CHAPTER X.

1857

Neville Chamberlain's presence of mind

--The command of the Column--Robert Montgomery

--Disarmament at Mian Mir

--A Drum-Head Court-Martial--Swift retribution

While I was employed in the Chief Commissioner's office at Rawal Pindi

it became known that the Mutineers intended to make their stand at

Delhi, and immediately urgent demands came from the Head-Quarters of

the army for troops to be sent from the Punjab. Sir John Lawrence

exerted himself to the uttermost, even to the extent of denuding his

own province to a somewhat dangerous degree, and the Guides and 1st

Punjab Infantry, which had been told off for the Movable Column, were

ordered instead to proceed to Delhi.

The Guides, a corps second to none in Her Majesty's Indian Army, was

commanded by Captain Daly,[1] and consisted of three troops of Cavalry

and six companies of Infantry. The regiment had got as far as Attock,

when it received the order to proceed to Delhi, and pushed on at once

by double marches. The 4th Sikhs, under Captain Rothney, and the 1st

Punjab Infantry, under Major Coke,[2] followed in quick succession,

and later on the following troops belonging to the Punjab Frontier

Force were despatched towards Delhi: a squadron of the 1st Punjab

Cavalry, under Lieutenant John Watson (my companion in Kashmir);

a squadron of the 2nd Punjab Cavalry, under Lieutenant Charles

Nicholson[3] (John Nicholson's brother); a squadron of the 5th Punjab

Cavalry, under Lieutenant Younghusband; and the 2nd and 4th Punjab

Infantry, commanded respectively by Captains G. Green[4] and A.

Wilde.[5]

We (Brigadier Chamberlain and I) remained at Rawal Pindi until the

24th May to give our servants and horses time to reach Wazirabad, and

then started on a mail-cart for the latter place, which we reached

on the 27th. Lieutenant James Walker,[6] of the Bombay Engineers,

accompanied us as the Brigadier's orderly officer.

The Grand Trunk Road, which runs in a direct line from Calcutta to

Peshawar, was then in course of construction through the Punjab, and

in places was in rather an elementary condition. The drivers of the

mail-carts sent along their half-wild and entirely unbroken ponies at

racing speed, regardless alike of obstacles and consequences. With an

enterprising coachman the usual pace was about twelve miles an

hour, including stoppages. As we were recklessly flying along, the

Brigadier, who was sitting in front, perceived that one of the reins

had become unbuckled, and warned Walker and me to look out for an

upset. Had the coachman not discovered the state of his tackle all

might have been well, for the ponies needed no guiding along the

well-known road. Unfortunately, however, he became aware of what had

happened, lost his head, and pulled the reins; the animals dashed off

the road, there was a crash, and we found ourselves on the ground,

scattered in different directions. No great damage was done, and in a

few minutes we had righted the cart, re-harnessed the ponies, and were

rushing along as before.

In order that the authorities at Rawal Pindi might be able to

communicate with the Movable Column while on the march and away

from telegraph stations, which were few and far between in 1857, a

signaller accompanied us, and travelled with his instruments on a

second mail-cart, and wherever we halted for the day he attached his

wire to the main line. He had just completed the attachment on our

arrival at Wazirabad, when I observed that the instrument was working,

and on drawing the signaller's attention to it, he read off a message

which was at that moment being transmitted to the Chief Commissioner,

informing him of the death of the Commander-in-Chief at Kurnal the

previous day. This sad news did not directly affect the Movable

Column, as it had been organized by, and was under the orders of, the

Punjab Government, which for the time being had become responsible for

the military, as well as the civil, administration in the north of

India.

The column had marched into Wazirabad the day before we arrived.

It consisted of Major Dawes' troop of European Horse Artillery,

a European battery of Field Artillery, commanded by Captain

Bourchier,[7] and Her Majesty's 52nd Light Infantry, commanded by

Colonel George Campbell. In addition, and with a view to reducing the

Native garrison of Sialkot, a wing of the 9th Bengal Light Cavalry and

the 35th Native Infantry were attached to the column.

My first duty at Wazirabad was to call upon the senior officer,

Colonel Campbell, and inform him that Brigadier Chamberlain had come

to take over command of the Movable Column. I found the Colonel lying

on his bed trying to make himself as comfortable as it was possible

with the thermometer at 117° Fahrenheit. We had not met before, and he

certainly received me in a very off-hand manner. He never moved from

his recumbent position, and on my delivering my message, he told me he

was not aware that the title of Brigadier carried military rank

with it; that he understood Brigadier Chamberlain was only a

Lieutenant-Colonel, whereas he held the rank of Colonel in Her

Majesty's army; and that, under these circumstances, he must decline

to acknowledge Brigadier Chamberlain as his senior officer. I replied

that I would give his message to the Brigadier, and took my leave.

When Chamberlain heard what had occurred, he desired me to return to

Campbell and explain that he had no wish to dispute the question of

relative seniority, and that in assuming command of the column he

was only carrying out the orders of the Commander-in-Chief in India.

Campbell, who technically speaking had the right on his side, was

not to be appeased, and requested me to inform the Brigadier of his

determination not to serve under an officer whom he considered to be

his junior.

This was not a pleasant beginning to our duties with the column, and

Chamberlain thought that we had better take our departure and leave

Campbell in command until the question could be settled by superior

authority. Campbell was accordingly asked to march the troops to

Lahore, to which place we continued our journey by mail-cart.

At the same time a reference was made to Sir John Lawrence and

General Reed, which resulted in the decision that, under the peculiar

circumstances of the case, it was essential that an officer of Indian

experience should be in command of the column, and that Campbell,

having only been a very short time in the country, did not fulfil this

condition; but Campbell was told that, if he objected to serve under

Chamberlain, he could remain at Lahore with the Head-Quarters of his

regiment. Campbell, who at heart was really a very nice fellow and an

excellent officer, would not be separated from the 52nd, and agreed

to serve under the Brigadier, reserving to himself the right of

protesting when the new Commander-in-Chief should arrive in India.

There was probably another reason for Campbell not wishing to serve

under Chamberlain besides that of being senior to him in the army, in

the fact that the Brigadier was a servant of 'John Company,' while

Campbell belonged to the 'Queen's Service.' From the time of the

establishment of a local army there had existed an absurd and

unfortunate jealousy between the officers of the Queen's and Company's

services, and one of the best results of the Mutiny was its gradual

disappearance. This ill-feeling influenced not only fellow-countrymen,

but relations, even brothers, if they belonged to the different

services, and was distinctly prejudicial to the interests of the

Government. It is difficult to understand how so puerile a sentiment

could have been so long indulged in by officers who no doubt

considered themselves sensible Englishmen.[8]

On the 31st May we arrived at Lahore, where we found everyone in a

state of considerable excitement. Lahore was and is the great centre

of the Punjab, and to it non-combatants and English ladies with their

children were hurrying from all the outlying districts. In the city

itself there was a mixed population of nearly 100,000, chiefly Sikhs

and Mahomedans, many of the former old soldiers who had served in the

Khalsa Army. The fort, which was within the walls of the city, was

garrisoned by half a regiment of sepoys, one company of European

Infantry, and a few European Artillerymen. Mian Mir, five miles

off, was the Head-Quarters of the Lahore division; it was a long,

straggling cantonment, laid out for a much larger force than it has

ever been found necessary to place there, with the European Infantry

at one end and the European Artillery at the other, separated by

Native troops. This arrangement (which existed in almost every station

in India) is another proof of the implicit confidence placed in the

Native army--a confidence in mercenary soldiers of alien races which

seems all the more surprising when we call to mind the warnings

that for nearly a hundred years had been repeatedly given of the

possibility of disaffection existing amongst Native troops.

There were four Native regiments at Mian Mir, one of Cavalry and three

of Infantry, while the European portion of the garrison consisted of

one weak Infantry regiment, two troops of Horse Artillery, and four

companies of Foot Artillery. This force was commanded by Brigadier

Corbett, of the Bengal Army; he had been nearly forty years in the

service, was mentally and physically vigorous, and had no fear of

responsibility. Robert Montgomery[9] was then chief civil officer at

Lahore. He was of a most gentle and benevolent nature, with a rubicund

countenance and a short, somewhat portly figure, which characteristics

led to his being irreverently called 'Pickwick,' and probably if he

had lived in less momentous times he would never have been credited

with the great qualities which the crisis in the Punjab proved him to

possess.

On receipt of the telegraphic news of the outbreaks at Meerut and

Delhi, Montgomery felt that immediate action was necessary. He at once

set to work to discover the temper of the Native troops at Mian Mir,

and soon ascertained that they were disaffected to the core, and were

only waiting to hear from their friends in the south to break into

open mutiny. He thoroughly understood the Native character, and

realized the danger to the whole province of there being anything in

the shape of a serious disturbance at its capital; so after consulting

his various officials, Montgomery decided to suggest to the Brigadier

the advisability of disarming the sepoys, or, if that were considered

too strong a measure, of taking their ammunition from them. Corbett

met him quite half-way; he also saw that the danger was imminent, and

that prompt action was necessary, but he not unnaturally shrank from

taking the extreme step of disarming men whose loyalty had never until

then been doubted--a step, moreover, which he knew would be keenly

resented by all the regimental officers--he therefore at first only

agreed to deprive the sepoys of their ammunition; later in the day,

however, after thinking the matter over, he came to the conclusion

that it would be better to adopt Montgomery's bolder proposal, and he

informed him accordingly that he would 'go the whole hog.'

I do not think that Corbett's action on this occasion has been

sufficiently appreciated. That he decided rightly there can be no

doubt, but very few officers holding commands in India at that time

would have accepted such responsibility. His knowledge as to what had

happened at Meerut and Delhi was based on one or two meagre telegrams,

and the information Montgomery gave him as to the treacherous

intentions of the sepoys at Mian Mir had been obtained by means of

a spy, who, it was quite possible, might have been actuated by

interested motives.

Having made up his mind what should be done, Corbett had the good

sense to understand that success depended on its being done quickly,

and on the Native troops being kept absolutely in the dark as to what

was about to take place. A general parade was ordered for the next

morning, the 13th May, and it was wisely determined not to put off a

ball which was being given that evening to the officers of the 81st

Foot. The secret was confided to very few, and the great majority of

those who were taking part in the entertainment were ignorant of the

reason for a parade having been ordered the following morning--an

unusual proceeding which caused a certain amount of grumbling.

When the sepoys were drawn up, it was explained to them in their own

language that they were about to be deprived of their arms, in order

to put temptation out of their reach, and save them from the disgrace

of being led away by the evil example of other corps. Whilst they were

being thus addressed, the Horse Artillery and 81st Foot took up a

second line immediately in rear of the Native regiments, the guns

being quietly loaded with grape during the manoeuvre. The regiments

were then directed to change front to the rear, when they found

themselves face to face with the British troops. The order was given

to the sepoys to 'pile arms'; one of the regiments hesitated, but only

for a moment; resistance was hopeless, and the word of command was

sullenly obeyed.

The same morning the fort of Lahore was secured. Three companies of

the 81st marched into it at daylight, relieved the sepoys of their

guards, and ordered them to lay down their arms. Another company

of the same regiment travelled through the night in carriages to

Umritsar, the holy city of the Sikhs, and occupied the fortress

of Govindgarh. Montgomery had been very anxious about these two

strongholds, and it was a great satisfaction to him to know that they

were at length safely guarded by British bayonets.

Although, as I have said, we found Lahore in a state of considerable

excitement, it was satisfactory to see how fully the situation had

been grasped, and how everything that was possible had been done

to maintain order, and show the people of the Punjab that we were

prepared to hold our own. Montgomery's foresight and decision, and

Corbett's hearty and willing co-operation, checked, if not altogether

stopped, what, under less energetic management, would assuredly have

resulted in very grievous trouble. Excitement was inevitable. There

was a general stir throughout the province. Lahore was crowded with

the families of European soldiers, and with ladies who had come there

from various parts of the Punjab, all in terrible anxiety as to what

might be the ultimate fate of their husbands and relatives; some of

whom were with Native regiments, whose loyalty was more than doubtful;

some with the Movable Column, the destination of which was uncertain;

while others were already on their way to join the army hurrying to

Delhi.

The difficulty with Campbell having been settled, Chamberlain assumed

the command of the Movable Column, the advent of which on the 2nd June

was hailed with delight by all the Europeans at Lahore. A regiment of

British Infantry and two batteries of Artillery afforded a much needed

support to the handful of British soldiers keeping guard over the

great capital of the Punjab, and gave confidence to the Sikhs and

others disposed to be loyal, but who were doubtful as to the wisdom of

siding with us.

The disturbing element was the Native troops which accompanied the

column. They had not shown openly that they contemplated mutiny, but

we knew that they were not to be trusted, and were only watching for

an opportunity to break out and escape to Delhi with their arms.

I was living with the Brigadier in a house only a few minutes' walk

from the garden where the Native regiments were encamped, and the

spies we were employing to watch them had orders to come to me

whenever anything suspicious should occur. During the night of the

8th June one of these men awoke me with the news that the 35th Native

Infantry intended to revolt at daybreak, and that some of them had

already loaded their muskets. I awoke the Brigadier, who directed me

to go at once to the British officers of the regiment, tell them what

we had heard, and that he would be with them shortly. As soon as the

Brigadier arrived the men were ordered to fall in, and on their arms

being examined two of them were found to have been loaded. The sepoys

to whom the muskets belonged were made prisoners, and I was ordered to

see them lodged in the police-station.

Chamberlain determined to lose no time in dealing with the case, and

although Drum-Head Courts-Martial were then supposed to be obsolete,

he decided to revive, for this occasion, that very useful means of

disposing, in time of war, of grave cases of crime.

The Brigadier thought it desirable that the Court-Martial should be

composed of Native, rather than British, officers, as being likely to

be looked upon by the prisoners as a more impartial tribunal, under

the peculiar circumstances in which we were placed. This was made

possible by the arrival of the 1st Punjab Infantry--Coke's Rifles--a

grand regiment under a grand Commander. Raised in 1849, composed

chiefly of Sikhs and Pathans, and possessing Native officers of

undoubted loyalty, the 1st Punjab Infantry had taken part in almost

every frontier expedition during the previous eight years. Its history

was a glorious record of faithful and devoted service, such as can

only be rendered by brave men led by officers in whom they believe and

trust.[10] The Subadar-Major of the corps was a man called Mir Jaffir,

a most gallant Afghan soldier, who entered the British service during

the first Afghan war, and distinguished himself greatly in all the

subsequent frontier fights. This Native officer was made president

of the Court-Martial. The prisoners were found guilty of mutiny, and

sentenced to death. Chamberlain decided that they should be blown away

from guns, in the presence of their own comrades, as being the most

awe-inspiring means of carrying the sentence into effect.[11] A parade

was at once ordered. The troops were drawn up so as to form three

sides of a square; on the fourth side were two guns. As the prisoners

were being brought to the parade, one of them asked me if they were

going to be blown from guns. I said, 'Yes.' He made no further remark,

and they both walked steadily on until they reached the guns, to which

they were bound, when one of them requested that some rupees he had on

his person might be saved for his relations. The Brigadier answered:

'It is too late!' The word of command was given; the guns went off

simultaneously, and the two mutineers were launched into eternity.

It was a terrible sight, and one likely to haunt the beholder for many

a long day; but that was what was intended. I carefully watched

the sepoys' faces to see how it affected them. They were evidently

startled at the swift retribution which had overtaken their guilty

comrades, but looked more crest-fallen than shocked or horrified, and

we soon learnt that their determination to mutiny, and make the best

of their way to Delhi, was in nowise changed by the scene they had

witnessed.

[Footnote 1: The late General Sir Henry Daly, G.C.B.]

[Footnote 2: Now General Sir John Coke, G.C.B.]

[Footnote 3: Afterwards commanded by Lieutenant, now General, Sir

Dighton Probyn, V.C., G.C.V.O., K.C.B.]

[Footnote 4: The late Major-General Sir George Green, K.C.B.]

[Footnote 5: The late Lieutenant-General Sir Alfred Wilde, K.C.B.,

K.C.S.I.]

[Footnote 6: The late General James Walker, C.B., sometime

Surveyor-General in India.]

[Footnote 7: Now General Sir George Bourchier, K.C.B.]

[Footnote 8: Now, except for one short interval, every officer who has

joined the Indian Army since 1861 must, in the first instance, have

belonged or been attached to one of Her Majesty's British regiments:

the great majority have been educated at Sandhurst or Woolwich, and

all feel that they are members of the same army.]

[Footnote 9: The late Sir Robert Montgomery, G.C.B.]

[Footnote 10: During the operations in the Kohat Pass in February,

1850, within twelve months of the corps being raised, several of the

men were killed and wounded. Among the latter was a Pathan named

Mahomed Gul. He was shot through the body in two places, and as Coke

sat by him while he was dying, he said, with a smile on his face:

'_Sahib_, I am happy; but promise me one thing--don't let my old

mother want. I leave her to your care.']

[Footnote 11: Awe-inspiring certainly, but probably the most humane,

as being a sure and instantaneous mode of execution.]

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