1857
Ferozepore--Crawford Chamberlain at Multan
--Chamberlain's masterly conduct
--Nicholson succeeds Neville Chamberlain--Irresolution at Jullundur
--General Mehtab Sing--Nicholson's soldierly instincts
--More disarmaments
For a few days after our arrival at Lahore nothing could be settled as
to the further movements of the column. It was wanted in all parts of
the Punjab: Ferozeporo, Multan, Jhelum, Sialkot, Umritsar, Jullundur,
Philour, Ludhiana--all these places were more or less disturbed, and
all were clamorous for help.
At Ferozepore the Native regiments[1] broke out on the 13th May, when
they made a daring, but unsuccessful effort to seize the arsenal,
situated inside the fort and the largest in Upper India. Had that
fallen into the hands of the rebels, Delhi could not have been
captured without very considerable delay, for the besieging force
depended mainly upon Ferozepore for the supply of munitions of war.
The fort had been allowed to fall into bad repair, and the mutineers
had no difficulty in forcing their way inside; there, fortunately,
they were checked by the wall which surrounded the arsenal, and this
obstacle, insignificant as it was, enabled the guard to hold its own.
Originally this guard consisted entirely of Native soldiers, but, as
I have already recorded, after the outbreak at Meerut, Europeans
had been told off for the charge of this important post; so strong,
however, here as elsewhere, was the belief in the loyalty of the
sepoys, and so great was the reluctance to do anything which might
hurt their feelings, that the Native guard was not withdrawn. This
same guard, when the attack took place, did its best to assist the
assailants, and even prepared scaling-ladders to enable the latter to
gain access to the magazine enclosure. The Europeans, however,
were equal to the emergency; they overpowered and disarmed their
treacherous companions, and then succeeded in beating off and
dispersing the attacking party.
Being foiled in this attempt, the mutineers returned to the
cantonment, set fire to the church and other buildings, and then
started for Delhi. Ferozepore had a large European garrison, a
regiment of Infantry, a battery of Field Artillery, and a company of
Foot Artillery, and was supposed to be able to look after itself,
although affairs had been greatly mismanaged.
Multan had next to be considered. Matters at that station were very
unsettled, and indeed were causing the authorities grave anxiety, but
Multan was more fortunate than many places, in being in the hands of
an unusually able, experienced officer, Major Crawford Chamberlain.
Consequently, the Commander-in-Chief and Chief Commissioner agreed,
while fully appreciating the great value of Multan, that the presence
of British troops was less urgently needed there than elsewhere,
and it was decided they could not be spared from the Punjab for its
protection.
The garrison at Multan consisted of a troop of Native Horse Artillery,
two regiments of Native Infantry, and the 1st Irregular Cavalry,
composed entirely of Hindustanis from the neighbourhood of Delhi;
while in the old Sikh fort there were about fifty European
Artillerymen, in charge of a small magazine. The station was nominally
commanded by an officer who had been thirty-four years in the army,
and had great experience amongst Natives; but he had fallen into such
a bad state of health, that he was quite unfit to deal with the
crisis which had now arrived. The command, therefore, was practically
exercised by Chamberlain. Next to Delhi and Lahore, Multan was the
most important place in Upper India, as our communication with the sea
and southern India depended on its preservation.
To Chamberlain's own personality and extraordinary influence over the
men of the 1st Irregular Cavalry must be attributed his success. His
relations with them were of a patriarchal nature, and perfect mutual
confidence existed. He knew his hold over them was strong, and
he determined to trust them. But in doing so he had really no
alternative--had they not remained faithful, Multan must have been
lost to us. One of his first acts was to call a meeting at his house
of the Native officers of the Artillery, Infantry, and his own
regiment, to discuss the situation. Taking for granted the absolute
loyalty of these officers, he suggested that a written bond should
be given, in which the seniors of each corps should guarantee the
fidelity of their men. The officers of his regiment rose _en
masse_, and placing their signet-rings on the table, said: '_Kabúl
sir-o-chasm'_ ('Agreed to on our lives'). The Artillery Subadar
declared that his men had no scruples, and would fire in whichever
direction they were required; while the Infantry Native officers
pleaded that they had no power over their men, and could give no
guarantee. Thus, Chamberlain ascertained that the Cavalry were loyal,
the Artillery doubtful, and the Infantry were only biding their time
to mutiny.
Night after night sepoys, disguised beyond all recognition, attempted
to tamper with the Irregular Cavalry. The Wurdi-Major,[2] a
particularly fine, handsome _Ranagar_,[3] begged Chamberlain to
hide himself in his house, that he might hear for himself the open
proposals to mutiny, massacre, and rebellion that were made to him;
and the promises that, if they succeeded in their designs, he (the
Wurdi-Major) should be placed upon the _gaddi_[4] of Multan for his
reward. Chamberlain declined to put himself in such a position,
fearing he might not be able to restrain himself.
Matters now came to a climax. A Mahomedan Subadar of one of the Native
Infantry regiments laid a plot to murder Chamberlain and his family.
The plot was discovered and frustrated by Chamberlain's own men, but
it became apparent that the only remedy for the fast increasing evil
was to disarm the two Native Infantry regiments. How was this to be
accomplished with no Europeans save a few gunners anywhere near? Sir
John Lawrence was most pressing that the step should be taken at
once; he knew the danger of delay; at the same time, he thoroughly
appreciated the difficulty of the task which he was urging Chamberlain
to undertake, and he readily responded to the latter's request for a
regiment of Punjab Infantry to be sent to him. The 2nd Punjab Infantry
was, therefore, despatched from Dera Ghazi Khan, and at the same time
the 1st Punjab Cavalry arrived from Asni,[5] under Major Hughes,[6]
who, hearing of Chamberlain's troubles, had marched to Multan without
waiting for orders from superior authority. The evening of the day on
which these troops reached Multan, the British officers of the several
regiments were directed to assemble at the Deputy-Commissioner's
house, when Chamberlain told them of the communication he had received
from Sir John Lawrence, adding that, having reliable information that
the Native Infantry were about to mutiny, he had settled to disarm
them the next morning.
It was midnight before the meeting broke up. At 4 a.m. the Horse
Artillery troop and the two Native Infantry regiments were ordered to
march as if to an ordinary parade. When they had gone about a quarter
of a mile they were halted, and the Punjab troops moved quietly
between them and their lines, thus cutting them off from their spare
ammunition; at the same time the European Artillerymen took their
places with the guns of the Horse Artillery troop, and a carefully
selected body of Sikhs belonging to the 1st Punjab Cavalry, under
Lieutenant John Watson, was told off to advance on the troop and cut
down the gunners if they refused to assist the Europeans to work the
guns.
Chamberlain then rode up to the Native Infantry regiments, and after
explaining to them the reason for their being disarmed, he gave the
word of command, 'Pile arms!' Thereupon a sepoy of the 62nd shouted:
'Don't give up your arms; fight for them!' Lieutenant Thomson, the
Adjutant of the regiment, instantly seized him by the throat and threw
him to the ground. The order was repeated, and, wonderful to relate,
obeyed. The Native Infantry regiments were then marched back to their
lines, while the Punjab troops and Chamberlain's Irregulars remained
on the ground until the arms had been carted off to the fort.
It was a most critical time, and enough credit has never been given to
Chamberlain. Considering the honours which were bestowed on others
who took more or less conspicuous parts in the Mutiny, he was very
insufficiently rewarded for this timely act of heroism. Had he not
shown such undaunted courage and coolness, or had there been the
smallest hesitation, Multan would certainly have gone. Chamberlain
managed an extremely difficult business in a most masterly manner.
His personal influence insured his own regiment continuing loyal
throughout the Mutiny, and it has now the honour of being the 1st
Regiment of Bengal Cavalry, and the distinction of wearing a different
uniform from every other regiment in the service, being allowed to
retain the bright yellow which the troopers wore when they were first
raised by Colonel James Skinner, and in which they performed such
loyal service.[7]
At Jhelum and Sialkot it was decided that, as the Native troops had
been considerably reduced in numbers, the danger was not so great as
to require the presence of the Movable Column.
Umritsar had been made safe for the time, but it was a place the
importance of which could not be over-estimated, and it was thought
that keeping a strong column in its vicinity for a few days would
materially strengthen our position there. Moreover, Umritsar lay in
the direct route to Jullundur, where the military authorities had
proved themselves quite unfitted to deal with the emergency. It was
decided, therefore, that Umritsar should be our objective in the
first instance. We marched from Lahore on the 10th June, and reached
Umritsar the following morning.
News of a severe fight at Badli-ki-Serai had been received, which
increased our anxiety to push on to Delhi, for we feared the place
might be taken before we could get there. But to our mortification it
was decided that the column could not be spared just then even for
Delhi, as there was still work for it in the Punjab. To add to our
disappointment, we had to give up our trusted Commander; for a few
hours after our arrival at Umritsar a telegram came to Neville
Chamberlain offering him the Adjutant-Generalship of the Army in
succession to Colonel Chester, who had been killed at Badli-ki-Serai.
He accepted the offer, and I made certain I should go with him. My
chagrin, therefore, can easily be understood when he told me that I
must remain with the column, as it would be unfair to his successor to
take away the staff officer. We were now all anxiety to learn who
that successor should be, and it was a satisfaction to hear that John
Nicholson was the man.
Chamberlain left for Delhi on the 13th; but Nicholson could not join
for a few days, and as troops were much needed at Jullundur, it was
arranged that the column should move on to that place, under the
temporary command of Campbell, and there await the arrival of the new
Brigadier.
On my going to Campbell for orders, he informed me that he was no
longer the senior officer with the column, as a Colonel Denniss,
junior to him regimentally, but his senior in army rank, had just
rejoined the 52nd. Accordingly I reported myself to Denniss, who,
though an officer of many years' service, had never before held a
command, not even that of a regiment; and, poor man! was considerably
taken aback when he heard that he must be in charge of the column for
some days. He practically left everything to me--a somewhat trying
position for almost the youngest officer in the force. It was under
these circumstances I found what an able man Colonel Campbell really
was. He correctly gauged Denniss's fitness, or rather unfitness, for
the command, and appreciating the awkwardness of my position, advised
me so wisely that I had no difficulty in carrying on the work.
We reached Jullundur on the 20th, Nicholson taking over command the
same day. He had been given the rank of Brigadier-General, which
removed all grounds for objection on the part of Campbell, and the two
soon learnt to appreciate each other, and became fast friends.
Jullundur was in a state of the greatest confusion. The Native troops,
consisting of a regiment of Light Cavalry and two regiments of Native
Infantry, began to show signs of disaffection soon after the outbreak
at Meerut, and from that time until the 7th June, when they broke into
open mutiny, incendiary fires were almost of daily occurrence. The
want of resolution displayed in dealing with the crisis at Jullundur
was one of the regrettable episodes of the Mutiny. The European
garrison consisted of Her Majesty's 8th Foot and a troop of Horse
Artillery. The military authorities had almost a whole month's warning
of the mutinous intentions of the Native troops, but though they had
before them the example of the prompt and successful measures adopted
at Lahore and Peshawar, they failed to take any steps to prevent the
outbreak.
The Brigadier (Johnstone) was on leave at the commencement of the
Mutiny, and during his absence the treasure was placed in charge of
a European guard, in accordance with instructions from Sir John
Lawrence. This measure was reversed as soon as the Brigadier rejoined,
for fear of showing distrust of the sepoys, and another wise order
of the watchful Chief Commissioner--to disarm the Native troops--was
never carried out. The Commissioner, Major Edward Lake, one of Henry
Lawrence's most capable assistants, had also repeatedly urged upon
Johnstone the advisability of depriving the sepoys of their arms, but
his advice remained unheeded. When the inevitable revolt took place
European soldiers were allowed to be passive spectators while property
was being destroyed, and sepoys to disappear in the darkness of the
night carrying with them their muskets and all the treasure and
plunder they could lay their hands on.
A futile attempt at pursuit was made the following morning, but, as
will be seen, this was carried out in so half-hearted a manner, that
the mutineers were able to get safely across the Sutlej with their
loot, notwithstanding that the passage of this broad river had to be
made by means of a ferry, where only very few boats were available.
Having reached Philour, the British troops were ordered to push on to
Delhi, and as Jullundur was thus left without protection, Lake gladly
accepted the offer of the Raja of Kapurthala to garrison it with his
own troops.
There was no doubt as to the loyalty of the Raja himself, and his
sincere desire to help us; but the mismanagement of affairs at
Jullundur had done much to lower our prestige in the eyes of his
people, and there was no mistaking the offensive demeanour of his
troops. They evidently thought that British soldiers had gone never
to return, and they swaggered about in swash-buckler fashion, as only
Natives who think they have the upper hand can swagger.
It was clearly Lake's policy to keep on good terms with the Kapurthala
people. His position was much strengthened by the arrival of our
column; but we were birds of passage, and might be off at any moment,
so in order to pay a compliment to the officers and principal men with
the Kapurthala troops, Lake asked Nicholson to meet them at his house.
Nicholson consented, and a durbar was arranged. I was present on the
occasion, and was witness of rather a curious scene, illustrative
alike of Nicholson and Native character.
At the close of the ceremony Mehtab Sing, a general officer in the
Kapurthala Army, took his leave, and, as the senior in rank at the
durbar, was walking out of the room first, when I observed Nicholson
stalk to the door, put himself in front of Mehtab Sing and, waving him
back with an authoritative air, prevent him from leaving the room. The
rest of the company then passed out, and when they had gone, Nicholson
said to Lake: 'Do you see that General Mehtab Sing has his shoes
on?'[8] Lake replied that he had noticed the fact, but tried to excuse
it. Nicholson, however, speaking in Hindustani, said: 'There is no
possible excuse for such an act of gross impertinence. Mehtab Sing
knows perfectly well that he would not venture to step on his own
father's carpet save barefooted, and he has only committed this breach
of etiquette to-day because he thinks we are not in a position to
resent the insult, and that he can treat us as he would not have
dared to do a month ago.' Mehtab Sing looked extremely foolish, and
stammered some kind of apology; but Nicholson was not to be appeased,
and continued: 'If I were the last Englishman left in Jullundur, you'
(addressing Mehtab Sing) 'should not come into my room with your
shoes on;' then, politely turning to Lake, he added, 'I hope the
Commissioner will now allow me to order you to take your shoes off and
carry them out in your own hands, so that your followers may witness
your discomfiture.' Mehtab Sing, completely cowed, meekly did as he
was told.
Although in the kindness of his heart Lake had at first endeavoured to
smooth matters over, he knew Natives well, and he readily admitted
the wisdom of Nicholson's action. Indeed, Nicholson's uncompromising
bearing on this occasion proved a great help to Lake, for it had the
best possible effect upon the Kapurthala people; their manner at once
changed, all disrespect vanished, and there was no more swaggering
about as if they considered themselves masters of the situation.
Five or six years after this occurrence I was one of a pig-sticking
party at Kapurthala, given by the Raja in honour of the
Commander-in-Chief, Sir Hugh Rose.[9] When riding home in the evening
I found myself close to the elephant on which our host and the Chief
were sitting. The conversation happening to turn on the events of the
Mutiny, I asked what had become of General Mehtab Sing. The Raja,
pointing to an elephant a little distance off on which two Native
gentlemen were riding, said, 'There he is.' I recognized the General,
and making him a salaam, which he politely returned, I said to him, 'I
have not had the pleasure of meeting you since those hot days in June,
1857, when I was at Jullundur.' The Raja then asked me if I knew
Nicholson. On my telling him I had been his staff officer, and with
him at the durbar at Lake _Sahib's_ house, the Raja laughed heartily,
and said, 'Oh! then you saw Mehtab Sing made to walk out of the room
with his shoes in his hand? We often chaff him about that little
affair, and tell him that he richly deserved the treatment he received
from the great Nicholson _Sahib_.'
Sir Hugh Rose was greatly interested in the story, which he made me
repeat to him as soon as we got back to camp, and he was as much
struck as I was with this spontaneous testimony of a leading Native to
the wisdom of Nicholson's procedure.
On taking over command, Nicholson's first care was to establish an
effective system of intelligence, by means of which he was kept
informed of what was going on in the neighbouring districts; and,
fully recognizing the necessity for rapid movement in the event of any
sudden emergency, he organized a part of his force into a small
flying column, the infantry portion of which was to be carried in
_ekkas_.[10] I was greatly impressed by Nicholson's knowledge of
military affairs. He seemed always to know exactly what to do and the
best way to do it. This was the more remarkable because, though
a soldier by profession, his training had been chiefly that of a
civilian--a civilian of the frontier, however, where his soldierly
instincts had been fostered in his dealing with a lawless and unruly
people, and where he had received a training which was now to stand
him in good stead. Nicholson was a born Commander, and this was felt
by every officer and man with the column before he had been amongst
them many days.
The Native troops with the column had given no trouble since we left
Lahore. We were travelling in the direction they desired to go, which
accounted for their remaining quiet; but Nicholson, realizing the
danger of having them in our midst, and the probability of their
refusing to turn away from Delhi in the event of our having to retrace
our steps, resolved to disarm the 35th. The civil authorities in the
district urged that the same course should be adopted with the 33rd, a
Native Infantry regiment at Hoshiarpur, about twenty-seven miles from
Jullundur, which it had been decided should join the column. The
Native soldiers with the column already exceeded the Europeans in
number, and as the addition of another regiment would make the odds
against us very serious, it was arranged to disarm the 35th before the
33rd joined us.
We left Jullundur on the 24th June, and that afternoon, accompanied by
the Deputy-Commissioner of the district, I rode to Philour to choose a
place for the disarming parade. The next morning we started early, the
Europeans heading the column, and when they reached the ground we had
selected they took up a position on the right of the road, the two
batteries in the centre and the 52nd in wings on either flank. The
guns were unlimbered and prepared for action. On the left of the road
was a serai,[11] behind which the officer commanding the 35th was told
to take his regiment, and, as he cleared it, to wheel to the right,
thus bringing his men in column of companies facing the line of
Europeans. This manoeuvre being accomplished, I was ordered to tell
the commanding officer that the regiment was to be disarmed, and that
the men were to pile arms and take off their belts. The sepoys and
their British officers were equally taken aback; the latter had
received no information of what was going to happen, while the former
had cherished the hope that they would be able to cross the Sutlej,
and thence slip off with their arms to Delhi.
I thought I could discover relief in the British officers' faces,
certainly in that of Major Younghusband, the Commandant, and when I
gave him the General's order, he murmured, 'Thank God!' He had been
with the 35th for thirty-three years; he had served with it at the
siege of Bhurtpore, throughout the first Afghan war, and in Sale's
defence of Jalalabad; he had been proud of his old corps, but knowing
probably that his men could no longer be trusted, he rejoiced to feel
that they were not to be given the opportunity for further disgracing
themselves.[12] The sepoys obeyed the command without a word, and in a
few minutes their muskets and belts were all packed in carts and taken
off to the fort.
As the ceremony was completed, the 33rd arrived and was dealt with in
a similar manner; but the British officers of this regiment did not
take things so quietly--they still believed in their men, and the
Colonel, Sandeman, trusted them to any extent. He had been with the
regiment for more than two-and-thirty years, and had commanded it
throughout the Sutlej campaign. On hearing the General's order, he
exclaimed: 'What! disarm my regiment? I will answer with my life for
the loyalty of every man!' On my repeating the order the poor old
fellow burst into tears. His son, the late Sir Robert Sandeman, who
was an Ensign in the regiment at the time, told me afterwards how
terribly his father felt the disgrace inflicted upon the regiment of
which he was so proud.
It was known that the wing of the 9th Light Cavalry was in
communication with the mutineers at Delhi, and that the men were only
waiting their opportunity; so they would also certainly have been
disarmed at this time, but for the idea that such a measure might have
a bad effect on the other wing, which still remained at Sialkot. The
turn of this regiment, however, came a few days later.
Up till this time we all hoped that Delhi was our destination, but,
greatly to our surprise and disappointment, orders came that morning
directing the column to return to Umritsar; the state of the Punjab
was causing considerable anxiety, as there were several stations at
which Native corps still remained in possession of their arms.
The same afternoon I was in the Philour fort with Nicholson, when
the telegraph-signaller gave him a copy of a message from Sir Henry
Barnard to the authorities in the Punjab, begging that all Artillery
officers not doing regimental duty might be sent to Delhi, where their
services were urgently required. I at once felt that this message
applied to me. I had been longing to find myself at Delhi, and lived
in perpetual dread of its being captured before I could get there; now
at last my hopes seemed about to be realized in a legitimate
manner, but, on the other hand, I did not like the idea of leaving
Nicholson--the more closely I was associated with him the more I was
attracted by him--and I am always proud to remember that he did not
wish to part with me. He agreed, however, that my first duty was to my
regiment, and only stipulated that before leaving him I should find
someone to take my place, as he did not know a single officer with the
column. This I was able to arrange, and that evening Nicholson and I
dined _tête-à-tête_. At dawn the next morning I left by mail-cart for
Delhi, my only kit being a small bundle of bedding, saddle and bridle,
my servants having orders to follow with my horses, tents, and other
belongings.
[Footnote 1: One Cavalry and two Infantry.]
[Footnote 2: Native Adjutant.]
[Footnote 3: A name applied by the Hindus to any Rajput who has, or
whose ancestors have, been converted to Islam. There were several
_Rangars_ in the 1st Irregulars. One day in June, Shaidad Khan, a
Resaidar of this class, came to Chamberlain, and said: 'There was a
rumour that he (Chamberlain) had not as much confidence in _Rangars_
as in other classes of the regiment, and he came to be comforted'!
Chamberlain asked him to sit down, and sent to the banker of the
regiment for a very valuable sword which he had given him for safe
custody. It had belonged to one of the Amirs of Sindh, was taken in
battle, and given to Chamberlain by Major Fitzgerald, of the Sindh
Horse. On the sword being brought, Chamberlain handed it over to
Shaidad Khan and his sect for safety, to be returned when the Mutiny
was over. The tears rose to the Native officer's eyes, he touched
Chamberlain's knees, and swore that death alone would sever the bond
of fidelity of which the sword was the token. He took his leave,
thoroughly satisfied.]
[Footnote 4: Throne.]
[Footnote 5: A station since abandoned for Rajanpur.]
[Footnote 6: Now General Sir W. T. Hughes, K.C.B.]
[Footnote 7: The two disarmed regiments remained quietly at Multan for
more than a year, when, with unaccountable inconsistency, a sudden
spirit of revolt seized them, and in August, 1858, they broke out,
tried to get possession of the guns, murdered the Adjutant of the
Bombay Fusiliers, and then fled from the station. But order by that
time had been quite restored, our position in the Punjab was secure,
and nearly all the sepoys were killed or captured by the country
people.]
[Footnote 8: No Native, in Native dress, keeps his shoes on when he
enters a room, unless he intends disrespect.]
[Footnote 9: The late Field Marshal Lord Strathnairn, G.C.B.,
G.C.S.I.]
[Footnote 10: A kind of light cart.]
[Footnote 11: A four-walled enclosure for the accommodation of
travellers.]
[Footnote 12: It will be remembered that this was the regiment in
which two men had been found with loaded muskets, and blown away from
guns at Lahore.]
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