Allan Mallinson: Nizams Daughters

But how was Hervey to compel any retreat? The kadir between his lines and the Pindarees’ would be swept by the fire of those eight guns (by the hijdas’ description, the fearsome thirty-six-pounders, with a range of one mile). Equally, the forest and the river limited his chance of manoeuvre. Late in the afternoon of the day before, as they were about to set up camp, he had contemplated doing what he had done the night they had galloped to Jhansikote and found the tree and the picket barring their way on the forest track. But that night they had traversed — what? — half a furlong of jungle? Not more than one and a half, certainly. And their progress had been slow, tiring and unsure. Here, at night, they would have to steal into the forest half a mile at least from the Pindaree lines. They could not reach the lines before dawn, and once the sun was up they would surely be detected if the enemy had taken the slightest precaution of posting sentinels. By day they would have to cover three times that distance, for there was no closer concealed entry to the jungle. They could, perhaps, make the best part of the distance before dark, leaving the last furlong or so to the night, but it would still be risky, and they would lose a whole day in which the Pindarees might even go onto the offensive. It was a doubtful option.

And so, with the sun’s growing heat threatening the most uncomfortable of fighting — but also beginning to put life back into the weariest of the sepoys — and with the cooking fires and spices already sweetening the habitually fetid air of a military camp, Hervey surveyed the kadir through his telescope. He made one resolution at least. He would not make the mistake of fighting when or whom there was no need. The guns were his objective: counter those and the day would be his. But although this helped concentrate his attention on that to which he must direct the principal effort of his force, it did not provide him with an answer to how he might achieve his object. How might he subdue the guns? How might he even reach them without challenging — head-on — the Pindaree cavalry? They greatly outnumbered his and would not be inclined to run, as usually they were expected to, while the guns covered them. What was his little force capable of? He could not consider what the promised augmentation from Guntoor might allow, for there was no knowing when they might arrive. He could dispose six companies of infantry which had been trained, during the past few days, to work as light troops capable of skirmishing and responding to the bugle rather than to fight as dense-packed bearers of volleyed musketry. Without the nizam’s guns to play upon them he was sure they could reach the Pindaree lines. If only there were not the guns! Every time it returned to that question. But just as bewilderment was turning to desperation a thought occurred to him. He reined about and trotted back towards his tent, jumping from the raj kumari’s handy second Kehilan — which she had insisted he take when finally they had parted at the palace — and shaking the sleeping hijda on the ground outside.

‘Yes, Captain sahib?’ he said, blinking.

Hervey did not even have to think of the Urdu. It came at once. ‘Rani, did you visit each of the guns last night?’

‘Yes, sahib, all of them.’

‘How strongly built were the redoubts — the little forts that the guns were in?’

‘Very strong, sahib.’

‘Not easily knocked away?’

‘No, sahib.’

To the hijda’s puzzlement, Hervey looked pleased. ‘And how narrow were the embrasures — the spaces through which the guns fired?’

‘Not more than a woman with voluptuous hips could pass, sahib,’ replied Rani, pouting and describing the shape with his hands.

The Urdu escaped him, but the hijda’s hands said enough. He smiled to himself. Could it be that the nizam’s men had made the mistake of doing what many an embattled gunner had done before, and sacrificed traversing for protection? Yes: this was their Achilles’ heel! This was where he would direct his lance!

He was already back in the saddle when he heard it. First a murmuring, then a buzzing, and then — if not cheering — sounds of distinct approbation. He turned to seek its cause, and there was a sight as glittering as that before Waterloo, when the Duke of Wellington and his staff had made their progress through the ranks. But, he smiled, what a contrast with the duke’s sombre, civilian attire that day was the court dress of the Rajah of Chintalpore!

‘Good morning, Your Highness,’ said Hervey, saluting. He could scarce believe the felicity of the timing. Five minutes before and the rajah would have found him with no plan, and each would have fuelled the other’s despair. Now, though, the rajah was inspired by Hervey’s sanguine air, and he likewise by the rajah’s substance and dignity.

‘Captain Hervey,’ he replied with a smile, ‘you see before you a very indifferent soldier but, I hope, one that may have some utility.’

‘Sir, your coming here now is most welcome to me, and I have no doubt it is everything to your sepoys,’ he replied, bowing.

‘Is there time for you to explain to me what is your design for battle?’

Hervey returned his smile willingly. ‘Indeed there is, sir. It is, in any case, a simple plan. First let me point out to you the ground — the sun is not too bright for you to make out the Pindaree lines in the distance?’

The rajah shaded his eyes and peered across the kadir. ‘Oh yes, Captain Hervey, I see them very well. And the guns like the walls of Jericho. How shall you tumble them?’

Hervey smiled again. ‘If I may first explain the ground, sir. See how on our right the Godavari constrains our manoeuvre — and that of the Pindarees too. It is too deep to cross in force: it cannot therefore be the means of outflanking the line of the guns.’

The rajah nodded in agreement.

‘On the left is the jungle. It constrains our manoeuvre as surely as the river, except that, for a short distance at least, it might afford cover. But progress on foot would be too slow, and with horses impossible.’

The rajah nodded again.

‘The distance to the guns is about one half-league, and the distance from the forest to the river, at its widest part, the same, though it narrows to no more than a mile where the guns are — as you may see.’

The rajah saw it all with perfect clarity.

‘There are eight guns, sir, and they command the approaches across both the kadir and the river—’

‘But how can we possibly advance in the face of such a cannonade?’ said the rajah, unable to contain himself.

Hervey nodded respectfully. ‘Ordinarily, Your Highness, we could not. But the embrasures in each redoubt are extremely narrow, which means that the guns are not able to traverse to their extreme left or right. Neither will they be able to depress far enough to sweep the final approaches. They are also strongly built—’

‘Then that is more ill news, is it not, Captain Hervey?’ the rajah protested.

‘Not really, sir. If they are strongly built then the gunners will not be able to break them down quickly when they discover their mistake. If we could capture just one of the redoubts and use powder to blow up a wall, we could enfilade each of the others, reducing them one by one.’

The rajah looked at him in dismay. ‘That is not possible, surely?’

‘It is an option of difficulties, certainly, sir — but what other do we have? Awaiting the collector’s reinforcements risks being overwhelmed in an attack once the Pindarees discover our strength — or rather the want of it.’

‘I see your reasoning well enough, Captain Hervey, but how do you intend capturing a redoubt?’

‘Quite simply, sir, I intend getting sepoys along the cover of the forest edge to a point where they may enfilade the Pindarees — and perhaps even the redoubt nearest the forest, for the flanks are not wholly walled.’