Gil the Gunner: The Youngest Officer in the EastFenn, George Manville
General
Gil the Gunner: The Youngest Officer in the East
Fenn, George Manville
Great Britain. Army -- Colonial forces -- India -- Juvenile fiction; Young men -- Juvenile fiction
I went back and glanced through the window again, just in time to see
the two bheesties join again, and slowly march out with their empty
skins to fetch more water.
I was in the act of turning away wondering whether by any possibility
Dost would be able to make his way to me when it was dark, and with my
heart beating fast, hoping that he would have designed some way of
escape, when my heart gave another bound, and I ran to the window to
thrust out my head and listen, for unmistakably, although at some
distance off, came the quick dull thud of a cannon.
"Hah!" I ejaculated, as I saw in my imagination the men serving the
guns, and in my own mind making certain that it was one of Brace's
six-pounders.
"How glorious!" I cried; "one of the pieces he carried off turned upon
him now."
"My lord is glad there is fighting?" said a voice behind me; and I saw
that Salaman had come quickly up behind, and he now pointed to where the
meal I had asked for had been placed upon the matting.
I frowned, but made no answer, as I walked to the spot where the repast
was spread, and I had hardly seated myself, with the two attendants who
had brought in the food standing before me, when I heard another report,
and then, slowly and steadily the whole of the guns were brought into
action, keeping up a regular steady fire, one which told me that an
advance was being made by infantry, which the firing was to cover.
I began to eat, trying to be perfectly calm, but at the first mouthful I
broke down. It was impossible, and, jumping, up I went and sat down by
the window, to listen to the firing, and try to picture to myself what
was going on.
It was weary work. All imagination, and I knew it; but still I could
not keep from picturing the scene, especially when the firing suddenly
ceased. My cheeks grew flushed then, and I seemed to hear the order,
see the men trot up with the limbers, the gunners hook on the trail of
the gun-carriage, and then spring to their seats on horse or limber, and
go off at a gallop.
"No," I muttered, "come on at a gallop," to take up a fresh position.
I could have sworn that the next minute I should hear them open again,
and I seemed to see the swift horses going along at full speed to come
to a sudden halt, the men spring down, unhook, and bring the guns into
action again. But that minute passed, then another, and another--long,
weary minutes--till quite ten must have gone by before I heard the
familiar dull report again, and now, to my misery, I acknowledged to
myself that it must be from fully a mile further away.
Four guns were fired, or two twice over, I could not, of course, tell
which. Then the firing ceased, and a dull feeling of misery came over
me, for it meant retiring. They must be driven back by the superior
force of the rajah's army.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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