AT MOULMEIN
Great welcome to Moulmein—No fighting after all—The Madras native
regiments
WE now sailed for Moulmein, and found there the 63rd Regiment and four
strong and splendid regiments of Madras Native Infantry—all under the
command of Brigadier-General Logan, late of the Rifle Brigade, and now
of the 63rd Regiment. There was also a considerable force of European
and Madras artillery, engineers, and commissariat, and a very imposing
naval force under Admiral Cooper.
Our residence at Moulmein was very comfortable and agreeable to us all;
the climate was cool and bracing, and under the hospitable rule of our
most able and kind brigadier we soon became all intimate and friendly,
and the most social dinner-parties at our messes and at the brigadier’s
became the order of the day. All the Madras regiments had excellent mess
establishments, equal in every respect to the Queen’s, and their
constant and liberal hospitality could not be surpassed by any of our
corps. A few days after our arrival in garrison the four Madras
regiments invited me and the officers of the 50th Regiment to dinner,
and for this purpose they pitched and joined their four mess marquees
together into one splendid pavilion, the interior decorated with
garlands and evergreens tastefully arranged, and with the spaces filled
up with arms and military trophies. The tables were covered with the
most brilliant plate and glass, and the lights were numerous and
magnificent. All round the outside was a double row of natives, double
torch-bearers, filling up the intervals between the sentries and the
bands of the regiments stationed on each side of this stupendous
marquee. The effect was truly brilliant and imposing, and no one could
approach the gathering without wonder and delight.
We sat down, in all, nearly a hundred officers. The dinner and the wines
were excellent, and the attendance of so unusual a number of active
native servants in their thin white muslin robes and coloured turbans
and kummerbunds was really imposing, and something new to us at a
military mess. When dinner was over, and after the usual loyal toasts,
the president stood up and proposed a bumper to the health and welcome
of Colonel Anderson and the officers of the 50th Regiment. This was
drunk with much applause and deafening cheers, the band playing “John
Anderson, my joe.” I then rose and thanked them with much sincerity from
myself and my officers for their hearty welcome and good wishes, and as
they all knew my dear brother, Lieut.-General John Anderson, of their
own army, I said I felt the more gratified and flattered from the
conviction that their good feelings towards me individually were more
from their regard for my brother than from any good they could discover
in me, and that I was equally free to confess he was indeed much the
better man of the two; and here I was interrupted by one of them
standing up and shouting aloud, “A d—d deal better fellow than ever you
will be!” I instantly turned towards the speaker and told him, and all,
that a more gratifying compliment could not be paid me, and that I
should not fail to assure my brother of the very flattering and friendly
feeling which was thus so publicly expressed towards him. Three cheers
then followed for “Old Jock Anderson!” and, not yet satisfied, they now
(half a dozen of them) got me out of my chair and on their shoulders,
and so carried me round and round the table amidst deafening cheers. The
evening continued one of the most social and merriest of my life, and
dinner after dinner followed at each of our messes, and many quiet ones
also were enjoyed in succession at the married officers’ quarters, and
always on a large scale at the brigadier’s once a fortnight, where that
good man and Mrs. Logan made every one happy and at home by their kind
and courteous manner and genuine hospitality.
Our military duties were not less exciting and, to me, not less
pleasing. We had grand field-days and sham fights once a fortnight, with
all the troops in garrison present, and I never saw any man handle his
force more ably or more effectually than Brigadier Logan. It was quite a
treat and a lesson to be manœuvred by that able and gallant officer. He
was a soldier every inch of him, and his ardent zeal for the service was
part of his character, but his then most anxious wishes and the object
of our expedition to Moulmein were defeated, for although we were ever
ready and expecting an attack every morning from the Burmese, they never
dared to come near us. The river Salwen or Martaban (from two to three
miles broad) separated the contending forces, for it will be seen by
reference to a map that Moulmein is situated on the left bank of the
Salwen River, about twenty miles from the sea, and the town and fortress
of Martaban, which was then strongly occupied by the enemy, immediately
opposite on the right bank of the river, and it was from that place that
we expected an attack every morning in boats. We could see their troops
distinctly every day parading and marching about in large bodies, with
their drums playing and their colours flying, and always with a large
fleet of boats moored under their fortifications, as if prepared and
meditating a descent. And they could also see our men-of-war and their
armed boats pulling about and doing night guard ready to receive them.
In this way we continued for months staring at each other, but in the
meantime we made ourselves more comfortable by covering all our tents
with matting, which protected us not only from the rains and heavy dews
which are common there, but also from the heat and glare of the sun
during the day, and we occasionally enjoyed ourselves by exploring and
picnic parties in the men-of-war’s armed boats up the river; for we were
always on the most happy and intimate terms with the officers of our
little navy, dining with them now and then and having them as our guests
repeatedly. In a word, our sojourn at Moulmein was a very happy and
jolly one. We never knew positively the cause of the enemy’s hesitation
in making an attempt to attack us, but we heard that one or two flags of
truce had been sent from our Government at Calcutta up the Irrawaddy
with dispatches to Ava for the Burmese Government, and we concluded that
terms of amity and peace had been proposed and perhaps agreed to, and
this became the more probable when, early in March, 1842, orders were
received for the immediate return of the 50th Regiment to Calcutta.
We were indeed sorry to leave Moulmein—the climate was so much cooler
and better than India; and we had made so many kind and agreeable
friends that to part with them—perhaps for ever—was far from pleasant. A
more than usual intimacy took place between our men and the soldiers of
the Madras Native Infantry, and they were frequently seen walking and
chatting together. Most of these fine-looking men knew and served
repeatedly under their own “General Anderson”—and they soon saw by our
strong family likeness that I was his brother, and whenever any of them
passed me they not only saluted but gave me a warm recognizing smile.
When I first saw them I was struck by their fine manly and soldier-like
appearance, superior in every way to the Bengal native troops and
evidently under better discipline, and now the best proof of this is
that when the whole of the Bengal native troops, cavalry, artillery, and
infantry, mutinied, and murdered their English officers in cold blood,
not one single corps of the Madras native army wavered for a minute.
They remained faithful and true to their salt and to their colours,
although it was well known, and beyond all doubt, that the leaders of
the Bengal mutiny had sent many emissaries and appeals for aid to them.
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