Chapter the Twenty-Eighth The Last Fight
Lawrence landed in the twilight on his platform. All sounds of combat had ceased. His first care was to see exactly how much petrol was left. There was enough for about twenty minutes’ flight: then the aeroplane would be doomed to inactivity.
“Look over the machine,” he said to Fazl, “and come after me when you have finished. What did you mean about Nurla Bai?”
“He has gone into the river, even as he sent the huzur.”
“You shot him? But no: you did not fire. What happened?”
“He came along with us, sahib. He caught the chassis as we rose, and we were gone before he could let go. He clung to the stay. I cut him down.”
Lawrence’s blood ran cold with horror. In spite of the man’s brutalities and crimes, he could not but feel moved by the terrible fate that had befallen the revolted miner. It was well deserved: yet Lawrence wished that Nurla could have met his death in open fight. He said no more to Fazl, but went along the pathway now enwrapt in darkness, to discover what had happened during his absence, and to give the garrison his promise of relief.
The compounds were deserted. No lights were visible. At first he thought that the men must already have taken refuge in the galleries; but as he came to the end of the pathway he saw them all grouped at the rear of the house under the cliff, behind a mound of tailings. They were very silent. Only a sound like a multitudinous sigh broke from them when he drew near.
“Where’s my brother?” he asked anxiously, as Gur Buksh saluted.
“Here, sahib: he is hurt.”
The group parted, and Lawrence saw Bob with his head and one arm bandaged, reclining in a long chair.
“Nothing very serious, I hope,” said Bob with a smile, as Lawrence bent over him. “A bullet in my arm just below the shoulder, and a whack in the skull from a splinter of rock. Any news, old chap!”
“Yes, thank God! Endicott himself is within less than thirty miles, with three or four hundred men, field pieces and mountain batteries. There’s a medico with him, so we’ll soon put you to rights.”
“Tell the men, will you?”
Lawrence gathered the men about him and quickly gave the information. A company of British soldiers would have received it with a ringing cheer: these Asiatics merely murmured praises to Allah, mingled with triumphant execrations of the enemy.
“It’ll be as much as we can do to hold out until the Major arrives,” said Bob in a low tone. “Is he coming on at once?”
“No, unluckily. His horses were dead beat: he said they must have three or four hours’ rest, and I’m afraid he can’t be here until four or five o’clock in the morning at the earliest. But he has sent some ammunition, and a dozen men are coming in advance on a raft; they should arrive about three o’clock. I intend to meet them a little way up, and bring them in on the aeroplane. I’ve just enough petrol left.”
“That’s good. We’re practically helpless here. They’ve knocked the wall about with their field pieces from the breastwork, and smashed the machine gun. We couldn’t hold the wall any longer. The carbide has given out, so that we can’t make any more acetylene for the searchlight, and the track’s free for them now. I only hope that as they’ve forced the passage they won’t trouble us any more, but go straight ahead in the morning. They little suspect what’s in store for them!”
“They may possibly leave us alone, but they’re hardly human if they don’t try a shot or two at the aeroplane, especially when they discover what has happened to their own.”
“What did happen to it, by the way?”
Lawrence described the incidents of the manoeuvring up and down river, and the extraordinary scene at the turning-place. It was then that he and Bob argued about the cause of the final collapse, almost forgetting their actual circumstances in discussing the scientific problem. They were suddenly recalled to realities, however, by sounds from the opposite bank—the ringing clatter of horses’ hoofs and the rumble of wheels.
“They’re moving their guns up,” said Bob. “No doubt they’ve only been waiting for the dark. Listen! We shall soon know what they mean to do.”
Both chafed at their inability to impose any check upon the movement. Rifle fire from their few men would be ineffective in the darkness; it would moreover be a signal to the gunners to sweep the wall with shell. They were not long in doubt as to the enemy’s intentions. The noises ceased. It was clear that the Kalmucks were going to wreak vengeance upon the garrison of the mine before continuing their march up stream. Bob recalled the old military maxim: never leave an enemy in your rear. At dawn they would no doubt open fire from the guns placed exactly opposite the mine, and as soon as they discovered the aeroplane on its platform beyond the shoulder of the cliff they would smash it to atoms.
“I’ve still a few bombs left,” said Lawrence. “I might destroy their guns if I could only see them. Isn’t there enough acetylene for ten minutes’ light, Bob?”
“Not for one, worse luck. You certainly can’t do anything in the dark. There’s just one chance, though.”
“What’s that?”
“You could light a big fire on the buttress yonder. It might show just enough light for the purpose.”
“I’ll try it. I tell you what: I’ll fire the shed itself, with a lot of combustibles inside. We can easily build another afterwards if Endicott gets rid of the enemy.”
“We shan’t want to do that. If we’re alive to-morrow morning we shan’t think of staying here any longer.”
“Leave the mine, you mean?”
“Yes: take poor old Uncle’s silver ore to India and sell it for what it’s worth. I don’t know how much that will be, but it ought to give us enough money to keep us while we’re looking round for some other job: I’ve had enough of mining. In any case we couldn’t stay here. The place would remind us too much of Uncle and all the tragic horrors.”
“You’re right: though I don’t like the idea of caving in. Now I’ll get some of the men to carry grease and things to the shed. Can Chunda give me some grub? I’m very hungry.”
“We’ve got all our provisions either here or in the galleries. We were very lucky to have so much; it will last for two or three weeks more.”
While Lawrence made his supper, Fyz Ali and three or four other Pathans conveyed to the platform combustibles of all kinds, returning with the ammunition sent by Major Endicott. Then Bob insisted on Lawrence’s sleeping for a few hours. About three o’clock in the morning Lawrence returned with Fazl to the aeroplane. They kindled several fires in the shed, leaving the door open. When the flames gave them light enough, they started the engine and flew off up the river, hearing sounds of commotion among the enemy on the track. Never having flown by night before, Lawrence was rather nervous; but he reached the turning-place safely, wheeled round without mishap, and flew northwards into the stretch of a few hundred yards now illuminated by the blazing shed.
There were four bombs left. Lawrence had instructed Fazl to drop two as they passed over the guns, reserving the other two for use as they returned if they should discover that the first had not been effective. They saw two guns placed on the track just opposite the bridge. The Gurkha, leaning over perilously, let fall two bombs together. There was a terrific crash and a babel of yells; but they could not yet tell what damage had been done. The aeroplane was beyond the illuminated area, and Lawrence had to concentrate his attention on the machine as he flew northwards in the darkness. He felt that he could not risk an attempt to turn until he reached the wide space seven miles down stream, and he was very anxious lest the engine should fail for want of petrol before he could get back. It was quite clear that to bring Major Endicott’s advanced party of twelve into the mine was now impossible. By the time the aeroplane should have reached its platform, if it did so, every ounce of fuel would be used up.
For safety’s sake he rose to a considerable height. The grey light of dawn was stealing over the summits of the hills. He turned and flew back, watching the engine nervously. As soon as he came to the neighbourhood of the mine, he saw the enemy scuttling away from the track into nooks and crannies in the face of the cliff. The sound of the propeller had been the signal for a general sauve qui peut. Fazl dropped his last two bombs opposite the bridge, and then the aeroplane passed into the cloud of smoke drifting up and across the river from the conflagration.
Lawrence saw that the petrol would not last another three minutes. He utilised the expiring power of the engine to rise still higher, so that when it failed he would be at a sufficient altitude to make a long vol plané back to his platform. He had just turned when he detected a lessening of power. The engine began to splutter; then it ceased to work.
It was a terrifying moment. In the darkness he could not read the aneroid that indicated his altitude. He did not know whether the angle of the descent which had already begun would bring him to earth before he reached the platform. Gently, easily as the machine swooped down, it might land him on the track where he would be completely at the mercy of the enemy. He looked anxiously ahead. The flaming shed came in sight, but dimmed by the pall of smoke that lay over the bottom of the gorge. He steered into the smoke towards the platform, but, half blinded by the reek, he missed it, and only by a sudden movement of the lever, that was itself almost disastrous, did he save the machine from dashing against the cliff. Luckily the smoke hid him from the enemy. By another dexterous feat of steering he rounded the bend, and in a few seconds dropped with a quivering shock upon the fence that separated the Pathans’ from the Kalmucks’ compound. With every nerve jarring he sprang out of his seat. Fazl followed him, and between them they dragged the aeroplane from its uneasy perch and laid it behind the fence. Even now his chief thought was to protect from the enemy’s fire the machine which had served him so well. Only when it was quite invisible to them did he hasten across the compound, scale the second fence in the darkness, and rejoin his brother in the sheltered nook behind the house.
“Just managed it!” he panted, throwing himself down. “The engine failed; I missed the platform, and came down on the fence. The chassis is rather rumpled, but no other damage done. I should have been wild if the machine had come utterly to grief.”
“It’s more important that you’re safe, old boy,” said Bob. “Did you succeed?”
“Morning will show. Fazl declares that he hit the guns; I don’t know. I wish I could have brought those men of Endicott’s in. I dare say they heard me as I passed over the track, and are wondering why I didn’t come down for them.”
“We can’t help it. I only hope the Major himself started in time.”
Dawn was stealing down into the valley. Ganda Singh crept on all fours to the wall and peeped over. In a few minutes he returned and reported that there was nothing opposite the bridge but a mass of broken rock and metal. The guns had been destroyed. But the Kalmucks were scattered along the track between the bridge and the bend, crouching behind rocks and entrenchments which they had thrown up during the night. Apparently they were unaware of the descent of the aeroplane, and dreaded another attack by bombs.
It was hardly light when a fierce bombardment broke out from the bend. Shells crashed upon the northern wall, and whistled into the deserted compounds, scattering earth in all directions, and filling the air with noisome fumes.
“We’re safe here for the present,” said Bob, whose face looked pinched and pale in the light of the morning. “But when they find we don’t reply, and there’s no other attack from the aeroplane, they’ll bring their guns along and pound us from the opposite bank. When it gets too hot we must go into the galleries. Before they can repair the bridge and cross, Endicott ought to be here.”
He had scarcely spoken when a shell plumped into the house, and set it on fire. The garrison were enveloped in a mantle of smoke. But as the smoke drifted across the river, the Kalmucks, taking courage from the quiescence of the defenders, rushed forward from their shelters and began to throw a light framework over the torrent between the rock in midstream and the end of the ruined bridge. The sudden cessation of the bombardment gave Bob an inkling of what was to come; next moment loud yells from beyond the river made it clear.
“They’re coming at us,” he said quietly to Lawrence. “They must have made a bridge. We can’t retreat now. You must do your best, old chap.”
Though Lawrence begged him to remain on his chair, Bob got up and accompanied the little band as they rushed towards the river wall to meet the storming party. They were no more than thirty; the track swarmed with the enemy. The improvised bridge would not support more than thirty at a time, so that the attackers and the defenders of the wall were equal in point of number; but the Kalmucks had posted many sharpshooters in the rocks above the track, who could fire over their comrades’ heads and pick off the garrison manning the wall and the gap where the end of the drawbridge had been.
It was a fierce and terrible struggle hand to hand. The defenders could deal only with the storming party; they had no leisure to attend to the half-concealed marksmen among the rocks. With bayonet, clubbed rifle, sword and miner’s pick they sought desperately to stem the attack. Gur Buksh had distributed the Sikhs among the miners to give them steadiness; but the Pathans, inspired by the fury of their own leaders, Fyz Ali and Muhammad Din, needed no encouragement from the disciplined men. Shan Tai and Chunda Beg had thrown themselves into the fray with picks. Of all the little community only Ditta Lai and the Bengali servants remained in the rear; they were physically unfit to bear a part in the great fight. It was much to their credit that, at this crisis in affairs, they did not cower in frantic terror, but toiled hard to raise a rampart of boxes, tins, and bags of earth opposite the mouth of the gallery.
Regardless of the fusillade, Bob and Lawrence went from end to end of the line, cheering the men, rallying them when they showed signs of being forced back by the onrush of the yelling enemy. Again and again the assault was beaten back. At one moment the end of the bridge was heaped high with the men thrust back from the wall. The river received many dead and wounded forms, and bore down some who, though unhurt, had been hurled or jostled off the bridge. But the garrison were dropping man by man. Gur Buksh, conspicuous by his height, fell to a bullet. Ganda Singh fought on, though a bayonet had transfixed his arm. Fyz Ali was shot as he was in the act of bringing the butt of his rifle down upon the head of a big Kalmuck who was forcing his way through the narrow gap into the compound. Bob, fainting from his former hurts, sank down unconscious among his wounded men. As yet unscathed, Lawrence stood in the gap, and the number of prostrate forms in front of him bore witness to his unfaltering vigour. Next to him Fazl, whose low stature rendered him immune from the sniping shots of the enemy, darted forth whenever he saw an opportunity of using his kukuri, and sprang nimbly back before he could be touched.
But Lawrence’s heart sank as he saw his devoted little band becoming less and less. He had no reserves. There was no limit to the number that the enemy could throw against him. The crowd on the bridge never diminished. As soon as one man fell his place was taken from behind. From sheer exhaustion the defenders could not stem the torrent many minutes longer. Their arms were aching and numbed almost to the point of paralysis. The frequent alarms and broken rest of seven days and nights were telling on their hardy frames. Lawrence, swinging his rifle like a flail, expected at every stroke that his muscles would refuse to lift the weapon for another. Missing Bob’s cheering cries, he gave a rapid glance round, and seeing his brother on the ground, he was just making up his mind that the time had come for a general retreat to the galleries, their last line of defence, when there came the sudden crackle of rifles from a new direction. It was on the right. There was a cheer, very different from the shrill cries of the Kalmucks, and then confused cries all around. The firing from the rocks had ceased. At a second volley the Kalmucks on the bridge halted in surprise and hesitation. Lawrence guessed what had happened. Seizing the moment, he shouted to his men to follow him, and springing from the wall, led them in a fierce rush on to the bridge. They swept the enemy before them, cutting down one, tumbling another into the stream.
On the track a disorderly terrified crowd were rushing past the bridge towards the north, masking the fire of their own guns at the bend. Behind them at a gallop came fifty sowars of the Border force, led by Major Endicott himself. They swept on through the panic-stricken mob, upon whom, as the horsemen passed, the garrison from their post on the bridge opened a withering fire. Major Endicott and his troopers pushed on and on, driving the enemy, some before them, some into the river, some up the rugged hillside. They did not halt until they reached the guns. There were a few minutes of desperate fighting about them; then the gunners were cut down, and the swarms behind were in full flight down the track. At a word from the Major half the sowars leapt from their horses, slewed the guns round, and sent shell after shell among the frenzied crowd until the whole track within sight was clear of living men. And Bob woke to consciousness to hear his brother’s voice lead the men in a ringing cheer. The mine was saved; the enemy had been held in check for a week; every man had done his duty.