Rujub, the Juggler

But instead of turning Forster rode right at them. There was a confused melee for a moment, and then his figure appeared beyond the line, through which he had broken. With yells of fury the troopers reined in their horses and tried to turn them, but before they could do so the officer was upon them again. His revolver cracked in his left hand, and his sword flashed in his right. Two or three horses and men were seen to roll over, and in a moment he was through them again and riding at full speed for the courthouse, under a scattered fire from the infantry, while the horsemen, now in a confused mass, galloped behind him.

“Now then,” the Doctor shouted, picking up his rifle; “let them know we are within range, but mind you don’t hit Forster. Fire two or three shots, and then run down to the gate. He is well mounted, and has a good fifty yards’ start of them.”

Then taking deliberate aim he fired. The others followed his example. Three of the troopers dropped from their horses. Four times those on the terrace fired, and then ran down, each, at the Doctor’s order, taking two guns with him. One of these was placed in the hands of each of the officers who had just ridden in, and they then gathered round the gate. In two minutes Forster rode in at full speed, then fifteen muskets flashed out, and several of the pursuers fell from their horses. A minute later the gate was closed and barred, and the men all ran up to the roof, from which three muskets were fired simultaneously.

“Well done!” the Doctor exclaimed. “That is a good beginning.”

A minute later a brisk fire was opened from the terrace upon the cavalry, who at once turned and rode rapidly back to their lines.

Captain Forster had not come scathless through the fray; his cheek had been laid open by a sabre cut, and a musket ball had gone through the fleshy part of his arm as he rode back.

“This comes of fighting when there is no occasion,” the Doctor growled, when he dressed his wounds. “Here you are charging a host like a paladin of old, forgetful that we want every man who can lift an arm in defense of this place.”

“I think, Doctor, there is someone else wants your services more than I do.”

“Yes; is anyone else hit?”

“No, I don’t know that anyone else is hit, Doctor; but as I turned to come into the house after the gates were shut, there was that fellow Bathurst leaning against the wall as white as a sheet, and shaking all over like a leaf. I should say a strong dose of Dutch courage would be the best medicine there.”

“You do not do justice to Bathurst, Captain Forster,” the Doctor said gravely. “He is a man I esteem most highly. In some respects he is the bravest man I know, but he is constitutionally unable to stand noise, and the sound of a gun is torture to him. It is an unfortunate idiosyncrasy for which he is in no way accountable.”

“Exceedingly unfortunate, I should say,” Forster said, with a dry laugh; “especially at times like this. It is rather unlucky for him that fighting is generally accompanied by noise. If I had such an idiosyncrasy, as you call it, I would blow out my brains.”

“Perhaps Bathurst would do so, too, Captain Forster, if he had not more brains to blow out than some people have.”

“That is sharp, Doctor,” Forster laughed good temperedly. “I don’t mind a fair hit.”

“Well, I must go,” the Doctor said, somewhat mollified; “there is plenty to do, and I expect, after these fellows have held a council of war, they will be trying an attack.”

When the Doctor went out he found the whole of the garrison busy. The Major had placed four men on the roof, and had ordered everyone else to fill the bags that had been prepared for the purpose with earth from the garden. It was only an order to the men and male servants, but the ladies had all gone out to render their assistance. As fast as the natives filled the bags with earth the ladies sewed up the mouths of the bags, and the men carried them away and piled them against the gate.

The garrison consisted of the six military officers, the Doctor, seven civilians, ten ladies, eight children, thirty-eight male servants, and six females. The work, therefore, went on rapidly, and in the course of two hours so large a pile of bags was built up against the gate that there was no probability whatever of its being forced.

“Now,” the Major said, “we want four dozen bags at least for the parapet of the terrace. We need not raise it all, but we must build up a breastwork two bags high at each of the angles.”

There was only just time to accomplish this when one of the watch on the roof reported that the Sepoys were firing the bungalows. As soon as they saw that the Europeans had gained the shelter of the courthouse the Sepoys, with yells of triumph, had made for the houses of the Europeans, and their disappointment at finding that not only had all the whites taken refuge in the courthouse, but that they had removed most of their property, vented itself in setting fire to the buildings, after stripping them of everything, and then amused themselves by keeping up a straggling fire against the courthouse.

As soon as the bags were taken onto the roof, the defenders, keeping as much as possible under the shelter of the parapet, carried them to the corners of the terrace and piled them two deep, thus forming a breastwork four feet high. Eight of the best shots were then chosen, and two of them took post at each corner.

“Now,” the Doctor said cheerfully, as he sat behind a small loophole that had been left between the bags, “it is our turn, and I don’t fancy we shall waste as much lead as they have been doing.”

The fire from the defenders was slow, but it was deadly, and in a very short time the Sepoys no longer dared to show themselves in the open, but took refuge behind trees, whence they endeavored to reply to the fire on the roof; but even this proved so dangerous that it was not long before the fire ceased altogether, and they drew off under cover of the smoke from the burning bungalows.

Isobel Hannay had met Bathurst as he was carrying a sack of earth to the roof.

“I have been wanting to speak to you, Mr. Bathurst, ever since yesterday evening, but you have never given me an opportunity. Will you step into the storeroom for a few minutes as you come down?”

As he came down he went to the door of the room in which Isobel was standing awaiting him.

“I am not coming in, Miss Hannay; I believe I know what you are going to say. I saw it in your face last night when I had to tell that tiger story. You want to say that you are sorry you said that you despised cowards. Do not say it; you were perfectly right; you cannot despise me one tenth as much as I despise myself. While you were looking at the mutineers from the roof I was leaning against the wall below well nigh fainting. What do you think my feelings must be that here, where every man is brave, where there are women and children to be defended, I alone cannot bear my part. Look at my face; I know there is not a vestige of color in it. Look at my hands; they are not steady yet. It is useless for you to speak; you may pity me, but you cannot but despise me. Believe me, that death when it comes will be to me a happy release indeed from the shame and misery I feel.”

Then, turning, he left the girl without another word, and went about his work. The Doctor had, just before going up to take his place on the roof, come across him.

“Come in here, my dear Bathurst,” he said, seizing his arm and dragging him into the room which had been given up to him for his drugs and surgical appliances.

“Let me give you a strong dose of ammonia and ginger; you want a pickup I can see by your face.”

“I want it, Doctor, but I will not take it,” Bathurst said. “That is one thing I have made up my mind to. I will take no spirits to create a courage that I do not possess.”

“It is not courage; it has nothing to do with courage,” the Doctor said angrily. “It is a simple question of nerves, as I have told you over and over again.”

“Call it what you like, Doctor, the result is precisely the same. I do not mind taking a strong dose of quinine if you will give it me, for I feel as weak as a child, but no spirits.”

With an impatient shrug of the shoulders the Doctor mixed a strong dose of quinine and gave it to him.

An hour later a sudden outburst of musketry took place. Not a native showed himself on the side of the house facing the maidan, but from the gardens on the other three sides a heavy fire was opened.

“Every man to the roof,” the Major said; “four men to each of the rear corners, three to the others. Do you think you are fit to fire, Forster? Had you not better keep quiet for today; you will have opportunities enough.”

“I am all right, Major,” he said carelessly. “I can put my rifle through a loophole and fire, though I have one arm in a sling. By Jove!” he broke off suddenly; “look at that fellow Bathurst—he looks like a ghost.”

The roll of musketry was unabated, and the defenders were already beginning to answer it; the bullets sung thickly overhead, and above the din could be heard the shouts of the natives. Bathurst’s face was rigid and ghastly pale. The Major hurried to him.

“My dear Bathurst,” he said, “I think you had better go below. You will find plenty of work to do there.”

“My work is here,” Bathurst said, as if speaking to himself: “it must be done.”

The Major could not at the moment pay further attention to him, for a roar of fire broke out round the inclosure, as from the ruined bungalows and from every bush the Sepoys, who had crept up, now commenced the attack in earnest, while the defenders lying behind their parapet replied slowly and steadily, aiming at the puffs of smoke as they darted out. His attention was suddenly called by a shout from the Doctor.

“Are you mad, Bathurst? Lie down, man; you a throwing away your life.”

Turning round, the Major saw Bathurst standing up—right by the parapet, facing the point where the enemy fire was hottest. He held a rifle in his hand but did not attempt to fire; his figure swayed slightly to and fro.

“Lie down,” the Major shouted, “lie down, sir;” and then as Bathurst still stood unmoved he was about to run forward, when the Doctor from one side and Captain Forster from the other rushed towards him through a storm of bullets, seized him in their arms, and dragged him back to the center of the terrace.

“Nobly done, gentlemen,” the Major said, as they laid Bathurst down; “it was almost miraculous your not being hit.”

Bathurst had struggled fiercely for a moment, and then his resistance had suddenly ceased, and he had been dragged back like a wooden figure. His eyes were closed now.

“Has he been hit, Doctor?” the Major asked. “It seems impossible he can have escaped. What madness possessed him to put himself there as a target?”

“No, I don’t think he is hit,” the Doctor said, as he examined him. “I think he has fainted. We had better carry him down to my room. Shake hands, Forster; I know you and Bathurst were not good friends, and you risked your life to save him.”

“I did not think who it was,” Forster said, with a careless laugh. “I saw a man behaving like a madman, and naturally went to pull him down. However, I shall think better of him in future, though I doubt whether he was in his right senses.”

“He wanted to be killed,” the Doctor said quietly; “and the effort that he made to place himself in the way of death must have been greater than either you or I can well understand, Forster. I know the circumstances of the case. Morally I believe there is no braver man living than he is; physically he has the constitution of a timid woman; it is mind against body.”

“The distinction is too fine for me, Doctor,” Forster said, as he turned to go off to his post by the parapet. “I understand pluck and I understand cowardice, but this mysterious mixture you speak of is beyond me altogether.”