Chapter the Twenty-Third Capturing a Gun
The aeroplane with Lawrence and the Gurkha on board was soon flying down the river, at a much greater height than usual—a wise precaution on Lawrence’s part, as was proved in a few moments. Even before it came above the bend it was assailed with a volley, and as it passed Bob was alarmed at the continuous crackle of rifles. It lasted only half a minute, but it was so loud as to smother altogether the hum of the propeller, and he almost repented of having allowed his brother to go when he realised the danger to which he was exposed. He had lost sight of the aeroplane; the fusillade had ceased; and the only indication, and that a negative one, that the machine and its occupants had not been brought to the ground was the absence of clamour beyond the bend. If the enemy had been successful, he thought, surely they would have hailed their triumph with shouts of delight.
Reassured by the comparative silence, he remained behind the parapet, and informed Gur Buksh of his intention to reoccupy the breastwork on the farther bank.
“It is well, sahib,” said the veteran quietly.
“Will the men follow me?” asked Bob anxiously.
“To the jaws of the pit, sahib. Where the sahib leads they will follow: even the men who ran away are now eager to wipe out their disgrace.”
“Then I will go and form my party. We shall not move until the chota sahib gives a signal.”
He found that the havildar had spoken truly. There was no lack of volunteers. He soon arranged his little party of twenty, and posted them in the shelter of the wall until the time should come for letting down the bridge and leading them across it.
The minutes passed very slowly. Lawrence would not think it necessary to push his reconnaissance as far as the enemy’s encampment. He might perhaps fly thirty miles, and then return. This would take something less than an hour. If he should discover the field guns within a short distance of the mine, the explosion of his bombs might be expected much earlier.
Half an hour passed. There had been no sound from up stream; no sign of activity among the enemy. Bob began to feel more hopeful. They had apparently met with great obstacles to the passage of the guns. He was momentarily expecting to hear the hum of the returning aeroplane when, with a suddenness that took him all aback, there was a tremendous roar, followed in a second or two by a terrific crash just beyond the Pathan compound. Turning in consternation to discover the cause of it, he saw a great mass of the cliff falling amid a cloud of dust and smoke upon the wooden pathway, and plunging into the river beneath. Such destruction could only be the effect of a shell. Beyond doubt one at least of the field guns had been brought into position behind the enemy’s breastwork at the bend.
This fact filled him with as much dismay as amazement. It was not surprising that the enemy had placed their gun without his knowledge. They would, of course, have been careful to mask it until they were ready to open fire. But why had Lawrence or the Gurkha not seen it? Could it be that the aeroplane had been damaged and brought down after all?
While he was in a painful state of anxiety, there was another roar, and a second shell burst on the cliff, just beyond the Pathan gallery. He ran to the northern wall and peered through one of the loopholes. Smoke hung above the enemy’s breastwork, but there was not a man to be seen, so that rifle fire was useless. He ordered Gur Buksh to fire the machine gun. The havildar’s aim was good; chips of rock flew from the breastwork; and Bob thought he saw the muzzle of a gun disappear. His attention was immediately drawn from it by the sight of the aeroplane flying round the bend, and with the thrill of relief at his brother’s safety came the expectation of hearing an explosion and seeing signs of havoc about the breastwork. But the aeroplane flew high over the scene, passed it, and disappeared up the river. There had been no explosion. Why had not Lawrence dropped a bomb?
Hardly had he asked himself this question when a third shell burst from the breastwork. It was better aimed than the other two. Instead of striking the cliff, it hit the northern wall of the compound, carrying away several yards of the metal parapet, scattering jagged fragments of iron and stone in every direction, then flew over the heads of the garrison and plunged into the earthwork at the southern boundary of the compound, within a few yards of the spot where the sortie party were gathered. Bob was almost at his wits’ end. No defences could withstand a bombardment at such close quarters. None of the garrison had as yet been wounded, but he could see by their cowering attitude and the terror written upon their faces that their courage had been shocked out of them. Only Gur Buksh and the other Sikhs stood immovable at their posts.
A few minutes after the report of the gun, the aeroplane again came flying down stream. Lawrence, then, had not landed. Bob was in a maze of bewilderment. But he was suddenly aroused from his stupor by a sharp detonation. It was not the report of a gun. Then there were loud cries and yells from the direction of the enemy, and looking through the loophole he saw a smother of dust above the breastwork. Lawrence had dropped a bomb at last, and again was out of sight.
This was to have been the signal for the sortie; but after what had happened Bob felt that it would be sheer madness to lead his men along a stretch of the track commanded by the field guns. He doubted, indeed, whether their courage would face the task. It was only common prudence to wait for a second signal. He could not see what damage the bomb had done; whether it had only temporarily frightened the enemy. But Lawrence would not hesitate to hurl another bomb among them; and believing that, guns or no guns, they must be demoralized if attacked a second time from the air, Bob hastened across the compound, ordered the bridge to be lowered, and went to the twenty men huddling under cover of the wall.
He allowed no trace of mental perturbation to show itself in his bearing.
“The time has come!” he said quietly to the men. “Lawrence Sahib is driving the enemy away. There are no more shots from their gun, you see. We shall soon hear another explosion; then you will follow me, and in five minutes we shall be masters of our breastwork.”
Ganda Singh, who was among the party, translated his words to the men. The cessation of gun fire and Bob’s confident manner somewhat restored their courage. They formed up, grasping their weapons nervously, and waited in panting eagerness, mingled with trepidation, for the expected signal.
It seemed a long time in coming. Bob knew that Lawrence had had to fly several miles down stream before he could turn. It came at last. Again sounded the sharp crash; again the air was filled with cries, in which there was no note of triumph: and Bob, with a cheery “Now, my men!” dashed across the bridge with the swarthy mountaineers at his heels. Reaching the other side, they turned to the left and raced across the open space formerly occupied by the miners’ huts. Bob was only half conscious that the aeroplane was flying in the opposite direction high above his head. They were met neither by shells nor by bullets, and only when they sank breathless behind the shelter of the breastwork did a few rifle shots patter around them. Then all was quiet again.
Whatever the cause of the astonishing delay on Lawrence’s part, his intervention now had been effectual, at any rate for a time. How far effectual? Bob wondered. He got up and looked over the parapet towards the enemy’s breastwork a hundred yards away. They had apparently deserted it. Some, no doubt, had been slain by the explosions. Had the survivors fled in panic far away, or were they merely lying low beyond the bend? Then his eye caught what had escaped his observation from the greater distance of the compound wall. There were two embrasures a foot or two below the top of the breastwork, contrived by removing some of the loose rocks. But he saw no sign of guns. Perhaps the enemy in their retirement had dragged with them the one which had fired.
He heard the hum of the aeroplane again. Lawrence had still not landed, but was returning, perhaps to observe the extent of his work, perhaps to complete it. He was flying much lower than before. A sudden idea flashed into Bob’s mind. The enemy’s breastwork was only a hundred yards distant. Why not attempt to rush it under cover of the aeroplane; and if in the hurry of their flight they had left their gun, capture it and bring it to the mine?
His thought had hardly crystallized into a resolution when he heard two explosions in rapid succession, followed by yells and one or two rifle shots. The sound seemed to come from some distance beyond the bend. His mind was made up. He told Ganda Singh his intention, and could scarcely wait while the havildar translated his orders. The men responded with a “Hai! hai!” of delight. Like Bob himself they were worked up to a high pitch of excitement. Their rush had been successful. The risks were forgotten, or remembered only to be scorned. They were twenty against an unknown number, but none counted the odds. “Hai! hai!” they shouted, as their leader leapt round the angle of the entrenchment. They followed close upon him as he dashed over the intervening hundred yards of broken ground. No one faltered. In less than half a minute they were in possession of the enemy’s breastwork, and at that instant there was another explosion far down the track.
Bob’s glance fell first upon a score of prostrate forms scattered on the ground in the neighbourhood. Then with a thrill of delight he saw two field guns. One had been struck from its carriage, and lay near the brink of the stream. The other had apparently been withdrawn from its embrasure, but abandoned under the demoralizing shock of an explosion. Bob ran to the first. A moment’s inspection showed him that it was irretrievably ruined. Calling two of the men, with their aid he toppled it into the river. The other was still workable. Looking around, he spied near the breastwork a number of shells which had escaped destruction by the bombs.
“Can you fire a gun?” he asked Ganda Singh eagerly.
“I am a gunner, sahib.”
“Then slew it round. We’ll turn it on the enemy.”
He had remarked a number of the Kalmucks collected on the track some distance away. As he spoke, bullets began to whistle around, and two of his men were hit. Quickly the gun was turned round. Ganda Singh discovered that it was already loaded, and in another few seconds a shell sang on its deadly flight towards the enemy. They fled, to be pursued by another shell as soon as Ganda Singh could reload; and with this second shot the track was cleared for half a mile down stream. And then the aeroplane came whirring past overhead.
As he watched it, Bob became aware that the afternoon was drawing towards evening. In an hour the valley would be gloomy, in two hours it would be shrouded in darkness. For the present, while daylight lasted, there was little fear of the enemy attacking. They would not face their own gun backed by the machine gun of the garrison. But he felt that with the fall of night the circumstances would be changed. His feeble searchlight scarcely illuminated the space between the bridge and the bend; beyond the bend it gave no light whatever. In the darkness the enemy might creep up to within a short distance of their captured breastwork and carry it with a determined rush, in spite of the gun. It was true that the narrowness of the track would allow the approach of only a few men abreast; but they could be supported by a constant succession of reinforcements, coming up like waves of the sea until the defenders were worn out. It seemed to Bob the prudent course to withdraw his men and the gun to the mine, and place the latter in position beside the machine gun. However, it was bad tactics to abandon a defensive position before retirement was absolutely necessary, so he decided to remain where he was for a little while longer, in the hope that Lawrence would land and, joining him, explain the actual condition of affairs down stream.
About a quarter of an hour after the aeroplane had passed, Bob saw Lawrence running down the track towards him.
“That’s what I hoped you would do,” were Lawrence’s first words as they met. “Capture the guns, I mean.”
“Yes, we’ve got one: the other’s ruined and in the river. But we’ve had a narrow escape from being battered to pieces. Why didn’t you begin bombing before?”
“I’ll tell you. We were pretty well peppered, as you saw, when we flew past here down stream. It may have been because that bothered us, and Fazl was hit—I didn’t know it at the time—that we didn’t see the guns they had dragged up. Or perhaps it was because they are so like the rocks in colour—and we didn’t expect they’d be here already. Anyway, we didn’t see them, and it makes me mad to think what a squeak you’ve had. I ought to have seen them.”
“That’s bosh! it’s precious difficult to see anything at that speed. But go on.”
“We saw the men, of course, but we were soon out of range. The planes are simply riddled.”
“Fazl not much hurt, I hope?”
“No: the bullet went through the fleshy part of his arm, and he didn’t say a word about it till we landed just now. On our way down we saw several teams of ponies at different parts of the track, bringing grub up, no doubt; and several bodies of mounted troops on the march; but never a sign of the guns. I flew on till we came to the place where the Major and I saw them: then thinking I must have missed them, I turned back. You may imagine how I felt when, about two miles away, I suppose, I heard the first shot. It’s so different from the sound of the machine gun that I couldn’t mistake it. I told Fazl to get ready to drop a bomb as soon as we came up to the guns. He did so, but I didn’t hear an explosion. He yelled out that it had fallen into the river, but of course we were past before there was time to shy another. I came back as quickly as I could, and my heart was in my mouth when I saw smoke in the compound. Luckily Fazl’s next shots were better, and jolly glad I am that we managed to stampede the fellows and give you a chance.”
“You were just in time, old man. They did more damage to the cliff than to us, though.”
“Yes: the path is simply heaped with rubbish. Coming back it was like scrambling over shingle. But a few hours’ work will clear the lot away. Now what’s the next thing?”
“As it’s getting dusk I propose to withdraw the gun to the mine. But we must hold this breastwork as long as we can, and it occurs to me that if we alter its angle a little we can enfilade it from our own breastwork when it becomes necessary to fall back on that. It will still protect us from attack down stream, owing to the bend.”
“Isn’t it worth while to block up the track again?”
“It would use up too much dynamite. Our stock is getting appallingly low. We may want it all for bombs. Besides, if we block up the track farther down we shan’t see our enemy.”
“But I can always scout in the aeroplane.”
“You forget that our petrol isn’t unlimited. I had a look in the shed this morning, and there isn’t much left. The paraffin you brought only replaced what you lost from the leaky cans. We shall have to economize now, and use the aeroplane only when we must.”
“Very well then. If you see about altering the breastwork I’ll get the gun dragged in. And there are these poor wounded wretches. Their moans are horrible. What can we do for them?”
“We mustn’t take them into our compound. We haven’t food enough to support prisoners. I have it! We’ll send off the Kalmuck prisoners we’ve got, and tell them that they can bring up a dozen of their friends under flag of truce to carry off their wounded. That’ll relieve us of all responsibility. And now let’s get to business. We haven’t too much time.”
These arrangements were duly carried out. While Lawrence escorted the gun to the mine, Bob set the men to pull down the breastwork, and re-construct it so that it stood almost perpendicular to his own entrenchment a hundred yards up stream. In its new position it would be of very little use to the enemy should they re-capture it, for on whichever side of it they happened to be, they would be swept by the fire of the men posted at the other.
By the time the work was completed darkness had fallen. Then Lawrence dismissed the Kalmuck prisoners as he had suggested, and followed them to the breastwork to have a final consultation with his brother.
“I’ll hold on here until midnight,” said Bob. “I had a good sleep during the day. Tell Ganda Singh to train the captured gun on the bend; if there’s an attack he and Gur Buksh can play on the track and cover our retirement.”
“I’m not sure whether it wouldn’t be better to bring it out again and place it behind our entrenchments.”
“No, that would never do. The searchlight isn’t powerful enough to be of much good; and the position might be rushed before the gun could come into play. It’s too valuable for us to risk that. It would be a very different matter if we had enough men to hold the breastwork and really dispute the advance of the enemy. We can’t do that. If they seriously push their attack we shall have to evacuate the position and bolt for the mine, and the gun would only be a hindrance. Now you get back. Send over some food for us, and then go to bed.”
“I shan’t take my clothes off. Don’t hold on too long, Bob, if they do come up.”
“Don’t be nervous, young ’un. We’ve had uncommon good luck so far, and I’m inclined to think the enemy won’t be in a hurry to tackle us. Those bombs must have been a horrid surprise to them. We may congratulate ourselves on a good day for the first, anyhow.”