The Far Pavilions - Mary Margaret Kaye [639]
He turned from the sight to order his little force off the roof and down into the barracks. For now that the Residency had fallen and the enemy were in possession of the Envoy's House, the Afghans would be able to fire from the windows that he and the other survivors of the garrison had just leapt from – and from an angle that made the scanty cover of the parapets of no account. But down below, the original doors of the block were as stoutly built as its outer walls, while the canvas awnings that shaded the long central courtyard, though no protection against bullets, at least prevented the enemy from seeing what went on there.
‘We ought to be able to hold out here for a fair time,’ said William breathlessly, glancing about him at the solid stone pillars and brick archways that gave on to the cool, windowless cells of the troops' quarters. ‘Nothing much to set on fire. Except the doors, of course. I don't know why we didn't come here before.’
‘Because we can't see out of it or shoot out of it, or do a damn thing but stay put and try to prevent those divils breaking the doors down. That's why,’ snapped Rosie, who had worked like a demon to try and get the wounded into the Residency courtyard, only to desert them in order to defend the Envoy's House: and who now felt that he had abandoned them to be murdered by the Afghans or burned alive in the Mess House.
‘Yes. I suppose you're right. I hadn't thought about that. But at least we should be able to stop them breaking in, and providing they don't burn the doors down –’
‘Or blow a hole in the wall,’ said Rosie, ‘or…’ He reeled as the guns roared again, and the pillars shuddered to the impact of the force and sound of the shells that struck the front wall of the barracks, missing the archway and burying the stairway to the east of it under a pile of rubble.
It did not need a professional gunner to tell that this second salvo had been fired from a much closer range than the first one, and it was clear to everyone in the barracks that the mob, freed from the sniping of the sepoys who had been harassing them from behind the parapets, had lost no time in reloading the guns and running them forward. And also that the next salvo would probably be fired from directly opposite the archway, which would smash both doors to matchwood and leave the way clear for the enemy to rush in.
Once again the sky rained debris, and the exhausted doctor, who had clutched a pillar and then sat down abruptly, leaning against it, saw Walter Hamilton and Daffadar Hira Singh racing towards the inner door of the archway and pulling it open; and thought dazedly that the shock of the explosions must have unhinged them both, and that they intended to go out and attack the mob before the guns could be reloaded. But they did not touch the new outer door that by now was so spattered with bullet-holes that it had the appearance of a colander. Instead they turned back to confer briefly with Havildar Hassan and Lance-Naik Janki, and presently Wally nodded briefly, and returning to William and Rosie, said tersely:
‘Look, we've got to get those guns. We've got to! I don't mean spike them. I mean capture them. If we can only get 'em back here we can blow the Arsenal sky high – and with it most of that mob out there and half the Bala Hissar as well. We've only got to land one shell fair and square on it, and all that ammunition and gunpowder inside is going to go up with a bang that will wreck everything within a radius of several hundred yards.’
‘Including us,’ said William wryly.
‘What the divil does that matter?’ demanded Wally impatiently. ‘Not that it will, for we're much lower down here, and these walls are far too thick. Ah, I know it sounds a crazy idea, but it's worth a try – anything's worth a try now. If we can get our hands on those guns we've got a fighting chance, but if we don't – well, we can say our prayers now.’
William's eyelids flickered and his youthful face whitened under its mask of blood and dust. He said tiredly: ‘We can't do it,