The Ravi Lancers Read Online Free PDF Page B

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    The twilight thickened to a cool smoky dusk. Warren drank, refusing a second whisky. They knew how to look after themselves, he thought. The silver flask and cup and whisky were nothing special: he knew some regiments of Indian cavalry where a table would have been set up long since, the officers sprawled in camp chairs, and mess orderlies in full regalia serving cold champagne; but the atmosphere here wasn’t like that of regular Indian cavalry. The men offering him more whisky were not soldiers dedicated to their regiment, but personal servants dedicated to protect the Yuvraj’s life with their own. Krishna Ram did not command by experience or rank, but by divine right, and all this gave the gathering in the dusk at the river’s bank a mysteriously feudal atmosphere ... but he was glad to note that he had misjudged the young man, in at least one respect. It wasn’t idleness but his responsibilities as heir apparent that had prevented him riding down to Ratanwala Camp with his regiment.
    It was full dark when the force moved on, riding now down a dusty track that led south half a mile east of the river. They rode through a village where dimly seen women ran for the huts as they heard the hoofs, and here and there a man stood in a doorway, silhouetted by the dim oil lamp behind him, peering out as the horsemen passed. Near midnight they turned right and again headed for the river. The half moon, just risen, shone on a broad expanse of water. Warren involuntarily shivered. It was a long way, and here there were no islands to break the passage. They would have to swim it all in one.
    ‘As before, fifteen minutes, and then we go,’ the Yuvraj said. Soon, ‘We are ready, Highness,’ old Bholanath said, and the Yuvraj said, ‘Go then, uncle,’ and the old man called, ‘Come, children! ... The far bank will come no closer by looking at it.’
    He walked his horse into the water. Warren thought, he’s right; but to plunge into a crossing like this without knowing what the other bank was like--it was a darker line of shadow, nothing more, barely distinguishable--that was risky. Still, this was the cavalry spirit that everyone was supposed to strive for, so who should complain? Krishna Ram and his bodyguards were going in and Narayan Singh was waiting at his side, Warren walked his horse into the river.
    Ten minutes later, after a crossing when twice he thought he would be swept away, both times the horse finding ground underfoot in time, he reached the far side. Now the force was once more on the right bank, the side up which the British brigade was advancing. Unless they had misread their maps they were about five miles behind the right rear of the enemy. Now the prince could either advance at once and occupy the ground before the British knew he was anywhere near, or wait till light. As he turned to Major Bholanath, Captain Sher Singh loomed up out of the moonlight. ‘Highness,’ he said, ‘we have a sowar missing. Mangla Ram.’
    ‘What about his horse?’ the Yuvraj asked.
    ‘That’s here. He must have slipped off somehow during the crossing. No one saw him.’
    This was what he had been afraid of, Warren reflected. At that, they were lucky not to have lost more. And Sowar Mangla Ram could probably have been saved with better discipline and supervision in the ranks.
    The Yuvraj said, ‘Leave a jemadar here with a section--and Mangla Ram’s horse. Tell them to search down this bank the rest of the night--send some men over the bridge at Harian at dawn and search the other bank, too--and get a boat and search the islands. If they don’t find him or his body by dusk tonight, to go back to camp.’
    The captain saluted and disappeared. The Yuvraj turned to Bholanath and said, ‘We’ll wait here till first light, uncle. At night it’s too easy to seize the wrong hill. Put out picquets and rest till five-thirty.’
    Warren prepared himself to sleep. So much for Sowar Mangla Ram, drowned that the Ravi Lancers