Gil the Gunner by George Manville Fenn (rainbow fish read aloud TXT) 📕

“I don’t, Gil,” he said, smiling, “There, now we have a horrible task before us to wait nearly an hour. Dobbs, follow us with the horses, and keep about twenty yards behind.”

He advanced to the three noble beasts, and began to examine their bridles, and then tightened their girths himself, before saying shortly, “Now forward,” and, carrying the scabbard of his sword, he led the way once more to the edge of the wood, where, after taking care that we were carefully screened, he swept the plain with his eyes, and then took out his glass.

“Yes, that will do,” he said to the trumpeter, who had stopped with the bridles of the horses in his hands and a look of eager excitement in his eyes, as he evidently anticipated riding that day instead of a long weary tramp.

Brace used his glass and watched the town, making comments to me from time to time.

“All very quiet,” he said. “Our lads must have an hour, for they may find the tangle very hard to get through.”

There was a long pause, during which he was almost constantly watching the place with his glass. And how that scene is imprinted in my mind; the beautiful fringe of green trees, where we stood in the shade, and before us the broad plain bright in the fresh morning sunshine, and wreaths of mist still floating over it, but being rapidly dispelled by the sun, though the distance still looked hazy and of a delicious blue. There on the right was the village or town, dotted with the figures of the white-robed Hindus, whose arms flashed now and then, as they moved here and there.

“If they will only give us a full hour, Gil,” said Brace. “How long have our men been gone?”

“Not a quarter yet,” I said.

He uttered an ejaculation full of impatience, and began watching again.

“I’m between two fires,” he said at last. “I am eager for them to come out before those scoundrelly sepoys give the rajah warning; and I am longing for them to stay for a full three-quarters of an hour yet. What a dilemma. It is terrible.”

Just then there was the sound of a horse plunging and squealing, and we turned to where the trumpeter held the three.

“That would ruin us if they were passing,” muttered Brace. Then aloud, “Keep them quiet, my lad. What are you doing?”

“Beg pardon, sir; did not move. Mr Vincent’s horse, sir, a bit playful. They’re all so fresh.”

We patted and quieted the beautiful animals, and left them again to resume our old place, to find that all remained still. There was no excitement, and we could see nothing to suggest that there had been an alarm, and men were coming out to attack us or a retreat had been ordered. But as we watched, we suddenly saw a man in white riding the beautiful gaily caparisoned Arab, which even at that distance I recognised as the rajah’s charger. He was passing along in front of some buildings, and my heart beat faster as I felt that at last the time was rapidly approaching for action.

“How long do you think it is now since they started?” said Brace, in a hoarse voice.

“Half an hour,” I replied; and I did not recognise my own voice, it sounded so husky.

“Hah!” sighed Brace, still using his glass.

Then, after a few minutes—

“They’re turning out,” he said. “Yes; and there is no sign of hurry;” and he kept on telling me as, by the help of the glass, the confusion I could see was cleared; and the leading out of horses, and falling in of men, was described, “They’re going through it all exactly as if they were our troop,” said Brace, bitterly. “We’ve let them see our training, and trained them, too, to some purpose. Hasn’t another quarter of an hour gone yet?”

“No,” I said; “not more than ten minutes.”

“It seems like ten hours. Hah! Trumpeter, keep those horses quiet, on your life.”

There was a neighing and stamping and trampling mingled with the breaking of bushes, and then all was quiet again; while I felt an intense longing to mount my Arab, and gallop as hard as that beautiful creature could go.

“You can see them plainly now?” said Brace.

“Oh yes; quite plainly,” I replied, as I saw the limbers brought out, each by its six horses, and the men drawn up ready, some on foot, the rest mounted, and holding the horses of the dismounted gunners, two of whom, however, would in each case mount to their seats on the limber.

“Where is the rajah?” said Brace, impatiently. “I can’t see him. Can you?”

“No.”

“Then those scoundrels of sepoys must have reached the place, and, instead of their coming out to drill to-day, they will retreat once more.”

Just then came the squealing and trampling of the horses again, and I had to run back and help poor Dobbs, whose face was scarlet.

“I can hardly hold them, sir. The flies are beginning to worry them, too.”

“Only a little longer, Dobbs,” I said. “Pray—pray try and keep them quiet.”

I tried hard to soothe my restive charger, which whinnied after me impatiently as I went away again, just as if the poor brute felt disappointed because I had not mounted and ridden him off.

But they were pretty quiet when I left them, and I rejoined Brace, who was trembling with excitement.

“It must be nearly an hour now,” he said to me appealingly.

“Yes, it must be,” I replied.

“And Haynes ought to be ready. It will take a few minutes, too, which will all be in their favour. But the scoundrels don’t come out; and, though I can see the rajah’s Arab, I can’t see him. Take the glass and try yourself.”

I caught the glass from his hand, and swept the ground, to see that the six guns were all out in front, the long line of horses ready with their riders, and the drivers already seated, waiting for the limbering up, each team of glossy creatures breaking up the regularity of the line.

“No,” I said, returning the glass. “I can’t see him.”

“But you could make out his horse?”

“Yes, plainly.”

“Gil,” said Brace, after a pause, “our hour must be up; and we could act at once if they came out. But there is something wrong.”

“I hope not.”

“And I; but I’m afraid. Is your pistol charged?”

“No,” I said.

“Then load, man, load. Heaven knows I don’t want to destroy life; but we are fighting for our queen and country, and for the thousands of women and children who may soon be at the mercy of these men.”

I hastily dragged my cartouche-box round, and charged my pistol, and when this was done, looked at Brace, as if asking for further commands.

“Is your sword sharp?”

“Yes, very,” I replied.

“Good. Recollect, lad, that you may have to use it; and then you must strike or give point—do so with vigour. Your life or mine may depend upon it.”

“I’ll try, and do my best,” I said huskily.

“I know you will, Gil; and may God help us!”

There was another long period of watching before he spoke again.

“It is of no use, lad,” he said. “My fault; and I have upset as splendid a plan as was ever conceived, by letting those prisoners escape. They must have reached the place, and are giving the rajah the information of danger to him and his being so near. It’s all over; they will not drill to-day.”

“But we can follow them up, and get another chance,” I said soothingly.

“No, lad,” he replied, “never again. Knowing that he is pursued, he will be too watchful. Our chance is gone.”

“Look there,” I said, steadying my eyes with my hand; “isn’t that the rajah mounting? I can’t see, but I saw something flashing in the sun.”

“Yes,” cried Brace, in a trembling voice. “It is—it is; and he is riding out to the front. Look, there is the order. The men have limbered up, and mounted. There, again. Hurrah! they are in motion. Do you see? they are coming out into the plain. Gil, lad, your hand. He cannot have got the warning, or they would follow the road. Now, may Heaven help our good cause, bring us safely through to-day’s peril, and help us to acquit ourselves like British soldiers and like men.”