Fix Bay'nets: The Regiment in the Hills

“No, no – yes, yes,” said the Doctor hurriedly. “You may want it, my boy. Now, then, go back to your bed. You’ll be in the way here.”

“In the way of some of these yelling fiends, I hope, Doctor,” said Bracy, thrusting the revolver into the waistband of his hurriedly dragged on trousers. “Now, then, where will they try to break in?”

“The first window they can reach, when they fail at this door. You, Gedge, watch that window. No one can get in, but some one is sure to try.”

The keen point of a bayonet was held within a few inches of the opening the next moment, and then the little party, awaiting the attack, stood listening to the terrible sounds from without. It was hard work to distinguish one from the other, for the confusion was now dreadful; but, from time to time, Bracy, as he stood quivering there as if a strange thrill of reserved force was running through every vein, nerve, and muscle, made out something of what was going on, and primarily he grasped the fact, from the loud clanging, that the great gates had been closed and barred against the entrance of those who were rushing forward to the support of the fanatical Ghazis who had been so successful in their ruse.

Then came other sounds which sent a ray of hope through the confusion; first one or two shots rang out, then there was a ragged volley, and a more or less steady fire was being kept up from the towers and walls. But this was doubtless outward, begun by the sentries, and aided by the two companies that rapidly mounted to their side by the orders of their officers, who felt that it would be madness to begin firing in the dark upon the Ghazis raging about the court, for fear of hitting their unarmed friends.

It was some minutes before the Colonel could reach the guard-room, which was held by the relief, and he had a couple of narrow escapes from cuts aimed at him; but he reached the place at last, in company with about a dozen unarmed men, and in a few minutes there was one nucleus here ready with fixed bayonets to follow his orders. Other men made a rush for their quarters from the walls where they had flocked, unarmed, to be spectators of the capture; but to reach them and their rifles and ammunition they had to cross the court, which was now one tossing chaos of cutting and slashing fiends in human form, rushing here and there, and stumbling over the frightened sheep, which plunged and leaped wildly, adding greatly to the din by their piteous bleating, many to fall, wounded, dying, and struggling madly, beneath the sword-cuts intended for the garrison. These were flying unarmed seeking for refuge, and often finding none, but turning in their despair upon their assailants, many of whom went down, to be trampled under foot by those whom they sought to slay.

The firing now began to rapidly increase, the flashings of the rifles seeming to cut through the dense mist, now growing thicker with the smoke, which, instead of rising, hung in a heavy cloud, mingling with the fog, and making the efforts of the defenders more difficult as it increased. For some time every one seemed to have lost his head, as, in spite of the efforts of the officers, the panic was on the increase, and the Ghazis had everything their own way. Colonel Graves, as soon as he had got his little force together, gave the word for a rush with the bayonet, and led the way, his men following bravely, but the difficulties they encountered were intense. It was almost impossible to form in line, and when at last this was roughly achieved in the darkness, and the order to advance was given, it was upon a mass of struggling sheep mingled with the yelling fiends; and, to the horror of the line of sturdy men, they found that to fire, or advance with the bayonet, would be to the destruction of friend as well as foe.

To add to the horror, the wild and piteous shrieks of women arose now from the portion of the fort containing the officers’ quarters; and at this Roberts, who was firing with his men down into the seething mass of fresh assailants swarming at the gates and striving, so far vainly, to mount the walls, gave a sharp order.

“Here, cease firing, my lads,” he yelled. “Drummond – Drummond! Where’s Mr Drummond?”

“Gone, sir,” came from one of the men.

“What! down?” cried Roberts.

“No, sir; he said something about go on firing, and hooked it off along the ramp.”

An angry groan arose, and Roberts muttered something about his friend before shouting again.

“Sergeant,” he cried, “take the command of your men, and keep these dogs from mounting the gate. I am going to lead my company to the officers’ quarters. Ready, my lads? No firing. The bayonet. We must save those women, or die.”

A loud, sharp, snapping hurrah rang out, seeming to cut through the mist, and then at Roberts’s “Forward!” they dashed after him at the double, to reach the next descent into the court, which meant right among the yelling Ghazis, but at the opposite end to that where Colonel Graves and the Major – who had reached them now with a couple of dozen men, mostly armed with the Indians’ tulwars – had managed to struggle into line.

Very few minutes elapsed before the shouting of Captain Roberts’s men, as they dashed down, two abreast, cutting into the mass below, added to the wild confusion, and for a time it seemed as if the struggle would become hopeless, as the brave fellows’ strength began to yield to exhaustion, for the power to combine seemed gone, and the mêlée grew more a hand-to-hand fight, in which the savage Ghazis had the advantage with their keen swords, their adversaries wanting room to use their bayonets after a few fierce and telling thrusts.

“This is useless, Graham,” panted the Colonel at last; “these sheep hamper every movement. We can do nothing in this horrible darkness. I am going to give the order for every man to make for the walls, where we must defend ourselves with the bayonet as the fellows attack us. We must wait for morning, and then shoot them down.”

“And by then they will have slaughtered every woman and non-combatant in the fort,” growled the Major savagely.

“No; we must each lead a company or two for the quarters. You take as many as you can collect straight for the ladies’ rooms.”

“Roberts has gone ten minutes ago, and is fighting his way across.”

“Go round by the walls on the other side and get in behind. I am going to rush for the hospital. Bracy and all those poor fellows must be saved.”

“Too late,” said the Major bitterly. “Two of the men here left a score of the hounds fighting their way into the ward. Oh, if we only had a light!”

Strange things occur when least expected, and there are times when, as if by a miracle, the asked-for gift is bestowed.

“God bless you, Graves!” whispered the Major; “if we don’t meet again, I’ll do all that man can do.”

“I know it, Graham. You’ll save the women, I’m sure. Ah! what’s that?”

“Fire – fire!” shouted a voice, and a yell of triumph rose from the Ghazis, to be echoed by the seething mob of fanatics outside the gates, who burst forth with their war-cry of “Allah! Allah – uh!”

“We’re done, Graves,” said the Major in an awestricken, whisper. “It’s the fodder-store, and it will attack our quarters soon. It’s all of wood.”

“If it does we shall see how to die fighting,” said the Colonel hoarsely, as a wreath of flame and sparks rolled out of a two-story building at the far end of the court, lighting up the whole place and revealing all the horrors of the scene.

Chapter Twenty

Non-Combatants

Meanwhile, completely cut off by the enemy from the rest of the garrison, the occupants of the hospital made such preparations as they could to strengthen their defences. Little enough they were, consisting as they did of three or four pieces of wood placed like stays from the floor to the cross-pieces of the roughly-made door; and when it was done the Doctor said sadly:

“It’s of no use. If they come with a rush they will drive that in as if it were so much cardboard.”

“Let them,” said Bracy. “They will find three bayonets and a sword-point ready for them to fall upon.”

“Yes; and then?” said the Doctor bitterly. “There will be four bodies lying in front of us between our breasts and the men who come on, and so again and again till we have made a rampart of the wretched bodies.”

“Very well in theory, my good patient,” said the Doctor sadly; “but I’m afraid we shall have made part of the breastwork ourselves. These Ghazis not only know how to fight, but they do fight as if there were no such thing as fear.”

“There’s not much of that in British soldiers when they are at bay,” said Bracy proudly. “But it’s of no use to talk, Doctor; we must defend this door to the last, and then retreat into the ward, barricading that next.”

“And after that?”

“There are my quarters: but we must carry the helpless in there first.”

“And lastly?”

“Never mind that,” said Bracy coldly; “let us get through firstly and secondly; a dozen things may happen before then.”

“Hist!” whispered Mrs Gee. “Some one is coming.”

All listened, and heard a swift movement like a hand being passed over the rough door as if feeling for the fastening. Then there were several hard thrusts, and directly after a quick whispering, a scratching as of feet against the wall, and then a slight change in the appearance of the window, the darkness growing a little deeper. In an instant there was the loud rattle of a rifle being thrown out to the full extent of its holder’s arms, the bayonet darting through the narrow slit; there was a savage yell, the dull thud of some one falling, and with a fierce shout of rage two or three of the enemy flung themselves at the door, repeating the act again and again, but without result.

“Can’t some of us come and help, sir?” said a feeble voice.

“Yes; there’s six of us, sir,” said another; “and we’ve all got rifles.”

“Back to your beds directly,” cried the Doctor. “What’s the use of me trying to save your lives, and – Well, it’s very good of you, my lads,” he said, breaking off suddenly. “Fix bayonets, and stand outside the ward ready to help if we, the first line, are driven in.”

There was a sharp crackety-crack as the metal sockets of the bayonets rattled on the muzzles of the rifles, and the six invalids took their places on either side of the ward-door, where the rest of the sufferers lay in silence listening to the yelling outside and the firing now going vigorously on.

There was another crash against the outer door, but still it did not yield, though it sounded as if it was being dashed from its fastenings, and then a shuffling, scraping sound told that another attempt was being made by one of the mad fanatics to get in by the slit of a window. But again there was the peculiar rattling sound of a thrust being made with a rifle thrown right forward and grazing the sides of the opening. A wild shriek followed, and Gedge withdrew his piece, panting heavily and trembling from weakness.

“Did you get home?” whispered the Doctor.

“Yes, sir, clean,” whispered back Gedge; “and oh, if that only was the chap as shot Mr Bracy that day!”

There was a crash at the door now, as if a mass of stone had been hurled at it; a couple of boards were driven out, and a strange animal odour floated in, with a yell of triumph, heard above the piteous bleating of sheep and the sharp rattle of the rifles.