Captain Desmond, V.C. Part 43

"Thank you, sir." And Desmond departed to carry out his orders with high elation at his heart.

There is no compliment a soldier appreciates more keenly than one which takes the practical form of leaving details to his own discretion; and, coming from Buchanan, it was doubly acceptable. For, in Desmond's opinion, there were few men in the world like the Colonel, hard and uncommunicative as he was; and it never occurred to him that his strong, unspoken admiration was returned with interest by the reserve-ridden Scot.

During the next fifteen minutes he fully justified his sobriquet of "_Bijli-wallah_ Sahib." Before the Afridis were out of sight a hundred and sixty sabres, headed by himself and Denvil, dashed along the rugged pathway in gallant style, the men leaning well forward, and urging their horses to break-neck speed. But the enemy were well ahead from the start, and in any case, they had the advantage on their own rough soil. The squadron overtook them--breathless and eager--just as the final stragglers plunged into a lateral cleft, which would hold the darkness for another half-hour at least.

Further pursuit was out of the question; and, by way of consolation, the foremost sowars were ordered to dismount and open rapid fire in the direction of the fugitives. Groans, curses, and the thud of falling bodies testified to its effect; and with laconic murmurs of satisfaction the men remounted, and rode on up the rapidly narrowing gorge.

By now, along the silver snows to eastward, the great change had begun. The sky was blue above them; and the last of the stars had melted in the onrushing tide of light, which had already awakened the sandstone peaks to the warm hue of life.

The party mounted the ascent at a foot's pace to ease their horses; and Desmond's eyes and mind, being as it were "off duty," turned thoughtfully upon the Boy who rode at his side, a very incarnation of good health and good spirits. It seemed that the outcome of his critical inspection was approval, for it ended in a nod that confirmed some pleasant inward a.s.surance. During the past few weeks Denvil had proved himself thoroughly "up to the mark";--hot-headed but reliable; square and upright in mind as in body; a fine soldier in the making.

He had not yet arrived at the older man's keen mental interest in his profession; but closer intimacy with Desmond had kindled in him an answering spark of that idealism, that unswerving subordination of self to duty which justifies and enn.o.bles the great game of war. He coveted action, risk, responsibility--three things which the Staff Corps subaltern, especially on the Frontier, tastes earlier than most men; and which go far to make him one of the straightest specimens of manhood in the world. In Denvil's eyes the whole expedition was one tremendous spree, which he was enjoying to the top of his bent; and Desmond, remembering the good years of his own apprenticeship, could gauge the measure of that enjoyment to the full. He felt justified in expecting great things of the Boy, and decided to work him hard all through the hot weather;--in his eyes the highest compliment a man could pay to a promising junior.

"By the way, Harry," he said suddenly, as the defile, deep-sunken between towering rock, loomed darkly into view, "I've got a word of encouragement for you before we part company. You did an uncommonly gallant bit of work in that skirmish yesterday. The Colonel spoke of it; and congratulated me on having the smartest subaltern in the regiment. Of course I've known it myself this long while; and I don't think it will hurt you to know it too."

Denvil flushed hotly through his tan.

"I should be rather a poor sort of chap if I didn't manage to do pretty well--under you," he said, with awkward bluntness, looking straight between his charger's ears.

Desmond laughed. "Very neatly turned off, old chap. Now, I'm bound to call a halt till the Sikhs come up with us. Hope to goodness they'll be quick about it. Confounded nuisance having to wait."

Both men reined in their horses, and their consuming impatience. The squadron followed suit; and in an amazingly short time the Sikhs came into view, toiling l.u.s.tily up the incline at their utmost speed.

Desmond turned in his saddle and raked the hillsides with his field-gla.s.ses.

"Looks empty enough, in all conscience," he remarked.

The words were hardly spoken when a single shot startled the echoes of the rocks, and instant alertness pa.s.sed like an electric current through the squadron. The advance guard, which had already entered the defile, consisted of three promising young Pathans from Denvil's troop; and anxiety for the fate of his favourites p.r.i.c.ked the Boy to keener impatience.

"I say, Desmond," he urged, "can't I take twenty men and push on to find out what's up. They'll be taking pot-shots at my men, unless I put a stop to it. For G.o.d's sake, let me go."

Desmond could not repress an approving smile at an impetuosity that matched his own. He glanced down the valley at the advancing Sikhs, and saw that he would not be long delayed in following on. Moreover, he shared the Boy's anxiety for his three picked men; and a shot fired, being tantamount to a declaration of hostilities, justified immediate advance to the scene of action.

"Go ahead then," he said. "Advance warily; and good luck to you."

The Boy needed no second bidding. Eagerly, yet with all due precautions, he went forward with his handful of Pathans; and was soon lost to sight and sound in the darkness of the giant cleft.

Desmond, left alone, could hardly contain himself till the infantry came up. Dividing into two flanking parties, they scrambled up the steep slopes into the full radiance of dawn; while Desmond, with his squadron ready drawn up, awaited the signal, "All's clear," before entering the defile.

In due time it came; and they moved on between the frowning cliffs at a pace as rapid as the exigencies of the situation would permit.

Here night fronted them, dank and chill. It was as if the clock had been put back four hours. Only a jagged strip of sky, between projecting crags, announced the advent of day. No living thing seemed to inhabit this region of perpetual twilight. At intervals a gnarled and twisted bush grew out of a cleft, lifting spectral foliage toward where the sun should be, and was not. Silence pervaded the dusk like a living presence; unseen, but so poignantly felt that the whisper of the stream and the crunch of shingle under the horses' hoofs seemed an affront to the ghostly spirit of the place; and the sowars, when exchanging remarks among themselves, instinctively refrained from raising their voices.

Desmond, closely followed by his trumpeter, rode ahead of the troopers, chafing at their leaden-footed progress. A hand-gallop would have been too slow for the speed of his thoughts, tormented as he was by anxious wondering what had become of the Boy; while his ears were strained to catch the first sounds of contest from the heights, which were already widening out a little, and beginning to slope towards lower ground.

Sounds came at length--harsh and startling;--the unmistakable note of the jezail; answering shots from his own men;--proofs incontestable that a sharp engagement was in progress up above.

"Ambuscaded,--by Heaven!" was Desmond's instant thought. Mercifully the exit was already in sight; and flinging brisk instructions to the Ressaldar to follow him closely with a hundred sowars, leaving the remainder to take charge of the horses, and hold the opening till further orders, Desmond made for it full tilt, spurring Badshah Pasand as he had never been spurred in all his days. On dashing out into the sunlight he was greeted by a rattle of musketry from behind a tumbled ma.s.s of rock; and a dozen bullets buzzed about him like bees.

One riddled his helmet, stirring his hair as it pa.s.sed. A second struck his left shoulder, inflicting a flesh wound of which he was not even conscious at the moment; for Badshah Pasand lunged ominously forward; swayed, staggered; and with a sound between a cough and a groan, fell headlong, flinging his rider clear on to the rough upward slope.

Luckily for him, Desmond pitched on to his sound shoulder; and though bruised and shaken, was none the worse for his fall. The foremost of his men dismounted and opened fire upon the treacherous rock, without eliciting response; and quick as lightning he sprang to his feet, mad with rage and pain. A single glance showed him that his charger's wounds were mortal. Two well-directed bullets had entered the chest; and the great soft eyes were glazing fast.

With a swift contraction of the heart, Desmond turned away, and issued hurried orders for a hundred men to dismount and take the hill at full speed. Half a dozen of Denvil's Pathans--left in charge of the discarded horses--gave information that the Sahib had taken his sowars up some time before, commanding them to await his return.

Distracted by anxiety, Desmond awaited the dismounting of his troopers, revolver in hand. The instant they were ready he bounded over the broken ground, his trumpeter d.o.g.g.i.ng him like a shadow, and a self-imposed bodyguard of six sowars following close upon his heel.

Behind these again the mountain-side was alive with clambering men; and the small party left below enviously watched their ascent.

Only by the impetus of his spirit did Desmond manage to keep ahead of his men; for in general the native outstrips the Englishman in this form of mountaineering. One thought hammering at his brain goaded him to superhuman exertion: "Those devils shall not murder Harry before I reach him."

Breathless and resolute, he hurried on, stumbling now and again from sheer excess of haste, clenching his teeth to keep the curses back. A dull stain spread slowly across his left shoulder, where the blood was soaking through his khaki coat.

The slope ended in a twenty-foot wall of rocks, ma.s.sed so as to form huge irregular steps, that led to an abrupt bit of level, whereon the fighting appeared to be taking place. Sounds came to him now that lashed him to a frenzy; the clash of knives and sabres, the thud of many feet; the fierce shouts without which it is impossible for primitive man to slay or be slain.

Desmond never quite knew how he climbed those formidable steps; and as he vaulted up the last of them, the whole dread scene sprang abruptly into view.

Denvil and his fifteen Pathans had been ambuscaded and outnumbered; and in the cramped s.p.a.ce a sharp hand-to-hand encounter was in progress. A small party of Sikhs had already come up with him; but even so the odds were heavily on the wrong side. It was simply a case of "dying game";--of adding one more to the list of "regrettable incidents" which figure too frequently in the record of Border warfare.

A new risen sun smiled serenely down upon it all; and the awakened earth was frankly indifferent to the issue.

But amid the stirring confusion of a struggle at close quarters Desmond saw one thing only; and the sight struck at his heart like a sword-thrust.

Harry Denvil, hard pressed by four Afridis brandishing long knives and leathern shields, stood with his back against a rock, fighting for dear life.

Five of his men and several of the enemy lay dead or wounded around him. His left arm was disabled; his helmet gone; his hair gleaming red-gold in the sunlight; his young face, white and desperate, disfigured by an ugly cut across the forehead and cheek-bone, from which the blood trickled unheeded in a sluggish stream.

He had flung away his empty revolver; and was warding off blows right and left, using his sword with a coolness and dexterity which would have surprised him had he been aware of it. But he was aware of nothing except a fierce desire not to die yet--not yet; and to get a straight cut at one of the dark faces that pressed in upon him with such pitiless persistence.

At sight of Desmond a great cry broke from him.

"Desmond!" he shouted; "Desmond--thank G.o.d!"

For answer Desmond ran blindly forward, sheer l.u.s.t of slaughter in his heart; trumpeter, bodyguard, and the foremost troopers following as closely as their captain's ardour would permit.

But an unreasoning sense of safety put Harry momentarily off his guard. He took a hasty step away from the rock, making it possible for the first time to strike at him from behind: and, in the same instant, Desmond fired. Before his bullet could reach its destination, the long knife had descended, swift and certain. And even as the man who wielded it dropped like a log, Harry Denvil stumbled forward; and, with a thick sob, fell face downward at Desmond's feet.

There was no time to stoop and ascertain whether the knife had completed its work. Striding across his subaltern's body, Desmond turned upon his a.s.sailants, all the natural savage in him lashed to a white heat of fury, and fired twice in quick succession, with deadly effect. But the knife of a third man bit into his flesh like fire, inflicting deep gashes on the left arm and hand, while another slipped behind him, his uplifted blade glinting in the sunlight.

By this time Rajinder Singh was behind him also; and like a lightning-streak, his tulwar whizzed through the air, cleaving the man's head from his body at a blow.

Desmond swung sharply round to find his reinforcements swarming over the plateau's edge.

"Well struck, Sirdar Sahib!----"

But the sentence was never finished. A puff of smoke from behind a distant rock, the boom of a jezail, and Desmond fell beside the Boy, stunned by a well-aimed shot on the edge of the cheek-bone, the slug glancing off perilously close to the right eye.

A shout of rage went up from his men. "The Captain Sahib,--the Captain Sahib!" But Rajinder Singh promptly a.s.suming command, bade them turn upon the Afridi devils and smite their souls to h.e.l.l; and, forming a protective ring about their fallen officers, they obeyed with right goodwill.

The arrival of supports, however, made it clear to the enemy that they themselves were now heavily outnumbered; and after a desultory resistance they broke up and fled, the sowars zealously speeding their departure.