Hart of Empire (13 page)

'Very well. Meanwhile I'll check on the rest of my men in the infantry barracks. So you're a businessman, are you, Harper? Strikes me you've had some form of military training, even if it's just with the militia. Am I right?'

George smiled.

'I thought so. Follow me.'

They left the Mess House by the main entrance and at once split up. Hamilton turned right and headed for the main gate that led to the infantry barracks; George and Ilderim made for the opposite gate, a much smaller one set in the back wall behind the godown that served as the Residency's armoury. They were just in time. As they rounded the godown they saw the strut securing the wooden door shake with the impact of a heavy blow from an axe or a makeshift battering ram. The lone sentry was lying prone on the ground with blood seeping from a head wound. 'Quick, Ilderim!' said George. 'I'll hold them off while you find something to bolster the door.'

While Ilderim searched, George raised his Snider to the small gap between the door and the wall and fired. A scream was followed by a volley of return shots, causing George to hurl himself sideways out of the line of fire. 'Ilderim!' he shouted. 'Hurry!'

'I'm coming,
huzoor
!' The big Ghilzai appeared from the back of the godown, dragging a large bullock-cart, known as a hackery, and with George's help placed it against the damaged door.

'Well done, Ilderim. That should hold it for now.'

A great boom sounded. Door and hackery exploded inwards in a maelstrom of flame, dust and flying timbers, knocking both George and Ilderim off their feet. George's last memory before he lost consciousness was of lying on his back, looking up at a sky filled with smoke and burning sparks. When he came to the smell of burning flesh and hair filled his nostrils, and all he could hear, above a ringing in his ears, was his name being called. He opened his eyes to see Ilderim's face, black with soot and dripping blood from many tiny cuts.

'
Huzoor
, can you stand?'

'I think so.' With Ilderim's help, he staggered to his feet. His left thigh muscle screamed with pain - it had probably taken a blow from flying timber but the bone did not appear to be broken. His face was sore and bleeding, but otherwise he was unharmed. The smell of burning flesh, he now discovered, was coming from the sepoy's corpse, which lay pinned beneath a flaming hackery wheel. The rest of the cart had simply disappeared, as had the door beyond, leaving a jagged hole in the wall.

'They must have brought an artillery piece down from the citadel,' mumbled George, his senses still dulled by the explosion.

'Yes,
huzoor
, and it won't be long before they gird their loins to attack. I must get help. Can you hold a rifle?' asked Ilderim, handing George his own loaded Snider.

'Of course.'

'Take cover behind the godown and wait for my return.'

George did as Ilderim suggested, and was covering the hole in the wall when a bearded mutineer poked his head through and, satisfied the gap was undefended, signalled to his comrades to join him. All the while George was glancing back and praying that Ilderim would hurry. He knew that if he fired he would never have the chance to reload, and would be forced to rely on his revolver, which was useless for anything beyond point-blank range. But still there was no sign of Ilderim and, with more mutineers in the doorway, it was now or never. George fixed his sights on the foremost mutineer and fired, the bullet hitting the man in the chest and driving him backwards into his comrades. As George tried desperately to reload, his fingers scrabbling to open the packet of rolled-brass cartridges in his ammunition pouch, the mutineers spotted him and charged.

Dropping the rifle, George drew his pistol and was about to fire when a fusillade of shots slammed into the charging Afghans, dropping the trio in front and causing the others to turn tail. George looked back to see Ilderim rise up from one knee and run forward. Behind him came a bandaged Cavagnari, Hamilton, Jenkyns and four sepoys. Cavagnari stopped next to George while the others covered the gap in the wall. 'You all right, Harper? Your face is a little singed.'

'I'm surprised you can tell,' said George, with a grin. 'It was courtesy of the mutineers' field gun.'

A loud bang - and another section of the wall disintegrated into yet more smoke, dust and flying masonry. George and Cavagnari ducked. 'Right on cue, sir,' said George. 'We've got to disable it. If we don't, it'll blow our defences to pieces.'

'You're right. Hamilton!'

The lieutenant trotted over. 'Yes, sir?'

'Find ten volunteers. We're going to spike that gun.'

'We?' said Hamilton, eyebrows raised.

'Yes,
we
. You don't think I'd ask you and your men to do something I would not? You forget I fought during the Great Mutiny. This is a mere riot in comparison.'

'I didn't mean to imply you couldn't fight, only that you've already been wounded and shouldn't risk yourself further.'

'That's for me to decide. I got us into this fix by ignoring every warning,' he said, glancing at George, 'and it's my responsibility to see us safe. So rustle up some volunteers and let's get on with it.'

George put his hand up. 'You want to go too?' asked Hamilton.

'Yes. I served for a time in the King's Dragoon Guards. I know how to spike a gun.'

'I thought as much. While you do the business we'll keep the Afghans busy.'

Minutes later the raiding party was lined up on either side of the gap in the wall: Cavagnari, Jenkyns and three Guides to the right; Hamilton, George, Ilderim and two more Guides to the left. Hamilton sneaked a look. 'The gun's about a hundred yards away, at the bottom of the lane. It's manned by six mutineers with more in support. Once we've killed the gunners, Mr Harper will spike the gun. No one is to stop for the wounded. Understood?'

The group nodded.

'Good. Wait for the next shot. We'll charge as they reload.'

Excitement coursed through George as he waited for the signal. Why me? he asked himself. But he knew the answer: he never felt more alive than at moments like this. His blood felt as if it was boiling, his brain on fire. Danger for him was an addiction, and death the only cure.

'All right. Let's go!'

Pistol in one hand, sword in the other, Hamilton tore up the street, with George and the others close behind. At first the mutineers were so shocked by this desperate sortie that they just stood and gaped. Then someone shouted a warning and they opened up with everything they had. The air seemed alive with bullets, one striking the ground a foot in front of George, and another wounding a Pathan sepoy in the leg. 'Leave him!' shouted Cavagnari.

With just twenty yards to the gun, a second Guide was shot, then a third. Hamilton avenged them by shooting two gunners with his pistol and impaled another with his sabre. The rest fled down the lane towards the royal palace. 'All yours, Harper,' said Hamilton, as Cavagnari and the others took up defensive positions around the gun.

Placing his pistol on the ground, George took out a long thin spike and a mallet from a satchel round his neck and proceeded to hammer the spike into the field gun's vent-hole so that it could no longer be fired. Bullets whistled overhead but he ignored them. 'Done,' he shouted, after three lusty blows.

'Everyone back to the compound!' roared Hamilton. 'I'll cover you.'

'So will I,' said Cavagnari.

'What about our casualties?' asked George.

'They're dead,' said Hamilton, pointing to the two Guides near the gun. 'But Harawant Singh, the sepoy on the road, needs a helping hand. Now go!'

Ilderim beat George to it and lifted the wounded sepoy on to his shoulder. But as he set off for the compound a second bullet hit the sepoy on the head, spattering the back of Ilderim's white
kurta
with crimson blood. 'He's dead. Leave him!' exhorted George.

Ilderim did so, and he and George were the last, but for the rearguard, to reach the safety of the breach. When they looked back, Hamilton and Cavagnari were running up the lane, bullets striking all around them. So much for the Afghans' prowess with a rifle, thought George. They couldn't have hit a haystack at fifty paces.

Just yards from safety Cavagnari's body twitched, as if it was attached to an invisible thread, and toppled to the ground. George and Ilderim ran forward to help and, covered by Hamilton, managed to half carry, half drag the unconscious resident back inside the courtyard. 'How is he?' asked Jenkyns.

'Not good,' said George, indicating the spreading stain of blood on Cavagnari's shirt front. 'Let's get him upstairs to Dr Kelly.'

Chapter 8

The Residency, Kabul

Kelly looked up from inspecting the livid exit wound, a hole the size of a sovereign, on the right side of Cavagnari's chest. 'It's mortal, I'm afraid. He's lost too much blood.'

'Is there nothing you can do?' implored Jenkyns.

'I'm sorry, William. The best I can do is ease the pain with a little morphine if he comes round. But I doubt he will.'

As if oblivious to the noise of battle outside, the room was quiet as the senior men came to terms with the loss of their chief. George broke the silence. 'Any sign of your messenger, Hamilton?'

'What's that?' said the lieutenant, wiping away a tear. 'No, no sign.'

'Don't you think you should send another?'

'I suppose we should. If you write it, Jenkyns, I'll see that one of my men carries it.' Then Hamilton turned to the doctor. 'I see the rooms next door are overflowing with wounded, Ambrose. Do you know how many?'

'Twenty-two. And that's just in this building. There'll be more in the resident's house and the barracks, with goodness knows how many dead.'

'I don't mean to teach you your business, Hamilton,' interjected George, 'but it strikes me we don't have enough men left to defend all three buildings. Wouldn't it be better to withdraw everyone into the barracks? It has a parapet on the roof and the best all-round field of fire.'

'You're right,' said Hamilton, putting his sun helmet back on. 'I'll see the messenger off first, then give the order.' He left the room.

What of Pir Ali, Doctor?' asked George. 'Any change?'

'I'll check.' Kelly knelt down next to the
munshi
's prone form and checked his wrist pulse. 'I'm afraid not. He's still out cold and his heartbeat is very weak. I don't think he'll pull through either.'

George shook his head slowly. 'I doubt any of us will.'

The sound of firing broke out from the floor above. Seconds later a Sikh jemadar appeared in the doorway. 'The Afghans are on the roof! Where is Hamilton Sahib?'

'He's down in the courtyard, sending off another messenger,' said George. 'How many men have you got left on the floor above?'

'Only seven, sahib, and two of those are wounded. The Afghans are firing down from the trapdoor and have driven us into the corridor. We can't hold them for long.'

'Christ. We've got to get the wounded across to the infantry barracks before it's too late. Can any of them walk, Kelly?'

'A few. But don't you think we should wait until Hamilton returns? With Sir Louis incapacitated, he's the senior military officer and the order should come from him.'

'This isn't the time for military niceties, Doctor!' snapped George. 'If we delay even a few minutes it may be too late.'

'I'm sorry, Mr Harper,' said Kelly, his jaw jutting forward in defiance, 'I don't take orders from a civilian.'

George was so angry he was about to draw his pistol and put it to Kelly's head, but then he realized there was another way to persuade him. 'What if I told you I'm not a civilian, but a captain in the British Army on special duty for the Foreign Office? That makes
me
the senior officer.'

'
You?
On special duty?'

Another burst of firing sounded from the floor above. 'Yes, and I don't have time to explain so you'll have to take my word for it. Now, get the wounded moving while we hold them off above. The serious cases will have to be left.'