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: The Warden of the Marches by Grier Sydney C Pearse Alfred Illustrator - India History British occupation 1765-1947 Fiction; British India Fiction
uct of all military operations is vested in you, then. I reserve, of course, the right of private criticism, and of offering advice."
"And of putting the blame on me if things go wrong!" thought Colonel Graham, but he was too wise to give utterance to the remark. "Do you care to make the round of the defences with me?" he asked. "I should like to see how the new brickwork stands this deluge."
As they emerged from the shelter of the tower into the rainy dusk, they were met by Fitz, who, like the other civilians in the place, had enrolled himself as a volunteer. When he first spoke, his voice was inaudible, owing to a rushing, roaring sound which filled the air.
"Why, what's this?" shouted the Colonel.
"The canal, sir," answered Fitz, as loudly. "Winlock sent me to ask you to come and look at it."
"Is it in flood? Can the reservoir have burst?"
"We think the enemy have opened the sluices. The dead body of a white man was washed down just now. We saw it, though we couldn't reach it, and some one said it was Western, who was in charge at the canal works."
After a storm the placid canal always became a rushing torrent, on account of the accessions it received after leaving the reservoir, but none of those in the fort had ever seen it rise to the height it had reached on the present occasion. Colonel Graham uttered an exclamation of dismay when he looked out over the turbid stream, which seemed to be flung back from the opposite bank against the fort wall with even increased violence. Presently there was a lull in the storm, and by the aid of a lantern, which was lowered from the rampart, he was able to see that the current was actually scouring away the lower courses of the wall. The next moment the lantern was violently swept from the hand of the man who held the cord, as another rush of water came swirling round the tower at the angle of the wall, dashing its spray into the faces of the watchers. Every one of them felt the wall shake under the blow, and there was a murmur of uneasiness. Colonel Graham recovered himself first.
"Turn out all the servants and coolies, Winlock," he said, "and shore up the wall with props and sand-bags as far as possible. We will stay here and watch whether the water rises any higher. It's clear they hope that this south curtain will go," he added to Mr Burgrave, "and that then they will only have to walk in."
"They must have a clever head among them," said the Commissioner; "for they are evidently letting the water out a little at a time."
"Ah, that's the native engineer, no doubt. They would keep him alive to manage the machinery for them when they murdered poor Western. Look out, here's another!"
Again the wall trembled perceptibly, but by this time the courtyard was full of eager workers, piling up earth and stones and beams and bags of sand, and anything else that could be found. Presently the Colonel called out to them to stop, for there was now the danger that the wall might fall outwards instead of inwards, and they waited in unwilling idleness, while the two men on the rampart watched the current anxiously, and measured the distance of its surface from the parapet. Then came a more violent rush of water than any before, and to Colonel Graham and Mr Burgrave the wall seemed to rock backwards and forwards under them. When they looked into each other's faces once more, they could scarcely believe that it was still standing.
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