1857
Necessity for further action--Departure from Delhi
--Action at Bulandshahr--Lieutenant Home's death--Knights-errant
--Fight at Aligarh--Appeals from Agra
--Collapse of the administration--Taken by surprise
--The fight at Agra--An exciting chase--The Taj Mahal
The fall of Delhi was loudly proclaimed, and the glad tidings spread
like wildfire throughout the length and breadth of India, bringing
intense relief to Europeans everywhere, but more especially to those
in the Punjab, who felt that far too great a strain was being put upon
the loyalty of the people, and that failure at Delhi would probably
mean a rising of the Sikhs and Punjabis. Salutes were fired in
honour of the victory at all the principal stations, but the Native
population of the Punjab could not at first be made to believe that
the Moghul capital, with its hordes of defenders, could have been
captured by the small English army they saw marching through their
province a few months before. Even at that time it seemed all too
small for the task before it, and since then they knew it had dwindled
down to less than half its numbers. It was not, indeed, until they had
ocular demonstration of our success, in the shape of the loot which
some of the Native followers belonging to the besieging force took
back to their homes, that they became convinced of the reality of our
victory.
[Illustration: PLAN TO ILLUSTRATE THE SIEGE OF DELHI, 1857]
Sir John Lawrence being painfully alive to the weakness of our
position in the Punjab, as compared to the great strength of the
Sikhs, on hearing the news of the capture of Delhi, begged General
Wilson to send back at once a British regiment as a practical proof
that our triumph was complete, and that he no longer needed so many
troops. But though the city was in our possession, a great deal
remained to be done before a single soldier could be spared. Above all
things, it was necessary to open up communication with Cawnpore and
Lucknow, in order to ascertain exactly the state of affairs in that
part of the country. We had heard of the failure of Havelock's
attempts to reach Lucknow, and of his having been obliged in the end
to retire to Cawnpore and wait for reinforcements, but we had not been
able to learn whether such reinforcements had reached him, or how long
the beleaguered garrison of Lucknow was likely to hold out.
No time was wasted at Delhi. On the 21st September, the very day
after the palace was occupied, it was decided to despatch a column
to Cawnpore; but, on account of the weakened condition of the whole
force, there was considerable difficulty in detailing the troops
for its composition. The total strength of the corps[1] eventually
selected amounted to 750 British and 1,900 Native soldiers, with
sixteen field-guns.
No officer of note or high rank being available, the command of the
column should have been given to the senior regimental officer serving
with it, viz., Colonel Hope Grant, of the 9th Lancers; but for some
unexplained motive Lieutenant-Colonel Greathed, of the 8th Foot, was
chosen by General Wilson. Captain Bannatyne, of the same regiment, was
appointed his Brigade-Major, and I was sent with the column as Deputy
Assistant-Quartermaster-General. On the fall of Delhi the whole of
the Head-Quarters staff returned to Simla, except Henry Norman, whose
soldierly instincts made him prefer accompanying the column, in order
that he might be ready to join Sir Colin Campbell, the newly-appointed
Commander-in-Chief, who had shortly before arrived in India.
Nicholson's funeral was taking place as we marched out of Delhi, at
daybreak on the morning of the 24th September. It was a matter of
regret to me that I was unable to pay a last tribute of respect to my
loved and honoured friend and Commander by following his body to the
grave, but I could not leave the column. That march through Delhi in
the early morning light was a gruesome proceeding. Our way from the
Lahore gate by the Chandni Chauk led through a veritable city of
the dead; not a sound was to be heard but the falling of our own
footsteps; not a living creature was to be seen. Dead bodies
were strewn about in all directions, in every attitude that the
death-struggle had caused them to assume, and in every stage of
decomposition. We marched in silence, or involuntarily spoke in
whispers, as though fearing to disturb those ghastly remains of
humanity. The sights we encountered were horrible and sickening to the
last degree. Here a dog gnawed at an uncovered limb; there a vulture,
disturbed by our approach from its loathsome meal, but too completely
gorged to fly, fluttered away to a safer distance. In many instances
the positions of the bodies were appallingly life-like. Some lay with
their arms uplifted as if beckoning, and, indeed, the whole scene was
weird and terrible beyond description. Our horses seemed to feel the
horror of it as much as we did, for they shook and snorted in evident
terror. The atmosphere was unimaginably disgusting, laden as it was
with the most noxious and sickening odours.
It is impossible to describe the joy of breathing the pure air of the
open country after such a horrible experience; but we had not escaped
untainted. That night we had several cases of cholera, one of the
victims being Captain Wilde, the Commandant of the 4th Punjab
Infantry. He was sent back to Delhi in a hopeless condition, it was
thought, but he recovered, and did excellent work at the head of his
fine regiment during the latter part of the campaign.
After a march of eleven miles we reached Ghazi-uddin nagar, to find
the place deserted. We halted the next day. The baggage animals were
out of condition after their long rest at Delhi; and it was necessary
to overhaul their loads and get rid of the superfluous kit and plunder
which the followers had brought away with them. We were accompanied
on our march by a few enterprising civilians, who had found their way
into Delhi the day after we took possession of the palace. Amongst
them was Alfred Lyall,[2] a schoolfellow of mine at Eton. He was
on his way to take up the appointment of Assistant-Magistrate at
Bulandshahr, where he was located when the Mutiny broke out. As
we rode along he gave me a most interesting little history of his
personal experiences during the early days of May, from the time when
the first symptoms of the coming storm were felt, until that when the
surrounding country rose _en masse_, and he and those with him had
to seek shelter at Meerut. I should like to repeat his story for the
benefit of my readers, but I refrain, as it would lose so much by my
telling; and I hope that some day Sir Alfred Lyall may be induced to
tell his own story in the picturesque and attractive language which is
so well known and so much appreciated by the reading public.
Early on the morning of the 28th, Norman, Lyall, and I, marching with
Watson's Cavalry, two or three miles in advance of the column, arrived
at cross-roads, one leading to Bulandshahr, the other to Malagarh, a
fort belonging to a Mahomedan of the name of Walidad Khan, who, when
the British rule was in abeyance, assumed authority over the district
in the name of the Emperor of Delhi. We halted, and, having put out
our piquets, lay down and waited for the dawn. From information
obtained by the civil officers with the column, we suspected that
large numbers of mutineers were collected in the neighbourhood.
We were not left long in doubt as to the correctness of our
surmisings, for we were soon rudely awakened by the rattle of shots
exchanged between our vedettes and those of the enemy. Information was
sent back at once to the advance guard and to our Commander, while we
set to work to ascertain the enemy's exact position; this proved to be
at Bulandshahr, and we were within a couple of miles of the main body.
As we advanced the rebel Cavalry fell back, and when we got under fire
of their guns, our Horse Artillery came into action; our Infantry
coming up, found the enemy occupying an extremely strong position, in
the gaol and a walled serai at the entrance to the town, their left
being covered by the enclosed gardens and ruined houses of the
deserted civil station, within which they were collected in
considerable force. From these points they were driven by the 75th
Foot, who, in a most dashing manner, captured two 9-pounder guns,
while a third was taken by the Cavalry. The rebels then began to
retreat, and were followed up by a small body of Cavalry, under
Drysdale,[3] of the 9th Lancers, with whom were Sarel, of the same
regiment, Augustus Anson of the 84th Foot, and myself. We soon became
entangled in narrow streets, but at last found ourselves in a gateway
leading out of the town, which was crowded with bullock-carts, flying
townspeople, and a number of the enemy, some on horseback, some on
foot. There we had hard fighting; Sarel was wounded in the act of
running a sepoy through the body, the forefinger of his right hand
being taken off by a bullet, which then passed through his left arm;
Anson was surrounded by mutineers, and performed prodigies of valour,
for which he was rewarded with the Victoria Cross. I was riding a
Waziri horse, which had belonged to John Nicholson, and as it had been
a great favourite of his, I had commissioned a friend to buy him for
me at the sale of Nicholson's effects. He was naturally impetuous,
and, being now greatly excited by the firing and confusion, plunged
about a good deal. He certainly was not a comfortable mount on that
day, but all the same he saved my life. In the midst of the mêlée I
observed a sepoy taking deliberate aim at me, and tried to get at him,
but the crowd between him and me prevented my reaching him. He fired;
my frightened animal reared, and received in his head the bullet which
was intended for me.[4]
The work fell chiefly on the Cavalry and Horse Artillery. Major Ouvry,
who commanded them, must have been a proud man that day, for they
behaved splendidly. Two of Blunt's guns also, under an old Addiscombe
friend of mine named Cracklow, did excellent service. The 9th Lancers,
under Drysdale, performed wonders; and the three squadrons of Punjab
Cavalry, under their gallant young leaders, Probyn, Watson, and
Younghusband, and the squadron of Hodson's Horse, under Hugh Gough,
showed of what good stuff they were made. Our casualties were 6 men
killed, 6 officers and 35 men wounded. The enemy's loss was 300.
A large quantity of ammunition and baggage fell into our hands,
including many articles plundered from European men and women.
After the fight was over, the column passed through the town, and our
camp was pitched about a mile beyond, on the banks of the Kali Naddi.
The same afternoon Malagarh was reconnoitred, but was found to be
deserted, a satisfactory result of the morning's action, for the fort,
if defended, would have given us some trouble to take. Walidad Khan
evidently hoped to become a power in the district, for he had begun to
make gun-carriages, and we found roughly-cast guns on the lathes ready
for boring out. It was decided that Malagarh Fort, which was full of
articles of every description taken from the English residents, should
be destroyed. Its demolition, however, took some time to effect, and
as we could not move till transport came from Meerut to convey our
wounded officers and men back to that place, the column halted at
Bulandshahr for four days.
On the afternoon of the 1st October the fort was blown up, and most
unfortunately, while superintending the operation, Lieutenant Home was
killed.[5] The mine had been laid and the slow-match lighted, but the
explosion not following as quickly as was expected, Home thought the
match must have gone out, and went forward again to relight it. At
that moment the mine blew up. His death was greatly felt in camp,
happening as it did when all the excitement of battle was over.
We left Bulandshahr, and said good-bye to Lyall on the 3rd October,
feeling that he was being placed in a position of considerable risk,
thrown as he was on his own resources, with general instructions to
re-establish the authority of the British Government. He was not,
however, molested, and after two or three days he was joined by a
small body of troops from Meerut. During the months that followed
he and his escort had several alarms and some smart skirmishes; for
Rohilkand, a large tract of country to the east of Bulandshahr, was
held by the rebels until the following spring, and Lyall's district
was constantly traversed by bodies of mutinous sepoys.
On the afternoon of the same day we reached Khurja, a fair-sized
Mahomedan town, from which some of our Cavalry soldiers were
recruited. The first thing that met our eyes on arrival at this place
was a skeleton, ostentatiously placed against the side of a bridge
leading to the encamping-ground; it was headless, and the bones were
hacked and broken. It was pronounced by more than one doctor to be the
skeleton of a European woman. This sight maddened the soldiery, who
demanded vengeance, and at one time it seemed that the town of Khurja
would have to pay the penalty for the supposed crime. The whole force
was greatly excited. At length calmer counsels prevailed. The people
of the town protested their innocence, and expressed their anxiety to
be our humble servants; they were, as a whole, given the benefit of
the doubt, but some soldiers found in the town, belonging to regiments
which had mutinied, were tried, and hanged or acquitted according to
the evidence given.
Some excitement was caused on reaching camp by the appearance of a
fakir seated under a tree close to where our tents were pitched. The
man was evidently under a vow of silence, which Hindu devotees often
make as a penance for sin, or to earn a title to more than a fair
share of happiness in a future life. On our addressing him, the fakir
pointed to a small wooden platter, making signs for us to examine it.
The platter had been quite recently used for mixing food in, and
at first there seemed to be nothing unusual about it. On closer
inspection, however, we discovered that a detachable square of wood
had been let in at the bottom, on removing which a hollow became
visible, and in it lay a small folded paper, that proved to be a note
from General Havelock, written in the Greek character, containing
the information that he was on his way to the relief of the Lucknow
garrison, and begging any Commander into whose hands the communication
might fall to push on as fast as possible to his assistance, as he
sorely needed reinforcements, having few men and no carriage to speak
of. This decided Greathed to proceed with as little delay as might be
to Cawnpore.
Just before we left Bulandshahr, a spy reported to me that an English
lady was a prisoner in a village some twenty miles off, and that she
was anxious to be rescued. As on cross-examination, however, the story
did not appear to me to be very reliable, I told the man he must bring
me some proof of the presence of the lady in the village. Accordingly,
on the arrival of the column at Khurja, he appeared with a piece of
paper on which was written 'Miss Martindale.' This necessitated the
matter being inquired into, and I obtained the Brigadier's permission
to make a detour to the village in question. I started off,
accompanied by Watson and Probyn, with their two squadrons of Cavalry.
We timed our march so as to reach our destination just before dawn;
the Cavalry surrounded the village, and with a small escort we three
proceeded up the little street to the house where the guide told us
the lady was confined. Not only was the house empty, but, with the
exception of a few sick and bedridden old people, there was not a
soul in the village. There had evidently been a hasty retreat, which
puzzled me greatly, as I had taken every precaution to ensure secrecy,
for I feared that if our intention to rescue the lady became known she
would be carried off. As day broke we searched the surrounding crops,
and found the villagers and some soldiers hidden amongst them. They
one and all denied that there was the slightest truth in the story,
and as it appeared a waste of time to further prosecute the fruitless
search, we were on the point of starting to rejoin our camp, when
there was a cry from our troopers of '_Mem sahib hai!_' (Here is the
lady), and presently an excessively dusky girl about sixteen years of
age appeared, clad in Native dress. We had some difficulty in getting
the young woman to tell us what had happened; but on assuring her that
no harm should be done to those with whom she was living, she told us
that she was the daughter of a clerk in the Commissioner's office at
Sitapur; that all her family had been killed when the rising took
place at that station, and that she had been carried off by a sowar to
his home. We asked her if she wished to come away with us. After some
hesitation she declined, saying the sowar had married her (after the
Mahomedan fashion), and was kind to her, and she had no friends and
relations to go to. On asking her why she had sent to let us know she
was there, she replied that she thought she would like to join the
British force, which she heard was in the neighbourhood, but on
further reflection she had come to the conclusion it was best for
her to remain where she was. After talking to her for some time, and
making quite sure she was not likely to change her mind, we rode
away, leaving her to her sowar, with whom she was apparently quite
content.[6] I need hardly say we got unmercifully chaffed on our
return to camp, when the result of our expedition leaked out.
At Somna, where we halted for the night, we heard that the Mahomedan
insurgents, the prisoners released from gaol, and the rebel Rajputs of
the neighbourhood, were prepared to resist our advance on Aligarh, and
that they expected to be aided by a large number of mutineers from
Delhi. We came in sight of Aligarh shortly before daybreak on the 5th
October. Our advance was stopped by a motley crowd drawn up before
the walls, shouting, blowing horns, beating drums, and abusing the
Feringhis in the choicest Hindustani; but, so far as we could see,
there were no sepoys amongst them. The Horse Artillery coming up,
these valiant defenders quickly fled inside the city and closed the
gates, leaving two guns in our possession. Thinking we should be sure
to attack and take the place, they rushed through it to the other
side, and made for the open country. But we had had enough of street
fighting at Delhi. Our Cavalry and Artillery were divided into two
parties, which moved round the walls, one to the right and the other
to the left, and united in pursuit of the fugitives at the further
side. We followed them for several miles. Some had concealed
themselves in the high crops, and were discovered by the Cavalry on
their return march to camp. Ouvry formed a long line, and one by one
the rebels, starting up as the troopers rode through the fields, were
killed, while our loss was trifling.
The inhabitants of Aligarh had apparently had a bad time of it under
the rebel rule, for they expressed much joy at the result of the
morning's work, and were eager in their proffers to bring in supplies
for our troops and to otherwise help us.
Ill as we could afford to weaken our column, it was so necessary
to keep the main line of communication open, and put a stop to the
disorder into which the country had fallen, that it was decided to
leave two companies of Punjabis at Aligarh, as a guard to the young
civilian who was placed in charge of the district.
Fourteen miles from Aligarh on the road to Cawnpore there lived two
Rajputs, twin brothers, who had taken such a prominent part in the
rebellion that a price had been put on their heads, and for the future
peace of the district it was considered necessary to capture them. In
order to surprise them the more completely, it was given out that the
column was to march towards Agra, from which place disquieting news
had been received, while secret orders were issued to proceed towards
Cawnpore. The Cavalry went on in advance, and while it was still dark,
succeeded in surrounding the village of Akrabad, where dwelt the
brothers. In attempting to escape they were both killed, and three
small guns were found in their house loaded and primed, but we had
arrived too suddenly to admit of their being used against us. We
discovered besides a quantity of articles which must have belonged
to European ladies--dresses, books, photographs, and knick-knacks
of every description--which made us feel that the twins had richly
deserved their fate.
We halted on the 7th, and on the 8th marched across country to
Bryjgarh (a prettily situated village under a fortified hill), our
object being to get nearer to Agra, the reports from which place had
been causing us anxiety, and likewise to put ourselves in a position
to intercept the Rohilkand mutineers, who we were told were on their
way to Lucknow.
No sooner had we got to Bryjgarh than we received information that the
detachment we had left behind at Aligarh was not likely to be left
undisturbed, and at the same time an urgent call for assistance came
from Agra, where a combined attack by insurgents from Gwalior, Mhow,
and Delhi was imminent. Fifty of Hodson's Horse, under a European
officer, and a sufficient number of Infantry to make the detachment we
had left there up to 200, were at once despatched to Aligarh. It was
clear, too, that the appeal from Agra must be responded to, for it
was an important place, the capital of the North-West Provinces; the
troops and residents had been shut up in the fort for more than
three months, and the letters, which followed each other in quick
succession, showed that the authorities were considerably alarmed. It
was felt, therefore, that it was imperative upon us to turn our steps
towards Agra, but it entailed our marching forty-eight miles out
of our way, and having to give up for the time any idea of aiding
Havelock in the relief of Lucknow.
The column marched at midnight on the 8th October, the Horse Artillery
and Cavalry, which I accompanied, pushing on as fast as possible. We
had done thirty-six miles, when we were advised from Agra that there
was no need for so much haste, as the enemy, having heard of our
approach, were retiring; we accordingly halted, nothing loath, till
the Infantry came up.
Early the next morning, the 10th October, we reached Agra. Crossing
the Jumna by a bridge of boats, we passed under the walls of the
picturesque old fort built by the Emperor Akbar nearly 300 years
before.
The European residents who had been prisoners within the walls of the
fort for so long streamed out to meet and welcome us, overjoyed at
being free at last. We presented, I am afraid, but a sorry appearance,
as compared to the neatly-dressed ladies and the spick-and-span troops
who greeted us, for one of the fair sex was overheard to remark, 'Was
ever such a dirty-looking lot seen?' Our clothes were, indeed, worn
and soiled, and our faces so bronzed that the white soldiers were
hardly to be distinguished from their Native comrades.
Our questions as to what had become of the enemy, who we had been
informed had disappeared with such unaccountable celerity on hearing
of the advance of the column, were answered by assurances that there
was no need to concern ourselves about them, as they had fled across
the Kari Naddi, a river thirteen miles away, and were in full retreat
towards Gwalior. It was a little difficult to believe in the complete
dispersion of the formidable rebel army, the mere rumoured approach
of which had created such consternation in the minds of the Agra
authorities, and had caused the many urgent messages imploring us to
push on.
Our doubts, however, were met with the smile of superior knowledge.
We were informed that the rebels had found it impossible to get
their guns across to the Agra side of the stream, and that, feeling
themselves powerless without them to resist our column, they had taken
themselves off with the least possible delay. We were asked with
some indignation, 'Had not the whole country round been scoured
by thoroughly trustworthy men without a trace of the enemy being
discovered?' And we were assured that we might take our much-needed
rest in perfect confidence that we were not likely to be disturbed.
We were further told by those who were responsible for the local
Intelligence Department, and who were repeatedly questioned, that they
had no doubt whatever their information was correct, and that there
was no need to follow up the enemy until our troops were rested and
refreshed.
We were then not aware of what soon became painfully apparent, that
neither the information nor the opinions of the heads of the civil
and military administration at Agra were to be relied upon. That
administration had, indeed, completely collapsed; there was no
controlling authority; the crisis had produced no one in any
responsible position who understood the nature of the convulsion
through which we were passing; and endless discussion had resulted (as
must always be the case) in fatal indecision and timidity.
We could hardly have been expected to know that the government of so
great a province was in the hands of men who were utterly unfit to
cope with the difficulties of an emergency such as had now arisen,
although in quieter times they had filled their positions with credit
to themselves and advantage to the State.
That this was the case can be proved beyond a doubt, but I do not give
it as an excuse for our being caught napping by the enemy, which
we certainly were. We ought, of course, to have reconnoitred the
surrounding country for ourselves, and posted our piquets as usual;
and we ought not to have been induced to neglect these essential
military precautions by the confident assertion of the Agra
authorities that the enemy were nowhere in our neighbourhood.
The Brigadier gave orders for our camp to be pitched as soon as the
tents should arrive, but he saw no necessity for posting piquets
until the evening. Accordingly, I marked out the camp on the brigade
parade-ground, which had been selected as best suited for the
purpose--a grassy, level, open spot, a mile and a half from the fort.
On the left and rear were the ruined lines of the two Native Infantry
regiments which had been disarmed and sent to their homes, and the
charred remains of the British officers' houses. To the right and
front there was cultivation, and the high crops, almost ready to be
reaped, shut out the view of the country beyond.
As the tents and baggage could not arrive for some time, I got leave
to go with Norman, Watson, and a few others to breakfast in the fort.
We had scarcely sat down, bent on enjoying such an unusual event as a
meal in ladies' society, when we were startled by the report of a gun,
then another and another. Springing to our feet, there was a general
exclamation of, 'What can it mean? Not the enemy, surely!' But the
enemy it was, as we were soon convinced by our host, who, having gone
to a point from which he could get a view of the surrounding country,
came back in hot haste, to tell us that an action was taking place.
We who belonged to the column hurried down the stairs, jumped on
our horses, and galloped out of the fort and along the road in the
direction of the firing. We had got but half-way to camp, when we were
met and almost borne down by an enormous crowd, consisting of men,
women, and children of every shade of colour, animals and baggage all
mixed up in inextricable confusion. On they rushed, struggling and
yelling as if pursued by demons.
The refugees from the fort, tired of their long imprisonment, had
taken advantage of the security which they thought was assured by the
arrival of the column to visit their deserted homes. Two-thirds of the
150,000 inhabitants of the city had also flocked out to see the troops
who had taken part in the capture of Delhi (the report of which
achievement was still universally disbelieved), to watch our camp
being pitched, and to see what was going on generally. All this varied
crowd, in terror at the first sound of firing, made for the fort and
city, and were met in their flight by the heavy baggage of the
column on its way to camp. Instantly, elephants, camels, led horses,
doolie-bearers carrying the sick and wounded, bullocks yoked to
heavily-laden carts, all becoming panic-stricken, turned round and
joined in the stampede. Elephants, as terrified as their _mahouts_[7],
shuffled along, screaming and trumpeting; drivers twisted the tails
of their long-suffering bullocks with more than usual energy and
heartlessness, in the vain hope of goading them into a gallop; and
camels had their nostrils rent asunder by the men in charge of them,
in their unsuccessful endeavours to urge their phlegmatic animals into
something faster than their ordinary stately pace.
Into this surging multitude we rushed, but for a time our progress was
completely checked. Eventually, however, by dint of blows, threats,
and shouts, we managed to force our way through the motley crowd and
reach the scene of action. What a sight was that we came upon! I seem
to see it now as distinctly as I did then. Independent fights were
going on all over the parade-ground. Here, a couple of Cavalry
soldiers were charging each other. There, the game of bayonet _versus_
sword was being carried on in real earnest. Further on, a party of
the enemy's Cavalry were attacking one of Blunt's guns (which they
succeeded in carrying off a short distance). Just in front, the 75th
Foot (many of the men in their shirt-sleeves) were forming square to
receive a body of the rebel horse. A little to the left of the 75th,
Remmington's troop of Horse Artillery and Bourchier's battery
had opened fire from the park without waiting to put on their
accoutrements, while the horses were being hastily harnessed by the
Native drivers and _saices_. Still further to the left, the 9th
Lancers and Gough's squadron of Hodson's Horse were rapidly saddling
and falling in. On the right the 8th Foot and the 2nd and 4th Punjab
Infantry were busy getting under arms, while beyond, the three
squadrons of Punjab Cavalry, under Probyn and Younghusband, were
hurrying to get on the enemy's flank.
Watson galloped off to take command of the Punjab Cavalry, and Norman
and I rode in different directions to search for the Brigadier. While
thus employed, I was stopped by a dismounted _sowar_, who danced about
in front of me, waving his _pagri_[8] before the eyes of my horse with
one hand, and brandishing his sword with the other. I could not get
the frightened animal near enough to use my sword, and my pistol (a
Deane and Adams revolver), with which I tried to shoot my opponent,
refused to go off, so I felt myself pretty well at his mercy, when, to
my relief, I saw him fall, having been run through the body by a man
of the 9th Lancers who had come to my rescue.
Being unable to find the Brigadier, I attached myself to the next
senior officer, Major Frank Turner, who commanded the Artillery.
Gradually the enemy were beaten off, and the troops formed themselves
up ready for pursuit, or whatever they might be called upon to do. At
this juncture Greathed appeared on the ground.
With less experienced troops the surprise--and a thorough surprise it
was--would in all probability have had serious results. Most of the
men were asleep under the few tents which had already arrived, or such
shelter as could be obtained near at hand, when first one round shot,
then another, came right into their midst from a battery concealed
in the high crops to our right front. At the same time half a dozen
rebels, one of them playing the _nagàra_,[9] rode quietly up to the
Quarter-Guard of the 9th Lancers and cut down the sentry. Being
dressed, like Probyn's men, in red, they were mistaken for them, and
were thus enabled to get close to the guard. This act was quickly
followed by a general rush of the enemy's Cavalry, which brought about
the series of fights that were going on when we appeared on the scene.
The Commander was not to be found; no one knew who was the senior
officer present; consequently each regiment and battery had to act
according to its own discretion. The troops got ready with incredible
rapidity, and set to work to drive the enemy off the ground. The
Artillery replied to the insurgents' guns; the Infantry did what they
could, but were hampered by the fear of doing more injury to their
friends than their foes, and thus the brunt of the work fell upon the
Cavalry. The 9th Lancers made a succession of brilliant charges. One
troop especially distinguished itself by recovering Blunt's captured
gun; the Captain (French) was killed, and the subaltern (Jones),
covered with wounds, was left on the ground for dead. Watson, Probyn,
and Younghusband, with their three squadrons, cleared our right flank,
capturing two guns and some standards; and Hugh Gough, with his
squadron, performed a similar duty on the left.
Probyn greatly distinguished himself on this occasion. In one of the
charges he got separated from his men, and was for a time surrounded
by the enemy, two of whom he slew. In another charge he captured a
standard. For these and numerous acts of gallantry during the Mutiny,
he was, to the great delight of his many friends in the column,
awarded the Victoria Cross.
When Greathed arrived, the order for a general advance was given,
and we were just moving off in pursuit of the rebels, when the
3rd European Regiment and a battery of Field Artillery under
Lieutenant-Colonel Cotton arrived from the fort. This officer, being
senior to our Brigadier, took command of the force, and untimely
delay was caused while he learnt the details of our position. Having
satisfied himself that the enemy must be followed up, he endorsed
Greathed's order, and off we again started.
We soon overtook the retreating foe, who every now and then turned and
made an ineffectual stand. At the end of about four miles we came upon
their camp; it covered a considerable space, and must have taken
a long time to transport and pitch--a circumstance which made the
ignorance on the part of the Agra authorities as to the close
proximity of the enemy appear even more unaccountable than before.
Our Infantry were now pretty well done up; they had been on the move,
with one or two short intervals, for nearly sixty hours, and the 3rd
Europeans were not in trim for a long and hot day's work after such a
lengthened period of inactivity in the fort, and clad, as they were,
in thick scarlet uniform. The enemy, however, could not be allowed to
carry off their guns; so, leaving the Infantry to amuse themselves by
making hay in the rebels' camp, we pushed forward with the Cavalry and
Artillery. It was a most exciting chase. Property of all sorts and
descriptions fell into our hands, and before we reached the Kari Naddi
we had captured thirteen guns, some of them of large calibre, and a
great quantity of ammunition. The enemy's loss on this occasion was
not very great, owing to the extraordinary facility with which Native
troops can break up and disappear, particularly when crops are on the
ground.
While watching a few of the rebel Cavalry making their escape along
the opposite bank of the Kari Naddi, I noticed about a dozen men
belonging to the 2nd and 4th Punjab Infantry quenching their thirst in
the stream. Carried away by excitement, they had managed to keep up
with the pursuit, never thinking of the inevitable trudge back to
Agra, which meant that, by the time they arrived there, they would
have accomplished a march of not less than 70 miles without a halt,
besides having had a severe fight with an enemy greatly superior in
numbers.
Our casualties were slight: 12 officers and men were killed, 54
wounded, and 2 missing, besides some 20 camp-followers killed and
wounded.
There is no doubt that the enemy were almost as much taken by surprise
as we were. They knew that we were on our way from Aligarh, and had
arranged (as we afterwards heard) with the people of the city to
destroy the bridge of boats in time to prevent our crossing. But our
movements were sufficiently rapid to prevent their carrying their
intention into effect; and although the insurgents were informed that
we had actually crossed the river they refused to believe the report,
and, it was said, hanged the man who brought it. Their incredulity was
strengthened by the small dimensions of the ground taken up for our
camp, and the few tents which were pitched, and they made up their
minds that these were only being prepared for the troops belonging
to the Agra garrison, and so anticipated an easy victory. Their
astonishment first became known when they were repulsed by the 75th
Foot, and were heard to say to one another, '_Arrah bhai! ye Diliwhale
hain!_' (I say, brother! these are the fellows from Delhi!).
We halted at Agra on the 11th, 12th, and 13th October, partly to
rest the men and transport animals, but chiefly on account of the
difficulty we had in getting out of the clutches of the North-West
Provinces Government, the local authorities not caring to be left to
their own resources. Our wounded were taken to the fort, and lodged in
the Moti Masjid,[10] which exquisite little building had been turned
into a hospital. The men were well taken care of by the ladies, who
seemed to think they could never do enough for the Delhi column.
I now for the first time saw the lovely Taj Mahal--that beautiful,
world-famed memorial of a man's devotion to a woman, a husband's
undying love for a dead wife. I will not attempt to describe the
indescribable. Neither words nor pencil could give to the most
imaginative reader the slightest idea of the all-satisfying beauty and
purity of this glorious conception. To those who have not already
seen it, I would say: 'Go to India. The Taj alone is well worth the
journey.'
[Footnote 1: Two troops of Horse Artillery, with four guns and one
howitzer each, commanded respectively by Captains Remmington and
Blunt. One Field Battery, with six guns, commanded by Captain
Bourchier. One British Cavalry regiment, the 9th Lancers, reduced to
300 men, commanded by Major Ouvry. Two British Infantry regiments (the
8th and 75th Foot), commanded respectively by Major Hinde and Captain
Gordon, which could only number between them 450 men. Detachments of
three Punjab Cavalry regiments, the 1st, 2nd and 5th, commanded by
Lieutenants John Watson, Dighton Probyn and George Younghusband,
numbering in all 320 men. A detachment of Hodson's Horse, commanded by
Lieutenant Hugh Gough, and consisting of 180 men. Two Punjab Infantry
regiments, commanded by Captains Green and Wilde, each about 600 men;
and 200 Sappers and Miners, with whom were Lieutenants Home and Lang.]
[Footnote 2: Afterwards Sir Alfred Lyall, G.C.I.E., K.C.B.,
Lieutenant-Governor of the North-West Provinces, and now a member of
the Indian Council.]
[Footnote 3: Now General Sir William Drysdale, K.C.B.]
[Footnote 4: The horse, although badly hurt, was not killed, and
eventually did me good service.]
[Footnote 5: This was the Engineer officer who had such a miraculous
escape when he blew in the Kashmir gate at Delhi, for which act of
gallantry he had been promised the Victoria Cross.]
[Footnote 6: A few years afterwards she communicated with the civil
authorities of the district, and made out such a pitiful story of
ill-treatment by her Mahomedan husband, that she was sent to Calcutta,
where some ladies were good enough to look after her.]
[Footnote 7: Men in charge of the elephants.]
[Footnote 8: Turban.]
[Footnote 9: Native kettle-drum.]
[Footnote 10: Pearl Mosque.]
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