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The intrenched Sikh camp was literally a fortress, occupied by a great army not untutored in European discipline, and protected by enormous batteries of heavy ordnance, which were served so rapidly, and pointed so truly, as to elicit the unqualified admiration of the victims of their efficiency.
At last Mahmoud snatched up a stout Malacca cane, and dragging Eblis near him, beat him unmercifully, the cries of the little semi-human creature being most pathetic. I vainly tried to get the Sikh sentry to interfere; perhaps it would have been a breach of discipline if he had left his post, but at the moment I should have been glad if he had run Mahmoud through with a bayonet.
The defenders of the village were chiefly hillmen, who, after firing a straggling volley, fled, leaving the Sikh artillerymen to be slaughtered by the conquerors. The British cavalry of the right made at the same time a sweeping and successful charge, and one half of the opposing army was fairly broken and dispersed.
The village Kurds waited to have one look, saw our Turkish prisoners and our Sikh turbans, judged for themselves, and were off! I believe we cost the Turkish garrisons in those parts some grim fighting; and if any Turks were on our trail I dare wager they met a swarm or two of hornets more than they bargained for! Instead of having to fight our way through that country, we were well received.
And now, again, when all the Englishmen were dead, the voices cried: "Why fight any longer? Your sahibs are killed. Save yourselves, and surrender, before you are all killed. We will give you quarter." Left in command was Jemadar Jewand Singh, a splendid Sikh officer of the Guides' cavalry, and not one whit behind his British officers in brave resolve.
Inside, within the gloom of the gate itself, Kirby was certain he saw a Sikh who stood at the salute. He cantered to the gate, for he would have given a year's pay for word with Ranjoor Singh. But when he reached the gate the man was gone. "And he promised he'd be there to lead his squadron when the blood runs," wondered Kirby. But the tiger fell into it. That is the end.
British, Sikh, Mohammedan, and Ghoorka clustered close to him, and watched as his pencil traced the different positions and showed the movement that was to make the morrow's finish, their faces outlined in the lamp's yellow glow and their breath coming deep and slow as they agreed on how the greatest damage could be done the enemy before the last man died.
Did the sahib ever hear of Armenian massacres? This was worse. If this had been a massacre we would have known what to do, for our Sikh creed bids us ever take the part of the oppressed. But this was something that we did not understand, that held us speechless, each man searching his own heart for explanation, and Ranjoor Singh standing a little behind us watching us all.
Besides these, a party of Sikh horsemen, in the service of the Rajah of Jhind a noble-looking man, who, with his retainers, had kept open our communications with the Punjab during the whole siege joined the army, begging as a favour that they might join in the dangers of the coming assault on the city. September 7.
But Partan Singh, the Sikh, who carried in bread and cocoa to them at about five the next morning and found them still talking, heard King say, "So, in my opinion, sir, there'll be no jihad in these parts. There'll be sporadic raids, of course, but nothing a brigade can't deal with. The heart of the holy war's torn out and thrown away." "Very well," said the general.
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