Gil the Gunner Part 87

It was sooner than we expected, for somewhere about nine o'clock there was a little excitement on in front. There was a cloud of dust, and another, and a few minutes after we could see a native horseman, sword in hand, and with his round shield banging against his shoulders, where it was hung from his neck. He was splendidly mounted, and appeared to be galloping for his life to escape from half a dozen of our lancers, the scouts, who had evidently cut him off and turned him in our direction.

He came straight for us, turning neither to the right nor the left, though there was plenty of room; and as he came nearer, we could see that his horse was sadly blown, so that it appeared as if the rider would be overtaken, and run through by the men in chase.

"The fools! They must make him a prisoner. You, Gil, you are well-mounted, gallop out, and call to him to surrender. We may gain valuable information. Take care, and--"

So spoke my father, and before he had finished, I was off at a gallop, glad of the excitement.

I was only just in time, for one too-enthusiastic lancer was closing up, and would have given point had I not struck his lance aside and seized the sowar's rein.

"Surrender!" I shouted in Hindustani, and I pointed my sword at the blackened, dust-grimed fellow's throat.

"Surrender! Yes, of course," he panted. "Take me to an English officer. I am an Englishman."

"Don't you believe the treacherous dog, sir," cried the foremost lancer.

"He tried that on with us."

"Yes, you thick-headed idiot," panted my prisoner angrily. "This is only a disguise. I know where the n.i.g.g.e.rs are, if you want to kill some one."

I looked at him in wonder. "Why are you like this?" I said.

"I have brought a message from Nussoor."

"Where?" I cried excitedly.

"Nussoor. Who is in command here?"

"Colonel Vincent," I said.

"Thank Heaven!" he cried; and he reeled in his saddle, but recovered directly. "I'm beaten," he said. "A terrible long round to avoid the enemy. I had to go out the other side. It was a forlorn hope."

By this time my father and several officers had ridden up, and I exclaimed excitedly--

"This is a messenger from Nussoor."

"Yes," said my prisoner. "I was obliged to a.s.sume this disguise.

Colonel Vincent, don't you know me?"

"Brooke! Ah, my dear fellow, what news?"

"Bad; terrible. We were at the end nearly of our ammunition. Closely invested for many days past. People fighting like heroes; but they can hold out no longer. And, to make matters worse, that fiend, Ny Deen, is advancing on the place with a powerful force. I was nearly taken by his men."

"How far is Nussoor from here?" said my father hoa.r.s.ely.

"About fourteen miles, I should say."

"Then that is where he has been making for," muttered my father. "And I not to know that it was so near."

It was all plain enough now. Knowing from spies that Nussoor was weakly guarded, and having lost his own city, Ny Deen was hurrying on to seize and entrench himself in another; one which would form a centre where his adherents might flee.

Just then I caught my father's eyes, and saw in them a terrible look of agony, which made me think of the horrors which had been perpetrated at these places where the mutineers had gained the upper hand.

It had been horrible enough in the past; but now the rajah's men were smarting from a sharp defeat. And I felt that they would make fierce reprisals on the hard-pressed garrison, all of whom would certainly be put to the sword.

CHAPTER FIFTY TWO.

In the eagerness of pursuit but small heed had been paid to the rajah's course, and hence it was that my father, who knew little of this side of the city, had been so taken by surprise as to its being so near. And now, when every pulse was throbbing with agony, and one wish only was in his breast, he was forced to call a halt, and wait for three or four hours till the heat of the day was past, and the men had rested and refreshed their horses by a huge tank covered with lotus, and whose cool dark waters were evidently deep.

He had kept on for a long time, but the halt was forced upon him by the terrible heat. Men were staggering in the ranks, one poor fellow dropped from his horse, and he unwillingly gave the word as we reached the tank where the men threw themselves down, while others schemed all kinds of contrivances to keep off the scorching heat. "We must rest for a few hours," said my father.

"It would be like courting defeat to throw the poor fellows against the rajah's mob utterly exhausted by a twelve-miles' walk through this fearful sun."

It was agreed that it would be madness for the infantry; but Brace proposed at a little council that was held, that he should hurry on with his troop, and that the officer in command of the cavalry should go with him in support.

I saw my father hesitate for a few moments, while all eyes were turned upon him, and then he rose.

"Yes," he said; "it will create a diversion, and give hope to the poor creatures who are making so brave a struggle. What do you say, Brooke?"

Mr Brooke, who was the commissioner of the place, exclaimed eagerly--

"In Heaven's name, send them! It will show them that help is near."

"An hour's rest first," said my father, "and then go."

"But the men, sir--" protested Brace.

"I am not thinking of the brave fellows," said my father, "but of their poor dumb beasts."

"Yes," said Brace, "you are right;" and he went to see that the horses were being carefully tended--almost an unnecessary task, for our men were very proud of their mounts, and I followed him silently till he heard my step, and faced round to look at me angrily.

"What do you want?" he said.

"To ride with the old guns again," I faltered in a choking voice.

"It is impossible," he said coldly. "The men would rise against you after what they know."

A flush of anger rose to my brow, and I felt my throat hot, as I cried angrily--

"They would not. There is not a man amongst them who would believe me such a scoundrel as you and Haynes do."

Then my voice broke, and I turned to him appealingly.

"Brace," I cried; "indeed you are wrong. I would not stoop to beg of you like this, but you are going to their help. My mother and my sister are there, and I seem to see them holding out their hands to us to come and help them. I must come with you. If you say no, I shall gallop on by myself, and if they cut me down, well, I shall have tried to help those I love."

He had turned from me, but as my words, which I suppose were full of pa.s.sionate excitement, fell upon his ears, he faced round and stared at me fixedly, as he raised his hand, hesitated, and then dropped it again.

"Gil," he cried, "swear to me on your honour as a soldier and a gentleman that you had not joined the rajah's men."