Fix Bay'nets: The Regiment in the Hills

The lads were as steady as the most exacting officer could desire; and though the two sides of the narrow, winding defile were lined with the enemy, who made good use of their clumsy jezails, of whose long range several of the Fusiliers had had bitter experience, the deadly fire which searched out every sheltering crag was too much for the Dwats, who were retiring as fast as the difficult nature of the ground would allow.

Bracy felt that, the enemy was beaten, and knew that the fierce tribes-men would be only too glad to escape as soon as they could: but as the tight had gone against them, their supposed to be secure hiding-places were one by one growing untenable as the Fusiliers advanced; and consequently, as giving up was about the last thing they thought of doing, their action was that of rats at bay – fighting to the bitter end. The men of Roberts’s company knew, too, what they must do – drive the enemy completely out of the defile, or they would return again; so, partly held back by their officers, they advanced by a series of rushes, taking possession of every bit of fallen rock for shelter, and driving their enemies on and on, farther into the mountains, fully expecting that in a short time they would completely take to flight.

But disappointment followed disappointment. No sooner was one niche high up on the rocky sides cleared than there was firing from one on the other, and the work had to be gone through over again. Still they advanced, and the enemy retired; while the officers knew that sooner or later, in spite of numbers, this must come to an end, for nothing could withstand the accurate fire of the young Englishmen whenever they obtained a chance. Men dropped from time to time; but they had to lie where they fell till the fight was at an end, some to rise no more; others, knowing as they did the nature of the enemy, managed to creep to the shelter of a rock, where they laid their cartridges ready, and sat back watching the faces of the defile in anticipation of some marksman opening fire.

The company was in full pursuit, under the belief that they had completely cleared the defile as far as they had gone, when, in the midst of a rush led by Roberts and Bracy, both making for a rough breastwork of rocks built a hundred feet up one side and held by two or three score of the enemy, the latter uttered a sharp ejaculation, stopped short, and then dropped upon his knees, his sword, as it fell from his hand to the full extent of the knot secured by the slide to his wrist, jingling loudly on the stones. Roberts was at his side in a moment, and leaned over him.

“Not badly hurt?”

“No, no,” cried Bracy; “never mind me. On with you, and lead the boys; they’re close up to that breastwork. On – on!”

Roberts turned and rushed up the rock-strewn defile, reaching his men as they crowded together for a rush, and Bracy and the man hurrying to him saw them go over it as if they were engaged in an obstacle race. The next minute they disappeared round another bend in the jagged rift, in full pursuit of the late occupants of the murderous shelter.

“And me not with ’em, and me not with ’em!” groaned the private who had fallen back. “But I don’t care. I ain’t going to leave him.”

Before he could double back to where Bracy knelt, the wounded officer sank over sidewise, with the rugged defile seeming to swim round before his eyes, and, for a few minutes, glory, the hot rage of pursuit, and the bitter disappointment of failure were as nothing. Then he opened his eyes upon the lad who was bending over him, holding a water-bottle to his lips.

“Try and drink a drop, sir, if it’s ever so little.”

The words seemed to come from a great distance off and to echo in Bracy’s head, as he made an effort and swallowed a few drops of the lukewarm fluid.

“Gedge,” he said at last with difficulty, staring hard at the lad, whose head seemed to have gone back to its old state after the blow from the falling rock, but only to swell now to a monstrous size.

“Yes, sir; it’s me, sir. Ought to have gone on with the boys, but I couldn’t leave you, sir, for fear of some of the rats coming down from the holes to cut you up.”

“Rats? Holes?” said Bracy feebly. “What’s the matter?”

“Not much, I hope, sir; on’y you’ve got hit. Whereabouts is it? Ah, needn’t ask,” he muttered as he saw a dark mark beginning to show on the left breast of the young officer’s tunic, and spreading like a big blot on a writing-pad.

“Hit? Nonsense – ah!” Bracy uttered a low groan, and clapped his right hand across to cover the spot.

“Yes, sir. Jus’ there,” said Gedge; “but don’t you mind. It’s too high up to be dangerous, I know. Now, then. Amb’lance dooty. Must practice; I ain’t forgot that.”

Gedge gave a sharp look round and up and down the defile, before laying down his gun and taking out a bandage and some lint.

“Hold still, sir,” he said, drawing his breath through his teeth afterwards with a hiss, as he rapidly stripped open his officer’s jacket, and then tore away the shirt, to lay bare his white breast, where, just below the collar-bone, an ugly red patch showed itself.

“Sponge and cold water,” muttered Gedge; “and I ain’t got ’em.” Then aloud: “That hurt yer, sir?” for he was examining the wound.

“Never mind that; go on,” said Bracy faintly. “Plug the wound.”

“Right, sir. Jus’ going to. – One o’ their ugly bits o’ hiron,” muttered the lad as he stopped the effusion of blood in a rough-and-ready way which must have been agonising to the sufferer, who, however, never winced.

“That’s done it, sir; but I must turn you over to fasten the bandage.”

“Go on,” said Bracy in a faint whisper. – “Hah! the firing’s getting more distant.”

“Yes, sir; they’re driving ’em right out of it this time, and we not in it, and – oh, a mussy me!” whispered the speaker now, as in his manipulations he became conscious of the fact that his task was only half-done, for there was the place where the ragged missile had passed out close to the spine, and the plugging and bandaging had to be continued there.

“That’s good, sir,” he said cheerily. “You won’t have the doctor worriting you to get the bullet out, as he does with some of the lads. Now, then, a drop more water, and then I’m going to get you up yonder, more out of the sun, so as you’ll be more comf’table till they come back.”

“Yes!” sighed Bracy. “I can’t help you, my lad. Listen! they’re firing still.”

“Oh yes, sir; they’re doing the job proper this time. Shots is a good way off too. How they eckers, and – Hullo!” Gedge gave a sudden start, snatched at his rifle, and looked up the defile in the direction where his companions had passed, for there was a report from close at hand following upon the small stones close to his side being driven up, and he was watching a puff of smoke slowly rising high up the left precipitous side, finger on trigger, ready for a return shot, when – whiz – something like a swift beetle in full flight passed close to his ear, and he ducked down, simultaneously with an echoing report from the right side of the defile.

“Just like ’em!” he muttered. “Oh, you cowards! Only just show your muzzles, and I’ll let yer see what British musketry practice is like.”

But all Gedge saw was the gleam of a ramrod a hundred yards away, where one of the hill-men who had kept to his coign of vantage was rapidly reloading.

“No good to stop here,” muttered Gedge; “they’d be hitting him ’fore long. Me too, p’raps. Well, here goes.”

The lad rose upon his knees, took off his helmet and passed the strap of his rifle over his head and arm, slung it, replaced his helmet, and turned to Bracy.

“Won’t hurt yer more than I can ’elp, sir; but we can’t stop here.”

“No; lie down, my lad. Get into cover, and wait till you can reply.”

A sharp report from below them stopped Gedge from answering, and the bullet flattened against the rock a yard from where the lad knelt.

“Well, this is pleasant,” he said, showing his teeth in a grin which looked as vicious as that of a hunted dog. “Urrrr!” he snarled, “if I only had you three down on the level with my bay’net fixed. Draw a big breath, sir. Up yer comes. Now, then, you hold fast with yer right. Hook it round my neck, and don’t get the spike o’ my ’elmet in your eye. – Now, then, my lad; right-about face – quick march!”

Gedge strode off with his load held in his arms as a nurse would carry a baby, and at the first step – bang! bang! and echo – echo – two shots came from behind, and directly after another from the front, but from the opposite side to the spot from whence the former shot had been fired.

“Well, if they can’t hit me now they orter,” muttered Gedge as he strode on with his heavy burden. “This is going to be walking the gauntlet if any more on ’em’s left behind on the sneak. Oh dear! oh dear! if I only had a snug shelter and plenty o’ cartridges I think I could stop that little game. – Hurt yer much, sir?” he continued aloud after a few dozen yards had been covered. “Fainted! Poor chap! Better, p’raps, for he won’t know what’s going on. – Go it!” he snarled as shot after shot was fired; while, though he managed to get out of the line of fire of the two first enemies, he had to pass closer to the two next, who fired again and again from their eyries far up the sides of the defile, these nooks, fortunately for Gedge and his burden, having been reached from above – the perpendicular walls precluding all descent into the dried-up torrent-bed.

The young fellow was right; he had to run the gauntlet, for to his dismay, as he tramped on with his load, he awoke to the fact that the Dwats, who had retired from the upper shelves as the Fusiliers rushed up the defile, were coming back to their hiding-places, and, warned by the firing of their companions, were ready to harass the retreat.

“I don’t care,” he muttered, “if I can only get him outer fire; but they must hit one of us before long. ’Tain’t possible for ’em to keep on without.”

Bang! and then bang! again, and the stones close by where the brave fellow trod were struck up, one of them giving Gedge a sharp blow on the knee.

“Talk about hitting a ’aystack!” he snarled. “Why, I could make better practice with a indyrubber cattypult and a bag o’ marbles.”

“Gedge – Gedge!” came from Bracy’s lips in excited tones, for he had slowly revived to a knowledge of their position.

“Yes, sir; all right, sir. I know. I’d double, but the going is too bad.”

“Of course, my lad; impossible. But are you mad?”

“Yes, sir; downright savage at the murderous brutes. This is their way o’ treating the wounded.”

“I didn’t mean that, my man, but the way you’re carrying me.”

Shot after shot came whistling and buzzing by them from behind as he spoke, but still without effect.

“I’m carrying you all right, sir. Can’t help hurting you a bit. It’s easy this way.”

“Nonsense, man. Set me down at once. I can stand. Then sling your rifle in front, and take me on your back.”