Dust and Steel. Patrick Mercer

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СКАЧАТЬ crowd at the rear of the 95th had gone still and quiet, and Morgan believed that he could read the thoughts of the men in front of him. Their great brown eyes stared at his own men’s muzzles and it was if an unspoken belief in their innocence loomed over them. Morgan hoped he was right, for the time of reckoning was almost upon them.

      ‘Left, right, left, right…get ’ere, can’t you?’ A flat, Sheffield twang was clear on the hot air.

      ‘’Ere’s Sar’nt Ormond and the commanding officer, sir,’ said McGucken. ‘’Bout time, too.’

      The detachment of the Grenadier Company had formed a hollow, marching square around the prisoners – Morgan couldn’t yet see how many – as they tramped down the slope towards the rest of the troops. Sergeant Ormond’s face was as expressionless now as it had been when he slashed Russians down at Sebastapol, thought Morgan, all stumpy, five-foot six of him, as dependable at issuing the bread ration as he would certainly prove to be at eviscerating Hindus.

      The detachment had their bayonets fixed and just beyond the bobbing points came a gaggle of horsemen, the commanding officers of the native battalions, a cloud of adjutants, and Colonel Hume, who’d been lent a cob of dubious age and wind that hardly did him justice. It was difficult to see exactly what was going on in the centre of the square, but Morgan could hear shouts in what he guessed was Hindi and, quite distinctly, in best Wirksworth, ‘Coom on, yer barnshoot, keep up with the sergeant.’ Predictably, Corporal Pegg had landed the job of escorting the prisoners. As they came closer, Morgan could see Pegg’s stubby arm thrusting first one and then the other of the two leading prisoners hard in the small of the back. Each time the yellow cuff shot forward, so the sepoys staggered and shouted; each time they shouted, so the piston-like wrist administered another shove.

      ‘Stow all that bollocks, you two; you can try to persuade Joe Gunner not to jerk ’is lanyard, if you like, but you’re wastin’ yer breath.’ Pegg was as sympathetic as Morgan had come to expect. ‘Stop draggin’ them chains in the dust, won’t you?’

      Morgan and McGucken marched forward to meet Hume and the party. They could see that the two prisoners who stumbled side by side were shackled ankle and wrist, they were barefoot and had exchanged their uniform trousers for shabby dhotis. Their swallow-tailed coatees hung open where the buttons had been cut away – on sentencing by the court martial, Morgan supposed. Despite Pegg’s attentions, both continued to yell, whilst the third man, who was bound only by rope at the wrists, was utterly silent.

      There were a few hisses and hoots from within the crowd and Morgan thought he could make out the words ‘Mungal Pandy’ being chanted by a handful, but for the most part the advancing party was surrounded by an awed silence.

      ‘Sir, the right wing and Captain Bolton’s troop deployed as you ordered.’ Morgan braced to attention and saluted with a graceful sweep of his drawn sword as Hume clattered up on his borrowed mount.

      ‘Stop, you damn screw, can’t you?’ Hume hauled on the reins of the scruffy cob, whilst the other mounted officers came to a more elegant halt. ‘Mouth like bloody iron,’ he muttered as the horse jerked its head round bad-temperedly. ‘Good, thank you, Morgan. I see you’ve got the men ready to fire. Any sign of trouble?’

      ‘No, sir, the poor lambs look quite wretched, but the crowd might give us a problem.’ Morgan looked round at the rabble, who were beginning to get a little bolder, advancing step by step closer to the backs of the 95th and Bolton’s men.

      Hume quickly walked his horse to the centre of the 95th’s line, McGucken and Morgan scrambling to keep up. With hardly a pause, Hume pulled a sheet of paper from the breast of his jacket, cleared his throat and, in a high, clear voice, started to read, ‘Verdicts and sentences of a court martial convened at Fort George, Bombay on the second of June Eighteen Fifty-Seven under the presidency of Lieutenant-Colonel Henry Hume, Companion of the Bath, Her Majesty’s Ninety-Fifth Regiment.’ Hume paused; every man, even those who didn’t understand a single syllable of what he was saying, were straining to hear him. ‘The three prisoners are charged with: having at a meeting made use of highly mutinous and seditious language, evincing a traitorous disposition towards the Government, tending to promote a rebellion against the State and to subvert the authority of the British Government. Private Shahgunge Singh, Bombay Sappers and Miners: guilty. Sentence: transportation for life.’

      Morgan looked at the third prisoner, who was only lightly bound; he hung his head and trembled slightly, but he made no other outward sign of relief.

      ‘Drill-Havildar Din Syed Hussain, Bombay Marine Battalion: guilty. Private Mungal Guddrea, Tenth Bombay Native Infantry: guilty.’ Hume looked at the native troops who faced him. ‘Sentence: death by gunfire, to be carried out forthwith.’

      The 95th, who could hear the details of what their commanding officer had said, shifted a little as they continued to point their weapons at the sepoys; there was a murmur of quiet satisfaction as they cuddled the butts of their rifles even closer.

      No sooner had Hume pronounced sentence than Commandant Brewill spurred his horse slightly forward of the 95th and in slow, distinct Hindi repeated what Hume had said. A sigh swept up and down the waiting ranks of the sepoys, and a ripple of movement, almost as if the understanding of the news had slapped the Indian troops across the face. The drill-havildar tried to yell a desultory slogan or two, whilst his companion stood silent, his face lifted up towards the sun, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. The crowd had been listening intently too, one or two voices protested but most stood in awed silence.

      ‘I’ll have Bolton’s outer guns loaded, with your leave, sir?’ Morgan knew that two of the four guns would have to be used to execute the prisoners, but the pair pointing at either end of the sepoys’ ranks could do great damage, sweeping the lines of troops with an iron storm of canister, if things got out of hand.

      ‘Aye, do that, please, Morgan. Cant ’em in a bit so that they catch the rascals in enfilade, if needs be…’ Hume’s words sent Morgan off to speak to Bolton. Then, in a parade bellow the colonel added, ‘Sar’nt Ormond, carry on, please.’

      ‘Sir!’ Ormond, as calmly as if he were checking the men’s oil bottles, gave a few, quiet instructions that saw a pair of brawny, red-coated lads grab each prisoner by the elbows and hustle them towards the waiting guns.

      ‘Numbers One and Four guns, with case shot…load,’ Bolton, on Morgan’s instructions, gave the word of command to his outer guns, and the lance-bombardiers, who had been toying with the linen bags for the best part of an hour, slid the deadly projectiles into the barrels of the guns, followed by a well-practised push with a rammer from each waiting gun-numbers. Again, Morgan saw how the Indian line flinched as the yawning black muzzles were turned ready to rake them.

      ‘Don’t bloody struggle, Havildar; it won’t make a blind bit of difference.’ Lance-Corporal Pegg showed scant sympathy for his sweating prisoner. The non-commissioned officer seemed to have shrunk in his clothes – now his manacled wrists and ankles were as thin and bony as a famished child’s – as Pegg and Private Beeston dragged and pushed the prisoner towards the gun.

      Any cockiness had quite gone from the native NCO. Morgan had thought how confident he’d looked as the party had approached down the hill, the havildar keeping up a stream of defiant yells, hoping, he supposed, that his friends would come to his rescue. But now the moment of reckoning was here and there was no sign of any action from the sepoys. Even the crowd had fallen quiet.

      ‘Excuse me, sir.’ McGucken stood to attention beside his commanding officer’s stirrup leather. ‘It’s no’ right to let this mutinous filth die in British red, is it, sir?’

      Hume СКАЧАТЬ