Mr. Damant--The Naga Hills--Rumours on which I act--News of
revolt in Naga Hills and Mr. Damant's surrender--Maharajah's
loyalty--March to the relief of Kohima--Relief of Kohima--Incidents
of siege--Heroism of ladies--A noble defence.
In November, 1878, Mr. Damant removed the headquarters of the Naga
Hills District from Samagudting to Kohima, and established himself
there with his party, in two stockades. He had a very ample force for
maintaining his position, but he had not sufficient to make coercing
a powerful village an easy task. He was an able man, with much force
of character, high-minded and upright, and had been greatly respected
in Manipur, where he acted as Political Agent for some months after
Dr. Brown's death. He was also a scholar, and was perhaps the only
man of his generation in Assam capable of taking a comprehensive view
of the languages of the Eastern Frontier, and searching out their
origin. His premature death was an irreparable loss to philology.
With all this he had not had sufficient experience with wild tribes to
be a fit match for the astute Nagas, and was constantly harassed by the
difficulty in the way of securing supplies, which ought to have been
arranged for him, in the early days of our occupation of Samagudting,
by making terms with the Nagas as to providing food carriage. It was
his misfortune that he inherited an evil system. We had been forced
into the hills by the lawlessness of the Naga tribes, and we ought to
have made them bear their full share of the inconveniences attendant
on our occupation, instead of making our own people suffer.
Mr. Damant at first contemplated getting his supplies from Manipur,
through the Durbar, but they objected, it being their traditional
policy to prevent the export of rice for fear of famines, the distance
and cost of transport making the import, in case of scarcity, an
impossibility. I declined to put pressure, as I saw the reasonableness
of the Durbar argument, and I objected to force the hill population
of Manipur to spend their time in carrying heavy loads, to save the
turbulent and lazy Angamis. In September, 1879, however, I heard a
rumour from native sources that Mr. Damant was in great difficulties
and straits for want of provisions, [22] and I wrote and told him
that if it were true, I would make every effort to send him some
supplies, and to help him in every way I could. I did not receive
any answer to this letter, and subsequently ascertained that it had
never reached him.
I knew the Angamis well, and was very anxious about Mr. Damant and
his party, and felt sure that some trouble was at hand.
About this time my wife's health began to give me much anxiety; she
had one or two severe attacks of illness, and was much reduced in
strength. Who that has not experienced it can imagine the terrible,
wearing anxiety of life on a distant frontier, without adequate medical
aid for those nearest and dearest to us. She was better, though still
very weak, when an event occurred that shook the whole frontier.
Early in the morning of October 21st, I received a report from Mao
Tannah, the Manipuri outpost on the borders of the Naga Hills, to the
effect that a rumour had reached the officer there, that the Mozuma
Nagas had attacked either Kohima, or a party of our men somewhere else,
and had killed one hundred men. I have already mentioned my anxiety
about Mr. Damant's position, and there was an air of authenticity
about the report which made me feel sure that some catastrophe had
occurred, and that he was in sore need. I said to Thangal Major,
"We will take off fifty per cent. for exaggeration, and even then the
garrison of Kohima will be so weakened that it is sure to be attacked,
and there will be a rising in the Naga Hills."
I instantly took my resolve and detained my escort of the 34th B.I.,
which had just been relieved by a party of Frontier Police, and was
about to march for Cachar. I also applied to the Maharajah for nine
hundred Manipuris, and sufficient coolies to convey our baggage. He
at once promised them, and I made arrangements to march as soon as
the men were ready; but there was some delay, as the men had to be
collected from distant villages. The next morning, before sunrise,
Thangal Major came to see me, bringing two letters from Mr. Cawley,
Assistant Political Agent, Naga Hills, and District Superintendent of
Police. The letters told me that Mr. Damant had been killed by the
Konoma men, and that he and the remainder were besieged in Kohima,
and sorely pressed by Nagas of several villages. Immediately after
this, the Maharajah himself came and placed his whole resources at
my disposal, and asked me what I would have. I said two thousand men,
and he replied that that was the number he himself thought necessary,
and asked if he should fire the usual five alarm guns, as a signal
to call every able-bodied man to the capital. I consented, and in
ten minutes they thundered forth their summons. Coolies to carry the
loads were the chief difficulty, as they, being hill-men, lived at
a greater distance. I also despatched a special messenger to Cachar
to ask for more troops and a doctor; and I made arrangements for
assisting them on the road. I despatched two hundred Manipuris by a
difficult and little-frequented path to Paplongmai (Kenoma [23]),
to make a diversion in the rear of Konoma, as, from all I heard,
it seemed that the astute Mozuma was not involved. I sent on a man
I could trust to the Mozuma people, to secure their neutrality. I
also sent my Naga interpreter, Patakee, to Kohima, to do his best
to spread dissension amongst its seven different clans and prevent
their uniting against me. I gave him a pony, and told him to ride it
till it dropped under him, and then to march on foot for his life,
and promised him 200 rupees reward if he could deliver a letter to
Mr. Cawley before the place fell. In the letter I begged Mr. Cawley
to hold out to the last as I was marching to his assistance.
One day, about a year before, a fine young Naga of Viswema, a powerful
village of 1000 houses, a few miles beyond the frontier of Manipur and
right on our track, had come to me and asked me to take him into my
service. I did so, thinking he might be useful some day, and now that
the day had arrived, I sent him off to his people to win them over,
threatening to exterminate them if they opposed my march.
I had fifty men of the Cachar Police and thirty-four of the 34th B.I.,
including two invalids, one of them a Naik, by name Buldeo Doobey,
who came out of hospital to go with me, as I wanted every man who could
shoulder a musket. For the same reason I enlisted a volunteer, Narain
Singh, a fine fellow, a Jat [24] from beyond Delhi, who had served
in the 35th B.I., so he took a breach-loader belonging to a sick man
of the 34th. I shall refer to him again. He carried one hundred and
twenty rounds of ball cartridge on his person, three times as much
as the men of the 34th. I sent off my combined escort with all the
Manipuris who were ready under Thangal Major, and stayed behind to
collect and despatch supplies and write official letters and send off
telegrams to Sir Steuart Bayley, and on the 23rd rode out, and caught
up my men at Mayang Khang, forty miles from Manipur. The rear-guard
of the 34th had not come up when I went to bed that night at 11 P.M.
I left my poor wife still very weak and I was thankful that she had her
good sister as a stay and support. Just before leaving, our youngest
boy Arthur held out his arms to be taken. I paused from my work for
a moment and took him. It was the last time I saw him. Sad as was my
parting, I rode off in high spirits; who would not do so when he feels
that he may be privileged to do his country signal service! Besides,
I hoped to find all well when I returned.
We left Mayang Khang on October 24th and marched to Mythephum, twenty
miles along a terribly difficult mountain path, much overgrown by
jungle. It was all I could do to get the 34th along, as they were
completely knocked up. I had a pony which I lent for part of the way
to one of my invalids and so helped him on. I was continually obliged
to halt myself and wait for the stragglers, cheer them up, and then
run to the front again. Narain Singh was invaluable and seemed not
to know fatigue. We reached Mythephum after dark, but the rear-guard
did not arrive till next morning.
At Mythephum I mustered my forces. The Maharajah had sent the Jubraj
and Kotwal Koireng with me (little did I think of the fate in store
for them and for old Thangal [25]) and found that very few Manipuris
had arrived, and almost all of the force with me were so knocked
up that, to my intense disappointment, I had to make a halt. I was
too restless to sit still, so spent the day in reconnoitring the
country. In the evening I had an interview with Thangal Major and
afterwards with the Jubraj. Old Thangal was for halting till we
could collect a large force as he said a large one was required,
and he begged me to halt for a few days. I finally pointed out that
a day's halt might cause the annihilation of the garrison of Kohima,
and said that if the Manipuris were not ready to move, I would go
along with any of my own men who could march. I appealed to the
Jubraj to support me which he did, [26] and for which I was ever
grateful, and we arranged to march next day. I found that the Nagas
of Manipur were infected with a rebellious spirit, and not entirely
to be depended on, and any vacillation on our part might have been
fatal, and would certainly have sealed the fate of Kohima.
We left Mythephum at daybreak on the 26th, and marched as hard as we
could, as I hoped to cover the forty miles to Kohima by nightfall. We
stopped to drink water at the Mao river, which we forded, and to
prevent men wasting time, I drew my revolver and threatened to shoot
any one who dawdled. We ascended the steep hillside, and passing
through one of the villages marched on to Khoijami, a village on the
English side of the border. We had been so long, owing to the extreme
badness of the roads, and the fatigue of the men, that we only reached
it at 3 P.M., so I reluctantly halted for the night.
Here my emissary to Viswema joined me, and told me that he had induced
his fellow-villagers to be friendly, and that presents would be sent. I
sent him back to demand hostages, and the formal submission of the
village, as otherwise I would attack them on the morrow and spare no
one. It was not a time for soft speeches, and I heard rumours that
we were to be opposed next day.
Late in the afternoon some Mao Nagas brought in seven Nepaulee coolies
who had escaped from Kohima the previous day, and wandered through the
jungle expecting every moment to be killed. I gave the Mao men twenty
rupees as a reward. The Nepaulees said that they had been shut outside
the gate of the stockade by mistake, and had hidden themselves and
so got away. They gave a deplorable account of affairs, and said that
there was no food, and that the ammunition was almost all spent, and
that two ladies were in the stockade, Mrs. Damant and Mrs. Cawley. They
stated that Mr. Damant was taken unawares and shot dead, and fifty men
killed on the spot, and that thirty ran away and hid in the jungles,
some saving their arms, others not. Each man had fifty rounds of ball
cartridge. Most of the rifles lost were breech-loaders. The men told
me that early that morning they had seen smoke rising from Kohima,
and thought it might have been burned.
All this made me very anxious, as the men said that Mr. Cawley was
treating for a safe passage to Samagudting. Late in the evening I heard
that a building inside the stockade had been burned by the Nagas, who
threw stones wrapped in burning cloth on to the thatched roofs. The
Nagas in arms were said to number six thousand, and they had erected
a stockade opposite ours from which they fired. The fugitives were
in a miserable state of semi-starvation, and ashy pale from terror,
and seemed more dead than alive when they were brought to me. We slept
on our arms that night, at least such as could sleep, and rose at 3
A.M. in case of an attack, that being a favourite time for the Nagas
to make one.
When ready, I addressed my men, telling them the danger of the
enterprise, but assuring them of its success, and urging them, in
case of my being killed or wounded, to leave me and push on to save
the garrison. I promised the Frontier Police that every man should
be promoted if we reached Kohima safely that night. This promise the
Government faithfully kept.
At sunrise I received two little slips of paper brought by two
Nepaulese coolies who had managed to escape, signed by Mr. Hinde,
Extra Assistant Commissioner, and hidden by them in their hair. On
them was written:--
Surrounded by Nagas, cut off from water Must be relieved at once. Send
flying column to bring away garrison at once. Relief must be immediate
to be of any use
H. M. Hinde. A. P. A. Kohima. 25 x. 79.
and--
We are in extremity, come on sharp Kohima not abandoned.
Kohima not abandoned
H. M. Hinde. A. P. A. 26 x. 79.
After getting these, I could not wait any longer, and, as the Manipuris
were not all ready, I started off at once with fifty of them under
an old officer, Eerungba Polla and sixty of my escort, all that were
able to make a rapid march, and Narain Singh. We carried with us my
camp Union Jack.
I obtained hostages from Viswema and placed them under a guard with
orders to shoot them instantly, if we were attacked, and on our arrival
at the village we were well received. At Rigwema, as we afterwards
discovered, a force of Nagas was placed in ambush to attack us, but
the precautions we took prevented their doing so, and we passed on
unmolested, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing the stockade at
Kohima still intact. A few miles farther, and on rounding the spur of
a hill, the stockade appeared in full view and we sounded our bugles
which were quickly answered by a flourish from Kohima.
We marched on with our standard flying, we reached the valley below,
we began the ascent of the last slope, and forming into as good order
as the ground would allow, we at last gained the summit and saw the
stockade, to save which, we had marched so far and so well, before
us at a distance of one hundred yards.
The garrison gave a loud cheer, which we answered, and numbers of them
poured out. Messrs. Cawley and Hinde grasped my hand, and others of the
garrison formed a line on either side of the gateway, and we marched
in between them. I recognised many old faces not seen since I had left
the Naga Hills in 1874, and warmly greeted them; especially Mema Ram,
a Subadar in the Frontier Police; Kurum Singh, and others. I was told
afterwards that when Mema Ram first heard that I was marching to their
relief, he said, "Oh, if Johnstone Sahib is coming we are all right."
I at once told the officers of the garrison that there could be no
divided authority, and that they must consider themselves subject to my
orders, to which they agreed. I then saw the poor widowed Mrs. Damant,
and Mrs. Cawley who had behaved nobly during the siege. While talking
to the last, one of her two children asked for some water. Her mother
said in a feeling tone, "Yes, my dear, you can have some now." Seldom
have I heard words that sounded more eloquent.
The Manipuris now began to pour in, in one long stream, and were
greeted by the garrison with effusion, and I gave them the site of a
stockade that had been destroyed by Mr. Cawley, in order to reduce the
space to be defended as much as possible, and told them to stockade
themselves, which they did at once. After arranging for the defence
of our position, I sent off a letter to my wife to say that I was
safe, and that Kohima had been relieved, and telegrams to the Chief
Commissioner, and Government of India, to be sent on at once to Cachar,
the nearest telegraph office, informing them of the good news.
It appeared from what Mr. Cawley told me, that on the 14th of October,
Mr. Damant had gone to Konoma from Jotsoma, to try and enforce some
demands he had made. He had been warned several times that the Merema
Clan of Konoma meant mischief, and several Nagas had implored him
not to go, and finding him deaf to their entreaties, begged him to go
through the friendly Semema Clan's quarter of the village. However,
he insisted on having his own way, and went to the gate of the Merema
Clan at the top of a steep, narrow path. The gate was closed, and
while demanding an entrance, he was shot dead. His men were massed
in rear of him, and a large number were at once shot down, while
the others took to flight. Some of the fugitives reached Kohima that
night, and Mr. Cawley at once, grasping the gravity of the situation,
pulled down one stockade, and dismantled the buildings as already
related, concentrating all his men in the other, and making it as
strong as possible. The neighbouring villages had already risen,
and were sending contingents to attack Kohima.
Mr. Cawley had just time to send a messenger to Mr. Hinde, the
extra-Assistant Commissioner at Woka, a distance of sixty-three miles,
ordering him to come in with the detachment of fifty police under
him. These orders Mr. Hinde most skilfully carried out, by marching
only at night, and on the 19th he reached Kohima, thus strengthening
the garrison and making it more able to hold its own, for the number
of the attacking party now greatly increased.
Most fortunately, owing to the zealous care of Major T. N. Walker,
44th R. L. Infantry, there were some rations in reserve for the troops,
which were shared with the non-combatants and police. These he had
insisted on being collected and stored up, when he paid a visit of
inspection to Kohima some months before. But for this small stock
the place could not have held out for two days, but must inevitably
have fallen, as all supplies were cut off during the progress of
the siege. The water was poisoned by having a human head thrown into
it. The Nagas fired at the stockade continually, but made no regular
assault. They seemed to have tried picking off every man who showed
himself, and starving out the garrison. The quantity of jungle that
had been allowed to remain standing all round afforded them admirable
cover, and, as before stated, they erected another small stockade
from which to fire. This they constantly brought nearer and nearer
by moving the timbers.
At length, the garrison wearied out, entered into negotiations,
and agreed to surrender the stockade, if allowed a free passage to
Samagudting. This fatal arrangement would have been carried into
effect within an hour or two, had not my letter arrived assuring them
of help. What the result would have been no one who knows the Nagas can
doubt; 545 headless and naked bodies would have been lying outside the
blockade. Five hundred stands of arms, and 250,000 rounds of ammunition
would have been in possession of the enemy, enough to keep the hills
in a blaze for three years, and to give employment to half-a-dozen
regiments during all that time, and to oblige an expenditure of a
million sterling, to say nothing of valuable lives. [27]
Throughout the siege, Mrs. Damant, and Mrs. Cawley had displayed much
heroism. The first undertook to look after the wounded, and went to
visit them daily, exposed to the enemy's fire. Mrs. Cawley took charge
of the women and children of the sepoys, and looked after them, keeping
them in a sheltered spot. The poor little children could not understand
the situation at all, or why it was that the Nagas were firing.
The casualties would have been more numerous than they were, but that
the Nagas were careful of the cherished ammunition, and seldom fired,
unless pretty sure of hitting. All the same, the situation was a very
critical one, and not to be judged by people sitting quietly at home
by their firesides. It is certainly a very awful thing, after a great
disaster and massacre, to be shut up in a weak stockade built of highly
inflammable material, and surrounded by 6000 howling savages who spare
no one. In addition to that too, to have the water supply cut off,
and at most ten days' full provision; for this was what it amounted
to. It must be also remembered that the non-combatants far out-numbered
the combatants, and that the two officers who undertook the defence
were both civilians. Anyhow, the view taken of it by the defenders is
shown by the fact that they were willing to surrender to the enemy,
rather than face the situation and its terrible uncertainty any longer,
as they were quite in doubt as to whether relief was coming or whether
their letters having miscarried they would be left to perish.
Looking back, after a lapse of fifteen years, and calmly reviewing
the events connected with the siege of Kohima, I think I was right
at the time in describing the defence as a "noble one."