Chapter the Twenty-Fifth The Fight at the Bend
At early morning, after a quiet night, Lawrence sent one of the men back to announce the approach of a flag of truce. Bob hurried at once to the breastwork. Three Kalmucks were advancing along the track, one of them apparently an officer. No others of the enemy were in sight. The envoys halted within a short distance of the entrenchment, and the officer began to speak in a loud shrill voice.
“What does he say?” asked Bob.
“I can’t make it out,” replied Lawrence. “Do any of you men understand him?”
The men, Sikhs and Pathans, acknowledged that they did not, whereupon Bob made signs to the Kalmuck to wait, and despatched a man to fetch Shan Tai, who as a western Chinaman might be able to act as interpreter.
When the cook arrived, and heard what was required of him, he shouted a few words to the officer, who responded with a speech of some length, very rapidly uttered. The purport of it was to propose terms. He offered the garrison the honours of war if they would surrender the mine and make no further opposition to the passage of the army up the valley. They would be allowed to depart unmolested, with bag and baggage; and the two white men, if they pleased, might return to their own country by way of Central Asia, through the Kalmuck lines.
Bob’s reply was made without hesitation. He pointed out that the Kalmucks were the aggressors. Hostilities had not been of his seeking. All that he had desired was to live at peace and pursue his occupation as miner, whereby he gave employment to several score of workmen, including many of the officer’s fellow-countrymen.
“We have been wantonly attacked,” he said, “without warning and without provocation, and we are resolved to defend the property of the late owner of the mine, who was murdered by a man acting apparently in collusion with the force to which you belong. I reject your terms. But in order to avoid further bloodshed, I am willing to refer the matter to the Sirkar, and will abide by the decision of the Viceroy of the Emperor of India.”
The officer had evidently come prepared for a refusal, for he at once put forward a modified proposal. He offered to leave the Englishman undisturbed at the mine if he on his side would refrain from attacking the army as it marched past. Bob saw the dilemma in which he was placed. The question was no longer a personal but an imperial one. Rejection of the offer would imply that he stood as an outpost of the Empire. But his answer was equally clear and emphatic. He declined to make terms of any kind with the enemy. The Kalmuck returned to his own lines, manifestly chagrined at the failure of his mission.
Bob expected that the rejection of the enemy’s proposals would result in a more sustained and vigorous attack, and as soon as the officer had departed he set his men to complete the repairing of the breastwork which Lawrence had begun in the night. Presently the Kalmucks opened fire with rifles and field guns, and throughout the day the bombardment and sniping from the rocks intermittently continued; but there was no further attempt to rush the position. In the intervals Bob had fresh stones brought up for the repair of the breastwork, which had been considerably knocked about. The casualties among the garrison, however, were slight, and at the end of the fourth day Bob felt that he could reasonably congratulate himself on the success of his stand.
But he was still very anxious. Though the enemy had shown surprising sluggishness, he did not flatter himself that they had any idea of abandoning their task. More and more he wondered why they did not attack during the night, when, so far as they knew, the advantage would be wholly with them. For the first time since the commencement of the struggle he failed to sleep well, waking frequently, then dozing off again.
About four o’clock in the morning he was roused by the sound of two rifle shots in quick succession. Springing fully clothed from his bed, he rushed into the compound, called up the detachment whose turn it was to take duty at the breastwork, and led them at the double across the bridge and down the track. By the time he reached the position he found a furious fight in progress. The two scouts whom Lawrence had thrown out to give warning if the enemy moved had heard the tramp of men advancing, fired their rifles as a signal, and run back to join their own party. They were so closely followed by the Kalmucks, whose forms could be dimly seen in the twilight, that Lawrence had been unable to fire at once for fear of hitting the scouts, so that the enemy were within a few yards of the breastwork before they met with any resistance.
Reinforced by Bob’s men, the party now opened fire with deadly effect, but the attackers were so numerous that the rush was scarcely checked. There was only time for a second volley before the head of the enemy’s column surged up against the breastwork. They had held their fire until they were able to see the dark forms of their adversaries. Then their shots, fired point-blank, laid low several of the Sikhs and Pathans. Supported by the swarms in their rear they began to clamber up the rampart, in the teeth of the bristling bayonets opposed to them. On their side was the advantage of numbers: on the side of the defenders that of position; but Bob recognised in a minute that his men, ply their bayonets as they might, must soon be overwhelmed by sheer weight.
Suddenly a beam of light flashed over and past the scene of the conflict, resting on the track immediately beyond the breastwork, which was crowded with yelling Kalmucks pressing on to support their comrades. Gur Buksh in the compound had switched on the searchlight. It was not the blinding glare associated with the searchlights of forts and battleships, but it had sufficient illuminating power to show up the disorderly mass of the charging force.
For a moment it made no alteration in the conditions. Bob and his brother, with barely a score of men left to them, were hard pushed to hold the breastwork. Faster than they could hurl the enemy down at the point of the bayonet, others swarmed up. Bob was on the point of shouting an order to retire to his own original breastwork up the track when, above the shouts and yells of the combatants, sounded the characteristic rattle of the machine gun. Instantly he recognised how this might operate in his favour. The gun could not be trained on the men who were actually at grips with him, but in a few seconds it had swept a huge gap in the column advancing in serried ranks along the track, and deprived his immediate assailants of their support.
He at once took advantage of this fortunate diversion. Instead of retiring, he cried to the men to stand firm, and the desperate work at the rampart went on. For some time the Kalmucks there did not know or failed to appreciate what was happening behind them. They still pressed on and up, and but for the timely arrival of another dozen men despatched by Gur Buksh from the mine they might even now have carried the position. The reinforcement turned the scale. Bob called on his men for a final effort, and he and Lawrence flashed their revolvers in the very faces of the crowd. Fired by their example the men thrust and jabbed with redoubled energy, and in a few minutes hurled the last of the assailants back on to the track.
They found themselves in a terrifying quandary. The space between them and their baffled comrades was illuminated by the fatal band of light. The machine gun had ceased to play on the track when it was cleared of the enemy. Now there were forty or fifty men trapped in the dark wedge-like area between the beam of the searchlight and the breastwork. They knew that if any of them dared to attempt a rush back they would be the target for innumerable bullets. One or two did rashly hazard a retreat, but as soon as they encroached upon the luminous band the gun’s rattle scarcely gave them warning of the shots that fell among them almost instantaneously. The rest cowered in the darkness, waiting for death.
Bob had to hold his men with a tight rein to prevent them from leaping the breastwork and massacring their despairing foes. He had thought of a better way. Fyz Ali could make himself understood by them. Through his lips Bob told them that if they laid down their arms they might retire, taking their wounded with them. They eagerly accepted the proffered mercy, but shrank from acting on it, until they were assured that a message had been sent to the havildar to refrain from firing at them. Then, utterly cowed, they handed their weapons over the breastwork, gathered up such of their comrades as were yet alive, and carried them in all haste across the illuminated space and out of sight.
This was an auspicious beginning for the fifth day. It was the greatest triumph that the garrison had as yet achieved, and the men were proportionably elated. The enemy on the other hand were dejected and despondent. For some hours they remained at a distance. In the afternoon, however, they resumed their skirmishing tactics, and under cover of a renewed bombardment crept nearer and nearer to the breastwork. When their field guns had to cease fire for fear of hitting the skirmishers, Bob decided to venture a charge, and led twenty of his best men in a sudden leap over the barricade. The enemy did not wait for the touch of the terrible bayonets. They fired a scattered volley and fled. A lucky shot from Ganda Singh’s rifle brought down one of the rearmost, and he rolled down the rocks on to the track. Acting on the unconsidered impulse of the moment Bob sent two of the Sikhs to make him prisoner, and when Lawrence shortly afterwards returned to the compound for his afternoon sleep, he took the wounded man with him, and had his injuries attended to.
He proved to be an officer. Interrogating him through Shan Tai, Lawrence learnt that the general himself was on his way to the mine to make a personal inspection of the position. The Kalmuck, who seemed grateful for the attentions shown him, advised Lawrence to yield. His people’s comparative inactivity that day was only preliminary to a crushing blow. “Without your flying machine,” he said, “you would by this time have been destroyed. That gave you an advantage. Soon the advantage will be on our side.”
“Will the presence of your general do so much for you?” asked Lawrence.
The man refused to say any more; but his manner, and the half-smile upon his face, gave Lawrence an uneasy feeling that the Mongol general must have a trump card to play. He was so much impressed by the officer’s hint of a great stroke impending that instead of seeking his bed, he hurried back to inform Bob.
“What can he mean?” he asked.
“I can think of nothing but that the general is bringing up large reinforcements, and means to throw them upon us and carry the position by sheer weight of numbers. He won’t care how many lives he chucks away, and everything depends on whether his men’s discipline is good enough to stand the racket. I don’t know how far these Kalmucks have a contempt for death like the Japanese.”
“Don’t you think I’d better fly a few miles down the track and see what is going on?”
“But you’re tired out. You’ve been at it since midnight.”
“That’s all right. I shall sleep easier when I know what we’ve got to expect.”
“Very well then. Don’t go far, and keep high.”
The appearance of the aeroplane over the track, with Lawrence and Fazl on board, was a signal for the enemy to scurry to cover. Not a shot was fired; their only thought was to escape the terrible bombs which they associated with the flying machine. But Lawrence did not intend to use his bombs. What he saw, or Fazl reported to him, proved that his stock of missiles was insufficient for any greater effect than to retard, for a few hours at the most, the inevitable crisis. Two field guns were in position at the enemy’s advanced entrenchment. Near by, men had been engaged in constructing platforms for other guns, until the sight of the aeroplane sent them to cover. Farther down the track, at intervals, five or six similar weapons were being dragged up; to destroy them all, even if he were lucky enough in his aim to do so, would exhaust his stock of bombs, and he felt that he must hold some in reserve for the ultimate defence of the mine.
The track, as far as he could see it, was almost choked with men and animals. The men scattered as well as they could when they saw the aeroplane; some shots were fired at it, harmlessly. It was impossible for Lawrence to guess the magnitude of the reinforcement that was being pushed forward; but it seemed to him that several regiments must have been sent on from the main army. The bodies of mounted men were separated by long convoys of provisions and ammunition, carried on the backs of mules and camels. It almost appeared as if a regular advance of the whole force had begun. The Kalmuck general was clearly confident of his power to break the resistance of the little band that had hitherto withstood his passage.
Lawrence flew as far as the bridge; it seemed useless to go farther. He had seen what he had expected to see: a vast and overwhelming force. But he had obtained no definite clue to the meaning of the captive officer’s vague hint of a master stroke. That the enemy had a crushing superiority in numbers he had known all along: there was nothing to indicate that they had anything more than the advantage of numbers still. The presence of their general might act as a stimulus; but the nature of the position precluded any marked change in their mode of operations. It was essentially a position that could be won only by dogged, unfaltering determination: the issue depended on the fighting man, not on the tactician.
Perhaps if Lawrence had continued his flight to the plain on which the main army was encamped, he or Fazl might have noticed one slight change since his former visit in Major Endicott’s company. A field telegraph had been laid down, stretching away to the north. This might well have escaped his observation from the great altitude to which he must of necessity have risen. Even if he had seen it, probably it would have suggested nothing more than one of the ordinary accompaniments of an army in the field. Yet that single wire was the clue to the Kalmuck’s cryptic warning.
On returning to the mine his report to Bob was necessarily disappointing. It was clear that everything still depended on blocking the enemy’s advance. If they could once establish themselves on the southern side of the bend, and bring their guns to bear directly on the compounds, a few hours’ bombardment would render the place untenable: it would be the beginning of the end. Against it the garrison were almost helpless. They had only ten rounds of ammunition for the captured field gun; and though the machine gun was in better case, not even the bravest of men—and Gur Buksh was that—could for long work his gun under the deadly fire of a whole park of artillery.
“Is there any possible way of strengthening our breastwork?” asked Lawrence, as with sinking hearts they discussed the situation.
“We can erect a second rampart in the night,” suggested Bob. “It would take them a little longer to knock to pieces, and give us time. Every minute gained is valuable. You see, they can’t bring their guns into direct line with the mine until they’ve driven us away, they can’t do that without charging, and they can’t charge without ceasing fire temporarily.”
“Yes, I see that, but with four or five field guns at work they’ll soon smash even a double breastwork, and then the way’s clear for a charge. I wish I had bombed their guns now.”
“You can do it to-morrow morning. I don’t want to spend our last dynamite till absolutely the last moment. To-morrow’s the seventh day. If the Chief has been able to keep his word we shall be reinforced some time during the day, and then——”
“You say ‘if.’ There’s a doubt about it, isn’t there? I’ve felt it all along.”
“There is, of course. He may not have been able to spare the men. But hang it all! what’s the good of looking on the dark side? We’ve held our own for a week, and even if we’re smashed in the end I bet the delay is worth a good deal to India. The loss of time is a serious matter for the enemy. But for us the whole twenty thousand of them would be now on the flank of our army. I can’t imagine any force of ours of the same size being checked in this way by a mere handful of men in a gorge. I dare say the reason is that the Kalmucks aren’t used to hill fighting. They’re best in a cavalry raid; here their horses are only a nuisance, and they’re rather slow to adapt themselves to the conditions. But they’ve had a week to get used to them; and the worst of it is that our fellows, plucky as they are, are pretty nearly worn out.”
“Do you think they’ll jib if relief doesn’t come?”
“What’s the good? They’d only be massacred. They’ll fight to the last gasp.... I say, I’ve got an idea. There’s plenty of wire knocking about the mine: let’s make a couple of wire entanglements and set them up in the night, just beyond the breastwork. If we take care the enemy won’t hear us; they certainly won’t see us.”
“Wouldn’t they notice them when they make their rush?”
“That’s possible, of course; but I rather fancy they’ll be so hot to get at us that they won’t. The wire won’t show up much against the background of rock. Anyhow, it’s worth trying. Any check would give us the chance to pepper them from the breastwork, and judging by what we’ve seen already they’ll be in a panic that they’ll take some time to recover from. Now you must get a sleep, so go back to the mine and tell Gur Buksh to get all the wire he can and set all the men to work; it won’t be the first time he’s had such a job, you may be sure.”
When Lawrence had arranged this with the havildar, and was proceeding to the house, he noticed Ditta Lal walking with an air of dejection about the compound. The Babu’s hands were clasped behind his back; his eyes were bent on the ground, or rather on the intervening promontory of his person. He looked up as Lawrence drew near.
“Gigantic undertaking, sir,” he said sorrowfully.
“Pretty stiff, certainly,” replied Lawrence.
“Stronger word is requisite in this exigent, sir. Such task transcends the topmost rung of art. Without excessive reverence for dictum of bloated antiquity, I hold with him who sings ‘born not made.’”
“Well, we can only do our best,” said Lawrence, puzzled by the Babu’s words.
“What shadows we are, what shadows we pursue!” sighed Ditta Lal. “After mountainous travail I produce splendiferous line; I rack my cranium for colleague or successor; but final word, whose function is to charm attentive ear, eludes, evades, crumps. To wit: ’And batters blackguards with his boisterous bomb!’—line perfect in harmony and melody and all that; but when I run through alphabet for rhyme—com, dom, fom, gom, hom, and so on till I come to blank wall at zom: not a word, sir, that fulfils mutual demand of sound and sense—not one word.”
“What on earth are you gassing about, Babu?” asked Lawrence, who had not heard of his previous conversation with Bob.
“Of what, sir, but task entrusted to unworthy servant by honourable brother, to compose song of victory, ode, epic, or what not, in celebration of happy and glorious achievement about to be consummated! But I will not despair; nil desperandum; as you truly remark, we can but do our best; resources of civilisation as represented by B.A. degree of Calcutta University are not exhausted; something attempted, something done, shall earn my night’s repose, of which I shall be jolly and unmistakably glad, for agony of expressing thoughts too deep for tears wrings honest brow, sir.”
Lawrence feared that the stress of the situation was making the Babu mad; but he spoke a sympathetic word, and passed on.