BATTLE OF BAREILLY--GHAZIS--A TERRIBLE ACCIDENT--HALT AT BAREILLY
--ACTIONS OF POSGAON, RUSSOOLPORE, AND NOWRUNGABAD--REST AT LAST!
The heat was now very oppressive, and we had many men struck down by the
sun every day. We reached Shahjehanpore on the 30th of April, and found
that every building in the cantonments fit for sheltering European
troops had been destroyed by order of the Nana Sahib, who, however, did
not himself wait for our arrival. Strange to say, the bridge of boats
across the Ramgunga was not destroyed, and some of the buildings in the
jail, and the wall round it, were still standing. Colonel Hale and a
wing of the Eighty-Second were left here with some guns, to make the
best of their position in the jail, which partly dominated the city. The
Shahjehanpore distillery was mostly destroyed, but the native distillers
had been working it, and there was a large quantity of rum still in the
vats, which was found to be good and was consequently annexed by the
commissariat.
On the 2nd of May we left Shahjehanpore _en route_ for Bareilly, and on
the next day reached Futtehgunge Every village was totally deserted,
but no plundering was allowed, and any camp-followers found marauding
were soon tied up by the provost-marshal's staff. Proclamations were
sent everywhere for the people to remain in their villages, but without
any effect. Two days later we reached Furreedpore, which we also found
deserted, but with evident signs that the enemy were near; and our
bazaars were full of reports of the great strength of the army of Khan
Bahadoor Khan and Feroze Shah. The usual estimate was thirty thousand
infantry, twenty-five thousand cavalry, and about three hundred guns,
among which was said to be a famous black battery that had beaten the
European artillery at ball-practice a few months before they mutinied at
Meerut. The left wing of the Ninety-Third was thrown out, with a
squadron of the Lancers and Tombs' battery, as the advance piquet. As
darkness set in we could see the fires of the enemy's outposts, their
patrol advancing quite close to our sentries during the night, but
making no attack.
About 2 A.M. on the 5th of May, according to Sir Colin's usual
plan, three days' rations were served out, and the whole force was under
arms and slowly advancing before daylight. By sunrise we could see the
enemy drawn up on the plain some five miles from Bareilly, in front of
what had been the native lines; but as we advanced, they retired. By
noon we had crossed the nullah in front of the old cantonments, and,
except by sending round-shot among us at long distances, which did not
do much harm, the enemy did not dispute our advance. We were halted in
the middle of a bare, sandy plain, and we of the rank and file then got
to understand why the enemy were apparently in some confusion; we could
hear the guns of Brigadier Jones ("Jones the Avenger" as he was called)
hammering at them on the other side. The Ninety-Third formed the extreme
right of the front line of infantry with a squadron of the Lancers and
Tombs' battery of horse-artillery. The heat was intense, and when about
two o'clock a movement in the mango _topes_ in our front caused the
order to stand to our arms, it attained such a pitch that the barrels of
our rifles could not be touched by our bare hands!
The Sikhs and our light company advanced in skirmishing order, when some
seven to eight hundred matchlock-men opened fire on them, and all at
once a most furious charge was made by a body of about three hundred and
sixty Rohilla Ghazis, who rushed out, shouting "_Bismillah! Allah!
Allah! Deen! Deen!_" Sir Colin was close by, and called out, "Ghazis,
Ghazis! Close up the ranks! Bayonet them as they come on." However, they
inclined to our left, and only a few came on to the Ninety-Third, and
these were mostly bayoneted by the light company which was extended in
front of the line. The main body rushed on the centre of the
Forty-Second; but as soon as he saw them change their direction Sir
Colin galloped on, shouting out, "Close up, Forty-Second! Bayonet them
as they come on!" But that was not so easily done; the Ghazis charged in
blind fury, with their round shields on their left arms, their bodies
bent low, waving their _tulwars_ over their heads, throwing themselves
under the bayonets, and cutting at the men's legs. Colonel Cameron, of
the Forty-Second, was pulled from his horse by a Ghazi, who leaped up
and seized him by the collar while he was engaged with another on the
opposite side; but his life was saved by Colour-Sergeant Gardener, who
seized one of the enemy's _tulwars_, and rushing to the colonel's
assistance cut off the Ghazi's head. General Walpole was also pulled off
his horse and received two sword-cuts, but was rescued by the bayonets
of the Forty-Second. The struggle was short, but every one of the Ghazis
was killed. None attempted to escape; they had evidently come on to kill
or be killed, and a hundred and thirty-three lay in one circle right in
front of the colours of the Forty-Second.
The Commander-in-Chief himself saw one of the Ghazis, who had broken
through the line, lying down, shamming dead. Sir Colin caught the glance
of his eye, saw through the ruse, and called to one of the Forty-Second,
"Bayonet that man!" But the Ghazi was enveloped in a thick quilted tunic
of green silk, through which the blunt Enfield bayonet would not pass,
and the Highlander was in danger of being cut down, when a Sikh
_sirdar_[46] of the Fourth Punjabis rushed to his assistance, and took
the Ghazi's head clean off with one sweep of his keen _tulwar_. These
Ghazis, with a very few exceptions, were gray-bearded men of the Rohilla
race, clad in green, with green turbans and _kummerbunds_,[47] round
shields on the left arm, and curved _tulwars_ that would split a hair.
They only succeeded in wounding about twenty men--they threw themselves
so wildly on the bayonets of the Forty-Second! One of them, an exception
to the majority, was quite a youth, and having got separated from the
rest challenged the whole of the line to come out and fight him. He then
rushed at Mr. Joiner, the quartermaster of the Ninety-Third, firing his
carbine, but missing. Mr. Joiner returned the fire with his revolver,
and the Ghazi then threw away his carbine and rushed at Joiner with his
_tulwar_. Some of the light company tried to take the youngster
prisoner, but it was no use; he cut at every one so madly, that they had
to bayonet him.
The commotion caused by this attack was barely over, when word was
passed that the enemy were concentrating in front for another rush, and
the order was given for the spare ammunition to be brought to the front.
I was detached with about a dozen men of No. 7 company to find the
ammunition-guard, and bring our ammunition in rear of the line. Just as
I reached the ammunition-camels, a large force of the rebel cavalry, led
by Feroze Shah in person, swept round the flank and among the baggage,
cutting down camels, camel-drivers, and camp-followers in all
directions. My detachment united with the ammunition-guard and defended
ourselves, shooting down a number of the enemy's _sowars_. I remember
the Rev. Mr. Ross, chaplain of the Forty-Second, running for his life,
dodging round camels and bullocks with a rebel _sowar_ after him, till,
seeing our detachment, he rushed to us for protection, calling out,
"Ninety-Third, shoot that impertinent fellow!" Bob Johnston, of my
company, shot the _sowar_ down. Mr. Ross had no sword nor revolver, and
not even a stick with which to defend himself. Moral--When in the field,
_padres_, carry a good revolver! About the same time as Mr. Ross gained
our protection, we saw Mr. Russell, of _The Times_, who was ill and
unable to walk from the kick of a horse, trying to escape on horseback.
He had got out of his _dooly_, undressed and bareheaded as he was, and
leaped into the saddle, as the _syce_ had been leading his horse near
him. Several of the enemy's _sowars_ were dodging through the camels to
get at him. We turned our rifles on them, and I shot down the one
nearest to Mr. Russell, just as he had cut down an intervening
camel-driver and was making for "Our Special"; in fact, his _tulwar_ was
actually lifted to swoop down on Mr. Russell's bare head when my bullet
put a stop to his proceedings. I saw Mr. Russell tumble from his saddle
at the same instant as the _sowar_ fell, and I got a rare fright, for I
thought my bullet must have struck both. However, I rushed to where Mr.
Russell had fallen, and I then saw from the position of the slain
_sowar_ that my bullet had found its proper billet, and that Mr. Russell
was down with sunstroke, the blood flowing freely from his nose. There
was no time to lose. Our Mooltanee Irregulars were after the enemy, and
I had to hasten to the line with the spare ammunition; but before I left
Mr. Russell to his fate, I called some of the Forty-Second
baggage-guards to put him into his _dooly_ and take him to their doctor,
while I hastened back to the line and reported the occurrence to Captain
Dawson. Next morning I was glad to hear that Mr. Russell was still
alive, and likely to get over his stroke.
After this charge of the rebel cavalry we were advanced; but the thunder
of Jones' attack on the other side of the city evidently disconcerted
the enemy, and they made off to the right of our line, while large
numbers of Ghazis concentrated themselves in the main buildings of the
city. We suffered more from the sun than from the enemy; and after we
advanced into the shelter of a large mango _tope_ we were nearly eaten
alive by swarms of small green insects, which invaded our bare legs in
thousands, till we were glad to leave the shelter of the mango trees and
take to the open plain again. As night drew on the cantonments were
secured, the baggage was collected, and we bivouacked on the plain,
strong piquets being thrown out. My company was posted in a small field
of onions near a _pucca_[48] well with a Persian wheel for lifting the
water. We supped off the biscuits in our haversacks, raw onions, and the
cool water drawn from well, and then went off to sleep. I wish I might
always sleep as soundly as I did that night after my supper of raw
onions and dry biscuits!
On the 6th of May the troops were under arms, and advanced on the city
of Bareilly. But little opposition was offered, except from one large
house on the outskirts of the town, in which a body of about fifty
Rohilla Ghazis had barricaded themselves, and a company (I think it was
No. 6 of the Ninety-Third) was sent to storm the house, after several
shells had been pitched into it. This was done without much loss, except
that of one man; I now forget his name, but think it was William
MacDonald. He rushed into a room full of Ghazis, who, before his
comrades could get to his assistance, had cut him into sixteen pieces
with their sharp _tulwars_! As the natives said, he was cut into
annas.[49] But the house was taken, and the whole of the Ghazis slain,
with only the loss of this one man killed and about half a dozen
wounded.
While this house was being stormed the townspeople sent a deputation of
submission to the Commander-in-Chief, and by ten o'clock we had pitched
our camp near the ruins of the church which had been destroyed twelve
months before. Khan Bahadoor Khan and the Nana Sahib were reported to
have fled in the direction of the Nepal Terai, while Feroze Shah, with a
force of cavalry and guns, had gone back to attack Shahjehanpore.
About mid-day on the 6th a frightful accident happened, by which a large
number of camp-followers and cattle belonging to the ordnance-park were
killed. Whether for concealment or by design (it was never known which)
the enemy had left a very large quantity of gunpowder and loaded shells
in a dry well under a huge tree in the centre of the old cantonment. The
well had been filled to the very mouth with powder and shells, and then
covered with a thin layer of dry sand. A large number of ordnance
_khalasies_,[50] bullock-drivers, and _dooly_-bearers had congregated
under the tree to cook their mid-day meal, lighting their fires right on
the top of this powder-magazine, when it suddenly exploded with a most
terrific report, shaking the ground for miles, making the tent-pegs fly
out of the hard earth, and throwing down tents more than a mile from the
spot. I was lying down in a tent at the time, and the concussion was so
great that I felt as if lifted clear off the ground. The tent-pegs flew
out all round, and down came the tents, before the men, many of whom
were asleep, had time to get clear of the canvas. By the time we got our
arms free of the tents, bugles were sounding the assembly in all
directions, and staff-officers galloping over the plain to ascertain
what had happened. The spot where the accident had occurred was easily
found. The powder having been in a deep well, it acted like a huge
mortar, fired perpendicularly; an immense cloud of black smoke was sent
up in a vertical column at least a thousand yards high, and thousands of
shells were bursting in it, the fragments flying all round in a circle
of several hundred yards. As the place was not far from the
ammunition-park, the first idea was that the enemy had succeeded in
blowing up the ammunition; but those who had ever witnessed a similar
accident could see that, whatever had happened, the concussion was too
great to be caused by only one or two waggon-loads of powder. From the
appearance of the column of smoke and the shells bursting in it, as if
shot out of a huge mortar, it was evident that the accident was confined
to one small spot, and the belief became general that the enemy had
exploded an enormous mine. But after some time the truth became known,
the troops were dispersed, and the tents repitched. This explosion was
followed in the afternoon by a most terrific thunderstorm and heavy
rain, which nearly washed away the camp. The storm came on as the
non-commissioned officers of the Ninety-Third and No. 2 company were
falling in to bury Colour-Sergeant Mackie, who had been knocked down by
the sun the day before and had died that forenoon. Just when we were
lowering the body into the grave, there was a crash of thunder almost as
loud as the explosion of the powder-mine. The ground becoming soaked
with rain, the tent-pegs drew and many tents were again thrown down by
the force of the hurricane; and as everything we had became soaked, we
passed a most uncomfortable night.
On the morning of the 7th of May we heard that Colonel Hale and the wing
of the Eighty-Second left in the jail at Shahjehanpore had been attacked
by Feroze Shah and the Nana Sahib, and were sore pushed to defend
themselves. A brigade, consisting of the Sixtieth Rifles, Seventy-Ninth
Highlanders, several native regiments, the Ninth Lancers, and some
batteries of artillery, under Brigadier John Jones ("the Avenger") was
at once started back for the relief of Shahjehanpore--rather a gloomy
outlook for the hot weather of 1858! While this brigade was starting,
the remainder of the force which was to hold Bareilly for the hot
season, consisting of the Forty-Second, Seventy-Eighth, and
Ninety-Third, shifted camp to the sandy plain near where Bareilly
railway station now stands, hard by the little fort in the centre of the
plain. There we remained in tents during the whole of May, large working
parties being formed every morning to assist the engineers to get what
shelter was possible ready for the hottest months. The district jail was
arranged as barracks for the Ninety-Third, and we moved into them on the
1st of June. The Forty-Second got the old _cutchery_[51] buildings with
a new thatch roof; and the Seventy-Eighth had the Bareilly College.
There we remained till October, 1858.
I omitted to mention in its proper place that on the death of Adrian
Hope, Colonel A. S. Leith-Hay, of the Ninety-Third, succeeded to the
command of the brigade, and Major W. G. A. Middleton got command of the
regiment till we rejoined the Commander-in-Chief, when it was found that
Lieutenant-Colonel Ross, who had exchanged with Lieutenant-Colonel C.
Gordon, had arrived from England and taken command before we retook
Bareilly.
We remained in Bareilly from May till October in comparative peace. We
had one or two false alarms, and a wing of the Forty-Second, with some
cavalry and artillery, went out about the beginning of June to disperse
a body of rebels who were threatening an attack on Moradabad.
These reminiscences do not, as I have before remarked, profess to be a
history of the Mutiny except in so far as I saw it from the ranks of the
Ninety-Third. But I may correct historical mistakes when I find them,
and in vol. ii., p. 500, of _The Indian Empire_, by R. Montgomery
Martin, the following statement occurs: "Khan Bahadoor Khan, of
Bareilly, held out in the Terai until the close of 1859; and then,
hemmed in by the Goorkhas on one side and the British forces on the
other, was captured by Jung Bahadoor. The Khan is described as an old
man, with a long white beard, bent almost double with rheumatic fever.
His life is considered forfeited by his alleged complicity in the
Bareilly murders, but his sentence is not yet pronounced." This is not
historically correct. Khan Bahadoor Khan was captured by the Bareilly
police-levy early in July, 1858, and was hanged in my presence in front
of the _kotwalee_ in Bareilly a few days after his capture. He was an
old man with a long white beard, but not at all bent with age, and there
was certainly no want of proof of his complicity in the Bareilly
murders. Next to the Nana Sahib he was one of the most active
instigators of murder in the rebel ranks. He was a retired judge of the
Company's service, claiming descent from the ancient rulers of
Rohilcund, whom the English, in the time of Warren Hastings, had
assisted the Nawab of Lucknow to put down in the Rohilla war. His
capture was effected in the following manner:--Colonel W. C. M'Donald,
of the Ninety-Third, was on the staff in the Crimea, and he had in his
employ a man named Tahir Beg who was a sort of confidential interpreter.
Whether this man was Turkish, Armenian, or Bulgarian I don't know, but
this much I do know; among Mahommedans Tahir Beg was a strict Mussulman,
among Bulgarians he was a Roman Catholic, and in the Ninety-Third he had
no objections to be a Presbyterian. He was a good linguist, speaking
English, French, and Turkish, as well as most of the vernaculars of Asia
Minor; and when the Crimean war was over, he accompanied Major M'Donald
to England in the capacity of an ordinary servant. In 1857, when the
expedition under Lord Elgin was being got ready for China, Colonel
M'Donald was appointed quarter-master-general, and started for Canton
taking Tahir Beg with him as a servant; but, the expedition to China
having been diverted for the suppression of the Mutiny, M'Donald
rejoined the regiment with Tahir Beg still with him in the same
capacity. From his knowledge of Turkish and Persian Tahir Beg soon made
himself master of Hindoostanee, and he lived in the regimental bazaar
with the Mahommedan shopkeepers, among whom he professed himself a
strict follower of the Prophet. After he became pretty well conversant
with the language, it was reported that he gained much valuable
information for the authorities. When Bareilly was recaptured
arrangements were made for the enlistment of a police-levy, and Tahir
Beg got the appointment of city _kotwal_[52] and did valuable service by
hunting out a great number of leading rebels. It was Tahir Beg who heard
that Khan Bahadoor Khan had returned to the vicinity of Bareilly with
only a small body of followers; and he arranged for his capture, and
brought him in a prisoner to the guard-room of the Ninety-Third. Khan
Bahadoor Khan was put through a brief form of trial by the civil power,
and was found guilty of rebellion and murder upon both native and
European evidence. By that time several Europeans who had managed to
escape to Naini Tal on the outbreak of the Mutiny through the favour of
the late Raja of Rampore, had returned; so there was no doubt of the
prisoner's guilt.
I must mention another incident that happened in Bareilly. Among the
gentlemen who returned from Naini Tal, was one whose brother had been
shot by his bearer, his most trusted servant. This ruffian turned out to
be no other than the very man who had denounced Jamie Green as a spy. It
was either early in August or at the end of July that a strange European
gentleman, while passing through the regimental bazaar of the
Ninety-Third, noticed an officer's servant, who was a most devout
Christian, could speak English, and was a regular attendant at all
soldiers' evening services with the regimental chaplain. The gentleman
(I now forget his name) laid hold of our devout Christian brother in the
bazaar, and made him over to the nearest European guard, when he was
tried and found guilty of the murder of a whole family of
Europeans--husband, wife, and children--in May, 1857. There was no want
of evidence, both European and native, against him. Thus was the death
of the unfortunate Jamie Green avenged. I may add a rather amusing
incident about this man. His master evidently believed that this was a
case of mistaken identity, and went to see the brigadier, Colonel A. S.
Leith-Hay, on behalf of his servant. But it turned out that the man had
joined the British camp at Futtehghur in the preceding January, and
Colonel Leith-Hay was the first with whom he had taken service and
consequently knew the fellow. However, the brigadier listened to what
the accused's master had to urge until he mentioned that the man was a
most devout Christian, and read the Bible morning and evening. On this
Colonel Leith-Hay could listen to the argument no longer, but shouted
out:--"He a Christian! that be d--d for a statement! He's no more a
Christian than I am! He served me for one month, and robbed me of more
than ten times his pay. Let him be hanged." So he was made over to the
civil commissioner, tried, found guilty, and hanged.
We rested in Bareilly till October. About the end of September the
weather was comparatively cool. Many people had returned from Naini Tal
to look after their wrecked property. General Colin Troup with the
Sixty-Sixth Regiment of Goorkhas had come down from Kumaon, and
soldiers' sports were got up for the amusement of the troops and
visitors. Among the latter was the loyal Raja of Rampore, who presented
a thousand rupees for prizes for the games and five thousand for a
dinner to all the troops in the garrison. At these games the
Ninety-Third carried off all the first prizes for putting the shot,
throwing the hammer, and tossing the caber. Our best athlete was a man
named George Bell, of the grenadier company, the most powerful man in
the British army. Before the regiment left England Bell had beaten all
comers at all the athletic games throughout Scotland. He stood about six
feet four inches, and was built in proportion, most remarkably active
for his size both in running and leaping, and also renowned for feats of
strength. There was a young lad of the band named Murdoch MacKay, the
smallest boy in the regiment, but a splendid dancer; and the two, "the
giant and the pigmy," as they were called, attended all the athletic
games throughout Scotland from Edinburgh to Inverness, always returning
covered with medals. I mention all this because the Bareilly sports
proved the last to poor George Bell. An enormous caber having been cut,
and all the leading men (among them some very powerful artillerymen) of
the brigade had tried to toss it and failed. The brigadier then ordered
three feet to be cut from it, expressing his opinion that there was not
a man in the British army who could toss it. On this George Bell stepped
into the arena, and said he would take a turn at it before it was cut;
he put the huge caber on his shoulders, balanced it, and tossed it clean
over. While the caber was being cut for the others, Bell ran in a
hundred yards' race, which he also won; but he came in with his mouth
full of blood. He had, through over-exertion, burst a blood-vessel in
his lungs. He slowly bled to death and died about a fortnight after we
left Bareilly, and lies buried under a large tree in the jungles of Oude
between Fort Mithowlie and the banks of the Gogra. Bell was considered
an ornament to, and the pride of, the regiment, and his death was
mourned by every officer and man in it, and by none more than by our
popular doctor, Billy Munro, who did everything that a physician could
do to try and stop the bleeding; but without success. Bell gradually
sank till he died.
We left Bareilly on the 10th of October, and marched to Shahjehanpore,
where we were joined by a battalion of the Sixtieth Rifles, the
Sixty-Sixth Goorkhas, some of the Sixth Carabineers, Tomb's troop of
horse-artillery, and a small train of heavy guns and mortars. On the
17th of October we had our first brush with the enemy at the village of
Posgaon, about twenty miles from Shahjehanpore. Here they were strong in
cavalry, and tried the Bareilly game of getting round the flanks and
cutting up our camp-followers. But a number of them got hemmed in
between the ammunition-guard and the main line, and Cureton's Mooltanee
cavalry, coming round on them from both flanks, cut down about fifty of
them, capturing their horses. In the midst of this scrimmage two of the
enemy, getting among the baggage-guard, were taken for two of our native
cavalry, till at length they separated from the main body and got
alongside of a man who was some distance away. One of them called to the
poor fellow to look in another direction, when the second one cut his
head clean off, leaped from his horse, and, lifting the head, sprang
into his saddle and was off like the wind! Many rifle-bullets were sent
after him, but he got clear away, carrying the head with him.
The next encounter we had was at Russoolpore, and then at Nowrungabad,
where the Queen's proclamation, transferring the government from the
Company to the Crown, was read. After this all our tents were sent into
Mahomdee, and we took to the jungles without tents or baggage, merely a
greatcoat and a blanket; and thus we remained till after the taking of
Mithowlie. We then returned to Sitapore, where we got our tents again
the day before Christmas, 1858; and by the new year we were on the banks
of the Gogra, miles from any village. The river swarmed with alligators
of enormous size, and the jungles with wild pig and every variety of
game, and scarcely a day passed without our seeing tigers, wolves, and
hyaenas. But by this time fighting was over. We remained in those jungles
across the Gogra, in sight of the Nepaul hills, till about the end of
February, by which time thousands of the rebels had tendered their
submission and returned to their homes. The Ninety-Third then got the
route for Subathoo, in the Himalayas near Simla. Leaving the jungles of
Oude, we marched _via_ Shahjehanpore, Bareilly, Moradabad, and thence by
the foot of the hills till we came into civilised regions at
Saharunpore; thence to Umballa, reaching Subathoo about the middle of
April with our clothes completely in rags. We had received no new
clothing since we had arrived in India, and our kilts were torn into
ribbons. But the men were in splendid condition, and could have marched
thirty miles a day without feeling fatigued, if our baggage-animals
could have kept up with us. On our march out from Kalka, the
Commander-in-Chief passed us on his way to Simla.
This ended the work of the old Ninety-Third Sutherland Highlanders in
the Mutiny, and here, for the present, I will end my reminiscences.
FOOTNOTES:
[46] Native officer.
[47] Sashes.
[48] In this instance this word of many meanings implies "masonry."
[49] Is it necessary to explain that sixteen annas go to the rupee?
[50] Tent-pitchers.
[51] Court-house.
[52] Magistrate.
APPENDIX A
THE HISTORY OF THE MURDER OF MAJOR NEILL AT AUGUR IN 1887
I will relate an incident of an unusual kind, told to me by a man whom I
met in Jhansi, which has reference to the executions ordered by General
Neill at Cawnpore in July and August, 1857. But before I do so I may
mention that in Cawnpore, Jhansi, and Lucknow I found the natives very
unwilling to enter into conversation or to give any information about
the events of that year. In this statement I don't include the natives
of the class who acted as guides, etc., or those who were in the service
of Government at the time. _They_ were ready enough to talk; but as a
rule I knew as much myself as they could tell me. Those whom I found
suspicious of my motives and unwilling to talk, were men who must have
been on the side of the rebels against us. I looked out for such, and
met many who had evidently served as soldiers, and who admitted that
they had been in the army before 1857; but when I tried to get them to
speak about the Mutiny, as a rule they pretended to have been so young
that they had forgotten all about it,--generally a palpable falsehood,
judging from their personal appearance,--or they professed to have been
absent in their villages and to know nothing about the events happening
in the great centres of the rebellion. The impression left on my mind
was that they were either afraid or ashamed to talk about the Mutiny.
In the second chapter of these reminiscences it may be remembered I
asked if any reader could let me know whether Major A. H. S. Neill,
commanding the Second Regiment Central India Horse, who was shot on
parade by Sowar Mazar Ali at Augur, Central India, on the 14th March,
1887, was a son of General Neill of Cawnpore fame. The information has
not been forthcoming[53]; and for want of it I cannot corroborate the
following statement in a very strange story.
In 1892 I passed two days at Jhansi, having been obliged to wait because
the gentleman whom I had gone to see on business was absent from the
station; and I went all over the city to try and pick up information
regarding the Mutiny. I eventually came across a man who, by his
military salute, I could see had served in the army, and I entered into
conversation with him.
At first he pretended that his connection with the army had merely been
that of an armourer-_mistree_[54] of several European regiments; and he
told me that he had served in the armourer's shop of the Ninety-Third
when they were in Jhansi twenty-four years ago, in 1868 and 1869. After
I had informed him that the Ninety-Third was my regiment, he appeared to
be less reticent; and at length he admitted that he had been an armourer
in the service of Scindia before the Mutiny, and that he was in Cawnpore
when the Mutiny broke out, and also when the city was retaken by
Generals Havelock and Neill.
After a long conversation he appeared to be convinced that I had no evil
intentions, but was merely anxious to collect reliable evidence
regarding events which, even now, are but slightly known. Amongst other
matters he told me that the (late) Maharaja Scindia was not by any means
so loyal as the Government believed him to be; that he himself (my
informant) had formed one of a deputation that was sent to Cawnpore from
Gwalior to the Nana Sahib before the outbreak; and that although keeping
in the background, the Maharaja Scindia incited his army to rebellion
and to murder their officers, and himself fled as a pretended fugitive
to Agra to devise means to betray the fort of Agra, should the Gwalior
army, as he anticipated would be the case, prove victorious over the
British. He also told me that the farce played by Scindia about 1874,
viz. the giving up a spurious Nana Sahib, was a prearranged affair
between Scindia and the _fakeer_ who represented the Nana. But, as I
expressed my doubts about the truth of all this, my friend came down to
more recent times, and asked me if I remembered about the murder of
Major Neill at Augur in Central India in 1887, thirty years after the
Mutiny? I told him that I very well remembered reading of the case in
the newspapers of the time. He then asked me if I knew why Major Neill
was murdered? I replied that the published accounts of the murder and
trial were so brief that I had formed the conclusion that something was
concealed from the public, and that I myself was of opinion that a woman
must have been the cause of the murder,--that Major Neill possibly had
been found in some intrigue with one of Mazar Ali's womenkind. To which
he replied that I was quite wrong. He then told me that Major Neill was
a son of General Neill of Cawnpore fame, and that Sowar Mazar Ali, who
shot him, was a son of Suffur Ali, _duffadar_ of the Second Regiment
Light Cavalry, who was unjustly accused of having murdered Sir Hugh
Wheeler at the Suttee Chowrah _ghat_, and was hanged for the murder by
order of General Neill, after having been flogged by sweepers and made
to lick clean a portion of the blood-stained floor of the
slaughter-house.
After the recapture of Cawnpore, Suffur Ali was arrested in the city,
and accused of having cut off General Wheeler's head as he alighted from
his palkee at the Suttee Chowrah _ghat_ on the 27th of June, 1857. This
he stoutly denied, pleading that he was a loyal servant of the Company
who had been compelled to join in the Mutiny against his will. General
Neill, however, would not believe him, so he was taken to the
slaughter-house and flogged by Major Bruce's sweeper-police till he
cleaned up his spot of blood from the floor of the house where the women
and children were murdered. When about to be hanged Suffur Ali adjured
every Mahommedan in the crowd to have a message sent to Rohtuck, to his
infant son, by name Mazar Ali, to inform him that his father had been
unjustly denied and flogged by sweepers by order of General Neill before
being hanged, and that his dying message to him was that he prayed God
and the Prophet to spare him and strengthen his arm to avenge the death
of his father on General Neill or any of his descendants.
My informant went on to tell me that Mazar Ali had served under Major
Neill for years, and had been treated by him with special kindness
before he came to know that the Major was the son of the man who had
ordered his father's execution; that while he was lying ill in hospital
a _fakeer_ one day arrived in the station from some remote quarter of
India, and told him of his father's dying imprecation, and that Major
Neill being the son of General Neill, it was the decree of fate that
Mazar Ali should shoot Major Neill on parade the following day; which he
did, without any apparent motive whatever.
I expressed my doubts about the truth of all this, when my informant
told me he could give me a copy of a circular, printed in Oordoo and
English, given to the descendants of Suffur Ali, directing them, as a
message from the other world, to avenge the death and defilement of
their father. The man eventually brought the leaflet to me in the _dak_
bungalow in Jhansi. The circular is in both Oordoo and English, and
printed in clean, clear type; but so far as I can read it, the English
translation, which is printed on the leaflet beneath the Oordoo, and a
copy of which I reproduce below, does not strike me as a literal
translation of the Oordoo. The latter seems to me to be couched in
language calculated to prove a much stronger incitement to murder than
the English version would imply. However, the following is the English
version _verbatim_, as it appears on the leaflet, word for word and
point for point, italics and all.
_The imprecation, vociferated by_ SUFFUR ALI,
_Duffadar 2nd Regiment Light Cavalry, who was executed at
the Slaughter-house, on the 25th July, 1857, for killing_
SIR HUGH WHEELER, _at the Suttechoura Ghat_.
Oh Mahomed Prophet! be pleased to receive into Paradise the
soul of your humble servant, whose body Major Bruce's Mehtur
police are now defiling by lashes, forced to lick a space of
the blood-stained floor of the Slaughter-house, and
hereafter to be hanged, by the order of General Neill. And,
oh Prophet! in due time inspire my infant son Mazar Ali of
Rohtuck, that he may revenge this desecration on the General
and his descendants.
_Take notice!_--Mazar Ali, Sowar, 2nd Regiment, Central
India Horse, who under divine mission, shot Major A. H. S.
Neill, Commanding the Corps, at Augur, Central India, on the
14th March 1887, was sentenced to death by Sir Lepel
Griffin, Governor-General's Agent.
The Oordoo in the circular is printed in the Persian character without
the vowel-points, and as I have not read much Oordoo since I passed my
Hindoostanee examination thirty-three years ago, I have had some
difficulty in translating the leaflet, especially as it is without the
vowel-points. The man who gave it to me asked if I knew anything about
the family of General Neill, and I replied that I did not, which was the
truth. When I asked why he wanted to know, he said that if any more of
his sons were still in India, their lives would soon be taken by the
descendants of men who were defiled and hanged at Cawnpore under the
brigade-order of General Neill, dated Cawnpore, 25th of July, 1857. This
is the order to which I have alluded in the second chapter of my
reminiscences, and which remained in force till the arrival of Sir Colin
Campbell at Cawnpore in the following November. As I had never seen a
copy of it, having only heard of it, I asked my informant how he knew
about it. He told me that thousands of copies, in English, Oordoo, and
Hindee, were in circulation in the bazaars of Upper India. I told my
friend that I should very much like to see a copy, and he promised to
bring me one. Shortly after he left me in the _dak_ bungalow,
undertaking to return with a copy of the order, as also numerous
proclamations from the English Government, and the counter-proclamations
on the part of the leaders of the rebellion. I thought that here I had
struck a rich historical mine; but my friend did not turn up again! I
sat up waiting for him till long after midnight, and as he did not
return I went into the city again the following day to the place where I
had met him; but all the people around pretended to know nothing
whatever about the man, and I saw no more of him. However, I was glad to
have got the leaflet _re_ the assassination of Major Neill, because
several gentlemen have remarked, since I commenced my reminiscences,
that I mention so many incidents not generally known, that many are
inclined to believe that I am inventing history rather than relating
facts. But that is not so; and, besides what I have related, I could
give hundreds of most interesting incidents that are not generally known
nor ever will be known.[55]
Now, in my humble opinion, is the time that a history of the real facts
and causes of the Mutiny should be written, if a competent man could
devote the time to do so, and to visit the centres of the rebellion and
get those who took part in the great uprising against the rule of the
Feringhee to come forward, with full confidence of safety, and relate
all they know about the affair. Thousands of facts would come to light
which would be of immense historical importance, as also of great
political value to Government, facts that in a few years will become
lost to the world, or be remembered only as traditions of 1857. But the
man who is to undertake the work must be one with a thorough knowledge
of the native character and languages, a man of broad views, and, above
all, one who would, to a certain extent, sympathise with the natives,
and inspire them with confidence and enlist their assistance. As a rule,
the Englishman, the Government official, the _Sahib Bahadoor_, although
respected, is at the same time too much feared, and the truth would be
more or less concealed from him. I formed this opinion when I heard of
the circumstances which are supposed to have led to the assassination of
Major Neill. If true, we have here secret incitement to murder handed
down for generations, and our Government, with its extensive police and
its Thuggee Department, knowing nothing about it![56]
FOOTNOTES:
[53] Major Neill _was_ a son of Brigadier-General Neill commanding at
Cawnpore during the first relief of Lucknow. General Neill went to the
front as colonel commanding the First Madras Fusiliers.
[54] Workman; in this case a blacksmith.
[55] "Some of the incidents related by Mr. Forbes-Mitchell, and now for
the first time brought to light in his most interesting series of
Reminiscences, are of so sensational an order that we are not surprised
that many persons to whom the narrator is a stranger should regard them
with a certain incredulity. We may take this opportunity therefore of
stating that, so far as it is possible at this date to corroborate
incidents that occurred thirty-five years ago, Mr. Forbes-Mitchell has
afforded us ample proof of the accuracy of his memory and the general
correctness of his facts. In the case under notice, we have been shown
the leaflet in which Mazar Ali's cold-blooded murder of his commanding
officer is vindicated, and of which the English translation above given
is an exact reproduction. The leaflet bears no evidence whatever to
disclose its origin, but we see no reason to doubt that, as Mr.
Forbes-Mitchell's informant declared, it was widely circulated in the
bazaars of Upper India shortly after Mazar Ali paid the penalty of his
crime with his own life."--ED. _Calcutta Statesman._
[56] The _vendetta_ is such a well-known institution among the Pathans,
that no further explanation of Major Neill's murder by the son of a man
who was executed by the Major's father's orders is necessary.
APPENDIX B
EUROPEANS AMONG THE REBELS
Although recollections of the Mutiny are fast being obliterated by the
kindly hand of time, there must still be many readers who will remember
the reports current in the newspapers of the time, and elsewhere in 1857
and 1858, of Europeans being seen in the ranks of the rebels. In a
history of _The Siege of Delhi, by an Officer who served there_ (name
not given), published by Adam and Charles Black, Edinburgh, 1861, the
following passages occur. After describing the battle of
Budlee-ke-Serai, the writer goes on to say: "The brave old Afghan chief,
Jan Fishan Khan,[57] who with some horsemen had followed our star from
Meerut, was heard crying out, his stout heart big with the enthusiasm of
the moment: 'Another such day, and I shall become a Christian!'" And in
his comments on this the writer says: "And sad to tell, a European
deserter from Meerut had been struck down fighting in the sepoy ranks,
and was recognised by his former comrades." After describing the opening
of the siege and the general contempt which the Europeans had for the
enemy's artillery, the writer states that the tone of conversation in
the camp was soon changed, and "From being an object of contempt, their
skill became one of wonder and admiration, perhaps too great. Some
artillery officers protested that their practice was better than our
own. Many believed that their fire was under the superintendence of
Europeans. Two men with solar helmets could be seen, by the help of our
best glasses, in their batteries, but no one who knew how much of the
work in India was really done by natives, wondered at the practical
skill they now showed." Turning from Delhi to Lucknow, many will
remember the account of the disastrous action at Chinhut by Mr. Rees. He
says: "The masses of the rebel cavalry by which the British were
outflanked near the Kookrail bridge, were apparently commanded by some
European who was seen waving his sword and attempting to make his men
follow him and dash at ours. He was a handsome-looking man, well-built,
fair, about twenty-five years of age, with light moustaches, wearing the
undress uniform of a European cavalry officer, with a blue, gold-laced
cap on his head." Mr. Rees suggests the possibility of this person
having been either a Russian or a renegade Christian.
The only other case to which I will allude came under my own
observation. I have told in my fourteenth chapter how Brigadier Adrian
Hope was killed in the abortive attack on the fort of Rooyah, by a shot
fired from a high tree inside the fort, and how it was commonly believed
that the man who fired the shot was a European. I myself thought at the
time that such was the case, and now I am convinced of it. I was the
non-commissioned officer of a party of the Ninety-Third sent to cover an
engineer-officer who had either volunteered or been ordered to take a
sketch of one of the fort gates and its approaches, in the hope of being
able to blow it in, and thus gain an entrance to the fort, which was
surrounded by a deep ditch, and inside the ditch an almost impenetrable
belt of prickly bamboos about ten yards in breadth, so interwoven and
full of thorns that a cat could scarcely have passed through it. Under
the guidance of a native of the Intelligence Department, we managed to
advance unseen, and got under cover of a thick clump of bamboos near the
gate. Strict orders had been given that no one on any account whatever
was to speak, much less to fire a shot, unless we should be attacked,
for fear of drawing attention to our proceedings, till the engineer had
had time to make a rough sketch of the position of the gate and its
approaches. During this time we were so close to the fort that we could
hear the enemy talking inside; and the man who was on the tree could be
seen and heard by us quite plainly, calling to the stormers on the other
face in unmistakable barrack-room English: "Come on, you ----
Highlanders! Come on, Scotty! you have a harder nut to crack than eating
oatmeal porridge. If you can come through these bamboos we'll warm your
---- for you, if you come in here!" etc., etc. In short, the person
talking showed such a command of English slang and barrack-room abuse
that it was clear he was no native. Every one of my party was convinced
that the speaker was a European, and if we had been aware at the time
that this man had just killed Brigadier Hope he would certainly have
paid the penalty with his own life; but we knew nothing of this till we
retired, and found that the stormers had been recalled, with the
butcher's bill already given.
The events above related had almost passed from my recollection, till
they were recalled by the following circumstance. A vacancy having
occurred among the _durwans_[58] in the factory under my charge, among
several candidates brought by the _jemadar_[59] for the vacant post was
a fine-looking old man, who gave me an unmistakable military salute in
the old style, square from the shoulder--quite different from the
present mongrel German salute, which the English army has taken to
imitating since the Germans beat their old conquerors, the French; I
mean the present mode of saluting with the palm of the hand turned to
the front. As soon as I saw this old man I knew he had been a soldier;
my heart warmed to him at once, and I determined to give him the vacant
appointment. So turning to him I said: "You have served in the army; are
you one of the sepoys of 1857?" He at once admitted that he had formerly
belonged to the Ninth Native Infantry, and that he was present with the
regiment when it mutinied at Allyghur on the 20th of May, 1857. He had
accompanied the regiment to Delhi, and had fought against the English
throughout the siege, and afterwards at Lucknow and throughout the Oude
campaigns. "But, _Sahib_" said he, "the Ninth Regiment were almost the
only regiment which did not murder their officers. We gave each of them
three months' pay in advance from the treasury, and escorted them and
their families within a safe distance of Agra before we went to Delhi,
and all of us who lived to come through the Mutiny were pardoned by the
Government." I knew this to be the truth, and ordered the _jemadar_ to
enrol the applicant, by name Doorga, or Doorga Sing, late sepoy of the
Ninth Native Infantry, as one of the factory _durwans_, determining to
have many a talk with him on his experiences of the Mutiny.
Many of my readers may recollect that, after escorting their European
officers to the vicinity of Agra, the Ninth Regiment went to Delhi, and
throughout the siege the men of this regiment proved the most daring
opponents of the British Army. According to Mead's _Sepoy Revolt_, "The
dead bodies of men bearing the regimental number of the Ninth Regiment
were found in the front line of every severe engagement around Delhi and
at the deadly Cashmere Gate when it was finally stormed." After engaging
Doorga Sing it was not long before I made him relate his experiences of
the siege of Delhi, and afterwards at Lucknow and in Oude, and one day I
happened to ask him if it was true that there were several Europeans in
the rebel army. He told me that he had heard of several, but that he
personally knew of two only, one of whom accompanied the mutineers from
Meerut and was killed at the battle of Budlee-ke-Serai,--evidently the
deserter alluded to above. The other European was a man of superior
stamp, who came to Delhi from Rohilcund with the Bareilly Brigade, and
the King gave him rank in the rebel army next to General Bukht Khan, the
titular Commander-in-Chief, This European commanded the artillery
throughout the siege of Delhi, as he had formerly been in the Company's
artillery and knew the drill better than any man in the rebel army. I
asked Doorga Sing if he had ever heard his name or what rank he held
before the Mutiny, and he said he had heard his name at the time, but
had forgotten it, and that before the Mutiny he had held the rank of
sergeant-major, but whether in the native artillery or in one of the
native infantry regiments at Bareilly he did not now recollect. But the
Badshah promoted him to be general of artillery immediately on the
arrival of the Bareilly Brigade, and he was by far the bravest and most
energetic commander that the rebels had, and the most esteemed by the
revolted sepoys, whose respect he retained to the last. Even after they
had ceased saluting their native officers they continued to turn out
guards and present arms to the European _sahib_. Throughout the siege of
Delhi there was never a day passed that this man did not visit every
battery, and personally correct the elevation of the guns. He fixed the
sites and superintended the erection of all new batteries to counteract
the fire of the English as the siege advanced. On the day of the
assault, the 14th of September, he fought like _shaitan_,[60] fighting
himself and riding from post to post, trying to rally defeated sepoys,
and bringing up fresh troops to the support of assailed points. Doorga
Sing's company had formed the guard at the Cashmere Gate, and he vividly
described the attack and defence of that post, and how completely the
sepoys were surprised and the powder-bags fixed to the gate before the
sentries of the guard were aware of the advance of the English.
After the assault Doorga Sing did not see the European till the beaten
army reached Muttra, when he again found him superintending the
arrangements for crossing the Jumna. About thirty thousand sepoys had
collected there in their retreat from Delhi, a common danger holding
them together, under the command of Bukht Khan and Feroze Shah. But they
paid more respect to the European, and obeyed his orders with far more
alacrity than they did those of Bukht Khan or any other of their nominal
leaders. After crossing the Jumna the European remained with the rebels
till they reached a safe retreat on the Oude side of the Ganges, when he
left the force in company with the Raja of Surajpore, a petty state on
the Oude side about twenty or twenty-five miles above Cawnpore. About
this time my informant, Doorga Sing, having been wounded at Delhi, left
the rebel army _en route_ to Lucknow, and returned to his village near
Onao in Oude; but hearing of the advance of the English, and expecting
no mercy, he and several others repaired to Lucknow, and rejoined their
old comrades.
He did not again see the European till after the fall of Lucknow, when
he met him at Fort Rooyah, where he commanded the sepoys, and was the
principal adviser of the Raja Nirput Singh, whom he prevented from
accepting the terms offered by the English through General Walpole. I am
fully convinced that this was the man whom we saw in the tree, and who
was reported to have killed Brigadier Hope.
After their retreat from Rooyah the sepoys, under this European,
remained in the jungles till the English army had passed on to Bareilly,
when they reattacked Shahjehanpore, and would have retaken it, if a
brigade had not arrived from Bareilly to its relief. After being driven
back from Shahjehanpore the sepoys held together in Mahomdee, Sitapore,
and elsewhere, throughout the hot season of 1858, mostly under the
guidance of the European and Bukht Khan. The last time Doorga Sing saw
the renegade was after the battle of Nawabgunge in Oude, where Bukht
Khan was killed and a large number of the sepoys were driven across the
Raptee into Nepaul territory, upon which they held a council among
themselves and determined to follow their leaders no longer, but to give
themselves up to the nearest English post under the terms of the Queen's
proclamation. The European tried to dissuade them from doing this,
telling them that if they gave themselves up they would all be hanged
like dogs or sent in chains across the _Kala Pani_.[61] But they had
already suffered too much to be further imposed upon, and one of their
number, who had gone to get information about other parties who were
known to have given themselves up to the English, returned at this time
with information that all sepoys who had not taken part in murdering
their officers were, after giving up their arms, provided with a pass
and paid two rupees each, and allowed to return to their villages. On
this the greater part of the sepoys, including all left alive of the
Ninth Regiment, told the European that they had resolved to listen to
him no longer, but to return to their villages and their families, after
giving themselves up at the nearest English post. Thereupon the _sahib_
sat down and commenced to shed tears, saying _he_ had neither home nor
country to return to. There he was left, with a few more whose crimes
had placed them beyond the hope of pardon; and that was the last which
Doorga Sing saw or heard of the European general of the mutineer
artillery.
Before writing this, I have often cross-questioned Doorga Sing about
this European, and his statements never vary. He says that the time is
now so long past that he could not be sure of the _sahib's_ name even if
he heard it; but he is positive he came from Bareilly, and that his rank
before the Mutiny was sergeant-major, and that he had formerly been in
the Company's artillery. He thinks, however, that at the time of the
Mutiny this sergeant was serving with one of the native infantry
regiments in Bareilly; and he further recollects that it was commonly
reported in the sepoy ranks that when the Mutiny broke out this
sergeant-major had advised the murder of all the European officers,
himself shooting the adjutant of the regiment with his own hand to prove
his loyalty to the rebel cause.
The whole narrative is so extraordinary that I publish it with a view to
discovering if there are any still living who can give facts bearing on
this strange, but, I am convinced, true story. Doorga Sing promised to
find for me one or two other mutineer sepoys who knew more about this
European and his antecedents than he himself did. I have no detailed
statement of the Mutiny at Bareilly, and the short account which I
possess merely says that, "As soon as the artillery fired the signal gun
in their lines, Brigadier Sibbald mounted his horse and galloped off to
the cavalry lines, but was met on the way by a party of infantry, who
fired on him. He received a bullet in his chest, and then turned his
horse and galloped to the appointed rendezvous for the Europeans, and,
on arriving there, dropped dead from his horse." The account then goes
on to say: "The European sergeant-major had remained in the lines, and
Adjutant Tucker perished while endeavouring to save the life of the
sergeant-major." The question arises--Is it possible that this
sergeant-major can have been the same man whom Doorga Sing afterwards
met in command of the rebel ranks in Delhi, and who was said to have
killed his adjutant?
FOOTNOTES:
[57] Two of his sons joined Hodson's Horse, and one of them, Ataoollah
Khan, was our representative at Caubul after the last Afghan war.
[58] Doorkeepers.
[59] Head-man.
[60] Satan.
[61] "The Black Water," _i.e._ the sea, which no orthodox Hindoo can
cross without loss of caste.
APPENDIX C
A FEW WORDS ON SWORD-BLADES
A short time back I read an article on sword-blades, reprinted I believe
from some English paper. Now, in a war like the Mutiny sword-blades are
of the utmost importance to men who depend on them either for taking or
preserving life; I will therefore state my own experience, and give
opinions on the swords which came under my observation, and I may at
once say that I think there is great room for improvement in our blades
of Birmingham manufacture. I consider that the swords supplied to our
officers, cavalry and artillery, are far inferior as weapons of offence
to a really good Oriental _tulwar_. Although an infantry man I saw a
good deal of sword-practice, because all the men who held the
Secundrabagh and the Begum's Kothee were armed with native _tulwars_
from the King of Oude's armoury, in addition to their muskets and
bayonets, and a large proportion of our men were killed and wounded by
sword-cuts.
In the first place, then, for cutting our English regulation swords are
too straight; the Eastern curved blade is far more effective as a
cutting weapon. Secondly, our English swords are far too blunt, whereas
the native swords are as keen in edge as a well-stropped razor. Our
steel scabbards again are a mistake for carrying sharp blades; and, in
addition to this, I don't think our mounted branches who are armed with
swords have proper appliances given to them for sharpening their edges.
Even in time of peace, but especially in time of war, more attention
ought to be given to this point, and every soldier armed with a sword
ought to be supplied with the means of sharpening it, and made to keep
it with an edge like a razor. I may mention that this fact was noticed
in the wars of the Punjab, notably at Ramnugger, where our English
cavalry with their blunt swords were most unequally matched against the
Sikhs with _tulwars_ so keen of edge that they would split a hair.
I remember reading of a regiment of British cavalry charging a regiment
of Sikh cavalry. The latter wore voluminous thick _puggries_ round their
heads, which our blunt swords were powerless to cut through, and each
horseman had also a buffalo-hide shield slung on his back. They
evidently knew that the British swords were blunt and useless, so they
kept their horses still and met the British charge by lying flat on
their horses' necks,[62] with their heads protected by the thick turban
and their backs by the shields; and immediately the British soldiers
passed through their ranks the Sikhs swooped round on them and struck
them back-handed with their sharp, curved swords, in several instances
cutting our cavalry men in two. In one case a British officer, who was
killed in the charge I describe, was hewn in two by a back-handed stroke
which cut right through an ammunition-pouch, cleaving the pistol-bullets
right through the pouch and belt, severing the officer's backbone and
cutting his heart in two from behind. It was the same in the Balaclava
charge, both with the Heavy and the Light Brigade. Their swords were too
straight, and so blunt that they would not cut through the thick coats
and sheep-skin caps of the Russians; so that many of our men struck with
the hilts at the faces of the enemy, as more effective than attempting
to cut with their blunt blades.
In the article on English sword-blades to which I have referred, stress
is laid on the superiority of blades of spring steel, tempered so that
the tip can be bent round to the hilt without breaking or preventing the
blade assuming the straight immediately it is released. Now my
observations lead me to consider spring steel to be totally unfitted for
a sword-blade. The real Damascus blade that we have all read about, but
so few have seen, is as rigid as cast-iron, without any spring
whatever,--as rigid as the blade of a razor. The sword-blade which bends
is neither good for cut nor thrust, even in the hands of the most expert
and powerful swordsman. A blade of spring steel will not cut through the
bone; directly it encounters a hard substance, it quivers in the hand
and will not cut through. Let any sword-maker in Birmingham try
different blades in the hands of an expert swordsman on a green tree of
soft wood, and the rigid blade of well-tempered steel will cut four
times as deep as the blade of highly tempered spring steel which you can
bend into a circle, tip to hilt. My opinion is that the motto of a
sword-blade ought to be the same as the Duke of Sutherland's--"_Frangas
non flectes_, Thou mayest break but not bend"; and if blades could be
made that would neither break nor bend, so much the better.
I believe that the manufacture of real Damascus steel blades is a lost
art. When serving in the Punjab about thirty years ago, I was well
acquainted with an old man in Lahore who had been chief armourer to
Runjeet Sing, and he has often told me that the real Damascus blades
contained a large percentage of arsenic amalgamated with the steel while
the blades were being forged, which greatly added to their hardness,
toughness, and strength, preserved the steel from rust, and enabled the
blades to be sharpened to a very fine edge. This old man's test for a
sword-blade was to get a good-sized fish, newly caught from the river,
lay it on a soft, yielding bed,--cotton quilt folded up, or any soft
yielding substance,--and the blade that did not cut the fish in two
across the thickest part behind the gills, cutting against the scales,
at one stroke, was considered of no account whatever. From what I have
seen no sword-blade that bends, however sharp it may be, will do that,
because the spring in the steel causes the blade to glance off the fish,
and the impetus of the cut is lost by the blade quivering in the hand.
Nor will any of our straight sword-blades cut a large fish through in
this manner; whereas the curved Oriental blade, with a drawing cut,
severs it at once, because the curved blade presents much more cutting
surface. One revolution of a circular saw cuts much deeper into wood
than one stroke of a straight saw, although the length of the straight
saw may be equal to the circumference of the circular one. So it is with
sword-blades. A stroke from a curved blade, drawn through, cuts far
deeper than the stroke from a straight blade.[63]
I will mention one instance at Lucknow that came under my own notice of
the force of a sword-cut from a curved sword of rigid steel. There were
three brothers of the name of Ready in the Ninety-Third called David,
James, and John. They were all powerful, tall men, in the prime of life,
and all three had served through the Crimea. David was a sergeant, and
his two brothers were privates. When falling in for the assault on the
Begum's palace, John Ready took off his Crimean medal and gave it to his
brother David, telling him that he felt a presentiment that he would be
killed in that attack, and that David had better keep his medal, and
send it home to their mother. David tried to reason him out of his
fears, but to no purpose. John Ready replied that he had no fear, and
his mother might know that he had died doing his duty. Well, the assault
took place, and in the inner courts of the palace there was one division
held by a regiment of dismounted cavalry, armed with swords as keen as
razors, and circular shields, and the party of the Ninety-Third who got
into that court were far out-numbered on this occasion, as in fact we
were everywhere else. On entering James Ready was attacked by a _sowar_
armed with sword and shield. Ready's feather bonnet was knocked off, and
the _sowar_ got one cut at him, right over his head, which severed his
skull clean in two, the sword cutting right through his neck and
half-way down through the breast-bone. John Ready sprang to the
assistance of his brother, but too late; and although his bayonet
reached the side of his opponent and was driven home with a fatal
thrust, in doing so he came within the swoop of the same terrible sword,
wielded by the powerful arm of a tall man, and he also was cut right
through the left shoulder diagonally across the chest, and his head and
right arm were clean severed from the body. The _sowar_ delivered his
stroke of the sword at the same moment that he received the bayonet of
John Ready through his heart, and both men fell dead together. David
Ready, the sergeant, seized the _tulwar_ that had killed both his
brothers, and used it with terrible effect, cutting off heads of men as
if they had been mere heads of cabbage. When the fight was over I
examined that sword. It was of ordinary weight, well-balanced, curved
about a quarter-circle, as sharp as the sharpest razor, and the blade as
rigid as cast-iron. Now, my experience is that none of our very best
English swords could have cut like this one. A sword of that quality
would cut through a man's skull or thigh-bone without the least quiver,
as easily as an ordinary Birmingham blade would cut through a willow.
I may also mention the case of a young officer named Banks, of the
Seventh Hussars, who was terribly cut up in charging through a band of
Ghazis. One leg was clean lopped off above the knee, the right arm cut
off, the left thigh and left arm both cut through the bone, each wound
produced by a single cut from a sharp, curved _tulwar_. I don't know if
the young fellow got over it;[64] but he was reported to be still alive,
and even cheerful when we marched from Lucknow.
In this matter of sword-blades, I have no wish to dogmatise or to pose
as an authority; I merely state my observations and opinion, in the
hopes that they may lead to experiments being made. But on one point I
am positive. The sharpening of our cavalry swords, if still the same as
in 1857, receives far too little attention.
FOOTNOTES:
[62] In which case they would have been simply ridden over.
[63] These remarks of Mr. Mitchell's are quite true as regards curved
swords; but he forgets that the _point_ is the most effective attack
against Eastern swordsmen.
[64] He did not.
APPENDIX D
THE OPIUM QUESTION
On the afternoon of the 19th August, 1892, I left Cawnpore for Lucknow.
As I was a few minutes before time, I walked along the railway-platform
to see the engine, and, strange to relate, the engine attached to the
train which was to take me into Lucknow (under circumstances very
different from those of 1857) was No. 93! In 1857 I had crossed the
Ganges in the ranks of the Ninety-Third Highlanders, with the figures 93
on the front of my cap, and here I was, under very different
circumstances, revisiting Lucknow for the first time thirty-five years
after, and the engine to the train was No. 93! I need not say that I
lifted my hat to that engine. As a matter of fact, I never do pass the
old number without giving it a salute; but in this instance I looked
upon it as a happy omen for the success of my journey.
I took my seat in the carriage, and shortly after was joined by a
gentleman whom I took to be a Mahommedan; but to my surprise he told me
that he was a Christian employed in the Educational Department, and that
he was going to Lucknow for a month's holiday. He appeared to be a man
of over sixty years of age, but said he was only fifty-four, and that he
would retire from Government service next year. Of course I introduced
the subject of the Mutiny, and asked him where he had been at the time.
He stated that when the Mutiny broke out he was at school in Bareilly,
and that he was then a Mahommedan, but did not join in the rebellion;
that on the outbreak of the Mutiny, when all the Europeans were either
killed or fled from Bareilly, he had retired to his village near
Shahjehanpore, and remained there till order was re-established on the
advance of the English into Rohilcund in May, 1858, after Khan Bahadoor
Khan had reigned in Bareilly twelve months.
In course of conversation I asked my companion if he could give any
reason why it was that the whole rural population of Oude had joined the
urban population against the British in 1857, whereas on the south side
of the Ganges the villagers were in favour of the British, where they
were not overawed by the mutineers? He told me a strange thing, and that
was that he was fully convinced that the main reason why the village
population of Oude joined the city population of Lucknow was owing to
the oppression caused by our introduction of the opium-tax among the
people.
At first I misunderstood him, and thought I had come across an agent of
the Anti-Opium Society. "So you are against Government control of the
opium-cultivation and sale of the drug," I said. "By no means," he
answered. "I consider the tax on opium a most legitimate source of
revenue. What I mean is that although a just tax, it was a highly
obnoxious one to the citizens of Lucknow and the rural population of
Oude at the time of the Mutiny." He went on to state that although a
Christian convert from Mahommedanism and a strictly temperate man, he
had no sympathy with the anti-opium party; that he considered them a
most dangerous set of fanatics, who would set the whole country in
rebellion again before a twelve-month if they could get the Government
to adopt their narrow-minded views. Regarding 1857, he continued, and I
quote his exact words, as I noted them down immediately after I got to
the hotel:
"Under the rule of the Nawabs of Lucknow many taxes were imposed, which
were abolished by the British; but in their stead the opium-tax was
introduced, which was the most unpopular tax that could have been
devised, because it touched every one, from the _coolie_ in the bazaar
to the noble in his palace. Before the annexation of Oude opium was
untaxed, and was largely consumed by all classes of the people, both in
the capital and in the villages. Though the mass of the people were
well-affected to British rule in general, disloyal agitators had merely
to cite the opium-tax as a most obnoxious and oppressive impost, to
raise the whole population against the British Government, and the same
would be the case again, if ever the British Government were weak enough
to be led by the Anti-Opium Society."
"Then," said I, "since you are so much against the Anti-Opium Society, I
suppose you are also against Christian missionaries." "That by no means
follows," was the answer. "Many of our most Christian and able
missionaries have as little sympathy with the anti-opium propagandists
as I have. The true missionary aims at reforming the people through the
people, not by compelling moral reformation through the Government,
which would be merely a return to the Inquisition of Rome in another
form. I would encourage missionaries by every possible means; but they
must be broad-minded, earnest, pious men, who mind their own business,
and on no pretence whatever attempt to dictate to Government, or to
control its action either in the matter of taxation or in any other way.
I would never encourage men who go about the country railing against the
Government for collecting revenue from one of the most just sources that
can be named. Missionaries of experience know that the mass of the
population are miserably poor, and a pill of opium is almost the only
stimulant in which they indulge. Then, why attempt to deprive them of
it, merely to please a score or so of sentimental faddists? Let the
missionaries mind their own business, and render to Caesar the things
which are Caesar's, and unto God the things which are God's. Let them
confine themselves to proclaiming the Gospel to the heathen, and teach
the Bible in their schools; but don't allow them to mix in politics, or
in any way interfere with the government or taxation of the country. I
would throw the English education of the people more into the hands of
the missionaries. Our Government schools are antichristian, and are
making infidels of the people."
THE END
_Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, _Edinburgh_.
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