The answer came soon enough. Just as they debouched into the parallel a ball plunged into the breastworks where stood artillerymen enjoying the spectacle of the overshoots. It threw up a great fountain of earth and bodies, spreading the ordure of a dozen men about the battery.
Hervey and the ensign's men rushed at once to begin digging out the others. 'Bastards!' he cursed. 'They baited the trap good and proper.'
Two more roundshot ploughed ineffectually into the breast-works, empty now of spectators, though earth rained down in the trench again. The ensign burrowed with his bare hands for all he was worth, as did his men. Hervey searched for the battery's captain. He found him with half his head blown away, the clever Woolwich-trained grey matter exposed like brains in a butcher's shop. But he was breathing, with an eerie sucking noise. Hervey reached for his pistol, but before he need use it the man gave up the ghost.
Earth gushed high above them again like a geyser. 'Christ!' cursed Hervey, realizing what more it might be. The Jhauts had not yet sortied, and it was now that they ought. 'Ensign, get your men up ready!'
The boy - Hervey thought him not eighteen -knew at once what was wanted. In an instant he and his serjeant had a dozen men in a firing line.
Wainwright and Needham came up the sap with the carbines, followed by Johnson. Wainwright blanched at the carnage and looked about anxiously until he saw Hervey.
'Where's Mr Green, sir?' asked Private Needham, no less anxiously; a coverman should never lose sight of his officer (the rebuke from the night affair stung his ears still).
'I don't know’ said Hervey, trying to take stock of the damage, and looking for an artillery officer on his feet. 'He was behind me in the sap.'
Johnson pushed his way past the confusion. 'Sir, is thee 'ead all right? Tha's covered in blood.'
'Yes, it's all right, Johnson,' replied Hervey, gruffly. 'Not a drop of it's my own. Why have you come up?'
'Corporal Wainwright said we was doin' a bit o' shooting.'
Hervey wondered why he had asked. 'Ensign, can you see anything?' he called. 'No, not a thing, sir.'
Hervey clambered over the debris of the revetments to stand next to him. 'What is your name?' 'Leveson-Gower, sir.'
'Is it, indeed? Your father is not, by any chance. Dean of Wells?'
'He is, sir. Do you know him?'
'I've heard tell a good deal of him. Now, do you think you can get your men out of this trench and up to that bit of a hillock yonder?' He indicated a long, shallow rise two hundred yards to their front.
A gun on the long-necked bastion belched yellow flame. Hervey spied the shot almost at once. 'Coming our way, I think, Mr Leveson-Gower. Down, men!'
They slid to the bottom of the trench, and a second or so later the big iron ball clipped the forward edge, grazed the bottom and drove itself, hissing, into the earth wall behind. 'As I was saying . .
'Yes, sir. Of course we can. At once.' The ensign turned to look for his Serjeant. 'Detail half a dozen men to stay here until the wounded are dealt with, Sarn't Docherty. Remainder in extended line prepared to advance.'
'Sor!'
There followed a deal of shouting, incomprehensible to any but the Fourteenth, as the men fell in.
'I intend joining you as soon as I'm able,' said Hervey. 'But first I want to see the gunners recovered. Who gave you your orders?'
'The captain, sir. He's picketing the rest of the company and then he's coming here.'
'Good. Go to it, then.'
The ensign saluted, climbed out of the trench and drew his sword. 'Detachment will advance!'
As quickly as red coats were scrambling out of the trench, blue ones were coming in from the sap - drivers and ammunition numbers keen to dig. A lieutenant looked horrified.
'You are in command now, I fear,' said Hervey, briskly. 'Your captain's over there, under the blanket. There's a skirmish line out two hundred yards in front, and the bastion's got the range.'
Private Needham came into the trench, with Cornet Green behind him.
Hervey's brow furrowed deeply. 'Where in hell's name have you been, Mr Green?' 'I'm sorry, sir. I forgot my telescope.' 'Mr Green, you have a servant!' 'Yes, sir, I—'
Corporal McCarthy now appeared, breathless. 'Sor, the major's compliments, sor, and please would you return at once. There's orders from the general, sor.'
Hervey bit his lip. 'We'll speak later, Mr Green.'
When Hervey got back to the Sixth's camp he was expecting to hear orders for the brigadier's ruse, but instead he found the entire regiment standing to their horses.
'Durjan Sal's making a sortie, it seems,' said Joynson as Hervey took his place beside him. 'Or going to.'
Hervey wondered if the business at the battery was connected. 'What are the orders?'
'Childers' brigade's going clockwise about, and we're going the other way. The horse artillery will stage behind us and signal with rockets if there's a sortie when we've passed.'
'A straightforward enough drive,' said Hervey, disappointed by his conclusion that they were about to embark on a wild-goose chase. 'I wonder if our birds will leave their covert, though?'
'Well, someone has the wind up. How is Armstrong, by the way?'
'He's doing well.'
'Let's hope he continues doing well, then. Combermere's in the dumps well and truly, if this morning's anything to go by. He rode through and said the artillery had made not the slightest impression on the walls to date.'
'That much was evident to a telescope in the garden just now. And the Jhauts have some deuced big guns in that bastion.'
'Thirty-two-pounders, says Combermere.' Joynson nodded to his front. 'Well, that looks like the Sixteenth off. Trumpet-Major, regiment will advance!'
But the day went as Hervey feared. Round the fortress they rode - ten miles without sight or sign of the enemy save the odd impudent ball that flew their way. None fell within a hundred yards of them, but they signalled nevertheless the defender's constant surveillance of their progress. Why would anyone oblige Combermere with a sortie when his men paraded before Bhurtpore in such strength? The Jhauts had their walls, and these were serving them very well indeed. Why should they leave their shelter?
When the Sixth rode back into camp, it was a tired and frustrated Hervey who dismounted and handed the reins of an equally weary Gilbert to his groom.
'I said I would go see the sar'nt-major, but it's too late. We'll go tomorrow morning.' He took the pistols from the holsters on the saddle as Johnson drew up the stirrups. 'At least they are getting closer by the hour. We may as well be at Brighton for all the good we do. And I think by today's display we have put paid to Murray's ruse having the slightest chance of success.'
'Ay, sir.' Johnson had not the-least idea what was this ruse, but evidently his ignorance was of no moment now. 'A merry Christmas, then, sir. See thee at gunfire?'
Hervey smiled. 'Gunfire - yes, indeed.'
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE SINEWS OF WAR
Next day
FIELD GENERAL ORDERS.
Head-Quarters, Camp before Bhurtpore,
24th Dec. 1825.
Parole - SECRORA
General for the Day to-morrow. Brigadier Whitehead.
Field Officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Cooper. Major of Brigade, 2nd Infantry Division. Adjutant, H.M. ‘9th Regiment.
The Advanced Posts of Buldeo Singh's Garden and Kuddum Kundee to be relieved this afternoon at three o'clock, by parties of similar strength in Infantry as directed in yesterday's Orders, from the 1st and 2nd Divisions respectively. H.M. 11th Dragoons, and 4th Light Cavalry, will relieve the two Troops at present on duty at the Posts; and the Officers commanding them, to consider themselves placed under the immediate orders of the General of the Day, to whom they will report accordingly.