The Cannons of Lucknow

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Authors: V. A. Stuart
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should tell you that you appear to be one of the best riders we have. And you did your horse well—you obviously know your way about a stable. What were you in civilian life, Cullmane, a groom?”
    Private Cullmane’s brown face split into a gap-toothed grin. “I was whipper-in to the ‘Gallant Tips’—the Tipperary Hunt, sorr, in me younger days.”
    â€œThen there’s not much I can teach you about horsemanship, is there, lad? You’ll only have to master the drill, and you shouldn’t find that beyond your capabilities.”
    â€œNo, yer honour,” the man admitted. “But ’twas what ye was sayin’ about being a liability—’twas that made me step forward. I wouldn’t want to be lettin’ yez down, sorr. But there’s this …” He pulled back the sleeve of his mud-spattered red jacket to reveal an ugly wound which extended from forearm to elbow. It was partially healed and evidently of recent origin, and the elbow joint was so swollen that he had difficulty in bending it. “I got this at Aong, sorr, and ’tis me roight arm, ye see. I’ll not be a great deal of use if I can’t handle me sabre, will I, sorr?”
    Alex inspected the arm. “Have you shown this to the surgeon?”
    â€œSure, sorr. He dressed it and sent me back to duty.”
    â€œI see. Well—can you handle a pistol?”
    â€œI can, sorr.”
    â€œThen we’ll use you as a galloper, Cullmane,” Alex decided. “Unless you want to go back to your regiment?” Receiving an emphatic headshake, he smiled. “Right, then. I don’t imagine you’ll be a liability after whipping-in for the Tips. But you’d better have that arm dressed again—you could lose it, you know, if it becomes badly infected.”
    â€œI’d be in powerful good company if I did, Colonel sorr,” Cullmane said. “For haven’t you lost your sword arm yourself now? Dammit, sorr, if ye’ll pardon the liberty, if I could handle myself the way you do, sure I’d never miss it!”
    â€œYou would, my lad, you would,” Alex told him quietly. Hardly a day had passed during the siege when he had not cursed the loss of his arm and found himself impeded by it. But at any rate, he thought, as he left the Cavalry Lines, if he could still give the impression of being able to handle himself well on horseback, then the years of patient practice with his left hand had not been wasted.
    In the Volunteers’ mess tent, he found Lousada Barrow at table and joined him there. After questioning him minutely concerning their new recruits, the cavalry Commander warned him that the time allocated to their training might be less, even, than he had anticipated.
    â€œNeill’s arrived, with 227 of the 84th, as no doubt you observed. The general received him with an eleven-gun salute and they’re dining together now, but I gather from what Fraser Tytler let slip that the Highlanders are under orders to cross over to Oudh tonight.”
    â€œTonight, in this deluge?” Alex frowned.
    â€œSo it would seem,” Barrow assured him.” Tytler, who’s something of an expert on engines, has spent the best part of the day putting the steamer’s engines into working order. The Bridge of Boats was destroyed on the Nana’s instructions, of course, but Tytler says they’ve managed to collect twenty sizeable boats, with native boatmen to man them, and the steamer is to tow them across. They’re to take a couple of field-guns with them but no tents, poor fellows.”
    â€œAnd Neill is to remain in command here, is he?” Alex was hungry, but he regarded the unsavoury-looking mess on the plate a servant placed before him with glum disfavour. “What is this? Is it edible?”
    â€œIt’s curry,” Barrow assured him. “And not as bad as it looks … try it. Yes, Neill’s to command

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