Chapter the Thirteenth The Revolt of the Kalmuck Miners
While Lawrence was thus making his first essays in an apprenticeship to soldiering, his brother had found work to do which outran the little military experience he had gained.
After giving Lawrence the signals agreed on, Bob steered straight up the valley. His mind was very busy during the half-hour’s flight to the mine. The management of the aeroplane had become so much a matter of habit and instinct that he was able to give a good deal of attention to his thoughts and imaginings. Telling Fazl to keep a good look-out, he sought to grapple with the strange problems so suddenly thrust upon him.
First and greatest of them all was the meaning of the concentration of troops at the mouth of the valley. He dismissed as patently absurd the idea that their objective was his uncle’s mine. The gathering of so large a force for so trifling an end would be like employing a steam-hammer to crack a nut. He could not avoid the conclusion that their presence was quite independent of Nurla Bai, though on the other hand Nurla Bai’s actions had probably been calculated with the knowledge or suspicion that a body of his countrymen was at hand.
What then was the explanation of the muster? The direction of their march, and the fact that they had thrown forward an advanced guard into the valley itself, seemed to indicate an intention to proceed through the valley to some further goal. What was that goal? He remembered the intelligence that had come in at odd times, of a levy en masse of the Mongols, and his uncle’s suspicion that the Mongolian prince was meditating an attack on Russia. But this was not the way to Russia. Could it be that Afghanistan was the object of an invasion? Bob’s knowledge of the geography of the region was not very extensive, but he knew that, if Afghanistan was their objective, this valley was one of the most toilsome and indirect routes they could have chosen. The passes of the Hindu Kush to the westward offered few or no obstacles to an invading force; it was by these passes that the Mongolian hordes had always made their inroads, from the earliest times. Not only would the nature of the valley render the advance of a large army extremely arduous and prolonged; if the invaders should traverse it successfully, they would find themselves at what was probably the most intricate and inaccessible portion of the Amir’s dominions. It would be like marching from London to Chester through the Welsh mountains, with every difficulty monstrously exaggerated. Wellington’s passage of the Pyrenees was a slight operation compared with it.
What other end could they have in view? The valley ran southward, and led ultimately of course to India, but an invasion of India by this route was too ridiculous to be considered seriously. Ambitious as the Mongol prince was, it was scarcely conceivable that he could entertain such a notion, unless he had taken leave of his senses. The twenty thousand men now encamped at the mouth of the valley would need to be multiplied ten or twenty times before there would be the slightest chance of success. There might, in truth, be many more such army corps massed farther northward; but the task of pushing an invading force, adequate to the undertaking, through the narrow gorges of the valley, where for long stretches three horsemen could not ride abreast, with the necessary artillery, ammunition wagons and commissariat, would prove too much for the most consummate military organizer. It would take so long that a defending force on the north-west frontier could cut up the more advanced sections long before the rest could move up to their support. In short, the whole idea was fantastic, and Bob called himself an ass for even thinking of it.
Giving up this question as beyond his conjecture, Bob bent his mind upon the problem that immediately concerned him. This was a sufficiently hard nut to crack. The Kalmucks, whatever their ultimate intention might be, were clearly to be regarded as enemies. On that point their actions were quite conclusive. Whether he owed their aggressiveness to Nurla Bai or not, they were a menace to the mine and its owners. Nurla Bai would certainly take advantage of their proximity to attempt to capture the settlement, and no doubt could command the assistance of as many men as he needed.
It is not surprising that Bob’s heart sank with dismay as he reckoned up the puny force he had to pit against such overwhelming numbers. Of all his people, only the handful of Sikhs were trained to war. The Pathans were warriors by nature, but he doubted how far he could rely on their loyalty. At present, it was true, they were deeply incensed against the Kalmucks; but whether they, if called upon, would take definite sides against their racial enemies in face of the enormous odds arrayed against them, was a matter on which there was room for grave doubt. The Kalmuck labourers at the mine were a further complication. They would certainly make common cause with their own countrymen as soon as these came within striking distance. Alone they out-numbered the Sikhs and Pathans by two to one.
The more Bob thought of all this, the more anxious and depressed he became. He wondered whether it was wise to attempt to stem the human torrent that would soon be pouring up the valley. Would not the better course be to come to terms with the Kalmucks, abandon the mine, and set off with all speed for India? Hitherto, it was true, the enemy had given him no opportunity for negotiating. They had been the aggressors, unprovoked; and his determination hardened when he remembered the fate of Mr. Appleton. But as there was just a possibility that no sort of concert existed between the Kalmuck army and Nurla Bai, the idea of making terms with the former was not wholly negligible.
So far as his immediate duty was concerned, Bob was quite clear in his mind. It was to secure the retreat of Lawrence and his little party. In order to reach the mine they would have to pass the quarters of the Kalmuck miners. The bridge down-stream being broken, Bob could not suppose that Lawrence would be so hotly pursued as to endanger his return. But with temper high among the workers at the mine, some care might be needed to prevent an explosion when the Pathans came up. The first thing to be done was to devise some means by which Lawrence and his men could reach the settlement in safety. Allowing for the difficulties of the track, they could hardly, even though mounted, arrive until late in the afternoon. He had the whole day in which to make his preparations.
Bob did not think out the position as consecutively as his thoughts are presented here. His busy mind flitted from one point to another doubling on itself, as it were. And his reflections were suddenly interrupted by an exclamation from his companion. The Gurkha, having no mental puzzles to work out, had been able to give undivided attention to his master’s instructions. As before, his keener eye had detected what Bob, even if less preoccupied, could scarcely have perceived so soon. Far ahead, over the valley, there lay a long dark streak which in a less clear atmosphere than that of this highland region might have been taken for a wisp of cloud. But Fazl made no such mistake.
“Smoke, sahib!” he cried.
The words gave Bob a shiver of apprehension. Was it possible that the mine-buildings were on fire? He felt almost overwhelmed at the thought. With every succeeding second in his swift flight it became more and more likely that this was the explanation. While still many miles distant, he recognized that the smoke must have its origin somewhere at least in the neighbourhood of the mine. Fast as the aeroplane was flying, he wished that for a few minutes he could double its speed. But when at last he opened up the reach of the river bordering the mine, he saw with joy that the smoke was rising, not from the compounds on the right, but from the miners’ quarters on the opposite bank.
A slight breeze was blowing from the north-west, carrying the smoke up the valley. In a few more seconds Bob saw that the conflagration was confined to the Pathan portion of the camp. As he turned a slight bend and had a view of the whole settlement, a hasty glance assured him that there was no sign of injury in the mine compounds. Flying on, he noticed a number of figures in the compounds below, apparently the Sikhs on guard. The Kalmuck camp was deserted; between it and the burning huts of the Pathans, and up the bank of the river, he caught sight of a number of prostrate forms here and there. Then above the whirr of the propeller he heard, far in the distance, the sound of firing. It came from up the river. At that moment Bob felt as a small schoolboy feels when suddenly plunged into a new subject—say the binomial theorem before he has mastered quadratic equations. Here was a fresh problem before the others were solved. But he held on his course, wheeled round at the usual place, and flying back alighted once more on his platform.
“Just see to things while I go on,” he said to Fazl.
When he was half-way along the cantilever pathway he caught sight of Ditta Lal waddling towards him at a pace dangerous to a man of apoplectic habit.
“Oh, sir,” gasped the Babu as they met, “horrors upon horror’s head accumulate. Pelion is heaped on Ossa. Misfortunes come, not as single spies, but in battalions.”
“What has happened?” said Bob shortly: he was always impatient of the Babu’s determination that no one should forget he was a Calcutta B.A.
And then Ditta Lal, driven to brevity by shortness of breath and the difficulty of keeping pace with Bob’s long strides, related the occurrences of the past hour.
Very shortly after Bob had left the mine in his aeroplane, when the domestic staff were at breakfast, and the Sikhs were engaged in carrying out his instructions, a clamour had suddenly broken out on the other side of the river. Looking across, they had seen the whole body of Kalmuck miners rushing tumultuously over the neutral ground into the Pathans’ quarters. Before Gur Buksh could order his men to fire, the two parties were inextricably mixed. For a few seconds there had been a wild, fierce conflict; then the Pathans, taken by surprise and hopelessly outnumbered, fled like deer up the track, pursued by the Kalmucks. Some of these paused for a little to fire and plunder the Pathans’ huts, then sped after their comrades. By this time Gur Buksh had lined his men up near the drawbridge and ordered them to fire at the Kalmucks. Several of them dropped, and there lay with them on the ground a few of the Pathans who, unable to get away in time, had fallen to their enemies’ knives.
Gur Buksh had been ordered not to leave the mine with his men, and true to his military discipline he had obeyed his instructions to the letter. But Chunda Beg had sent over some of the servants to bring in the wounded men, among whom were several Kalmucks. The former were now being tended in the outhouses; the latter were locked up in one of the sheds. Meanwhile the Pathans and their pursuers had disappeared along the track. Ever since, sounds of firing had been heard intermittently, growing fainter and fainter. It was clear that the Pathans were still in retreat, and also that, in spite of the surprise, some of them at least had managed to snatch up their arms before they ran. By this time they must be several miles away.
“What was the cause of the outbreak?” asked Bob.
Ditta Lal could only suggest that it was due to sudden madness inspired by the Furies. Bob left him, to consult the havildar. He was utterly perplexed. It seemed as though there were electric communication between the Kalmuck miners and their countrymen down-stream, for they could not have heard already of what had happened forty miles away.
It was not merely perplexing, but a staggering blow. Bob had reckoned on employing the Pathans to garrison the mine if resistance should be considered possible, or at least on forming a compact body to accompany his retreat if he should feel it necessary to abandon the place. Apparently they were now hopelessly dispersed, and he could not help thinking that such of them as escaped the guns of their pursuers would hasten up the valley towards their homes. At that moment he almost made up his mind that his only course was to follow them as quickly as he could: the defence of the mine seemed utterly impossible.
Then another element of the situation forced itself upon his tired brain. The Kalmucks, when they had driven the Pathans away, would doubtless return. If they were allowed to get past the mine, Lawrence and his party would be completely cut off. They could scarcely arrive before nightfall; there was ample time for the Kalmucks to hurry back, and force their way past, even though the rifles of the Sikhs might account for some of them. The interception of Lawrence must be prevented at all costs, and in the necessity of devising some means to this end Bob had no leisure to acquaint Gur Buksh with his morning’s discovery.
“We must keep the Kalmucks off till Lawrence Sahib is back,” he said. “How can we do it?”
“Bring the machine gun to the south wall, sahib,” replied the old Sikh.
“Yes; you’ll have to make an embrasure. The gun will command the track for half a mile along the straight, and they won’t face it. There’s another thing, havildar. Send some men over to the other side to bring in all the food they can collect, and any arms they may find. The horses too: there are only three or four left, and we must make shift to keep them on this side. Just set about it at once.”
The havildar saluted and withdrew.
Bob lighted a cigarette, and paced up and down, thinking hard. If only Major Endicott or some other experienced soldier were at hand to advise! He felt weighed down by his responsibilities; yet beneath all his anxieties, there was a large reserve of courage and resolution. He watched the Sikhs dragging the machine gun across the compound. Undoubtedly it would check the Kalmucks as they marched back towards the mine. But he wondered whether it would be wise to use it. It would cost many lives; the slaughter of the miners would infuriate their fellow-countrymen, and destroy any chance there might be of making terms with them. Yet there seemed no other means of assuring his brother’s safe return.
Following in imagination the pursuit along the river bank, he thought of the Pathans and their fate. He listened for rifle-shots; but the sounds had ceased. By this time, no doubt, the chase had gone beyond hearing. Perhaps it had ceased; perhaps the Pathans were all slaughtered by their more numerous foes; perhaps the Kalmucks were content to have driven them away, and the survivors were trudging a weary march to the borders of their own land. What would their fate be? They had no food: the country was barren: they must surely fall a prey to fatigue, exposure and famine, or to hostile tribes en route, long before they could hope for hospitality. This dismal prospect made Bob very uncomfortable. After all, these men were the most loyal and law-abiding of his uncle’s workers; it seemed cruel to let them go without lifting a hand to help them. Yet what could he do? No doubt if he were to lead the Sikhs to pursue the Kalmucks in their turn, with their military training, few as they were, they might crush the undisciplined rabble. But he dared not thus leave the mine ungarrisoned. It would be long, indeed, before the Kalmucks could arrive from the north unless the unexpected happened; but so many unexpected and inexplicable things had happened during the last twenty-four hours that he could not take any action that would involve risk either to Lawrence or to the non-combatants at the mine.
As he paced to and fro, watching the Sikhs going quickly about their work, and the servants returning over the drawbridge, laden with what they had gathered from the miners’ quarters, it occurred to him suddenly that if only the aeroplane were equipped for war some of his difficulties would be solved. He had intended to qualify for the aerial corps in the British army, but that dream was over: flying had been to him merely a sport. Could he have foreseen the strange circumstances of the last few days, he would have adapted his machine, not merely for pleasure trips and observation, but for actual offence.
One idea leads to another, and next minute Bob was asking himself whether even now he could not make an attempt to turn the aeroplane to military uses. A few bombs dropped among or near the Kalmucks would put an effective check upon their pursuit of the Pathans. He had no bombs; could he improvise some? There was plenty of dynamite in the little recess behind the house. And in another moment a plan flashed upon his mind. Flinging away the end of his cigarette he hurried to Ditta Lal’s store shed.
“Babu, have you got any small empty tins?” he asked, bursting into the room.
Ditta Lal jumped.
“My nerves are in terrible state, sir,” he said. “Tins! Yes, to be sure: coffee, preserved pears, condensed milk, sardines—or more correctly, bristlings: tins of all sorts, quite an embarrassment.”
“Get me a dozen or two tins with lids: there are several tobacco tins in the house. Fill them nearly to the top with small stones, with a few percussion caps among them: you’ll get them from the havildar. Be as quick as you can.”
“Pardon me, sir, are you intending to lay a mine, floating or otherwise?”
Bob had not waited for the conclusion of the question, but hurried to the little private store behind the house, from which he returned presently with a quantity of dynamite. The Babu was too slow for him. He sent Chunda Beg and Shan Tai hunting for tins, and as they were prepared according to his directions, he carefully filled them up with dynamite and securely fastened the lids. When he had fifteen ready, he put them into a basket, and carried them himself along the pathway to the aeroplane. Fazl had meanwhile got everything ready for another flight.
“You know what a bomb is, Fazl?” said Bob.
The Gurkha grinned.
“Well, these tins are bombs. Put them just below your seat: take care not to drop one. We are going up the river: give me the tins one by one as I ask for them.”
They started. For the first mile or two Bob kept very low over the river, seeing here and there, at long intervals, traces of the fight waged between the Pathans and the Kalmucks—figures lying prone and motionless, others sitting with their backs against the rocks, one or two limping painfully along. Presently he heard the dull cracks of rifles, though as yet he could not see the combatants. As the sounds grew louder, he rose higher: with his explosive cargo on board it was more than ever necessary that he should keep out of range. Experience had already shown him that the aeroplane in full flight was a very difficult object to hit with ordinary weapons; but nothing must be left to chance now.