Pillage.—Military surveying.—Tippoo Saib.—His armour and mantle.—
Tippoo’s treachery.—Seringapatam attacked by British and native
troops, commanded by Major-General Baird.—Colonels Dunlop and
Sherbrooke.—A shot breaks the chain of the draw-bridge.—Terrible
carnage.—Tippoo Saib killed.—Seringapatam taken.—The storming of
Ghuznee.—The forlorn hope.—The gate of the fortress blown in.—
Colonel Dennie leads on the stormers.—The mistake.—A retreat
sounded.—Brigadier Sale advances.—Desperate struggle.—The place
taken.
“You have been told, boys, of a blockade, a bombardment, and a siege,
and now you shall have a storming party, which is one of the most
desperate of military undertakings. Pity it is that there should ever be
occasion to resort to it, for pillage and plunder never yet made a good
soldier, though they are thought of more than they ought to be. A
soldier should never _step out_ in disgrace, nor _halt_ in the march of
duty. If there be one thing more than another that I abhor, it is
pillage and plunder.”
“Do the soldiers when they storm a place plunder, and do what they
like?”
“It has been too common a thing in war, to promise the soldiers a few
days’ pillage before they storm a place, to hearten them on; and they
are not backward to profit by the opportunity. Some on these occasions
act a brutal part; but there are men in the army whose hearts are
unhardened by their profession, and whose generous dispositions move
them more to clemency than cruelty. War has horrors enough, without
adding to its evils by selfish and reckless cruelty and brutality. The
soldier, whether he carries a musket, or wears epaulettes on his
shoulders, who, fired with revenge and flushed with victory, stains his
blade with the blood of a vanquished enemy, or ill-uses fear-struck and
defenceless woman, is a ruffian, and not worthy to be called a man. He
may think lightly of the curse of a dying husband or brother; he may
turn into mirth the clasped hands and weeping eyes of injured innocence,
but the artillery of Heaven will roar in his ears in an unlooked-for
hour, and its thunders will be directed against his heart;—but I forget
that you are waiting to hear of a storming party. I have been present at
some, and have heard a description of many. I will tell you, first, of
the storming of Seringapatam in India, in the year 1799, and then of the
storming of Ghuznee, in Persia, a year or two ago.”
“Now, then, for the storming of Seringapatam.”
“I should have mentioned to you, that one part of the duty of a
commander, especially when the seat of war is but imperfectly known, is
to take care that military surveying is not neglected.”
“What do you mean by military surveying?”
“The art of military surveying, is to represent on paper the features of
a country, that the operations of the service may be carried on with
less difficulty, and more effect. If the commander of an army, or of a
smaller force, is unacquainted with the country or neighbourhood in
which he is, it will be necessary to reconnoitre it, for a knowledge of
hills, woods, rivers, and brooks, as well as that of the force and
position of the enemy. Military surveying is much the same as
reconnoitering, only the latter is done rapidly with the naked eye, the
former with instruments, and with greater care. But, I am forgetting the
storming of Seringapatam.”
“We are quite ready to hear all about it.”
“In storming a place, in order to insure success, it is necessary to act
scrupulously according to orders given; moving a minute before or after
the proper time may endanger the whole enterprise. I will read you the
Order under which the fifth regiment acted on the night of the 19th of
January 1812, in the great breach, by the third division, at the
storming of Ciudad Rodrigo.
“‘ORDER.
“‘The fifth regiment will attack the entrance of the ditch, at the
junction of the counterscarpe with the main wall of the place. Major
Sturgeon will show them the point of attack. They must issue from
the right of the convent of Santa Cruz. They must have twelve axes,
in order to cut down the gate by which the ditch is entered at the
junction of the counterscarpe with the body of the place. The fifth
regiment is likewise to have twelve scaling ladders, twenty-five
feet long, and immediately on entering the ditch are to scale the
_fausse braye_, in order to clear it of the enemy’s parties on their
left, towards the principal breach. It will throw over any guns it
may meet with, and will proceed along the _fausse braye_, where it
will wait until Major-General Mackinnon’s column has passed on to
the main attack, when it will follow in its rear. This regiment will
make its attack at ten minutes before eleven o’clock. The seventy-
seventh regiment will be in reserve on the right of the convent of
Santa Cruz.’
“You see by this Order how necessary it is to be scrupulously exact in a
storm. The capture of Seringapatam, the capital of the Mysore country,
was, to the East India Company, an object of great importance, and the
storming of the place was executed with great boldness. That Tippoo Saib
was a treacherous and cruel tyrant there can be little doubt; and, if
you have ever visited the museum of the East India House, you have seen
a proof of his ferocity.”
“We have never been there. What is it that you mean?”
“There is in the museum a musical instrument that was made for Tippoo
Saib. It is a kind of organ, and when the handle of it is turned round a
tiger leaps on a prostrate British soldier, to tear him to pieces. The
piteous cries of the soldier, and the savage yell of the tiger, afforded
the tyrant much amusement.”
“Then he must have been a cruel savage, sure enough. We should like to
see the museum.”
“There are many things in it which were taken from Tippoo, and among
them his silken banners, decorated with the blazing sun, rent and torn
by the storm of battle; his helm, his armour, and his mantle. His helmet
is made of brass, with a silk covering, and his mantle has on it an
inscription, written in Persian, which says that it had been dipped in
the holy well at Mecca, and rendered invulnerable.”
“We shall, perhaps, see the India House Museum some day, and we shall be
sure to look for the tiger and the soldier.”
“Tippoo Saib was the son of Hyder Ally; but he was much bolder and much
more cunning and ferocious than his father. Soon after he ascended the
throne, he attacked General Matthews, who had penetrated to Bednore, the
capital of Cadnore. With his cavalry, and a few French troops, he made a
desperate attack on the general, who, with the loss of five hundred
Englishmen, took refuge in Bednore, where he soon surrendered.”
“Tippoo knew how to fight, it seems.”
“He did; but in battles, whether on sea or land, he who is a conqueror
to-day may be a captive to-morrow. Tippoo found this to his cost.
Detected in corresponding with the French, and plotting against the
English, for their expulsion from India, it was determined to attack him
in his capital. Desperate was the attack of the British and native
troops, and desperate the defence of Tippoo, with his guards and his
tiger grenadiers. General Harris was the British commander; but the
attack on Seringapatam was entrusted to Major-General Baird, who had
once been taken prisoner by Tippoo, and kept in irons for near four
years.”
“He would be sure to do his best, then.”
“No doubt he did. For some days the walls of Seringapatam were battered.
At last a practicable breach was made, and then the place was stormed.
Ten flank companies, supported by the 12th, 33rd, 73rd, and 74th
regiments, with three corps of grenadier sepoys, and two hundred men
from the troops of his highness the Nizam, formed the assaulting party,
assisted by artillery-men and pioneers, while the battalions of Madras
sepoys supported them in the trenches. Major-General Baird divided his
forces, that he might the more easily clear the ramparts right and left.
Colonel Sherbrooke led one party, and Lieutenant-Colonel Dunlop the
other.”
“Tippoo would not be conquered very easily; he would never surrender.”
“A singular circumstance took place during the attack, that much
favoured the British troops. A shot struck the chain that supported the
draw-bridge, and divided it. Down fell the bridge, and thus enabled the
besiegers to cross the moat. There was a rush to defend the bridge, and
terrible was the carnage upon it; but British troops are not easily
driven back, and they won their way.”
“How glad the British would be to see the draw-bridge fall.”
“Glad enough! Colonel Sherbrooke and Colonel Dunlop were both successful
in their attacks. The tiger grenadiers made a desperate sortie from a
sally-port, but they were met by some brave Highlanders and others, and,
in spite of all resistance, the place was taken.”
“What became of Tippoo? was he taken prisoner?”
“No, not alive. He was pressing on to encourage his troops, when he
received a musket-ball in his right side; and soon after another. His
horse fell, being wounded, and then Tippoo’s turban fell from his head.”
“Poor Tippoo! Then it was all over with him.”
“He was placed, wounded as he was, on his palanquin near the gate under
the archway, and one of his domestics who survived, said, that a soldier
who came up, snatched at his rich sword-belt, but Tippoo made a cut at
him with his sword and wounded him. This enraged the soldier, who,
raising his musket, shot him through the temples, when he instantly fell
and expired.”
“We can’t help being sorry for him, cruel as he was.”
“When his body was found it was under a heap of slain, and despoiled of
sword, jacket and turban. On his right arm was fastened an amulet of
metal, like silver, sewed up in fine flowered silk. This was a talisman,
for, besides the metal, it contained some small manuscripts, in magic
Arabic and Persian characters.”
“The talisman did not save him from being killed.”
[Illustration:
TIPPOO SAIB.
]
“It did not: his time was come. And it shows us the uncertainty of the
life of a king as well as that of a common soldier. What was Tippoo in
the morning when he quitted his palace? why, a king! a Sultan as proud
as wealth and power could make him. What was he before set of sun? A
disfigured lump of breathless clay! deprived not only of his capital and
his kingdom, but also of his life. His proud palace, too, was occupied
by General Baird; he whom Tippoo had before kept in cruel bondage for so
long a period, at a short distance only from that gateway under which
the tyrant fell!”
“There were a great number killed on both sides, no doubt?”
“I cannot tell the loss on the part of Tippoo, but on the English side
there were between five and six hundred, reckoning killed, wounded and
missing, altogether.”
“We should think it a terrible thing to see one man killed, but five or
six hundred! that is dreadful.”
“Well, if I now tell you of the storming of Ghuznee, you will have had
enough of fighting for one while. The storming of Ghuznee, in
Affghanistan in Eastern Persia, a year or two ago, produced a strong
sensation, both on account of the desperate resistance of the garrison
and the courage and complete success of the besiegers.”
“Please to give us the account, and we will not interrupt you with a
single word.”
“I should have told you, that in storming a place it is customary for a
small party to go first. This party is composed of soldiers who freely
volunteer their services; it is called the ‘forlorn hope,’ on account of
the extreme peril hazarded by the party. In this instance the party was
a strong one. When a soldier goes on a forlorn hope he often does two
things at once—he wins a reputation for bravery and loses his name from
the muster-roll. The gate of the fortress was blown in with gunpowder,
and when the single bugle sounded, the stormers, headed by Colonel
Dennie, rushed into the dark and smoking entrance, where they came at
once into deadly conflict with the Affghans of the garrison. It was
night, and nothing could be distinctly seen in the gateway; but the
clash and clang of contending swords and bayonets were fearful. Hand to
hand some fought their way, others poured in, as opportunity occurred,
at pistol-shot, a destructive fire of musketry. At last they could see,
as they penetrated further, a little of the blue sky, and, here and
there, a twinkling star, over the heads of their enemies; but they had
no time for star-gazing. On they went, till a force of four companies
had, in some sort, established themselves in the fortress! A loud cheer
was then raised to announce their success to their companions outside
the place. Brigadier Sale was bringing up his men to support the forlorn
hope, when he met an engineer officer who had been injured by the
explosion at the gate. This officer told him the forlorn hope could not
force its way, the passage was so choked up with rubbish. Brigadier
Sale, knowing that under such circumstances it would be sacrificing his
party to proceed, sounded a retreat, and thereby put the victorious
forlorn hope in extreme danger from the want of support. This was,
however, but for a short time, for, soon after, the success of the
stormers was made known to him. The Brigadier then advanced with his
men, but was met by a large body of Affghans, rushing headlong from the
ramparts to the opening to make their escape. The encounter was
desperate; and one of the Affghans, leaping over the fallen timber,
brought down the brigadier with a cut in the face with his sharp
shumsheer, striking him also, as he fell, another stunning blow. The
Affghan lost his footing, and grappling his enemy, rolled with him on
the ground. This was a critical moment: the brigadier contrived to grasp
the Affghan’s hand, so as to keep fast the hilt of his shumsheer till
Captain Kershaw came up and passed his sabre through his body. Still the
desperate struggle continued, for the infuriated Affghan was not subdued
till the brigadier got his right hand sufficiently at liberty to cleave
the head of his opponent with his sword, when the latter shouted out ‘Ue
Allah!’ and breathed his last. Allah, or Ullah, is the name the
Mahomedans give to God.
“Though Brigadier Sale was unable at the moment to enter on active
service, he yet calmly directed the movements of his men. There was
desperate fighting; but British muskets and British bayonets won their
way, and repeated shouts from the area of the fortress told the
commander-in-chief, posted on the heights, that the walls were in
possession of his troops. An order was now given to turn every gun on
the heights towards the citadel. Colonel Croker with his troops entered
the gates, winding his way upwards, as well as the ruins of the place
would allow, towards the citadel, while the reserve troops, which had
closed up close to the walls, had to endure the fire of hidden enemies
from the ramparts. At last the reserve troops also entered the gates. It
was thought the most desperate resistance would take place in the
citadel, but it was not so, for Mohammed Hyder, in consternation at the
boldness of the stormers, abandoned the mound. The gates of the citadel
were burst open, and the colours of the 13th light infantry, and of the
17th regiment, were soon seen waving on the stronghold of Ghuznee. All
was confusion; the rattle of muskets, the clashing of bayonets and
swords, and the shrieks of the women of the harem were mingled, while
the cries and groans of the wounded, and the flight of the fugitives
increased the general consternation of the garrison. The reserve troops
pressed on to the eastern rampart, when a body of concealed Affghans
madly rushed forth, sword in hand, to cut a passage to the gateway. Just
then a group of wearied soldiers were resting on the low ground below
the citadel, where many of the wounded men lay, and where hundreds of
Affghan horses were wildly galloping to and fro. On this group the
furious Affghans rushed. The soldiers sprang to their feet, and a
dreadful carnage ensued. A wild fusillade was directed against the
Affghans, who fell, grinding their teeth with rage, crying, ‘Ue Allah!’
or giving vent to curses. Courage, calmness, rage, suffering,
supplication, and despair, were all visible. The dying were mingled with
the dead. The narrow streets of the town were scoured by the besiegers,
the detached tower was carried by the gorge, and the garrison completely
subdued. In little better than two hours after the attack commenced,
Ghuznee, with its garrison of three thousand five hundred men, was
taken, without a single ladder being raised in escalade—thus showing the
wondrous superiority of British valour and British tactics.”
“Well! that was a very desperate affair.”
“It was; but war is a desperate game; it is often so to the winner, and
always to the loser. There has been sad news lately from India. The
Affghans have been victorious, some thousands of our troops have fallen,
and the wives of several British officers are in the hands of the
enemy.”
[Illustration]