In Times of Peril: A Tale of IndiaHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
History
In Times of Peril: A Tale of India
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
India -- History -- Sepoy Rebellion, 1857-1858 -- Juvenile fiction
"You keep up the fire through the window," said the major; "the boys
and I will fire through the door."
Yells and shrieks followed each shot through the door, and after three
or four minutes the troopers drew off.
"Any one hurt?" the major asked.
"I have got a bullet in my shoulder," said Captain Dunlop.
But that was the only reply. There was a shout outside, and Manners
exclaimed: "Confound the fellows, they have got a big log of wood that
will soon splinter the door."
"We must stop them as long as we can," said the major, as he fired
among the men who were advancing with the log.
Several Sepoys fell before they got up to the house, but they pressed
on, and, at the first blow given by the battering-ram driven by the
men, the door split from top to bottom.
"Fix bayonets," the major said. "Now, Manners, you and I will hold them
back. Not more than two can come at once, and their swords are of no
use against bayonets in a narrow space. Dunlop, will you stand in
reserve? you have still got your right hand; use your bayonet as a
dagger if a rush comes. Boys, you go on loading and firing; put in four
balls each time. If they get in, of course use your bayonets; there
goes the door!"
A shout burst from the natives as the last portion of the door dropped
from its hinges, and the doorway was open. There was, however, no
inclination betrayed to make a rush.
"Forward! Death to the infidel dogs!" shouted their officer.
"Suppose you lead us," said one of the troopers; "the officers always
show the way."
"Come, then," cried an old officer, on whose breast hung several
medals; "follow me!"
Drawing his sword, he rushed forward, followed by twenty of his men.
But as he passed over the threshold he and the trooper next to him fell
beneath the bayonet thrusts of Major Warrener and his companion. The
next two, pushed forward by their comrades, shared the same fate;
while, as they fell, the muskets of Ned and Dick sent their contents
into the mass. The rest recoiled from the fatal doorway, while the
defenders set up a cheer of triumph. It was drowned in a crash of
musketry, mingled with a cry of surprise and despair from the natives,
as a body of British soldiers leaped from the wood, and followed their
volley by an impetuous charge. The cavalry on the plain turned and fled
at a gallop; and in five minutes, but for a few dark figures prostrate
on the plain, not an enemy was in sight.
"Well, gentlemen, you have made a stout defense," the officer in
command said, as he returned to the shrine, outside which the little
party had gathered. "It seems as if you could have done without my
help. Who are you, may I ask? And where have you sprung from?"
"Why, Sibbold, is it you? You haven't forgotten Warrener? And here are
Dunlop and Manners."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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