unsupported, and could not
with a handful of men attempt to attack either of the bastions,
from which a terrible fire was being maintained, made the men sit
down and shelter themselves as well as they could, in the debris of
the breach; while he himself recrossed the ditch to summon up the
support. In this he failed. All order was lost, and the men who
formed the forlorn hope were at last called back, and the whole
force retired, suffering heavily from the terrible fire to which
they were exposed. Eighty-five were killed and three hundred and
seventy-one wounded.

A more deplorable and ill-managed assault was never made by British
troops. As Harry had thought possible, Lord Lake had treated the
capture of Bhurtpoor as if it had been but a little hill fort. He
had made no attempt to carry out regular siege operations but,
trusting to the valour of his troops, had sent them across a
considerable distance of plain swept by the enemy's fire, to
assault a breach defended by some of the bravest tribesmen of
India; and had not even issued commands which would have ensured
order and cohesion in the attack.

The lesson that had been taught was not sufficiently taken to
heart. Some more batteries were placed in position and, on the
16th, opened a heavy fire against the wall on the left of the
former breach, which had been repaired during the two nights
following its successful defence. So heavy was the fire from the
new batteries that another breach was made in the course of a few
hours. The Jats stockaded it during the night, but the timbers were
soon knocked to fragments and, for five days, a continuous
cannonade was maintained and a large breach formed.

It was necessary to find out how wide the ditch was, and three
native cavalry and three British troopers, all dressed as natives,
suddenly dashed out of the camp. At a short distance behind them a
number of Sepoys ran out, as if in pursuit, discharging their
muskets as they did so. Just as the six horsemen arrived at the
ditch, two of the troopers' chargers were made to fall. The native
havildar shouted to the soldiers on the wall to save them from the
accursed feringhees, and show them the nearest entrance to the
city. The soldiers pointed to a gate near the breach and, as soon
as the men had again mounted, the havildar rode with them along the
ditch, and made the necessary observations.

Then they put spurs to their horses, and rode off--the Jats, on
seeing that they