Page:Littell's Living Age - Volume 127.djvu/423

Rh off the back of Braddon's pillow — he was asleep on another cot — without touching him, tore through the body of Yorke's horse as it stood picketed just beyond, and so made its exit through the parapet on the other side, those who had escaped starting up from their sleep, and gazing in wonder at the mangled forms of their comrades.

The news of the catastrophe soon spread through the building; and while those who were kept to their posts by duty were still questioning the others who had gone to learn particulars, another casualty was reported. A messenger from the lodge came over with the news that Layton, the shopkeeper, who was on duty there, and a very useful member of the garrison, had just been killed by a stray bullet coming through a loophole. So far the garrison had experienced a remarkable immunity from loss through the enemy's musketry-fire, and a certain proportion of casualties from this cause was reasonably to be expected; but coming at this time the loss seemed to be exceptionally hard to bear. An hour later there was another serious blow. Buxey was with one of the servants in the storeroom serving out supplies, when a shot came through the door-way, killing the man, whose mangled body fell over the open jar of meal they were handling, drenching its contents with blood. The rest of the stores were at once removed to a less exposed part of the house; but this accident had made a serious inroad upon the scanty stock remaining, and a feeling of despair now for the first time possessed many of the garrison, while the stoutest-hearted felt their courage sink at these losses in their slender numbers, which they were powerless to retaliate or guard against unless by some desperate effort. And when Falkland was seen to go up to the roof a little later with Yorke and Braddon, it was rumoured that another spell of "nervous duty" was in store for some of them.

"I think we might take those guns with a rush, sir," said Braddon to Falkland, as they surveyed the position from the look-out place; "we might come round on them from the flank, and spike them without much loss."

"I have been thinking of that too, but it would be a desperate remedy. We should lose time removing the barricade, which they have made as strong as ever. Even if we got as far without loss, they would never allow us to retire unmolested. The houses opposite the lodge are swarming with men, who would be almost in the rear of our advance. The distance is full six hundred yards. It would cost us our last cartridge to retire over it, and even then we should have to leave our wounded behind us, if any were hit. No, I think it would be better to hold on, and keep a few shots for a last resource." And the garrison were not disappointed to hear that no sally was to be made. All felt with Falkland that the remedy would be too desperate.

That night another shallow grave was dug in the garden for Underwood and the two sepoys, and Layton was buried by Braywell near the lodge; the dead horse also was dragged out and buried, the enemy offering no molestation.

The firing had stopped, but the ladies were not allowed to sleep on the roof, and were crowded together in Olivia's room in the stifling heat, while sleep was driven away by the cries of young Raugh. The poor lad was now quite light-headed, and sang English ballads all through the night in a shrill voice.

That night, while Egan was on duty in the trench leading to the bath-house, he was suddenly startled by seeing something moving stealthily towards him from the direction of the garden-hedge. Soon making it out to be a man, he covered him with his rifle, but paused before firing till the nature of the attack should explain itself. He could only make out one man, and, being a cool fellow, Egan contented himself with keeping his rifle ready till the man had approached quite close, who then began waving his hand in a deprecating way, and whispered in Hindustani —

"A poor man, sahib, with news: don't fire."

"All right, old fellow," replied Egan; "come along, and don't be afraid. You've had a precious close shave, old gentleman, all the same," continued Mr. Egan in a lower voice, as he assisted the stranger to climb over the trench; and soon the word being passed, the messenger was brought to Falkland in the south veranda. He was a little wizened old man, a mere bag of bones, and naked save for a small cloth round his loins, and a pair of coarse shoes.

"A letter, sir," said the old man; and taking off one of his shoes, and drawing a couple of nails concealed by mud and dust, extracted a tiny piece of folded paper from between the layers of the sole. This letter, flattened out, was barely three inches square; written in faint ink on the thinnest paper, and soiled by the journey, the following words were with difficulty deciphered: — 