rected and armed,
to begin each morning its fierce work. The second battery stood in front
of Ludlow Castle, five hundred yards from the walls; the third,
consisting of four heavy mortars, was made in the Kudsia gardens, and
placed in command of the gallant Major Tombs; the fourth, a triumph of
the daring and skill of Captain Taylor of the Engineers, had crept
within a hundred and sixty yards of the Mori bastion. Nor were these
feats of engineering done without loss. As soon as the rebels perceived
what was afoot, they directed a storm of musketry on the heroic workers
who toiled day and night in the hot moist air. British and natives,
officers and men, soldiers of all arms--for Lancers and Carabineers lent
a hand in the work--laboured incessantly with unflinching courage. As
soon as one man was killed or disabled, another took his place.

By the night of the 11th, all the batteries were complete, and on the
12th more than fifty guns and mortars were pounding the walls. The din
was deafening, and mingled with the roar of the guns was the crash of
shattered masonry as the red walls crumbled away. At nightfall every
post of vantage on the Ridge was crowded with sightseers, watching the
living shell flying through the air like falling meteors. The rebels at
first attempted to answer the fire, but the gunners could not hold their
posts on the shot-swept ramparts. Parties of rebel horse sallied forth
from time to time, as if to charge the batteries; but they were met by
showers of grape-shot, or set upon by troops of Hodson's Horse, which
drove them back in frantic haste to find cover. Nicholson rode from
battery to battery, encouraging the men, taking counsel with Baird
Smith, watching the effect of these tremendous salvos that shook the
ground.

So the bombardment continued until the night of the 13th. Then the roar
suddenly ceased. A thrill of expectation ran through the camp. Captain
Taylor had reported that the breaches in the walls were practicable;
every man knew that the moment for the great assault was at hand. And in
the city men knew it too. The old king spent many hours in his private
mosque praying for victory. The traders had all closed their shops, for
fear of being carried off to serve at the fortifications. The officers
wrangled; there was no commanding spirit like Nicholson among them.
Bakht Khan was brave enough, but he was merely a fighter; he had no
genius for leadership. On the night of the 12th a proc