The Deccan Invincibles
"Bedad, now, if it wasn't that ye've the thickest hide and the
sthrongest bones of enny Oi iver come across, me bhoy, ye'd be dead!
'Tis mighty lucky ye are, so ye are, and ye'll never meet wid the same
again. Ye'll be dead, as dead as a donkey."
The Irish doctor who stood over the litter on which Owen reclined wagged
his head knowingly while he lifted an admonishing finger.
"As dead as enny donkey, me bhoy, so ye will, and jest ye take the
warnin'. 'Tis said you're a fire-eater, and that ye've seen as much of
the campaign or of the fightin' as enny. Oi believe it. Where did ye
start?"
"At Ahmednuggur, sir. Then we went on to Assaye."
"And from there, me bhoy? Ye've not been idle since?"
"I was sent to Holkar with a despatch, and afterwards came through here
with more despatches for General Lake."
"Thin ye've been busy, because Assaye and Indore are miles from here.
Bedad, it must have taken days to cover the country. And what kept ye
at Indore? Some fascinating beauty in Holkar's court? Ah, hah! me bhoy,
don't tell me it was duty. 'Tis a little flirtation of your own ye've
been looking afther, and sure that's why Holkar put ye in the jug, so it
is."
The doctor roared at Owen's obvious indignation, while our hero soon
joined in the laughter, for he saw that this new friend of his was only
making fun. He sat up in his litter and addressed him eagerly.
"That's it, sir, and I'm dreadfully anxious to get up and out of this.
When shall I be fit? I feel well and strong now, and am sure I shall be
able to return to duty within a day or so."
"Ye will, will ye? Thin ye'll have to learn that ye've to stay where ye
are for a week. Ha! ha! A week, me bhoy, and even thin Oi may keep ye.
And jist remimber. Ye're lucky to be alive at all, so ye are, for that
bit of a bullet gave ye a nasty clip. Now if it had happened to hit
thrue and straight, why----"
"I shouldn't have been bothering you, sir."
"Bedad, ye would not. If it had sthruck ye true, and ye'd not had the
hide ye've got, ye'd be dead, as Oi've told ye. Now lie down and sleep,
or else Oi'll be havin' to place ye on dry biscuit and wather."
He was a merry soul this doctor, and for all his fun a capable and
painstaking attendant on those who were sick or injured. No sooner had
Owen been brought into the camp than he appeared at the tent, and having
given him some broth at once attended to his wound. That was a week ago,
and he had been able to pronounce the injury severe, but not dangerous
by any means, and likely to heal rapidly. Indeed, when another week was
gone he declared that Owen might return to light duty.
"Though 'tis little lightness there'll be about it," he said, with a
laugh. "Ye know it's against the ordhers to send men or officers back to
anything but full duty. But what will ye have? There's some, and they're
mighty few I can tell ye, who haven't that love for the work. But whin
there's fightin' and heads to be broken, why, thin's the toime the
soldier bhoy is keen for duty and the ranks. Sure Oi know it well afther
all these years' service. If it's times of peace, and there's nothin'
doin' but dhrills and barrack fatigues, field-days and guards, why,
thin, there's many who would shirk if they was able, and who'd be
willin' to find the right excuse. But here, whin it's war, why, bedad,
there's no keepin' the bhoys. They're for duty again before their wounds
are closed, so they are, good luck to thim!"
And this might be said to be the case with all our armies in the field
in those days, and even till more recent times, though it is not the
custom now to return men to duty before their wounds are entirely
healed. In the days of the Mahratta campaign, however, European troops
were few and very valuable, while actions crowded so closely upon one
another that it was difficult to make good our losses. Thus the demand
for men to return to the ranks from the hospitals was great, and the
keenness of the soldiers to get back to their duty and to take up their
arms again was a matter of congratulation to their commanders. It is not
to be wondered at that Owen longed to don uniform again, and fretted at
the necessity which kept him in hospital. Every day he could hear the
roar of guns, while the dust kicked up by passing battalions filled his
tent. He begged to be sent out, and in due course obtained permission.
"But ye'll have to go gintly for a time. No gallopin' and chargin',"
said the doctor. "However, there's not much fear for ye for a week or
more, for I hear to-day that there is to be peace in these parts. Sit
down, me bhoy. Ye're always wantin' to be standin' when ye've had
ordhers to rest. Now Oi'll tell ye how matters have been goin'. Ye've
heard of Delhi, and that we left Ochterlony there and marched sthrait
for Agra. Well, we're here, and so's the enemy, but they're showing
little spirit. 'Tis said that the city will be surrendered to us, and if
that's the case, why, ye'll have a quiet time in camp for some days
perhaps, and by thin ye should be fit and well. Mind, ye're to wear a
bandage about the wound, and when ye turn, turn slowly, or the wound
will open again."
The following day, in fact, found Owen out and about, though he did not
venture to mount his horse. Long ago his dispatches had been taken to
General Lake, and that officer had been to see him and interrogate him.
Then, also, an officer with a strong escort had been sent back to
General Wellesley to tell him of the infamous treatment meeted out to
his messenger, and of the undoubted hostility of Holkar.
Meanwhile General Lake and his command had obtained further successes,
as the doctor had hinted. He and his force had arrived at and had
invested the stately city of Agra, the key of Western India, on the 7th
of October, and within two days had concluded a treaty with the Rajah of
Bhurtpore, who at once supplied reinforcements. The city of Agra was
defended by Scindia's men, who in former times had been under the
command of British officers, for it was the custom then to permit
officers to take service with foreign contingents. And no doubt this was
done with a view in some small measure to counteract the influence of
the many French officers who were in the service and employ of
chieftains. To this day, indeed, many officers find employment with
native contingents. However, the officers who had formerly commanded at
Agra were now lying prisoners in the dungeons, and the defenders were in
such a condition of chaos that when General Lake sent in a request that
the city should be surrendered there was no one in command to reply.
Seven of Scindia's regular battalions were encamped in the glacis, and
held the city of Agra and some deep sandy ravines to the south and west
of the city's fort, and it became necessary to dislodge these as a
preliminary to attacking the place. On the 10th of October a force was
sent against them, and after meeting with stern resistance defeated
them, driving them off and capturing the stately city, while the
survivors of Scindia's troops, some 2500 strong, surrendered to General
Lake. Our attention was now turned to the city's fort, and a battery of
18-pounders was brought to bear. These were the guns which Owen heard
hammering at the walls, and it was not long before their well-directed
shot had made a breach which was almost practicable. At this stage the
garrison surrendered, being influenced to do so by one of the imprisoned
British officers. Five thousand five hundred of the enemy fell into our
hands as prisoners of war, thus further reducing Scindia's power, while
more than £200,000 worth of treasure was taken--a fine haul for the
conquerors and for the Company. One hundred and sixty-four cannon were
taken, and amongst these one of similar proportions to that at Indore,
which had offered such friendly shelter to Owen. It measured 14 feet 2
inches in length, had a calibre of 23 inches, and weighed over 38
tons--a monster indeed!
The capture of Agra gave us the control of the navigation of the Jumna,
and enabled several independent chiefs in that quarter, hitherto
debarred from joining us owing to Scindia's power, to throw in their lot
with the British.
However, we were not to have matters altogether in our own hands, for it
was ascertained that Scindia had detached seven of his regular and
trained battalions some little time before, and had placed them under
the command of a French officer. There was also another battalion
composed of fugitives from Agra, making in all 9000 infantry and 5000
cavalry, all of whom had now to fight for their pay, and who were hourly
being reinforced by other stragglers, who joined the force as their only
means of livelihood, hoping to be able to make up for loss of pay by
wholesale robberies. Very soon their French leader lost heart and
surrendered, when the force was taken over by a Mahratta. For a time
they hovered in the neighbourhood of Agra and then made off towards
Delhi, their intention being to attack that weakly garrisoned city. They
were, in fact, a menace, and a serious one, to the peace and
tranquillity of the country General Lake had conquered so far, and he at
once marched after them, determined to bring them to battle, finally
arriving at Futtehpore with men, guns, and baggage. Owen rode with the
army on this occasion, his wound being now almost healed, though his
side was very stiff and at times painful.
"'Twill be all right if ye'll jest remimber all about it, me bhoy," said
the friendly doctor as he watched him mount. "The ball jest cracked a
couple of ribs and gave ye a nasty wound over thim. But you're right so
long as you keep that plaster tight over the chest and don't exert
yourself too much. Mind, no charges. No dashin' into the middle of the
inemy as at Assaye. Hah! hah! We've heard. There's tales in the camp
about Cornet Owen Jones--Captain Jones, perhaps, when the despatches
arrive. Good-bye, me lad. Look me up when ye return to camp."
On the very evening on which the army arrived at Futtehpore a native
came into camp with a chit (note) and searched for the quarters of
Cornet Owen Jones. Mulha brought him to his master, standing over the
man as if he expected him at any moment to throw himself upon the
British officer and assassinate him.
"This fellow came to the camp an hour ago, sahib," he said, watching the
native as he salaamed. "He is the bearer of a note, and will say
neither from whom it comes nor from what quarter. He is a stubborn
fool!"
"Perhaps he has orders to keep his lips closed," said Owen. "Give me the
note. Where do you come from?"
"From Catumbo, where Scindia's forces were encamped yesterday, sahib,"
was the answer. "I am but a humble Mahratta shepherd, and was with my
flock when the army passed. They saw me and dragged me to their camp,
where they questioned me. But I had seen nothing of the British, and
they set me free again. As I was leaving, a messenger detained me and I
was taken to the tent of a French officer. He was tall, and wore a
bandage about his head and beneath his turban. I judged him to have
great power."
"Colonel Le Pourton, without a doubt!" exclaimed Owen. "Then he has
joined the enemy, or perhaps he has gone to them with a purpose."
"Sahib, in Indore while you were prisoner we learned many things," said
Mulha. "We knew that the men of Holkar had but little love for these
soldiers of Scindia, and despised them, having defeated them in battle.
But they have less love for the British, and the tale was whispered in
the streets that Holkar would become friendly with Scindia, and that the
two together would make war against your people. May it not be that this
French colonel is with the enemy with that object?"
"More than probable," admitted Owen. "But go on with your tale. This man
was tall, and was a powerful sahib."
"He was, sahib. He had a hundred servants to wait upon him, and an army
of horsemen as escort. I saw them encamped about his tent. He is without
doubt a powerful leader. He handed me a bag of silver, and bade me carry
this note to you. That is all. If I refused, or failed to do his
bidding, he promised to come down upon my house and slay me and mine.
There is the chit."
Owen opened the note slowly and glanced at the contents. Then a
contemptuous smile wreathed his lips, and he looked up at Mulha.
"As before," he said calmly; "threats, nothing but threats. Listen to
this. Here is Colonel Le Pourton's message. 'To Cornet Owen Jones,
greeting from Colonel Le Pourton, commander of Holkar's forces. This is
to inform you that I will give due reward for the trick you practised
upon me at Indore, and for the blow that was given I will return a
hundred. Think not that because Agra has fallen you and yours will
conquer. Holkar will hound you out of these territories, and you and
your comrades will not escape. I am a fair man, and will deal fairly
with you. I give you warning that I will follow and slay you at the
first opportunity.'"
It was written in Mahratti, and Owen recognised the writing to be the
same as that on the pass he had obtained at Indore; but on this occasion
the letters were better formed, and there was more firmness about the
writing.
"You may go," he said, turning to the native. "Here is a reward for
bringing the chit."
He watched the man depart, and then turned to Mulha.
"Keep an eye open for strangers, Mulha," he said quietly. "This
Frenchman has some great interest in my destruction, and would have me
assassinated. Were I to meet him I should have little fear, for a man
who threatens is a coward."
"The sahib may count upon my watchfulness," was the answer. "Your
troopers and I will set a constant watch, and any stranger who comes
will be closely followed. Rest easy, sahib. You will be protected."
He went off to the men, and from that hour, whenever Owen emerged from
his quarters, there was a swarthy trooper lounging up and down, his eyes
carefully scrutinising all who passed, while with a warning finger and
an air of authority he waved all natives away who happened to be in the
vicinity. However, it was not long before the camp was struck and the
troops were in motion again.
"There will be a dash. We have had information of the position of the
enemy," said one of the officers, "and the orders for marching are out.
We leave guns and baggage."
Indeed, very little later the force was at Catumbo, from which the enemy
had only just fallen back. There was a growl of disappointment from the
men, for it was hard work marching in the sun. However, the orders which
were issued at once set their minds at rest, and showed them that if
they were eager for the fray so also was their leader.
"We leave camp at eleven to-night," said the same officer, one of the
cavalry. "General Lake knows that the beggars will slip away unless he
can surprise and hold them. For that reason the horse march to-night,
while the foot follow at dawn. There is fun ahead of us. You'll ride
with us, my boy."
Owen had, in fact, been told off to the 29th Light Dragoons, with which
regiment he and his troopers mustered that very evening. Beside them
rode the 8th Royal Irish and the 27th Light Dragoons, a fine body of
cavalry, strongly reinforced by five native regiments. It was pitch dark
when they filed out of the camp, and for six hours they rode on in
silence, following the track of the enemy. Soon after dawn had broken,
and while it was still barely light, there was a thrill of excitement
through the ranks, and the word was passed that the enemy were in sight.
"And in order of retreat," said Owen's new friend. "Look at them, making
away as fast as they can. Put your feet well home, my lad, and get a
grip of your saddle, for if I know the General only a very little, I am
as sure that he will go right at them as I am that--that--well, that I'm
here talking to you."
His face flushed while he rose in the saddle to peer over the heads of
the troopers riding in advance and get a view of the enemy. Our hero,
too, was infected with the same excitement. He felt as he had done on
that memorable afternoon at Assaye. Before him, trailing along the track
in full retreat, he saw Scindia's last hope, some seventeen battalions
of infantry, for the most part as highly trained as any European force
could be, and officered by experienced men, though all their French
trainers had departed. And in rear of them fully 5000 cavalry, the cream
of the Mahratta horse, bold-looking if not actually very courageous
soldiers. In their midst the teams struggled with no fewer than 72
pieces of cannon, beside which marched the trained gunners, men second
to none even amongst white troops. That was not all, for amidst the
curling clouds of dust which encircled the fleeing army, filling the
mouths and nostrils of men and animals till they almost choked, were
elephants in large numbers, bullock-carts, laden horses, and huge
numbers of camp followers, the curse of Eastern armies, the incubus
which, hanging about the neck of moving forces, has more than once
brought ruin and defeat to the commander, and death or imprisonment to
all attached to it.
It was a mighty gathering, and Lake could well have been excused had he
decided to wait for his infantry, now well on the road, for they were to
set out at three in the morning. But he knew the risks attached to a
postponement of hostilities, and feared that Scindia's forces might
escape him. He decided then and there to attack with his sabres, and
rapidly made his plans. Meanwhile the enemy, seeing that a conflict was
imminent, took up a strong position.
To give themselves time to do this they cleverly cut a large tank, thus
hindering our troopers, and allowing their own men to occupy the posts
assigned to the various arms, all in close proximity to the village of
Laswaree. In their rear ran a rivulet, with steep and awkward banks,
while their right flank lay in front of the village. Their left rested
on the village of Mohulpore, and their centre took up a position behind
a formidable barrier of high grass, formidable because it hid their
exact positions, and made it extremely difficult for cavalry to
approach. And here were stationed their guns, all chained together, so
as to prevent horsemen charging through them. Truly, as the reader will
admit, a formidable array. Indeed, it soon became evident that the
cavalry alone were insufficient for the task, and after incurring some
loss Lake drew off to wait for his infantry. And presently these were in
position, having made a very fine forced march. The 76th regiment, with
six battalions of sepoys, were near the village of Laswaree, while the
cavalry were posted to watch the enemy and to cover the advance of the
attacking force with the light galloper guns which in those days
accompanied our cavalry.
"They will weaken and offer to surrender," said the officer who sat his
horse beside Owen. "You can see, now that the dust has settled down,
that there is a good deal of commotion behind their lines, and that a
number of the leaders are gathered at a council. Bet you a pair of boots
there's no fight."
He heaved a sigh of disappointment and sat wearily back in his saddle,
for the cavalry had worked very hard, and excitement alone had kept up
their energies. Soon Owen saw that a messenger was coming from the lines
of the enemy.
"They'll fight. I'll take the bet," he said. "That force will never give
in to us. They have too many trained troops to do that, and remember
what they call themselves. They boast that they are the Deccan
Invincibles. Done with you! The boots are mine."
He grinned at the officer, a grin which denoted little merriment, but a
good deal of anxiety, for Owen himself was none too sure that the enemy
would not surrender. However, an hour later Lake himself went to the
front of the British lines, the enemy having failed to come to terms,
and advanced against the Mahrattas. Instantly the enemy's pieces opened,
and a murderous hail of shot and shell tore through the long grass and
into the ranks of the British, causing the native infantry to hang back.
The 76th held on boldly, though their ranks were sadly torn by the fire.
"Twenty-ninth, make ready to charge!"
The command rang out in stentorian tones, and at the words each one of
the troopers settled himself in his saddle and gripped his weapon.
"Twenty-ninth, keep well together and pick up all wounded and
stragglers. Trot!"
The same strange feeling of elation which had filled Owen's breast on a
former occasion came to him again, and he drew his sabre with an
exclamation which told of delight, of relief at the end of a trying
suspense. He formed his troopers up on the left flank of the regiment
and rode in front of them, a horse's length in rear of the commander of
the gallant 29th, who was now of junior rank, for Major Griffiths had
fallen five minutes before. Very soon they were in the zone of fire,
canister and cannon-balls hurtling about them.
"Halt!" The commander faced about and lined up his men. Then he pointed
to the enemy.
"The enemy's horse have charged our infantry and have been beaten off.
The 29th will break them up and drive them off the field. Afterwards
they will attack the infantry."
His sabre came out of its sheath with a swish as a roar of cheering came
from the throats of the men. Even the placid, imperturbable troopers of
the 7th, under Owen's command, were infected with the general
excitement. They shouted their war cry and tossed their lance pennons
into the air. "Trot! Gallop! Charge!"
In quick succession the orders came, the last being almost drowned by
the roar of the conflict, by the deafening report of the enemy's guns,
by the bark of muskets, and by the hum of the projectiles. There were
the Mahratta horse hovering about the infantry, and straight at them
went Owen and his comrades. Oh, it was mad, tremendous work, and there
is little wonder that few of those who rode knew ought of the incidents
which passed. Lances rose and fell, sabres cut this way and that, and
guns and muskets flashed in their faces. The Mahratta horse, in their
wild Eastern uniform, went down before the troopers almost as easily as
did the long feathery grass through which the 29th rode, and in their
place, as if they had risen from the earth, were two stolid lines of
trained Mahratta infantry, their gleaming bayonets almost at the necks
of the horses.
"Charge!" The Commander, Owen, every officer, stood in his stirrups and
bellowed the order with frantic eagerness, while the troopers responded
with a deafening cheer which drowned the report of the muskets. The pace
increased, there was a wild _mêlée_, in which men fell or were violently
thrown to the ground. Here and there a horse came down with a dull thud,
the rider being instantly bayoneted. But they were through. The enemy
was broken, and as the gallant troopers rode on they left a wide gap, a
gap filled with the bodies of the fallen Mahrattas. It was breathless
work, but there was no rest to be found yet, for there was a second line
of infantry, a line which went beneath the hoofs of the horses as if
they had never existed, and gave place to the cavalry.
"Halt! Halt and reform!"
The officer in command lifted his sabre, and at the signal troopers
gathered their reins and pulled in their horses. What a sight the men
were! The regiment had ridden into action as neat and as good-looking a
force as could be found, and see the troopers now! Torn tunics, broken
weapons, caps gone, faces covered with dust, hair dishevelled, and blood
on many a face and jacket. But the faces! A grim, jaunty air was set on
every man's features, an air of indescribable triumph, of excitement
which, though great, still left them with ample common sense. As for
courage, it could be seen in each keen pair of eyes, and as the Colonel
passed down the ranks, with difficulty holding in his charger, he felt
satisfied.
"Well done, 29th! Well done, indeed! But there is more. By sections
wheel to the right."
Perfectly disciplined and composed of gallant fellows, the fine regiment
wheeled round to the other flank and reformed the sections into line.
And there, facing them, was the cavalry, a fine body of Mahratta horse,
the cream of the mounted regiments in support of Scindia.
The 29th were in motion again, their pace gathered way, and soon they
were pushing on at a gallop. Then the tale of a few minutes ago was
repeated--they were charging the enemy. And these boastful Deccan
Invincibles, these horsemen whose appearance was so magnificent, turned
and fled, and were driven like a herd of frantic sheep from the field of
battle. The lances and blades of the troopers cut into them, covering
the ground with their corpses, and in a miraculously small space of time
the cavalry were gone, utterly routed by one regiment of British horse.
What need to tell more? This battle of Laswaree rivalled that at Assaye,
and ended in a pronounced victory, though on this occasion the
French-trained battalions were worthy of their reputation and stood and
fought to the end. The men who served the enemy's guns stood to their
pieces till they were disposed of by the bayonet, proving themselves to
be courageous in the extreme. Laswaree, in fact, was no easily-won
victory. There was stubborn material to deal with, and our men on that
eventful day proved, if proof were ever necessary, that Britishers could
fight, that native regiments officered by British officers were staunch
to the backbone, and that our forces in India were as fine, as brave,
and as disciplined and full of dash as any we have possessed.
With the victory we captured a magnificent camp equipage, elephants,
oxen and horses, treasure, guns, men, and ammunition, and arms and
standards innumerable. We lost about 1000 in killed and wounded, while
such was the stubbornness of the enemy and the dash of our infantry and
cavalry, that 7000 of the Mahrattas were slain and a numerous host
wounded.
When the day was finished and our troops had broken from their ranks to
seek rest after their exertions, there were still cavalry in the field
pursuing the enemy, and Owen was amongst them.