1869-1871
The Lushais--The Lushai expedition--Defective transport again
--Practice _versus_ theory--A severe march
--Lushais foiled by Gurkhas--A successful turning movement
--Murder of Lord Mayo
We spent a very quiet year at Simla. My wife was far from strong, and
we had another great sorrow in the death of a baby boy three weeks
after his birth.
That winter I was left in charge of the Quartermaster-General's
office, and we moved into 'Ellerslie,' a larger and warmer house than
that in which we had lived during the summer.
Simla in the winter, after a fresh fall of snow, is particularly
beautiful. Range after range of hills clothed in their spotless
garments stretch away as far as the eye can reach, relieved in the
foreground by masses of reddish-brown perpendicular cliffs and
dark-green ilex and deodar trees, each bearing its pure white burden,
and decked with glistening fringes of icicles. Towards evening the
scene changes, and the snow takes the most gorgeous colouring from
the descending rays of the brilliant eastern sun--brilliant even in
mid-winter--turning opal, pink, scarlet, and crimson; gradually, as
the light wanes, fading into delicate lilacs and grays, which slowly
mount upwards, till at last even the highest pinnacle loses the
life-giving tints, and the whole snowy range itself turns cold and
white and dead against a background of deepest sapphire blue. The
spectator shivers, folds himself more closely in his wraps, and
retreats indoors, glad to be greeted by a blazing log-fire and a hot
cup of tea.
In the spring of the next year (1870) Sir William Mansfield's term
of command came to an end, and he was succeeded by Lord Napier of
Magd[=a]la. The selection of this distinguished officer for the
highest military position in India was greatly appreciated by the
Indian army, as no officer of that army had held it since the days of
Lord Clive.
In September a daughter was born, and that winter we again remained
at Simla. I amused myself by going through a course of electric
telegraphy, which may seem rather like a work of supererogation; but
during the Umbeyla campaign, when the telegraph office had to be
closed in consequence of all the clerks being laid up with fever, and
we could neither read nor send messages, I determined that I would on
the first opportunity learn electric signalling, in order that I might
be able to decipher and send telegrams should I ever again find myself
in a similar position.
In May my wife and I went for a march across the hills to Chakrata,
and thence to Mussoorie and back by way of Dehra Dun and the plains.
The object of this trip was to settle the boundary of Chakrata, and my
wife took the opportunity of my being ordered on this duty to get away
from Simla, as we had now been there for more than two years, and were
consequently rather longing for a change. Our route lay through most
beautiful scenery, and notwithstanding that the trip was a little
hurried, and that some of the marches were therefore rather long, we
enjoyed it immensely. When passing along the ridge of a very high
hill one afternoon, we witnessed rather a curious sight--a violent
thunderstorm was going on in the valley below us, while we ourselves
remained in the mildest, most serene atmosphere, enjoying bright
sunshine and a blue sky. Dense black clouds filled up the valley a
thousand feet beneath us, the thunder roared, the lightning flashed,
and soon we could hear the rush of waters in the streams below from
the torrents of rain which the clouds were discharging; but it was not
until we had crossed over the mountain, and descended to a low level
on the other side, that we fully realized the effects of the heavy
storm.
On our return to Simla we had the pleasure of a visit from
Major-General Donald Stewart, who had come up to receive Lord Mayo's
instructions before taking over his appointment as Superintendent
of the Andaman Islands. In September he and I travelled together to
Calcutta, to which place I was directed to proceed in order to make
arrangements for a military expedition into the country of the
Lushais, having been appointed senior staff officer to the force.
Lushai, situated between south-eastern Bengal and Burma, was a _terra
incognita_ to me, and I had only heard of it in connexion with the
raids made by its inhabitants upon the tea-gardens in its vicinity,
which had now spread too far away from Cachar for the garrison of that
small military station to afford them protection. From time to time
the Lushais had done the planters much damage, and carried off several
prisoners, and various attempts had been made in the shape of small
military expeditions to punish the tribesmen and rescue the captives;
but from want of proper organization, and from not choosing the right
time of the year, these attempts had hitherto been unsuccessful, and
our failures had the inevitable result of making the Lushais bolder.
Raids became more frequent and more destructive; until at last a
little European girl, named Mary Winchester, was carried off, and
kept by them as a prisoner; on this the Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal
declared that a punitive expedition was 'absolutely necessary for the
future security of the British subjects residing on the Cachar and
Chittagong frontiers.'
The despatch of a force was therefore decided upon; it was to consist
of two small columns[1]--one having its base at Cachar, the other at
Chittagong--commanded respectively by Brigadier-Generals Bourchier,
C.B., and C. Brownlow, C.B., supreme political power being also vested
in these two officers. Long experience had taught Lord Napier the
wisdom of having only one head in time of war, and he impressed upon
the Government his opinion that the civil officers, while acting as
advisers and as the channels of communication with the tribes, should
be subordinate to the control of the two Commanders, who, after having
been put in possession of the views and wishes of the Government,
should be held responsible for carrying them out loyally so far as
circumstances and the safety of the force would permit.
As the existence of the tea industry was at stake, the Lushais having
established a perfect terror on all the estates within their reach,
it was essential that they should be given a severe lesson, and this
could only be done by their principal villages, which lay at some
considerable distance from the base of operations, being visited in
force. The difficult country and the paucity of transport necessitated
the columns being lightly equipped; no tents were to be allowed, and
baggage and followers were to be reduced to a minimum. My instructions
were to fit out and despatch the two columns, and then join
Brigadier-General Bourchier at Cachar.
I was kept in Calcutta all October--not a pleasant month, the climate
then being very muggy and unhealthy. Everyone who could get away had
gone to the Hills or out to sea; and the offices being closed for the
Hindu holidays of the _Durga Puja,_ it was extremely difficult to get
work done. Everything for the Chittagong column had to be sent by
sea. The shipping of the elephants was rather interesting: they clung
desperately to the ground, trying hard to prevent themselves being
lifted from it; and when at last, in spite of all their struggles,
they were hoisted into the air, the helpless appearance of the huge
animals and their despairing little cries and whines were quite
pathetic. I found it trying work being on the river all day; my eyes
suffered from the glare, and I became so reduced that before I left
Calcutta I weighed scarcely over eight stone--rather too fine a
condition in which to enter on a campaign in a mountainous country, so
thickly covered with jungle as to make riding out of the question.
By the 3rd November the equipment and stores for both columns had been
despatched, and on the 16th I joined General Bourchier at the house of
that most hospitable of hosts, Mr. Edgar,[2] Deputy-Commissioner of
Cachar, who accompanied the left column as civil officer.
We left Cachar on the 23rd, and from the outset we had to make our own
roads, a labour which never ceased until the end of January, by which
date 110 miles had been completed. There was not the vestige of a
track to direct us; but I got hold of some people of the country, with
whom I made friends, and induced them to act as guides. Many a long
and weary reconnaissance had to be executed, however, before the line
of advance could be decided upon. The troops worked with a will, and,
notwithstanding the vapour-bath-like atmosphere of the valleys and the
difficult nature of the country, which was a succession of hill-ranges
covered with jungle forests, made almost impenetrable from the huge
creepers, and intersected by rivers and watercourses, a good road,
from six to eight feet wide, was constructed, with a sufficiently easy
gradient for laden elephants to travel over. Cutting one's way day
after day through these dense, gloomy forests, through which hardly a
ray of light penetrates, was most stifling and depressing. One could
hardly breathe, and was quite unable to enjoy the beauty of the
magnificent trees, the graceful bamboos and canes, and the wonderful
creepers, which abounded, and under other circumstances would have
been a source of pleasure; the difficulties we encountered, and the
consequent delay in our progress, quite prevented me from being in a
frame of mind to appreciate my picturesque surroundings.
It became evident from the first that our onward movements would be
greatly impeded by want of transport. Notwithstanding the experience
which ought to have been gained in many small mountain wars, the
Government had not been taught that a properly organized transport
corps was an absolute necessity, and that it was a mere waste of money
to collect a number of men and animals without providing trained
supervision. Fourteen hundred of our coolies were attached to
the Commissariat Department without anyone to look after them,
consequently officers and non-commissioned officers, who could ill be
spared from their regimental duties, had to be told off to organize
and work them.
To add to our troubles, cholera broke out amongst some Nepalese
coolies on their way to join us; out of 840, 251 died in a few days,
and a number deserted panic-stricken, while the rest were so weakened
and shaken that, notwithstanding the care bestowed upon them by their
able and energetic Commandant, Major H. Moore, only 387 joined the
column. We were not much better off in the matter of elephants, which
had been so carelessly selected that only 33 out of the 157 sent with
our column were of any use. All this resulted in our being obliged to
still further reduce our already small kits. Officers were allowed
only forty pounds of baggage, and soldiers twenty-four pounds, limits
within which it was rather difficult to keep. A couple of blankets
were essential, as we should have to operate over mountains five and
six thousand feet high; so was a waterproof sheet, for even if we
should be lucky enough to escape rain, the dew is so heavy in those
parts that it wets one just as thoroughly as a shower of rain. These
three items with my cloak and cork mattress--which is also a very
necessary adjunct in such a damp climate--amounted to thirty-one
pounds, leaving only nine pounds for a change of clothes, plate,
knife, fork, etc.--not too much for a four months' campaign. However,
'needs must,' and it is surprising how many things one considers
absolute necessities under ordinary circumstances turn out to have
been luxuries when we are obliged to dispense with them.
The advance portion of the column did not arrive at Tipai Mukh, only
eighty-four miles from Cachar, until the 9th December, which will give
an idea of the enforced slowness of our progress. Tipai Mukh proved a
very suitable place for our depot: it was situated at the junction
of two rivers, the Tipai and the Barak; thickly-wooded hills rose
precipitously on all sides, but on the right bank of the Barak there
was sufficient level space for all our requirements. With the help
of local coolies, the little Gurkhas were not long in running up
hospitals and storesheds; bamboo, the one material used in Lushailand
for every conceivable purpose, whether it be a house, a drinking
vessel, a bridge, a woman's ear-ring, or a musical instrument, grew
in profusion on the hillside. A trestle bridge was thrown across the
Tipai in a few hours, and about that bridge I have rather an amusing
story to relate. On my telling the young Engineer officer in charge of
the Sapper company that a bridge was required to be constructed with
the least possible delay, he replied that it should be done, but that
it was necessary to calculate the force of the current, the weight to
be borne, and the consequent strength of the timber required. Off he
went, urged by me to be as quick as he could. Some hours elapsed, and
nothing was seen of the Engineer, so I sent for him and asked him when
the bridge was to be begun. He answered that his plans were nearly
completed, and that he would soon be able to commence work. In the
meantime, however, and while these scientific calculations were being
made, the headman of the local coolies had come to me and said, if the
order were given, he would throw a good bridge over the river in no
time. I agreed, knowing how clever Natives often are at this kind
of work, and thinking I might just as well have two strings to this
particular bow. Immediately, numbers of men were to be seen felling
the bamboos on the hillside a short distance above the stream: these
were thrown into the river, and as they came floating down they were
caught by men standing up to their necks in water, who cut them to the
required length, stuck the uprights into the river-bed, and attached
them to each other by pieces laid laterally and longitudinally; the
flooring was then formed also of bamboo, the whole structure was
firmly bound together by strips of cane, and the bridge was pronounced
ready. Having tested its strength by marching a large number of men
across it, I sent for my Engineer friend. His astonishment on seeing a
bridge finished ready for use was great, and became still greater when
he found how admirably the practical woodmen had done their work; from
that time, being assured of their ability to assist him, he wisely
availed himself when difficulties arose of their useful, if
unscientific, method of engineering.
By the 14th December matters had so far progressed as to warrant an
advance. As our route now lay away from the river, scarcity of water
entailed greater care being taken in the selection of encamping
grounds, so on arriving at our halting-place each day I had to
reconnoitre ahead for a suitable site for our next resting-ground, a
considerable addition to the day's work. Road-making for the passage
of the elephants became more difficult, and transport was so deficient
that the troops could only be brought up very gradually. Thus, it was
the 22nd of the month before we reached the Tuibum river, only twenty
miles from Tipai Mukh. On our way we were met by some scouts from
the villages ahead of us, who implored of us to advance no further,
saying, if we would only halt, their headmen would come in and submit
to whatever terms we chose to make. The villagers were informed in
reply that our quarrel was not with them, and so long as we remained
unmolested, not the slightest injury should be done to them, their
villages, or their crops; but that we were determined to reach the
country of Lalbura, the Chief who had been the ringleader in the raids
upon the tea-gardens.
We pushed on as fast as the dense undergrowth would permit until
within about a mile of the river, where we found the road blocked by
a curious erection in the form of a gallows, from which hung two
grotesque figures, made of bamboo. A little further on it was a felled
tree which stopped us; this tree was studded all over with knife-like
pieces of bamboo, and from the incisions into which these were stuck
exuded a red juice, exactly the colour of blood. This was the Lushai
mode of warning us what would be our fate if we ventured further. We,
however, proceeded on our way, bivouacked for the night, and early the
next morning started off in the direction of some villages which we
understood lay in the road to our destination.
For the first thousand feet the ascent was very steep, and the path so
narrow that we could only march in single file. Suddenly we entered
upon a piece of ground cleared for cultivation, and as we emerged from
the forest we were received by a volley from a position about sixty
yards off. A young police orderly, who was acting as our guide, was
knocked over by my side, and a second volley wounded one of the
sepoys, on which we charged and the enemy retired up the hill. We came
across a large number of these _jooms_ (clearings), and at each there
was a like effort to oppose us, always with the same result. After
advancing in this way for the greater part of the day, alternately
through dense jungle and open spaces, and occasionally passing by
scattered cottages, we sighted a good-sized village, where it was
decided we should remain for the night. The day's march had been very
severe, the village being 4,000 feet above the river; and the troops
were so worn out with their exertions that it was with difficulty the
piquets could be got to construct proper shelter for themselves out of
the plentiful supply of trees and underwood ready at hand. Throughout
the night the enemy's sharpshooters kept up an annoying fire under
cover of the forest which surrounded the village, and so as soon as
day dawned a party moved out to clear the ground all round.
It was most aggravating to find from the view we got of the country
from this elevated position that the previous day's harassing march
had been an absolutely useless performance and an unnecessary waste of
time and strength. We could now distinctly see that this village did
not lead to Lalbura's country, as we had been led to believe it would,
and that there was no alternative but to retrace our steps as far as
the river. The men and animals were too tired to march that day, and
the next being Christmas, we made another halt, and commenced our
retirement on the 26th. This was an extremely nasty business, and
had to be carried out with very great caution. The ground, as I said
before, necessitated our proceeding in single file, and with only
250 fighting men (all that our deficient transport admitted of being
brought on to this point) it was difficult to guard the long line
of sick, wounded, and coolies. As soon as we began to draw in our
piquets, the Lushais, who had never ceased their fire, perceiving we
were about to retire, came down in force, and entered one end of the
village, yelling and screaming like demons, before we had got out
at the other. The whole way down the hill they pressed us hard,
endeavouring to get amongst the baggage, but were invariably baffled
by the Gurkhas, who, extending rapidly whenever the ground was
favourable, retired through their supports in admirable order, and
did not once give the enemy the chance of passing them. We had 3 men
killed and 8 wounded during the march, but the Lushais confessed
afterwards to a loss of between 50 and 60.
As we were given to understand that our short retrograde movement had
been interpreted into a defeat by the Lushais, the General wisely
determined to pay the village of Kholel another visit. Our doing so
had the best possible effect. A slight resistance was offered at the
first clearance, but by the time the ridge was reached the Chief,
having become convinced of the uselessness of further opposition,
submitted, and engaged to give hostages and keep open communication
with our depot at Tipai Mukh, a promise which he most faithfully
performed.
1872 opened auspiciously for me. On New Year's Day I was agreeably
surprised by a communication from the Quartermaster-General informing
me that, a vacancy having unexpectedly occurred, Lord Napier had
appointed me Deputy-Quartermaster-General. This was an important step
in my department, and I was proportionately elated.
A few days later I received the good news of the birth of a son at
Umballa on the 8th.
Paucity of transport and difficulty about supplies kept us stationary
on the Tuibum for some time, after which we moved on as before, the
Lushais retiring in front of us until the 25th, when they attacked
us while we were moving along a narrow ravine, with a stream at the
bottom and steep hills on either side. The first volley wounded the
General in the arm and hand, and killed his orderly. The enemy's
intention was evidently to push past the weak column along the
hillside and get amongst the coolies; but this attempt was again
foiled by the Gurkhas, who, flinging off their great-coats, rushed
into the stream and engaged the Lushais before they could get at the
baggage, pressing them up the mountain, rising 2,500 feet above us, as
fast as the precipitous nature of the ascent would allow. On the crest
we found the enemy occupying a good-sized village, out of which we
cleared them and took possession of it ourselves. On this occasion
we had only 4 killed and 8 wounded, including the General, while the
enemy lost about 60. In one place we found a heap of headless bodies.
The Lushais, if unable to remove their dead, invariably decapitate
them to prevent their adversaries from carrying off the heads, their
own mode of dealing with a slain enemy, as they believe that whoever
is in possession of the head will have the man to whom it belonged as
a slave in the next world.
To complete the success we had gained, the General sent me the next
day with a small party to burn the village of Taikum, belonging to the
people who had attacked us. It was past noon before we could make a
start, owing to the non-arrival of the elephants with the guns. When
they did come in, the poor huge creatures were so fatigued by their
climb that it was considered advisable to transfer their loads to
coolies, particularly as the route we had to traverse was reported to
be even more difficult than anything we had yet encountered. When we
had proceeded a short distance, we perceived that our way was blocked
a mile ahead by a most formidable-looking stockade, on one side of
which rose perpendicular cliffs, while on the other was a rocky
ravine. As the nature of the ground did not admit of my approaching
near enough to discover whether the Artillery could be placed so as to
cover the Infantry advance, and being anxious to avoid losing many
of my small party, I settled to turn the stockade by a detour up the
hillside. This manoeuvre took some time, owing to the uncompromising
nature of the country; but it was successful, for when we struck
the track, we found ourselves about a mile on the other side of the
stockade. The Lushais, on realizing what we were about, retired to
Taikum, which place came into view at 5 p.m. It was situated on the
summit of a hill 1,200 yards in front, and was crowded with men. The
guns were brought at once into action, and while Captain Blackwood[3]
was preparing his fuses, I advanced towards the village with the
Infantry. The first shell burst a little beyond the village, the
second was lodged in its very centre, for a time completely paralyzing
the Lushais. On recovering from the shock, they took to their heels
and scampered off in every direction, the last man leaving the village
just as we entered it. The houses, as usual, were made of bamboo, and
after it had been ascertained that there was no living creature inside
any of them, the place was set on fire, and we began our return
journey. There was a bright moon, but even aided by its light we did
not reach our bivouac until midnight. This ended the campaign so far
as opposition was concerned, for not another shot was fired either by
us or against us during the remaining six weeks we continued in the
country.
Soon after this we heard that some of the captives we had come to
relieve had been given up to the Chittagong column, and that Mary
Winchester was safe in General Brownlow's hands--very satisfactory
intelligence, showing as it did that the Lushais were beginning to
understand the advisability of acceding to our demands. The work of
our column, however, was not over, for although, from the information
we received of his whereabouts, we had given up hope of joining hands
with Brownlow, Bourchier determined that Lalbura's country must be
reached; he (Lalbura) being the chief offender, it would never have
done to let him think his stronghold lay beyond our power.
In order that we might be well out of Lushailand before the rains,
which usually begin in that part of the world about the middle of
March, and are extremely heavy, it was decided not to wait until a
road could be made for elephants, but to trust to coolie-carriage
alone, and to push on rapidly as soon as supplies sufficient for
twelve days could be collected. Kits were still further reduced,
officers and soldiers alike being only allowed a couple of blankets
and one or two cooking utensils.
We resumed our march on the 12th February; the route in many places
was strongly and skilfully stockaded, but the tidings of our successes
had preceded us, and our advance was unopposed. In five days we
reached the Chamfai valley, at the end of which, on a high hill,
Lalbura's village was situated.[4] Although Lalbura's father, Vonolel,
had been dead some years, the people still called the place Vonolel's
country. Vonolel had been a famous warrior, and they were evidently
very proud of his reputation. We were shown his tomb, which, like that
of all great Lushai braves, was decorated with the heads of human
beings (his slaves in paradise) and those of animals, besides
drinking-vessels and various kinds of utensils for his use in another
life.
Lalbura had taken himself off; but his headmen submitted to us and
accepted our terms. We remained at this place till the 21st, in
accordance with an agreement we had made with Brownlow to send up
signals on the night of the 20th in case his column should be anywhere
in the neighbourhood. During the three days we stayed amongst them
we mixed freely with the Lushais, who were greatly delighted and
astonished with all we had to show them. The telescope and the
burning-glass amused them greatly; our revolvers excited their
envy; and for the little Mountain guns they displayed the highest
veneration. But what seemed to astonish them more than anything was
the whiteness of our skins, particularly when on closer inspection
they discovered that our arms and bodies were even fairer than our
faces and hands, which to our eyes had become from long exposure so
bronzed as to make us almost unrecognizable as Europeans.
We were all glad that the duty entrusted to us had been satisfactorily
ended, and we were hoping that the Viceroy, who had taken a keen
personal interest in our proceedings, would be satisfied with the
result, when we were shocked and startled beyond measure by hearing
that Lord Mayo had been murdered by a convict while visiting the
Andaman Islands. The disastrous news arrived as we were in the midst
of firing signal-rockets, burning blue-lights, and lighting bonfires
to attract the attention of the Chittagong column. I could not help
thinking of the heavy loss India had sustained, for the manly,
open-hearted Governor-General had impressed the Native Chiefs in quite
an exceptional manner, and he was liked as well as respected by all
classes of Europeans and Natives. I felt also much for Donald Stewart,
to whom, I knew, such a terrible tragedy, happening while he was
Superintendent at Port Blair, would be a heavy blow.
On the 6th March we reached Tipai Mukh, where we bade farewell to our
Lushai friends, numbers of whom accompanied us to get possession of
the empty tins, bags, and casks which were got rid of at every stage.
The hostages and those who had assisted us were liberally rewarded,
and we parted on the best of terms, with promises on their part of
future good behaviour--promises which were kept for nearly twenty
years.
No one was sorry that the marching was at an end, and that the rest of
the journey back was to be performed in boats. Constant hard work and
exposure in a peculiarly malarious and relaxing climate had told upon
the whole force; while our having to depend for so long on tinned
meats, which were not always good, and consisted chiefly of pork, with
an occasional ration of mutton and salt beef, had been very trying to
the officers. One and all were 'completely worn out,' as the principal
medical officer reported; two out of our small number died, and the
General's condition gave cause for grave anxiety. For myself, having a
perfect horror of pork, I think I should have starved outright but
for the extraordinary culinary talent of Mr. Edgar, who disguised
the presence of the unclean animal in such a wonderful way in soups,
stews, etc., that I frequently partook of it without knowing what I
was eating. My wife and some anonymous kind friend sent by post small
tins of Liebig's extract, which were highly appreciated.
Cholera pursued us up to and beyond Cachar; the wretched coolies
suffered most, and it is a disease to which Gurkhas are peculiarly
susceptible, while a feast on a village pig from time to time probably
helped to make matters worse for them. Many of these grand little
soldiers and some of the Sikhs also fell victims to the scourge. My
orderly, a very smart young Gurkha, to my great regret, was seized
with it the day after I reached Cachar, and died next morning.
On my way to Simla, I spent a few days with Norman at Calcutta. The
whole place was in mourning on account of the terrible catastrophe
which had happened at Port Blair.
[Footnote 1: The Cachar column consisted of half of the Peshawar
Mountain battery, one company of Bengal Sappers and Miners, the 22nd
Punjab Infantry, 42nd and 44th Assam Light Infantry. The Chittagong
column consisted of the other half of the Mountain battery, the 27th
Punjab Infantry, and the 2nd and 4th Gurkhas. Each regiment was 500
strong, and each column was accompanied by 100 armed police.]
[Footnote 2: Now Sir John Edgar, K.C.S.I.]
[Footnote 3: Major Blackwood, who was killed at Maiwand, in command of
E Battery, R.H.A.]
[Footnote 4: Latitude 23° 26' 32", longitude (approximately) 93° 25';
within a short distance of Fort White, lately built in the Chin Hills.]
* * * * *