at their head, whispered to me to come to his side, and the word was given–_March_!
It was a strange, weird tramp along the deserted road, for not a soul was encountered; but as we drew nearer, the lights in the city were many, and from the noise and drumming it was evident that there were festivities in progress, possibly rejoicings among the natives at the fall of the British rule.
But as we got on to lower ground the illuminations disappeared, and Brace pointed out that the part in the direction of our barracks seemed to be all dark.
But we could, of course, make out little at that distance, and as we neared the river, Brace struck off to the right, so as to avoid the houses as much as possible, his intention being, he said, to get round till we were about opposite to our quarters, and then march boldly and silently on.
“The probabilities are,” he said, “that at this hour of the night we shall not meet a soul.”
About this time he called up the sergeant and questioned him, but there was little more to be communicated. Apparently there had been very little plundering; the party led by Ny Deen having its one important object in view–the capture of the horses, guns, and ammunition; and after cutting down those who resisted, and securing the rest in their quarters, they had busied themselves over their task, and marched out in triumph.
“But I’m expecting, sir, that when we get back we shall find that the mob from the bazaar has been busy, and plundered and burned the whole place; and if so–“
He stopped short.
“Well, speak up, man. What do you mean–the wounded?”
“No, sir,” replied the sergeant, as I shuddered at the horrors these words suggested; “I don’t think there were any wounded left; they did their work too well. I was thinking of the poor chargers.”
“Oh!” I e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, as I thought of my n.o.ble-looking Arab and its companion, and I involuntarily quickened my pace.
“Steady, Vincent,” whispered the captain; and I checked myself. “Let’s hope it is not so.” Then, turning to the sergeant–“You feel sure that the officers’ horses are not gone?”
“I can’t say that, sir. Only that the mutineers did not take them.
They wanted to get the gun-horses and the others; that was all they seemed to be thinking about.”
“Yes, that would be all,” a.s.sented Brace.
“The mob may have carried off the poor creatures since, sir; I don’t know.”
As we approached the outskirts, all was as antic.i.p.ated, quite still, and after another whisper to the men to keep as silent as possible, we marched boldly in through the narrow lanes, threading our way for some time without hardly seeing a soul, and those whom we encountered only looked at us with curiosity or else fled at once.
Twice over we became confused, losing our way, but our good luck aided us, for we recognised places which we had pa.s.sed through before, and resumed our march, getting nearer and nearer to our barracks, and now hearing shouting, drumming, with the clash of music, but right away from us; and at last it was left well behind to our right.
From time to time the captain halted and let the men pa.s.s by him, so as to keep a sharp look-out, and see whether we were followed.
But that did not seem to enter into the thoughts of any of the natives we had pa.s.sed. They were apparently thinking solely of their own safety, and at last, trembling with eagerness, we approached the gateway that we had left so short a time before; and a painful sensation of sorrow smote me as I recalled the genial face of the major and his words wishing us success as he saw us off on our pleasant expedition.
“And now dead!–cruelly murdered by treachery,” I said to myself; while the painful feeling was succeeded by one of rage, accompanied by a desire to take vengeance on the men who had cut him down.
But I had something else to think of now, for Brace halted the men and took me to examine the gateway, where all was silent and black. There was no armed sentry on duty, no lights in the guard-room, and a chill struck through me, and I searched the ground with my eyes in dread lest I should trip over the remains of some man by whose side I had ridden during many a parade or drill.
Brace stepped forward boldly, and we pa.s.sed through the gateway into the yard when, suddenly, and as silently as if barefooted, a white figure started up near us, and would have fled had not Brace caught it by the arm.
“Silence!” he said in Hindustani.