At the Point of the Bayonet: A Tale of the Mahratta War

"We must go carefully, or we shall fall in one of these morasses."

Two troopers were sent off, one to the right, the other to the left. One of them, when he had gone about a quarter of a mile, was heard to shout that he was fast in the morass. Abdool and four of the men rode to his assistance, and presently returned with him, having with the greatest difficulty extricated his horse. Nothing had been heard of the other trooper. Again and again Harry shouted, but no reply came back. They waited half an hour, and then concluded that either the man, on his return, had missed his way altogether; or that he had fallen into a swamp, when they were too far off to hear his voice, and had perished there.

Harry again gave the word for them to move on, this time at a walk. Abdool preceded them on foot. Presently he said:

"The ground is getting softer, sahib. I think that we are approaching a swamp."

"We had better all dismount," Harry said, setting the example.

"Now, let each move in different directions, going very cautiously, and calling out if he comes upon soft ground."

He himself, with two of the troopers, remained with the horses. One after another, the men came upon swampy ground; one only continued to find it firm.

"I suppose that that is the way we came into it, Abdool," Harry said, as the others returned to the horses. "We must follow him, and will do it on foot. This is getting serious."

For a quarter of a mile, they kept on ground that was comparatively firm. Then the man ahead of them gave a sudden shout. He had fallen, waist deep, into a little stream. He was soon hauled out.

"There is nothing to be done, Abdool, but to halt till morning. Let us go back, till we can find a piece of ground dry enough to lie down upon."

They had made, however, little progress when their feet began to sink up to the ankles.

"It is no use, Abdool. We have evidently lost our bearings, altogether. We must stay where we are till morning, or we shall get helplessly bogged."

The hours passed slowly and painfully. From time to time, the men endeavoured to find firmer ground, but always without success; and it was with the deepest satisfaction that, at last, they saw the sky begin to lighten. Half an hour later, they were able to form an idea of their position.

They were far in what appeared to be a wide morass. There were pools of water in some places, and it seemed almost miraculous that they should have succeeded in so far entering the swamp where, even by daylight, there scarcely seemed a yard of firm ground. Abdool again went ahead and, step by step, the little troop followed; frequently having to turn back again, on finding the line that they were pursuing impassable.

They were still a hundred yards from what appeared to be solid ground when they heard loud shouts and, looking round, saw some fifty horsemen skirting the edge of the morass. When they reached the point opposite to the little party, they dismounted and opened fire. One of the troopers fell dead, and several of the horses were hit.

"There is nothing for it but to surrender, Abdool," Harry said, as some of the troopers returned the fire.

The enemy rode off for a hundred yards; and then, leaving the horses in charge of a few of their number, they returned to the edge of the morass, threw themselves down in the long coarse grass, and again opened fire. Two more of the troopers fell, at the first discharge. Harry drew out his handkerchief, and waved it.

"We will not surrender, if they are Holkar's men," he said to Abdool. "We should only be tortured, and then put to death. If they are Bhurtpoor's men, we may have fair treatment."

Therefore, as soon as the enemy had stopped firing he shouted:

"Whose soldiers are you?"

"The Rajah of Bhurtpoor's," was shouted back.

"We will surrender, if you will swear to take us to Bhurtpoor and hand us over to the rajah. If you will not do so, we will defend ourselves to the last."

A native officer stood up.

"Assuredly we will take you to the rajah. I swear it on my faith."

"Very well then, send a man to guide us out of this place."

An order was given. One of the men went back and mounted his horse, and rode along by the edge of the morass for nearly half a mile. The others, more slowly, followed him.

"It is clear that this place in front of us is absolutely impassable," Harry said, "or they would never all move away."

"It is lucky that you have not got your favourite horse today, sir," Abdool said–for Harry had bought, from one of the cavalry, a horse that had been captured from the Mahrattas, as one was insufficient for the work he had to do.

"I should be very glad, indeed, Abdool, if I thought that I was likely to return to camp soon. But in such peril as this, it is but a small satisfaction to know that he is safe."

"What do you think of our chances, sahib?"

"I don't think the Rajah of Bhurtpoor will harm us. He must feel that his situation is almost desperate, and it would put him beyond the reach of pardon, if he were to massacre his prisoners."

The Jat had now dismounted, and could be seen making his way towards them on foot; sometimes coming straight, but more often making long bends and turns. It was evident, by the absence of any hesitation in his movements, that he was well acquainted with the morass.

"If that is the only way to us," Harry said, "it is marvellous, indeed, that we made our way so far."

"I think, sahib, that it was the instinct of the horses. I felt mine pull at the rein, as I was leading him, sometimes to the right and sometimes to the left; and I always let him have his way, knowing that horses can see and smell better than we can and, as we were all in single file, you followed without noticing the turns."

In ten minutes the man arrived. He spoke to Harry, but his language differed widely from either Mahratti or that spoken by the people of Bengal. However, he signed to the troopers to lay down their arms and, when they had done so, started to rejoin the others; and, leading the horses, the party followed. The path was fairly firm, and Harry had no doubt that it was used by fowlers, in search of the game with which, at certain seasons of the year, the lakes and morasses abounded.

When they arrived at the edge of the swamp, where the others were awaiting them, Harry handed his sword to their leader. He and his party then mounted and, surrounded by the Jats, rode to Bhurtpoor. Their entrance was greeted with loud shouts and acclamations by the populace. Making their way straight through the town, which covered a large extent of ground, they reached the palace, a noble building built upon a rock that rose abruptly from the plain. Ascending the steep path leading to the gate, the party entered the courtyard. Here the captives remained in charge of the horsemen, while the leader went in to report to the rajah.

Presently he came out, with four of the rajah's guard, and these led Harry and Abdool into the audience chamber. The rajah, with a number of personal attendants, entered and took his seat.

"You are an officer in the English army. What is your rank?" the rajah said in Mahratti.

"I am a major."

"Of what regiment?"

"I am on the personal staff of the general."

"And this man?"

"He is a native officer, at present commanding a portion of the general's escort."

"How was it that you were alone, last night?"

"I had ridden to Agra, the day before; and was too late, in starting back, to gain the camp before it was dark. I lost my way and, finding that we were in the heart of the morass, we were obliged to wait till morning."

"It is well that you did not try to get out. Had you done so, none of you would be here now.

"You speak Mahratti like a native."

"I was some years at Poona and, as a child, had a Mahratta woman as a nurse, and learnt it from her."

The rajah was silent for a minute or two, then he asked:

"Does your general think that he is going to capture my town?"