In The Panic-stricken City

: The Coming Conquest Of England

As on his ride to Colonel Baird's brigade, so also was Heideck on his

return threatened by manifold forms of death. Although he successfully

and happily avoided all compact bodies of troops on his way across the

bloody battlefield, yet single Russian horsemen came up close to him and

more than once he heard the shrill whistle of bullets as they whizzed

past his head. But in the battle-fever that had seized him he had

n thought of danger: all his thoughts were solely occupied with the

question as to how he should contrive to arrive at Lahore, in order to

fulfil the last request of the Colonel.



Bleeding from several wounds, his brave stallion put forth his utmost

efforts to carry his rider safely away from the turmoil of battle. The

wounded animal was still able to travel a considerable distance at full

gallop. But suddenly he began to slacken his pace and to stumble, and

Heideck perceived that his strength was exhausted. He dismounted in

order to examine the injuries the horse had sustained, and at once

perceived that he could not expect further exertion from the poor brute.

In addition to a bayonet-thrust on the neck, it had also a bullet-hole

on the left hind flank, and it was from this wound that the blood was

principally streaming. In stertorous panting the poor beast laid his

head on his master's shoulder, and Heideck stroked and patted his

forehead. "Poor chap--you have done your duty, and I must leave you here

behind." And now, for the first time, the anxious dread overcame him

that he, too, would not escape with his life from this battlefield,

for he perceived a horseman in Indian uniform approaching him, waving

a sword. Heideck drew his revolver from his belt in order to protect

himself against his assailant. But he immediately recognised in his

supposed enemy his faithful boy, Morar Gopal, who beamed with joy at

having by chance again found his master, whom he had believed to be

dead. He wanted at once to leave Heideck his horse, and to attempt to

make his own way on foot. But the German officer would not accept this

unselfish sacrifice on the part of his servant; but he was relieved

of the necessity of again separating from his faithful henchman by the

fortuitous circumstance that, at that very moment, an English officer's

riderless charger came in sight. The animal, a beautiful chestnut, was

uninjured, and allowed itself to be caught without trouble. They

were now in a position to continue their flight together, and Heideck

resolved to turn towards the left English wing, because, as it appeared

to him, the action was there proceeding with less ill-fortune than at

other parts of the now totally defeated British army. This was certainly

not the shortest way to reach Lahore, but it would have been a foolhardy

enterprise to join the wild throng of fleeing troops and their pursuers

which was already pouring along the road towards Lahore.



The far-stretching plantations of Shah Dara, lying on both banks of the

Ravi, with the bridge of boats connecting them, were, as a matter of

fact, still occupied by English troops, who had until now maintained

their positions without any severe loss; but they had been, of course,

in superior numbers to the Russians confronting them. For the attack

upon Shah Dara, with which the battle had opened, had in the main been

only a feint; its object being to force the English centre, against

which the main attack was to be directed, to send out reinforcements,

and thereby fatally to weaken itself. Heideck had seen with his own eyes

how completely this plan had succeeded. Now, however, when the victory

they had gained made their forces in other positions available for the

work, the Russians commenced to attack this position also in superior

numbers. Russian battalions from the reserves were being hurried up at

the double, and new batteries made their appearance, ready to open fire

upon Shah Dara and the mausoleum of Shah Jahangir, which lay to the

south of it.



The English on their side were prudent enough not to engage in a

hopeless battle of sheer desperation, but began their retreat, whilst

they had still time to carry it out in tolerable order.



When Heideck had reached the southern end of the plantations, a regiment

of Bengal cavalry was just crossing the pontoon bridge, and Heideck

joined it. A Russian shell, which burst right in the middle of the

troop, without, however, despite the severe losses it had caused,

interrupting the formation, was a clear proof that the situation was

here also quite untenable.



With comparatively few losses and without having once been drawn into an

engagement, the regiment drew up close under the citadel, which, in the

north of Lahore, lies inside the outer works.



But, with dismay, the hapless lancers perceived that the murderous

shot and shell were pursuing them even here. Yet the bullets were

not intended for them, but for the treacherous Indian troops and the

irregular Russian cavalry, which surged up, in wild panic, against the

walls. The effect of the fire was, however, none the less disastrous on

that account. The English garrison which had remained in the city had

closed all the gates, and appeared to have made up their minds to let no

one in, either friend or foe. All the same, the commander of the Bengal

regiment drew his men together and with irresistible weight forced

his way right through the confused, huddling mass of men engaged in

hand-to-hand combat beneath the walls. He made straight for one of

the gates, and those within happily understood and anticipated his

intentions. Confident that the weighty blows and thrusts of the cavalry

would beat off the enemy and prevent them from forcing their way in with

them, the garrison opened the gate at the critical moment, and, together

with his regiment, Heideck and his faithful companion managed to enter

the city. The lancers made their way into the citadel, and Heideck and

Morar Gopal, who had followed him like his shadow, turned their steps

towards the Charing Cross Hotel. It was, however, far from easy to get

there; for the streets were packed with an impenetrable mob of howling

and gesticulating natives, who were manifestly in the greatest state of

excitement. The news that the English had lost the battle had long since

reached the city, and the apprehensions which had long been entertained

that such tidings could not fail to have a disastrously disquieting

effect upon the Indian population, were only too soon seen to be

justified. In all the brown faces which he saw directed towards him

Heideck clearly read detestation and menace. They naturally regarded him

as an Englishman, and it was only his decided manner and the naked sword

in his hand that prevented the rabble from venting in a personal attack

their rage against one of the hated race of their oppressors.



The door of the hotel was closed, probably because an attack was feared

on the part of the natives; but as soon as a white man, who was at once

regarded as an English officer, demanded admittance, it was opened.

Heideck found most of the officers' wives and children, who were living

in the hotel, assembled in the hall and the dining-room which led from

it. The foreboding of a terrible disaster and the fear of coming events,

which was perpetually increased by the noise in the streets, did not

allow the poor creatures to rest longer in their rooms. Mrs. Baird and

Edith Irwin were not, however, among those who thronged round Heideck

and, in a hundred confused questions, hoped to obtain from the

dust-begrimed man, who had evidently come from the battlefield, news as

to how matters stood. Heideck said nothing more than that the army

was retreating, bravely fighting the while. It would have been useless

cruelty to increase the terror and despair of these unhappy creatures

by a detailed account of the whole truth. He had almost to tear himself

away by force from this close knot of inquirers, in order to go up

to Mrs. Baird's room. It was the first joyous feeling that he had

experienced throughout this disastrous day, when in the friendly "Come

in," in answer to his knock, he recognised Edith Irwin's voice. The

fear that something might have happened to her during his absence had

unceasingly tortured him during the last few hours, and for a moment he

forgot all the terrors that surrounded her in the rapture which, as he

entered, her incomparable beauty awoke in him.



She had risen from the sofa in the middle of the room and stood with

a serious, but perfectly composed face, and with bright eyes, which

appeared prepared for even the extremest danger. Mrs. Baird was, with

her two little girls, in a corner on her knees. So completely was she

absorbed in her religious devotions that she had not heard Heideck's

entrance into the room. It was only when Edith exclaimed, "Here is Mr.

Heideck, dear friend; I knew he would come," that she sprang up in great

excitement.



"Thank God! You have come from my husband? How have you left him? Is he

alive?"



"I left the Colonel, as he was defending himself at the head of his

brave troops against the enemy. He bade me give you his love." He had

endeavoured to give a firm tone to his voice. But the sharp feminine

instinct of the unhappy woman guessed what was behind his words,

intended to give comfort.



"Why don't you tell me the truth? My husband is dead!"



"He was wounded, but you need not give up the hope of seeing him again

alive."



"If he is wounded, I will go to him. You will conduct me, Mr. Heideck!

There must be a possibility of getting to him."



"I earnestly beseech you, my dear Mrs. Baird, to compose yourself. It

is quite natural that your heart should draw you to your husband's side;

but it is quite impossible for you to carry out your intention. The

night is drawing on, and even if it were broad daylight nobody would

be able to get through the confusion of the retiring army to the place

where your husband must be sought."



"The battle is then lost? Our army is in full retreat?"



"The treachery of the Indian troops is to blame for this disaster. Your

countrymen, Mrs. Baird, have fought like heroes, and as a lost battle

does not yet mean a lost campaign, they will perhaps soon retrieve

to-day's disaster."



"But what is to become of us? The wounded will be brought in here, won't

they? Therefore I shall not think of leaving before I see my husband

again."



Her determination to remain in the panic-stricken city would certainly

have been impossible to shake by any art of persuasion, but Heideck did

not dream of attempting to dissuade Mrs. Baird from her resolve. It was

his firm conviction that the flight to Amritsar, which the Colonel had

advised in case of a defeat, was, under the present circumstances, quite

impracticable. As a matter of fact, there was scarcely anything else

possible but to remain in the hotel and patiently await the development

of events.



It was now quite impossible for white women and children to trust

themselves in the streets in the midst of the excited populace; but

Heideck believed that they were, for the present, quite safe in the

house, thinking that the fanaticism of the natives would not culminate

in an attack upon the hotel so long as any considerable body of English

soldiers remained in the town. But only too soon he was compelled to

admit that he had under-estimated the seriousness of the situation. A

ruddy, flickering flame, which suddenly lit up the room which had been

filled by the dying evening glow, caused him to rush to the window,

when, to his horror, he perceived that one of the houses on the opposite

side of the street was on fire, and that in the adjacent building the

tongues of flame had caught the wooden pillars of the verandah. There

was no doubt but that the hotel would, within a few minutes, be involved

in the conflagration.



Under these circumstances it was impossible to think of remaining longer

in the hotel. Its massive walls could, perhaps, withstand the fire for a

time, but the biting volumes of smoke, which had already taken Heideck's

breath away when he had opened the window for a moment, would soon

render it impossible for human beings to stay longer in the heat. All

at once came a heavy knocking at the door, and Morar Gopal, who had been

looking for Heideck everywhere in the hotel, entreated his master to

make his escape as quickly as possible.



The German officer was fully convinced that he had now to exchange one

danger for a peril perhaps even greater. But there was no time for delay

or consideration.



"We are in the midst of a fire, Mrs. Baird," he said. "No one in the

general confusion will attempt to stay the raging element, and if you do

not wish to be stifled with your children, you must follow me. I hope to

be able to bring you, without harm, into the citadel or into some other

place of safety."



Edith Irwin had already taken one of the little girls into her arms; and

when the Colonel's wife was looking about her with a wild expression,

as if she wished to try and save some of her precious valuables, Edith

emphatically insisted upon her hurrying. "There is nothing more precious

than the life of your children. Let everything go, in God's name!"



The poor woman, whose senses now began to fail her in the terrors of the

moment, quietly obeyed the calm instructions of her young friend. The

other residents in the hotel had almost all already fled; only a few

unhappy women, who had completely lost their heads, wandered about the

lower rooms holding all manner of valueless objects, from which they

would not part, in their hands. Heideck called to them to follow him.

But they hardly understood him, and he had no more time to trouble about

the unfortunate creatures.



With a bare sabre in his hand the faithful Hindu endeavoured to make for

his master and those under his protection a path through the crowd which

was surging around the burning houses. It was now quite dark, and only

the red flames weirdly lit up the hideous nocturnal scene. The raging

fanaticism of the crowd appeared during the last half-hour to have

increased in vehemence. These men, at other times so modest, submissive,

and amiable, had suddenly become metamorphosed into a horde of

barbarians. Bare sabres and daggers flashed their menaces on every side,

and the air was rent by a deafening din. Never before had Heideck seen

human beings in such a state of frenzy. With wild gesticulations these

dark-skinned fellows were tossing their arms and legs; they gnashed

their teeth like wild beasts, and inflicted wounds on their own breasts

and limbs in order to intensify their lust of blood by the sight of it.



The two men, by dint of peremptory commands and vigorous blows with the

naked sword, forced their way step by step through the crowd. But after

a lapse of ten minutes they had scarcely progressed more than a

hundred yards. The surging mob around them became even denser and more

threatening in its attitude, and Heideck saw it would be impossible to

reach the citadel.



With anxious care for the precious human lives entrusted to his

protection, he looked about for another place of safety. But the

Europeans had firmly barricaded their houses, and none of them would

have opened to admit the poor fugitives. On a sudden the wild cries

that had almost terrified the crying children to death rose to appalling

shrieks and ravings, and a mob of demons, incited by their fanatic

passions almost to frenzy, rushed from a side street straight upon

Heideck. They had somewhere on their way been joined by a large number

of other female fugitives; and the sight of these unhappy creatures made

the German officer's blood run cold in his veins.



The women, among whom were two girls yet on the borders of childhood,

had had their clothes torn from their bodies, and they were now being

hustled along under such constant ill-usage that they were bleeding from

numerous wounds.



Unable further to curb the wrath that rose within him at the sight of

this brutality, Heideck took his revolver from his belt, and with a

well-aimed shot sent one of the howling, fanatic devils to the ground.



But his action was not well-advised. Although his martial appearance had

up till then kept this cowardly crew away from acts of violence against

himself and his party, the furious rage of the mob now knew no bounds.



In the next moment the small party found itself hemmed in by a knot of

raging black devils, and Heideck was no longer in doubt that it was only

a question of bravely fighting to the death. The foremost of the more

violent of their assailants he was able to keep off by firing at them

the last five shots that remained in his revolver. The last shot snuffed

out the light of a black-bearded fellow just at the very moment when he

was attacking Edith Irwin with his brutal fists. Then Heideck threw his

revolver, useless in that he could not load it afresh, into the face

of one of the grinning fiends, and clasping his left arm, which was

now free, round Edith, and pressing her tightly to him, carried on a

desperate struggle with his sword.



For Mrs. Baird and her children he could do nothing further. Now that

he had seen his faithful Morar Gopal fall under the blows of some

Mohammedans he felt that they were irretrievably lost. He had seen how

the Colonel's wife had had her clothes torn in shreds from her body; he

heard the heartrending cry of anguish with which, under the blows and

thrusts of her inhuman torturers, she called for her children. But at

all events he was spared the agony of seeing with his own eyes the end

of the innocent little girls. They disappeared from his view in the

terrible confusion, and as they were besides already half dead from

terror, Providence would, at all events, have the pity not to let

them feel the tortures of the death which their unfeeling butchers had

prepared for them.



And what of Edith?



She was not in a faint. In her features one could read nothing of the

anguish of horror that overcomes even the bravest in the face of death.

One might imagine that all that was going on around her had lost its

terrors since Heideck's arm held her fast.



But the moment was not favourable for allowing Heideck to feel the

pleasurable bliss of her love. His strength was at an end and, although

with the exception of a slight injury on the shoulder he was unwounded,

he yet felt it intolerably hard to wield the sword whose heavy blows had

hitherto kept their assailants (with the exception of some adventuresome

spirits, who had paid dearly for their impudence) at a respectful

distance. At the very moment that fatigue compelled him to drop his

weapon, Edith and he would be given over helpless to the devilish

cruelty of this horde of human beasts. That he knew full well, and,

therefore, although before his eyes there floated, as it were, a

blood-red mist, he collected the last remnant of his strength to

postpone this terrible moment yet for a little--All of a sudden

something unexpected, something wonderful, happened--something that in

his present condition he could not understand at all; innumerable cries

of terror and alarm mingled with the frenzied, triumphant howlings of

the rage-intoxicated Indians. With the irresistible force of a wave the

whole thickly packed swarm of human beings surged forwards and against

the houses on both sides of the street. The trotting of horses, loud

words of command, the sound of slashing blows were heard, and the bodies

of bearded cavalrymen were visible above the heads of the crowd.



It was a squadron of Cossacks which was mercilessly hewing its way

through the crowd. The town was then actually in the hands of the

Russians, and orders had evidently been given, the better to prevent

further massacre and incendiarism, to clear the street of the fanatic

mob.



So the fierce-looking horsemen then swept the way before them clear

of all obstacles. And they did their business well; for nothing could

withstand the blows from the whips fitted at the end of the lash with

thin hard sticks, which in their hands became terrible instruments of

punishment.



Heideck suddenly saw himself free of his assailants, and as he with

Edith pressed against the wall of a house, they remained happily safe

from the horses' hoofs as well as from the blows of the knout which were

being dealt out wildly around him.



But the keen eyes of a Cossack officer had perceived the little group

amid the great heap of dead and wounded. He rode up to them, and as he

thought he recognised in Heideck's khaki dress the English uniform, he

gave certain orders to his men, the meaning of which was soon apparent

to them both, for they were at once placed between the horses of two

Cossacks, and without knowing whither they were being taken, passed

through the streets lit up by the flames of the burning houses.