GENERAL ELTON'S MARCH
Hoosanee did more good work at Nowgong. Professing to be a discontented
native official from Gumilcund, he insinuated himself into the
confidence of the two or three uneasy spirits in the station, and
made one of them promise to communicate with him when matters should
seem ripe for a revolt. He was relieved to find that the discontented
were in a minority, and that they had no present hope of increasing
their numbers, or of being able to take any decided step. As it was in
Nowgong, so it was elsewhere. Whether from fear of the vengeance that
seemed so strangely to halt, or from some remnant of right feeling, it
is impossible to say. Possibly the revolt at Meerut, hurried on by the
punishment of mutineers, and the consequent taking of Delhi, took the
native as well as the English army in India by surprise. However this
may have been, it is certain that, between the middle of May and the
beginning of June, there was a lull, during which the scattered groups
of English, who were absolutely in the power of native troops, took
heart once more. A body of Ghoorka soldiers, sent across the Nepaul
border to strengthen the hands of the English, under command of that
gallant young soldier, Gambier Singh, was recalled by the Governor's
orders, and a proclamation, promising pardon to the mutineers who had
not actually taken part in the murder of Europeans, was issued.
This last was a most disastrous step. No one understanding the nature
of Asiatics could have taken it. The mutinous troops and agitators,
staggered by their own successes, and secretly dreading the vengeance
of the White Man, whom they had insulted and defied, began now to
breathe more freely. The White Man was afraid, or he would not seek to
propitiate them. And who could wonder? They were but a little number in
the land, and England, which at best was a small country, and hemmed
in, as some of them had heard, by hosts of enemies, was hundreds of
miles away across a stormy sea. Let them but be true to their colours
for a short time, and the word of prophecy would be fulfilled. The raj
of the stranger-race would pass away for ever.
Thinking thus, they were ready to bide their time and do nothing rashly.
It was this lull which threw dust in the eyes of the English officers.
One of these was General Elton.
He had, as it happened, no distinct command. What his personal
influence might have effected if he had been at Meerut when the storm
broke it is impossible to say. He might have shamed the authorities
into action, and saved the honour of the English name. But he was
absent, in pursuance of the mission that had been entrusted to him.
As an old regimental and brigade officer, supposed to be well versed
in the native character, he had been deputed, on the first rumour of
discontent in the army, to travel through the North-West Provinces and
the Central Indian Agency, examining into grievances, and reporting on
the general condition of the troops.
On the terrible Sunday afternoon when the storm broke he was at Jhansi,
enjoying the hospitality of the Ranee, and conferring with her on the
curious portents of the time. They were actually together when the
news came, and the General, who prided himself on his knowledge of
character, was more than satisfied by her surprise and indignation.
Alarmed for his safety, she entreated him to remain at Jhansi until
he could obtain more certain news, but the General, while touched by
her solicitude, would not hear of delay. He took horse at once, and,
surrounded by the small body of English soldiers with whom he had been
travelling, set out on a forced march to Meerut.
A tremendous march it was, and fuller of peril, than any one of the
little band imagined! Their audacity served them for strength. Those
who plotted their destruction hesitated to strike, for some at least
must fall victims to these watchful and resolute men. Besides, who
could say that an army was not marching at their heels? As, in their
dress of scarlet and gold with their sabres flashing in the sun, the
General and his guard rode through the country, every one made way for
them. From the villages, hostile as many of them were, and infested
with _budmashes_ and disbanded soldiers, they had no difficulty in
obtaining supplies. To many of the workers of mischief, the gallant
old soldier, with his hard face, keen sight and short sharp words
of command, came as the first of the avengers, while those amongst
ourselves who saw him ride by were inspired with fresh confidence.
I was one of these. I was exercising the sullen-looking handful of
troops for which I was responsible, on the parade-ground outside our
station, when the General passed. He halted for a few moments and
watched us. I and my men saluted, and it seemed to me that they drew
themselves together and stepped out more briskly.
I looked at him--a small man, muscles tense, face stern, lips set
firmly together, blue eyes, full of fire and energy, looking out
steadily. He was in full-dress uniform, all his accoutrements as
spotless as if he were on court parade at home. He rode a little Arab
horse, well-fed and groomed, and as highly bred as himself. 'Game to
the very finger-tips,' so I said to myself, as I looked at him. While
England had such men as the General in reserve, our raj would not pass
away. The General rode on. In spite of the fearful anxiety which, as we
all knew, was consuming him, he did his duty gallantly. He called at
the most important stations on the route, at Gwalior, Agra, Mynpoorie
and Secunderabad, doing what he could to encourage the loyal and to
awe the discontented. But to Delhi, the most important of them all,
he was obliged to give a wide berth, for he knew that the rebels were
congregating there in force.
It was nearing the end of the month before he reached the neighbourhood
of Meerut. He had not, in the meantime, met any of the English force.
He had not so much as heard of it; and he grew more and more troubled
and perplexed. Was, then, the awful tale which he had heard true? Were
his countrymen taken so completely by surprise that not one of them was
left alive to fight for the honour of his country? A thousand soldiers,
Englishmen all of them! It was impossible. And there was one native
regiment at Meerut which he had made up his mind would be faithful. He
had commanded it himself for years. Its native officers were veterans,
men of high birth and fine breeding, who had fought by his side in many
a frontier war. One of them had saved his life at the imminent risk
of his own, and to the General he had long been as a personal friend.
He would almost as readily have believed in his own failure from duty
as in Sufder Jung's. As for the men, he had called them his children.
Big children and little children, the old men, who were recruits when
he took up the command, and who had learned under him the warrior's
art, and the young men, only lately enrolled, who were learning it
from others, he loved them all. Riding through the desolate plain,
with the fierce rays of an Indian sun beating upon him, and this awful
thing at his heart, the old man felt a curious moisture bedewing his
eyes. Only a few weeks before he had held a review of all arms at
Meerut, and his pet regiment had distinguished itself beyond all the
others. Like a picture it flashed before him, the noble stature, proud
carriage, flashing eyes and perfect accoutrement, and again, sweeter
than the incense of flattery, there fell upon his ears the shouts of
applause which broke forth on every side, as, at a double-quick march,
but moving with the precision of a machine, his children swept by the
saluting point. 'Efficiency could not be carried further,' he had said,
shaking hands warmly with the colonel of the regiment. 'I congratulate
you.' And now to hear it said that these men were disloyal, that then,
when they were responding with joyful shouts to the shouts of their
English comrades, they were actually plotting to betray them! It could
not, it should not be.
With stern face the General rode on. No one molested them; but, in the
deserted huts and silent villages, in the procession along the road of
trains of frightened peasants, men and women, with all their household
utensils about them, and in the occasional presence of bands of ragged,
fierce-looking men, armed with clubs and ancient rifles, he saw ominous
signs of disorder and panic.
They came at last to within five miles of Meerut. No one came out to
meet them, although the General had sent forward native scouts, nor
could they hear anything of the English troops. It was now the hottest
hour of the afternoon, and the men, who had been in the saddle since
early morning, were dead beat. Not knowing what they might have to meet
at Meerut, the General, desperately anxious as he was to be at his
goal, determined to call a halt. There was a little grove of mango and
neem trees a few yards from the road. He led his men thither, and while
some were set to watch, the others, exhausted by their long ride under
the burning sun, emptied their drinking-flasks and flung themselves
down for an hour's rest.
The General was amongst the watchers. He would not even unsaddle.
He stood by his horse, his left arm flung over its neck, and his
right grasping a loaded revolver, while his wide-open, sleepless
eyes were piercing the recesses of the wood. For an hour he watched.
There was no disturbance, nothing to break the deep silence of the
camping-ground. Then his men changed guard. One of them, his personal
servant, came up to him and entreated that he also would rest for an
hour. But the General refused, and again there was silence.
Evening was drawing on. His eyes had begun to smart with the long
strain of watchfulness, and it was on the tip of his tongue to give the
order to saddle and mount, when his practised ear caught the sound of
stealthy movement in the wood.
'Some one is skulking about the ground,' he said to the nearest
trooper, 'perhaps a messenger from Meerut. Beat round cautiously and
find out!'
The man disappeared amongst the withered underwood, and emerged a few
moments later with a tall figure, shrouded from head to foot in a white
chuddah, at his heels.
'Who are you?' said the General, 'and what are you doing here?'
At his word the chuddah dropped, and he saw the uniform of his own
favourite regiment, while, in the next moment, he recognised the dark
features of the officer who had saved his life in battle so many years
before.
'Sufder Jung!' he said reproachfully. 'You here! Where are your
children?'
Sobbing like a child the man prostrated himself on the ground. 'Let
not my General look at me so!' he cried. 'Is it my fault that they
rebelled?'
'They _have_ rebelled?' said the General, drawing a deep breath.
'Not all, my General. There is a detachment which is faithful yet.'
'In Meerut?'
'No, my General. They forced us away with them, and to save our lives,
we went on--escaping one by one, and banding ourselves together, for
we hoped in a few days to meet your Excellency. But before we went
we provided for the escape of those in your Excellency's house, the
mem Sahib, and the Miss Sahibs. The house was on fire and the fiends
were yelling round it, crying to the servants to throw out to them
the Sahib-log, and let them deal with them as they would. We forced
them away and put out the flames, and carried the ladies to a place of
safety within the walls. One was hurt. I know not which. I carried her
in my arms and she moaned with pain.'
A groan broke from the General. 'This is true?' he said; 'you are not
deceiving me?'
'True by the Prophet's beard, your Excellency! Why should Sufder Jung
deceive you?'
'But where were our own troops? Did they look on like frightened
children?'
'The English were taken by surprise, your Excellency.'
'Do you mean to tell me they were slain, every one of them?'
'Pardon me, my General. Some were killed; but there are still a
thousand men within the walls of the city.'
'A thousand, within the walls, doing nothing! Now I know that you are
lying, Sufder Jung.'
'Let his Excellency have patience, and he will see whether his servant
has spoken the truth. I hear, from friends of my own, that to-morrow a
detachment will set out for Delhi.'
'To-morrow!' burst out the General. 'To-morrow! and how long has Delhi
been in the hands of the rebels, Sufder Jung?'
'It was on the 11th of May that the rebels rushed out of Meerut. If his
Excellency will believe me, they were like a herd of frightened sheep.
I and my men could have taken them all, without help from the English,
if the whole of my troop had stood firm. They entered the Imperial city
on the 12th.'
'And it is now the 23rd. A fortnight lost--lost in inaction!' said the
General. 'By heaven it may cost us the raj! And we deserve it.' But
here, remembering to whom he was speaking, he pulled himself up. 'I
speak hastily,' he said. 'No doubt the General in command had reasons
of state, about which we know nothing. You, in any case, have done well
to come to me. What boon would you have, Sufder Jung? Will you join my
bodyguard, until I can find you a command?'
'If I were alone, your Excellency,' said Sufder Jung, joining the palms
of his hands together and bowing low, 'I would ask to be made your
Honour's servant, and I would follow to the ends of the earth. But I am
not alone. A little remnant of our troop has remained faithful. They
are crying out to be led against their mutinous brethren; but some of
them are fearful lest their professions of faithfulness be discredited.
They are encamped not far from here. It is their hope to re-enter the
city of Meerut under the protection of his Excellency. Will not my lord
see and comfort them?'
By this time the English soldiers constituting the body-guard, several
of whom had been near enough to the General to hear every word that had
passed between him and Sufder Jung, were closing round them, and an
angry murmur rose from their ranks. The General caught it and looked
round on them sternly. His personal servant stood near him. 'Beg your
pardon, sir,' he said, saluting. 'We didn't mean no harm like; but----'
'But what?' thundered the General. 'Go on, now you have begun!'
'Them pandies isn't to be trusted, sir--not a mother's son of them all.'
'You know so much about them, Tommy,' said the General. 'How long have
you been in India?'
'Six months, sir.'
'And you?' to another.
'Same time, General.'
'Six months' service, and you can judge the people in this sweeping
way! Bravo, my men! Now, I have spent thirty years of my life in India.
I have marched for hundreds of miles with the men whom you despise,
and they have fought by my side like gallant gentlemen. I have lived
with them in times of peace as a father lives with his sons. I have
called them my children. Again and again, I have owed my life to their
care. Here is one,' pointing to the Soubahdar, 'who interposed with his
own body between me and destruction. And yet, I confess,' his strong
voice faltered, 'I do not understand them as I thought I did, or as I
should wish to do. This that has happened is a mystery to me. I cannot
fathom it. But that all are faithless, that a man like Soubahdar Sufder
Jung should come to his general with affection on his lips and black
treachery at his heart, this I can never believe. Stand back, while I
hear what more he has to tell me.'
Reluctantly the men fell back, while the Soubahdar, who, understanding
part but not all of this discourse, had been standing aside, with bowed
head and streaming eyes, approached the General again, and spoke in a
voice so low that none of the English soldiers could catch what he said.
Presently the General addressed them. His face was radiant, and his
voice was strong and full. 'Wait for me here, my men,' he said, 'but
be ready to start at the word of command. We have friends and comrades
close by. I will join you with them in less than half-an-hour.'
This time no one, not even the General's servant, ventured on a word of
protest, for the will of the old soldier was known to be like iron; but
as, the Soubahdar riding at his right hand, he went off slowly to where
the wood was thickest, they clustered together and held a council of
war.