1857
Reinforcements begin to arrive--An assault again proposed
--The attack on Alipur--Death of General Barnard
--General Reed assumes command--Two V.C.'s--Treachery in camp
--Fighting close up to the city walls
--Sufferings of the sick and wounded--General Reed's health fails
That my readers may better understand our position at the time I
joined the Delhi Field Force, I might, I think, quote with advantage
from a letter[1] written the very day of my arrival by General Barnard
to Sir John Lawrence, in which he describes the difficulties of the
situation, hitherto met by the troops with the most determined courage
and endurance, but to which no end could be seen. When he took over
the command, he wrote, he was expected to be able to silence at once
the fire from the Mori and Kashmir bastions, and then to bring his
heavy guns into play on the walls and open a way into the city,
after which, it was supposed, all would be plain sailing. But this
programme, so plausible in theory, was absolutely impossible to put
into practice. In spite of every effort on our part, not a single one
of the enemy's guns was silenced; they had four to our one, while the
distance from the Ridge to the city walls was too great to allow of
our comparatively light guns making any impression on them. Under
these circumstances the only thing to be done was to construct
batteries nearer to the city, but before these could be begun,
entrenching tools, sandbags, and other necessary materials, of which
the Engineers were almost entirely destitute, had to be collected. The
troops were being worn out by constant sanguinary combats, and the
attacks to which they were exposed required every soul in camp to
repel them. It was never certain where the enemy intended to strike,
and it was only by the most constant vigilance that their intentions
could be ascertained, and the men were being incessantly withdrawn
during the scorching heat of the day from one place to another.
General Barnard concluded as follows: 'You may ask why we engage in
these constant combats. The reason simply is that when attacked we
must defend ourselves, and that to secure our camp, our hospitals, our
stores, etc., every living being has to be employed. The whole thing
is too gigantic for the force brought against it.'
Soon after Barnard wrote these lines reinforcements began to arrive,
and our position was gradually improved. By the 3rd July the following
troops had reached Delhi: four Horse Artillery guns (two British
and two Native), a detachment of European Foot Artillery, the
Head-Quarters of Her Majesty's 8th and 61st Foot, one squadron of the
5th Punjab Cavalry, the 1st Punjab Infantry, and some newly-raised
Sikh Sappers and Artillery. The strength of the force was thus
increased to nearly 6,600 men of all arms. The enemy's reinforcements,
however, were out of all proportion to ours--mutineers from Jullundur,
Nasirabad, Nimach, Kotah, Gwalior, Jhansi, and Rohilkand arrived about
this time. Those from Rohilkand crossed by the bridge of boats and
entered the city by the Calcutta gate; we could distinctly see them
from the Ridge, marching in perfect formation, with their bands
playing and colours flying. Indeed, throughout the siege the enemy's
numbers were constantly being increased, while they had a practically
unlimited number of guns, and the well-stocked magazine furnished them
with an inexhaustible supply of ammunition.
I found myself under fire for the first time on the 30th June, when an
attack was made on the Sabzi Mandi piquet and Hindu Rao's house. Eight
of our men were killed and thirty wounded; amongst the latter were
Yorke and Packe, both attached to the 4th Sikhs. It appeared certain
that these two officers were wounded by the Hindustanis of their own
regiment; Packe, who was shot through the ankle, being so close up to
the breastwork that it was scarcely possible for the bullet which hit
him to have come from the front. Consequently all the Hindustanis
in the 4th Sikhs were disarmed and turned out of camp, as it was
manifestly undesirable to have any but the most loyal soldiers in our
ranks.
[Illustration: FIELD-MARSHAL SIR DONALD MARTIN STEWART, BART., G.C.B.,
G.C.S.I., C.I.E.
_From a photograph by Messrs. Elliott and Fry._]
In the afternoon of the same day I was ordered to accompany a column
under Brigadier Showers, sent on reconnoitring duty towards the Idgah,
where we heard that the enemy were again constructing a battery. It
had not been commenced, but the intention to build one was evident,
for we found a number of entrenching tools, and a quantity of
sandbags.
The question of attempting to take the city by a _coup de main_ was
now again discussed. It was urged that our numbers, already small,
were being daily reduced by casualties and sickness; that the want of
proper equipment rendered it impossible to undertake regular siege
operations; and that a rising in the Punjab was imminent. The chances
of success were certainly more favourable than they were on the 13th
June. The force to be employed was stronger; all concerned--the staff,
commanders, and troops--were fully apprised of what was intended, and
of the part they would have to play; above all, the details of the
scheme, which was drawn up on much the same lines as the former one,
were carefully worked out by Lieutenant Alex. Taylor,[2] who had
recently come into camp, and was acting temporarily as Commanding
Engineer.
Of the supreme importance of regaining possession of Delhi there can
be no doubt whatever. But nevertheless the undertaking would, at that
time, have been a most desperate one, and only to be justified by
the critical position in which we were placed. In spite of the late
reinforcements, we were a mere handful compared with the thousands
within the walls. Success, therefore, depended on the completeness
of the surprise; and, as we could make no movement without its being
perceived by the enemy, surprise was impossible. Another strong reason
against assaulting at that time was the doubtful attitude of some
of the Hindustani Cavalry still with us; the whole of the effective
troops, too, would have to be employed, and the sick and wounded--a
large number--left to the mercy of the Native followers.
General Barnard carefully weighed all the arguments for and against
the proposal, and at last reluctantly consented to the attack being
made, but the discovery of a conspiracy amongst the Natives in camp
caused it to be countermanded--a great disappointment to many, and
there was much cavilling and discontent on the part of some, who could
not have sufficiently appreciated the difficulties and risks of the
undertaking, or the disastrous consequences of a repulse.
On the morning of the day on which it had been arranged that the
assault should be made, the staff at Delhi received a most valuable
addition in the person of Lieutenant-Colonel Baird-Smith, of the
Bengal Engineers. Summoned from Rurki to take the place of the Chief
Engineer, whose health had broken down, Baird-Smith was within sixty
miles of Delhi on the 2nd July, when news of the intended movement
reached him. He started at once, and arrived in camp early on the 3rd,
but only to find that the assault had been postponed.
On the afternoon of the 3rd July the enemy came out in force (5,000
or 6,000 strong with several guns), and occupied the suburbs to our
right. The troops were turned out, but instead of attacking us and
returning to the city as usual when it became dark, the rebels moved
off in the direction of Alipur, where we had an outpost, which was
held by Younghusband's squadron of the 5th Punjab Cavalry. They
reached Alipur about midnight, and had they attacked the serai at once
with Infantry, Younghusband and his men could hardly have escaped, but
fortunately they opened upon it with Artillery. This gave the sowars
time to mount and fall back on Rhai, the next post, ten miles to the
rear, which was garrisoned by the friendly troops of the Jhind Raja.
The sound of the guns being heard in camp, a column under the command
of Major Coke was got ready to pursue should the insurgents push up
the Trunk Road, or to cut them off should they try to make their way
back to the city. Besides his own corps (the 1st Punjab Infantry),
Coke was given a wing of the 61st Foot, six Horse and six Field
Artillery guns, one squadron of the Carabineers, one squadron of the
9th Lancers, and the Guides Cavalry; in all about 800 Infantry, 300
Cavalry, and 12 guns, and I was sent with him as staff officer.
It was generally believed that the enemy were on the look-out for
treasure coming from the Punjab, which was known to be under the
charge of a Native guard, and we quite expected to have a long chase
after them; we were, therefore, surprised to see them, as day broke,
crossing our front on their way back to Delhi.
The rebels were moving on fairly high ground, but between us and
them was a swamp rendered almost impassable by recent heavy rain. It
extended a considerable distance on either side, and as there was
no other way of getting at the rapidly retreating foe, it had to be
crossed. Our Artillery opened fire, and Coke advanced with the Cavalry
and Infantry. The swamp proved to be very difficult; in it men and
horses floundered hopelessly, and before we were clear the enemy had
got away with their guns; they were obliged, however, to leave behind
all the plunder taken from Alipur, and a considerable quantity
of ammunition. My share of the loot was a nice-looking, white,
country-bred pony, which I found tied to a tree. I promptly annexed
it, glad to save my own horse, and I congratulated myself on having
made a most useful addition to my small stud. It did not, however,
remain long in my possession, for a few days afterwards it was claimed
by its rightful owner, Lieutenant Younghusband.
The heat was great, and as the soldiers were much distressed, having
been under arms for ten hours, Coke halted the Infantry portion on the
banks of the Western Jumna Canal instead of returning direct to
camp. While we were enjoying a much-needed rest we were unexpectedly
attacked by some fresh troops (including about 800 Cavalry) which had
hurried out from the city. I was startled from a sound sleep by heavy
firing, and saw the enemy advancing within a few hundred yards of our
halting-place. Coke formed his Infantry along the bank of the canal,
and sent a mounted officer to recall the Cavalry and Artillery.
The enemy came on very boldly at first, but the steady fire of our
Infantry kept them at bay, and when the guns arrived we had no
difficulty in driving them off. They left 80 dead on the field; we had
on our side 3 killed and 23 wounded, besides losing several British
soldiers from sunstroke.
Major Coke was much grieved by the loss in this engagement of a Native
friend of his, a Chief of the Kohat border, by name Mir Mubarak Shah.
He was a grand specimen of a frontier Khan,[3] and on hearing that the
1st Punjab Infantry was ordered to Delhi expressed his determination
to accompany it. He got together a troop of eighty of his own
followers, and leaving Kohat on the 1st June, overtook Coke at Kurnal
on the 27th, a distance of nearly 600 miles. A day or two afterwards
Coke's men were approached by the Hindustanis of the 2nd Punjab
Cavalry, and some Native officers of the 9th Irregulars, who tried to
induce them to join in the rebellion. Advances were made in the first
instance to Mir Mubarak Shah and Mir Jaffir, the Subadar-Major of the
1st Punjab Infantry, who at once informed Coke of what was going on.
As soon as the regiment reached Delhi the matter was investigated, and
the Native officers who had endeavoured to tamper with the men were
identified, tried, and executed.
About noon on the 5th July we heard the woeful tidings that General
Barnard was seized with cholera. The army had never been free from
that terrible scourge since the Commander-in-Chief fell a victim to
it on the 26th May, and now it had attacked his successor, who was
carried off after a few hours' illness. The feeling of sadness amongst
the troops at the loss of their General was universal. Throughout the
six trying weeks he had been in command of the force he had never
spared himself. At work from morning till night in and about the
trenches, he personally attended to every detail, and had won the
respect and regard of all in camp.
Few Commanders were ever placed in a more difficult position than
Barnard. He arrived at Umballa when the Native troops, to whose
characteristics and peculiarities (as I have already remarked) he was
a complete stranger, were thoroughly disaffected, and within a week of
his taking over the command of the Sirhind division the Mutiny broke
out. Without any previous knowledge of Indian warfare, he found
himself in front of Delhi with a force altogether too weak to effect
the object for which it was intended and without any of the appliances
to ensure success; while those who did not realize the extreme risk
involved never ceased clamouring at a delay which was unavoidable, and
urging the General to undertake a task which was impossible.
Barnard has been blamed, and not unjustly, for mistrusting his own
judgment and for depending upon others for advice about matters on
which an experienced Commander ought to have been the best able to
decide. But every allowance must be made for the position he was
so unexpectedly called upon to fill and the peculiar nature of his
surroundings. Failing health, too, probably weakened the self-reliance
which a man who had satisfactorily performed the duties of Chief of
the Staff in the Crimea must at one time have possessed.
On the death of Sir Henry Barnard, General Reed assumed command. He
had joined the force on the morning of the action of Badli-ki-Serai,
but though senior to Barnard, he was too much knocked up by the
intense heat of the long journey from Peshawar to take part in the
action, and he had allowed Barnard to continue in command.
For the next few days we had a comparatively quiet time, of which
advantage was taken to render our position more secure towards the
rear. The secrecy and rapidity with which the enemy had made their way
to Alipur warned the authorities how easily our communication with the
Punjab might be cut off. Baird-Smith saw the necessity for remedying
this, and, acting on his advice, Reed had all the bridges over the
Western Jumna Canal destroyed for several miles, except one required
for our own use. The Phulchudder aqueduct, which carried the canal
water into the city, and along which horsemen could pass to the rear
of our camp, was blown up, as was also the Bussye bridge over the
drain from the Najafgarh _jhil_, about eight miles from camp.
We were not left long in peace, for on the morning of the 9th July the
enemy moved out of the city in great force, and for several hours kept
up an incessant cannonade on our front and right flank.
The piquet below the General's Mound happened to be held this day by
two guns of Tombs's troop, commanded by Second Lieutenant James Hills,
and by thirty men of the Carabineers under Lieutenant Stillman. A
little beyond, and to the right of this piquet, a Native officer's
party of the 9th Irregular Cavalry had been placed to watch the Trunk
Road. These men were still supposed to be loyal; the regiment to which
they belonged had a good reputation, and as Christie's Horse had
done excellent service in Afghanistan, where Neville and Crawford
Chamberlain had served with it as subalterns. It was, therefore,
believed at the Mound piquet that ample warning would be given of
any enemy coming from the direction of the Trunk Road, so that the
approach of some horsemen dressed like the men of the 9th Irregulars
attracted little notice.
Stillman and Hills were breakfasting together, when a sowar from the
Native officers' party rode up and reported that a body of the enemy's
Cavalry were in sight. Hills told the man to gallop to Head-Quarters
with the report, and to warn Tombs as he passed his tent. Hills and
Stillman then mounted their men, neither of them having the remotest
idea that the news of the enemy's advance had been purposely delayed
until there was not time to turn out the troops. They imagined that
the sowar was acting in good faith and had given them sufficient
notice, and while Hills moved his guns towards the position from which
he could command the Trunk Road, Stillman proceeded to the top of the
Mound in order to get a better view of the ground over which the enemy
were said to be advancing. The troop of the Carabineers was thus left
by itself to receive the first rush of the rebel Cavalry; it was
composed of young soldiers, some of them quite untrained, who turned
and broke.
The moment Hills saw the enemy he shouted, 'Action front!' and, in
the hope of giving his men time to load and fire a round of grape, he
gallantly charged the head of the column single-handed, cut down the
leading man, struck the second, and then was then ridden down himself.
It had been raining heavily, so Hills wore his cloak; which probably
saved his life, for it was cut through in many places, as were his
jacket and even his shirt.
As soon as the body of the enemy had passed on, Hills, extricating
himself from his horse, got up and searched for his sword, which he
had lost in the mêlée. He had just found it when he was attacked by
three men, two of whom were mounted; he fired at and wounded the first
man; then caught the lance of the second in his left hand, and ran him
through the body with his sword. The first assailant coming on again,
Hills cut him down, upon which he was attacked by the third man on
foot, who succeeded in wrenching his sword from him. Hills fell in
the struggle, and must have been killed, if Tombs, who had been duly
warned by the sowar, and had hurried out to the piquet, had not come
to the rescue and saved his plucky subaltern's life.[4]
Notwithstanding Hills's gallant attempt to stop the sowars, his men
had not time to fire a single round before they were upon them. Their
object, however, was not to capture these two guns, but to induce the
Native Horse Artillery to join them, and galloping past the piquet,
they made straight for the troop, and called upon the men to bring
away their guns. The Native Artillerymen behaved admirably: they not
only refused to respond to the call, but they begged the men of the
European troop, which was unlimbered close by, to fire through them on
the mutineers.
Knowing nothing of what was happening, I was standing by my tent,
watching my horses, which had just arrived from Philour, as they
crossed the bridge over the canal cut which ran at the rear of our
camp, when the enemy's Cavalry galloped over the bridge, and for a few
moments my animals seemed in considerable danger; the sowars, however,
having lost more than one-third of their number, and having failed in
their attempt to get hold of the Native Horse Artillery guns, were
bent upon securing their retreat rather than upon plunder. My
servants gave a wonderful account of the many perils they had
encountered--somewhat exaggerated, I dare say--but they had done me a
real good service, having marched 200 miles through a very disturbed
country, and arriving with animals and baggage in good order. Indeed,
throughout the Mutiny my servants behaved admirably. The _khidmatgar_
(table attendant) never failed to bring me my food under the hottest
fire, and the _saices_ (grooms) were always present with the horses
whenever they were required, apparently quite indifferent to the risks
they often ran. Moreover, they became imbued with such a warlike
spirit that, when I was invalided in April, 1858, four of them
enlisted in a regiment of Bengal Cavalry. The _khidmatgar_ died soon
after the Mutiny, but two of his brothers were afterwards in my
service; one, who was with me during the Lushai expedition and the
whole of the Afghan war, never left me for more than twenty years, and
we parted with mutual regret at Bombay on board the P. and O. steamer
in which I took my final departure from India in April, 1893.
Mine was not a solitary instance; not only the officers' servants,
but the followers belonging to European regiments, such as cook-boys,
_saices_ and _bhisties_ (water-carriers), as a rule, behaved in the
most praiseworthy manner, faithful and brave to a degree. So much was
this the case, that when the troopers of the 9th Lancers were called
upon to name the man they considered most worthy of the Victoria
Cross, an honour which Sir Colin Campbell purposed to confer upon the
regiment to mark his appreciation of the gallantry displayed by all
ranks during the campaign, they unanimously chose the head _bhistie_!
Considering the peculiar position we were in at the time, it is
somewhat remarkable that the conduct of the Native servants should
have been so generally satisfactory. It speaks as well, I think, for
the masters as the servants, and proves (what I have sometimes heard
denied) that Native servants are, as a rule, kindly and considerately
treated by their European masters.
To return to my story. The cannonade from within and without the city
continued unceasing, and the enemy had again to be driven out of the
near suburbs. This duty was entrusted to General Chamberlain, whom
I accompanied as one of his staff officers. His column consisted of
about 800 Infantry and six guns, a few more men joining us as we
passed the Ridge. This was the first occasion on which I had witnessed
fighting in gardens and walled enclosures, and I realized how
difficult it was to dislodge men who knew how to take advantage of the
cover thus afforded. Our soldiers, as usual, fought well against very
heavy odds, and before we were able to force the enemy back into the
city we had lost 1 officer and 40 men killed, and 8 officers and 163
men wounded, besides 11 poor fellows missing: every one of whom
must have been murdered. The enemy had nearly 500 men killed, and
considerably more than that number wounded.
The result of the day's experience was so far satisfactory that it
determined General Reed to get rid of all the Hindustani soldiers
still remaining in camp. It was clear that the Native officers' party
near the Mound piquet had been treacherous; none of them were ever
seen again, and it was generally believed that they had joined the
enemy in their dash through the camp. The other Native soldiers did
not hesitate to denounce their Hindustani comrades as traitors; the
latter were consequently all sent away, except a few men of the 4th
Irregular Cavalry who were deprived of their horses and employed
solely as orderlies. It was also thought advisable to take the guns
from the Native troop of Horse Artillery. A few of the younger men
belonging to it deserted, but the older soldiers continued faithful,
and did good work in the breaching batteries.
There was a short lull after our fight on the 9th--a sure sign that
the enemy's loss was heavier than they had calculated upon. When the
mutineers received reinforcements we were certain to be attacked
within a few hours, but if no fresh troops arrived on the scene we
could generally depend upon a day or two's respite.
Our next fight was on the 14th July. The rebels came out on that
morning in great numbers, attacking Hindu Rao's house and the Sabzi
Mandi piquets, and supported by a continuous fire of Artillery from
the walls. For some hours we remained on the defensive, but as the
enemy's numbers increased, and we were greatly harassed by their
fire, a column was formed to dislodge them. It was of about the usual
strength, viz., 800 Infantry and six Horse Artillery guns, with the
addition of a few of the Guides Cavalry and of Hodson's newly-raised
Horse. The command was given to Brigadier Showers, and I was sent as
his staff officer; Reid joined in at the foot of the Ridge with all
the men that could be spared, and Brigadier-General Chamberlain also
accompanied the column.
We moved on under a very heavy fire until we reached an enclosure the
wall of which was lined with the enemy. The troops stopped short, when
Chamberlain, seeing that they hesitated, called upon them to follow
him, and gave them a splendid example by jumping his horse over the
wall. The men did follow him, and Chamberlain got a ball in his
shoulder.
We had great difficulty in driving the enemy back; they contested
every inch of the ground, the many serais and walled gardens affording
them admirable cover; but our troops were not to be withstood;
position after position was carried until we found ourselves in sight
of the Lahore gate and close up to the walls of the city. In our
eagerness to drive the enemy back we had, however, come too far. It
was impossible to remain where we were. Musketry from the walls and
grape from the heavy guns mounted on the Mori and other bastions
committed terrible havoc. Men were falling on all sides, but the
getting back was hazardous to the last degree. Numerous as the enemy
were, they had not the courage to stand against us as long as we
advanced, but the first sign of retreat was the signal for them to
leave their shelter and press us the whole way to camp.
When the retirement commenced I was with the two advanced guns in
action on the Grand Trunk Road. The subaltern in charge was severely
wounded, and almost at the same moment one of his sergeants, a smart,
handsome fellow, fell, shot through the leg. Seeing some men carrying
him into a hut at the side of the road, I shouted: 'Don't put him
there; he will be left behind; get a doolie for him, or put him on the
limber.' But what with the incessant fire from the enemy's guns, the
bursting of shells, the crashing of shot through the branches of the
trees, and all the din and hubbub of battle, I could not have been
heard, for the poor fellow with another wounded man was left in the
hut, and both were murdered by the mutineers. So many of the men with
the two guns were _hors de combat_, and the horses were so unsteady
(several of them being wounded), that there was great difficulty in
limbering up, and I was helping the drivers to keep the horses quiet,
when I suddenly felt a tremendous blow on my back which made me faint
and sick, and I was afraid I should not be able to remain on my horse.
The powerless feeling, however, passed off, and I managed to stick
on until I got back to camp. I had been hit close to the spine by a
bullet, and the wound would probably have been fatal but for the fact
that a leather pouch for caps, which I usually wore in front near
my pistol, had somehow slipped round to the back; the bullet passed
through this before entering my body, and was thus prevented from
penetrating very deep.
The enemy followed us closely right up to our piquets, and but for the
steadiness of the retirement our casualties must have been even more
numerous than they were. As it was, they amounted to 15 men killed, 16
officers and 177 men wounded, and 2 men missing.
The enemy's loss was estimated at 1,000. For hours they were seen
carrying the dead in carts back to the city.
My wound, though comparatively slight, kept me on the sick-list for a
fortnight, and for more than a month I could not mount a horse or put
on a sword-belt. I was lucky in that my tent was pitched close to that
of John Campbell Brown, one of the medical officers attached to the
Artillery. He had served during the first Afghan war, with Sale's
force, at Jalalabad, and throughout both the campaigns in the Punjab,
and had made a great reputation for himself as an army surgeon. He
looked after me while I was laid up, and I could not have been in
better hands.
The Delhi Force was fortunate in its medical officers. Some of the
best in the army were attached to it, and all that was possible to be
done for the sick and wounded under the circumstances was done. But
the poor fellows had a bad time of it. A few of the worst cases were
accommodated in the two or three houses in the cantonment that had
escaped destruction, but the great majority had to put up with such
shelter from the burning heat and drenching rain as an ordinary
soldiers' tent could provide. Those who could bear the journey and
were not likely to be fit for duty for some time were sent away to
Meerut and Umballa; but even with the relief thus afforded, the
hospitals throughout the siege were terribly overcrowded. Anæsthetics
were freely used, but antiseptics were practically unknown,
consequently many of the severely wounded died, and few amputation
cases survived.
A great aggravation to the misery and discomfort in hospital was the
plague of flies. Delhi is at all times noted for having more than its
share of these drawbacks to life in the East, but during the siege
they were a perfect pest, and for the short time I was laid up I fully
realized the suffering which our sick and wounded soldiers had to
endure. At night the inside of my tent was black with flies. At the
first ray of light or the smallest shake to the ropes, they were all
astir, and for the rest of the day there was no peace; it was even
difficult to eat without swallowing one or more of the loathsome
insects. I had to brush them away with one hand while I put the food
into my mouth with the other, and more than once I had to rush from
the table, a fly having eluded all my efforts to prevent his going
down my throat.
As soon as I could get about a little, but before I was able to
perform my legitimate work, I was employed in helping to look after
the conservancy of the camp and its surroundings--an extremely
disagreeable but most important duty, for an Indian army must always
have a large following, for which sanitary arrangements are a
difficulty. Then, large convoys of camels and bullock-carts arrived
daily with supplies and stores, and a considerable number of transport
animals had to be kept in readiness to follow up the enemy with a
suitably sized force, whenever we could drive them out of the city.
Without any shelter, and often with insufficient food, deaths amongst
the animals were of constant occurrence, and, unless their carcases
could at once be removed, the stench became intolerable. Every
expedient was resorted to to get rid of this nuisance. Some of the
carcases were dragged to a distance from camp, some were buried, and
some were burnt, but, notwithstanding all our efforts, many remained
to be gradually devoured by the jackals which prowled about the camp,
and by the innumerable birds of prey which instinct had brought to
Delhi from the remotest parts of India.[5]
At a time when the powers of each individual were taxed to the
uttermost, the strain on the Commander of the force was terribly
severe. Mind and body were incessantly at work. Twice in the short
space of six weeks had the officer holding this responsible position
succumbed, and now a third was on the point of breaking down.
Major-General Reed's health, never very strong, completely failed, and
on the 17th July, only twelve days after succeeding Sir Henry Barnard,
he had to give up the command and leave the camp on sick certificate.
[Footnote 1: See Kaye's 'History of the Indian Mutiny.']
[Footnote 2: Now General Sir Alexander Taylor, G.C.B.]
[Footnote 3: Mahomedans of good family are so styled in northern
India.]
[Footnote 4: Tombs and Hills both received the Victoria Cross for
their gallantry.]
[Footnote 5: 'Adjutants,' never seen in ordinary times further north
than Bengal, appeared in hundreds, and were really useful scavengers.]
* * * * *