1858--CENTRAL INDIA
Cape Town--Bombay--Sir William Gordon--March to Máu--Hugh Rose and
Robert Napier--Tantia Topi--Meer Umjid Ali--A loyal Sowar--The
fate of a spy.
We made a fair passage of forty-two days to Cape Town, where our
spirits fell on hearing Dihlí had fallen, and the confident predictions
that the Mutiny would be suppressed before the ships reached Bombay,
where we disembarked on the 21st December. I was left on board to hand
over the equipment used by the Regiment. The men worked well, and we
got the hammocks, blankets, etc., handed in before the last train left
for the foot of the Ghaut, under Khandala, which was then the terminus.
There I was again detailed to stay behind, to re-sort baggage; but I
caught the Regiment up in its next day’s march, and with it arrived at
Kirki.
The house accommodation of the Station, built for a battery of Horse
Artillery and a Cavalry regiment, was insufficient, as there was
already two-thirds of a Cavalry regiment in possession. The two Majors,
Learmouth and Lieutenant-Colonel Morris, were kind enough to take me
into a bungalow which they hired, where I had a bed and bath room for a
nominal sum, my brother-Subalterns having for a time to live in tents.
I had been studying Hindustani since we had left the Island of St.
Vincent, copying the alphabet[53] twenty-four times the first day,
and on landing could speak a few words. Now established at Kirki with
no horses, I was able to read for twelve hours daily, employing two
Moonshees, or instructors, one in the forenoon, and the other in the
afternoon.
Sir Hugh Rose was just leaving Sehore to relieve Ságar, the then only
remaining besieged garrison in Central India, and we were all depressed
at the peaceful aspect of Kirki, and startled to find that customs of
which we had read, but had not believed, were still common. A Senior
officer who had been some time in India, and often dined at Mess,
excused his not accepting one invitation because his dressing-boy was
ill, and he could not dine out without his assistance.
I went back to Bombay on the 7th February to buy a horse, the
Government having imported a number which were offered to officers.
Eventually I selected a short-backed, well-bred, chestnut Arab, for
which I paid £110.[54] This was certainly the cheapest horse I ever
possessed, for in the eleven months from May 1858 to April 1859 he
carried me, marching, for over 5000 miles. He was aptly named “The
Pig,” for he would take any food within reach, from milk out of a
saucer to raspberry jam. I trained him myself in the “Double ride,” and
nobody else rode him while he was in my possession. I could have sold
him for more money when I left India three years later, but that as a
favour to a friend I passed him on at £90.
I had an opportunity at Bombay of meeting my sister, then on her way
home with her husband, Colonel J. Chambers, who had had a narrow escape
at Sialkot, when the Sepoys rose, and mortally wounded his Brigadier.
My brother-in-law’s[55] health had given way; he did not return to
India, having served long enough for his pension.
During the month of February-March we got sufficient horses to mount
two Squadrons, and the Colonel acceded at the end of May to my request
to be allowed to join Sir William Gordon’s troop. I saw much of him
in the following year, and learned to admire him more daily. He was
the most finished horseman I have known in the Army, and within three
months of his joining as a Cornet from Earlston, Kirkcudbright, he won
the Subalterns’ Cup on his hunter, which he had ridden in Ayrshire.
He taught me more about horses than any other man has done, and how to
ride them with a light hand.
We heard in March there was to be a Preliminary Examination
in Hindustani, to be held at Poona in April, and officers who
satisfied the Local Board would be allowed to go to Bombay to sit
for an examination for Interpreter; this made me work with renewed
application. I found it was difficult after morning parade, at 5 a.m.,
to keep awake as the weather became warmer. I always read at a stand-up
desk, resting on an office stool, but I found that on a hot afternoon
I went to sleep, balancing my body even when no longer awake. I then
had the four legs cut down and brought into one, about two feet from
the ground, and thus the stool supported my weight only while I kept my
balance. My work was thrown back early in March by a severe attack of
low fever, with neuralgia in the face, which swelled up to an enormous
size.
At the end of March, when the mail came in, I heard that the efforts
which Admiral Lord Lyons had been making in my behalf to obtain
reconsideration of Sir Stephen Lushington’s recommendation for the
Victoria Cross were fruitless. Colonel Morris, of whom I had seen a
great deal from living in the same house, and from the fact that I read
to him for an hour daily, translating as I went, a book by Colonel de
Brack on Light Cavalry, noticed that I was depressed, and asked me the
reason. After condoling with me, he invited me to come out into the
garden, as he had just received a sword, made by Messrs. Wilkinson of
Pall Mall, designed on the model of a sword used effectively by Colonel
Clarke of the Scots Greys at Waterloo; but Colonel Morris, who was
the Champion swordsman in the Army, believing in the advantage of a
light weapon, had ordered his sword to be made lighter, which Messrs.
Wilkinson did, but declined responsibility, fearing that if struck by
another sword it might break. Morris was a very powerful man although
short, being 43 inches round the chest, and was known in the Cavalry
as the “Pocket Hercules.”[56] He struck the trunk of a mimosa tree
with the sword three times with as much force as he was capable of
exerting, and then having examined it, handed it to me, saying, “You
may trust your life to it,” and utterly refused to allow me to decline
the present.
On the 15th of April I went over to Poona for the Preliminary
examination for Interpreter, and although one member of the Board
criticised my translation of an article out of the _Dihlí Gazette_ in a
manner which showed that he knew far less than any of the candidates,
yet I was satisfied I was insufficiently prepared, realising at once
that a Court Martial given to me to translate was beyond me. After
two days’ holiday I resumed work, and became much interested in the
language, in which I was already beginning to make myself understood.
I had a severe sunstroke early in May. I had been on Adjutant’s early
parade, and had cantered home to tell the Captain of my troop, Sir
William Gordon, of an incident which had occurred. I can only remember
sitting at the foot of his bed and seeing him suddenly jump up to
catch me as I fell to the floor. It was some time before I regained
consciousness, finding leeches on my head, and that I had been severely
bled. I suppose I must have been really ill, as the fact of the death
of my former friend and Chief, Sir William Peel, from whom I had
recently heard, was withheld from me until I was convalescent, and our
doctor limited my studying Hindustani to eight hours daily. I was not
the only sufferer, for some non-commissioned officers died from the
heat, which in May was greater than is usually the case at Kirki.
The Field officers and Sir William Gordon, when going away as they
occasionally did to the hill station of Mahableshwar, always left me in
charge of their horses, and on the 23rd May I was offered mounts for
two days’ pig-sticking with Sir William Gordon, who had already gone
out some twenty miles from Kirki. I was told I might “ride out” the
horses as if they were my own. Having sent on ponies, for I had to go
thirty miles next morning to the meet, I went to Mess, sitting opposite
the Colonel. Dinner was over when an official letter was brought to
him, and I noticed his face was much perturbed when at ten o’clock he
left the table, so I followed him cautiously up to the orderly-room,
and waited until he came out. I asked him if I could do anything for
him, and he told me he had just received an order to send a Squadron
immediately to Máu, and it was not known in the orderly-room where Sir
William Gordon, the Senior officer of the Squadron, had gone. Gordon
had told me that he would not leave his address because he had been
recalled unnecessarily on a previous occasion. I asked the Colonel if
I found Gordon if I might reckon on going, and on his saying “Yes,”
undertook to produce Sir William before daylight. The Colonel told me
to jump on his horse, which was at the orderly-room door, and do my
utmost. I knew the name of the house where Gordon was to sleep, and
started at a gallop to find him, which I did at 2 a.m. After numberless
questions from different Ramusis, or night-watchmen, I compelled one of
them to accompany me to the house. Gordon had had a good day’s sport,
and was sleeping so heavily that I failed at first to convey to him the
purport of the Colonel’s message. He repeated again and again, “I dinna
believe you,” and at last seizing him by the legs I pulled him out of
bed, when he realised the truth of my good news, and at daylight we
were in the Horse Lines at Kirki. We marched on the 25th, “A” Squadron
100 strong, two Companies of Native Infantry, and 50 of the Haidarábád
Contingent. We heard the people of Ahmednagar were excited about news
of the march southward of Tantia Topi, but we did not know then that
our Resident at Indore had telegraphed that the feeling of the Native
troops at Máu made the presence of British troops essential.
Our last day at Kirki was fully occupied. My head servant informed me
at daylight I should want five more servants for the march, and at
noon they appeared. They demanded 50 per cent. higher wages than the
current rates, to which I assented; they then asked for three months’
pay in advance, which I paid, though somewhat unwillingly; and having
got the money, they asked leave till an hour before I had to prepare
for Parade. I thought my chances of seeing them again were small, but
having no other resource, assented, and at 10 p.m. they were present;
most of them remained with me until I left Central India for Calcutta,
thirty months later, on my way home on sick furlough. At the Mess table
that evening my companions told me they had refused the three months’
advance of pay, and ridiculed my over-confidence in the Natives; but
many of their servants deserted within the first week of our march.
We started at 1 a.m. on the 25th May, “the oldest inhabitants”
predicting our return, as they said no troops could move over the black
soil between Kirki and Indore in the wet weather, which was ordinarily
due on the 12th June. When I got to the parade at midnight, I saw
Lieutenant Nolan, a brother-Subaltern, standing before his horse,
for which he had given £150 a month earlier, in an unhappy frame of
mind; the horse had fallen close to the lines, and had cut both knees
severely, and the Colonel, who was on parade to see us off, told
him that he could not go, as he would not spare him a troop horse.
I had bought a Persian horse two days previously, and feeling for
Nolan’s disappointment, told him he could have my second horse, which
was perhaps more generous than wise. The horse suited Nolan, and at
Ahmednagar Gordon bought me another, Nolan taking over the one I had
lent him.
When we were three days out, the rain came down in torrents before
it was due in the District. I got fever and swelled face again, and
was miserable at the idea that I might be invalided. However, two
days’ rest put me right, and on the 3rd June I spent fifteen hours in
the saddle. So many camels had slipped up, that much of the baggage
remained behind, and after I reached the next camping-place I was
sent back by Sir William Gordon to collect bullocks for transport. My
companion got a sunstroke, and I narrowly escaped one, reaching the
camp again with the last of the baggage at sundown. Our difficulties in
moving over this roadless country, most of it cotton-growing soil, were
great; we picked up three guns at Ahmednagar, but the two companies
of Native Infantry dropped behind. I was kept busily employed, for
there was nobody who spoke Hindustani except myself, and when we left
Asseerghur our Native Commissariat contractor, being detected by the
Troop Quartermaster-Sergeant in some petty fraud, deserted, and so up
to Máu I had to purchase for the Squadron everything required, and as
I was catering also for the Mess I had little time for myself. We did
not leave Árangábád until the 19th June, being occasionally stopped
for three days in succession by heavy rain, and one of the marches
was practically under water for fourteen miles. That morning I saw a
curious accident. We had three guns with Native drivers and European
gunners; when a few miles out of Árangábád we crossed a chasm fifteen
feet deep; the roadway was on a curve, and the Native drivers not being
expert, the off rear wheel of a gun was driven against a parapet a foot
high, which crumbled away, and the gun tumbled down to the bottom of
the chasm with its three drivers and horses. The Lead and the Centre
drivers were easily extricated, but the Wheel driver was at the bottom,
and when the horses were eventually pulled away all the colouring
matter was pressed out of his skin, for he was yellow; Natives’ bones,
however, are soft, and he recovered. One of the horses in his struggles
seized the coronet of a horse close to him, and held on with such
tenacity that we were obliged to strike the animal hard over the head
with a rammer-head, to induce him to relax his hold.
I, being the only Interpreter, had many opportunities when riding on to
obtain guides from village to village of talking with the Half troop
of the Haidarábád Contingent, as I did indeed to every man with whom I
was alone, from Kirki up to Máu. I was anxious to know why the Sepoy
Army had risen against us, but never succeeded in obtaining an answer,
although none of those expressed any disapproval of the Mutiny.
The difficulties of the march had not been exaggerated by the old
hands at Kirki, when they predicted our return. It generally rained,
but on other days we were scorched by the burning sun, and on one
occasion the recorded heat in a Medical officer’s double-roofed tent
was 115° Fahrenheit. When therefore it seemed that Sir Hugh Rose (who
was advancing from Sehore to relieve Ságar, the then last remaining
besieged garrison) had stamped out the rebellion in Central India,
orders were received for the Squadron to remain at Jalna till after
the Monsoon. While furniture was being put into bungalows for our
accommodation, the news of the outbreak at Gwáliár was received, and
with it an order for the Squadron to march rapidly to Máu.
That Station, which had been sacked by Mutineers in 1857, standing on
an elevated plateau, is comparatively cool even in the summer season,
but the day before we ascended the Ghaut and the night we camped at
its foot were really hot; metal cups, after lying in the sun, burnt
the hand on being touched, the backs came off our hair-brushes, and
hair-combs assumed serpentine forms. Between Poona and Máu, where we
arrived on the 20th July, we forded thirty-five rivers and streams, and
swam our horses across two large rivers. The Narbadá was the easiest
of the rivers to cross, because boats and trained boatmen were ready,
as were Native swimmers for the horses. The men of the Haidarábád
Contingent thought it beneath their dignity to work, and after crossing
one of the rivers wished to wait until coolies were collected to carry
their saddles and equipment from the edge of the water to the top of
the bank; when, however, they saw me pull off my coat and carry my own
saddle, they followed my example.
When I arrived at Máu I was sent for by, and made the acquaintance of
Major-General Michel[57] under the following circumstances:--After
we left Asseerghur, making a comparatively short march, we arrived
early at a village, and found everything we required except forage.
The chief man of the village declared that he had sent for grass, and
vowed that there was no dry forage in the neighbourhood; but something
in his manner induced me to doubt the accuracy of his statement. At
four o’clock, on again sending for him, he made men pull the thatch off
some of the poorest houses in the village to give it to the horses.
Meanwhile I took two Lancers with me, and found in the enclosure
of his own house enough forage for a Cavalry regiment, and marched
him, a Brahman, to Sir William Gordon, who ordered me to have him
flogged. This was the cause of my being sent for by the General, for
the Political authorities had expended much energy in trying to trace
the names of the officers who had so acted. Gordon wanted to take all
responsibility, but I told the General that having been ordered to
reach Máu as soon as possible, the horses required something beyond
dana (grain), and it was my action which induced the punishment.
I had a stormy interview with the Commissariat officer the day after I
arrived. Before I dismounted, I went to his office, and reported that
I had fed the Squadron from Asseerghur, and gave in a statement of the
money expended. I mentioned I had two or three sacks of sweet potatoes,
and a small quantity of rice, sugar, etc., surplus, and I asked him to
send someone to take it over. Next day an English-speaking Native came
to me, and pointing to the supplies which was in our Squadron lines,
said, “I no take, you go sell,” my reply to which caused him to run.
His superior, the Commissariat officer, complained, and I retaliated
by telling him what the Native had said, and that I thought he was to
blame for not coming himself, or sending a European to relieve me of
the stores.
The Officer commanding the wing of a Native Cavalry Regiment kindly
offered me a room in his house, which I accepted the more willingly
as the offer carried with it the use of a rough shed for my favourite
horse. My host, although a clever man, had been for many years away,
working under a Political agent. He had charming manners, but he
neither knew his drill nor had he aptitude for the work of a Cavalry
leader. He was short-sighted, suffering from inflammation in his eyes,
and prematurely aged in constitution. After I had been a week in his
house, he went to Sir William Gordon and borrowed my services as a
Squadron commander, there being only one available for two and a half
Squadrons. The Adjutant, twenty-two years of age, weighing over 20
stone, was a brave man, but unsuited for his appointment.
While Gordon’s squadron was marching northwards, Sir Hugh Rose had
beaten the rebels at Gwáliár, reinstating the Maharaja, and Sir Robert
Napier, taking up the pursuit after a forced march of 25 miles, in
which 5 officers and 85 soldiers in one battalion fell from sunstroke,
overtook and defeated Tantia Topi, 30 miles north-west of Scindia’s
capital.
Tantia had left Gwáliár the day before its recapture, and by similar
promptitude evaded Sir Robert Napier, carrying off Scindia’s Treasury,
and a vast number of horses and camels. Tantia was neither well-born,
rich, nor brave, but clever and unscrupulous. While he had Scindia’s
treasure-chest, and the Rao Sahib as a figure-head, he enjoyed the
sympathy and respect of the ten millions of Central India, who are
mostly Hindoos. To Tantia, acting under Nana Sahib, had been attributed
the arrangements of the treacherous slaughter of Sir Hugh Wheeler’s
force when it surrendered at Kánhpúr. This he denied when about to be
hanged in 1859, but he was one of our most persistent and elusive foes.
* * * * *
Central India, composed of six kingdoms, was subdivided into 69 Feudal
States, the stability of which is guaranteed by the British Government,
and there are in addition 79 petty Chiefships, making 148 in all.
Bhopál and Jaora are Muhammadan, but Scindia was the only Hindoo ruler
who exerted himself actively on the British side, and thus even in
States whose rulers were outwardly loyal, Tantia was able to recruit
Bundelas[58] and Wilayatis,[59] and to arrange for food and horses to
be in readiness for him as he passed through the Districts. He usually
got all he wanted, and when no longer encumbered with guns travelled
great distances, circling round between Jhánsi and Ajmír in the north,
Betul and Asseerghur in the south.[60]
The northern, eastern, and western sides of this parallelogram are
from 350 to 400 miles in length, and the southern side about half that
distance, so in spite of the fact that a dozen columns pursued the
flying horsemen from various places, he eluded capture for many months.
We had been six weeks in Máu when Tantia Topi was reported to be
approaching Jalra Patan, and on the 21st August a small column,
consisting of two squadrons and two battalions Native Infantry, moved
out to Indore. I was sent with the Native Cavalry, as Sir William
Gordon had five officers, and this wing of 200 sabres had only one
Duty officer besides the Commanding officer. Some days later, as we
reached Soosneer, and I thought were marching with sure confidence to
attack, the column was halted, and in the evening I was sent for by the
Officer commanding it, and told to go the following morning as near as
possible to the enemy’s camp, estimated to be twenty miles distant. I
was cautioned not to run unnecessary risks, but at all hazards to keep
the Officer commanding the column aware of any advance of the enemy.
When I left at daylight next morning the Infantry were entrenching the
position, and the Gunners making gun-pits. This puzzled me considerably
at the time, but I afterwards learned that all my Superiors did not
feel the same confidence in the Native troops which their Regimental
officers professed.
About eleven o’clock I was riding in a shallow valley in front of my
party of twenty men, and probably the hot sun had made me drowsy,
for although a few minutes previously I had seen a large hyena which
crossed our path, I was startled by hearing the clang of horses’ hoofs,
and looking round, saw my escort retreating. I thought they might be
flying from a tiger, but looking up saw 300 yards ahead two men in red
coats, who as I afterwards learned belonged to Umjid Ali’s[61] party
of the Gwáliár Contingent. While I was looking at the two warriors
in front, I noticed that they had their backs turned to me, and they
seemed undisturbed by our approach, so I continued to ride towards
them, and was rejoined by my escort. Our Staff arrangements in the
column were not good, for although the Officer had sent out these
men, he had not thought it necessary to inform me they were on the
same business, which might easily have given rise to accidents, as
they wore identically the same uniform as their former comrades the
rebels. Nothing occurred during the day to indicate the enemy would
move farther south. They were probably distributing the spoils of Jalra
Patan. Meanwhile a column of Europeans, with Gordon’s Squadron of the
17th Lancers, was hurrying up to reinforce us, which they did three
days later, but the European Infantry marched with great difficulty in
the oppressive heat.
We moved on the 10th September towards Tantia, who had 30 guns and many
warriors obtained in Jalra Patan, and for three days marched in order
of battle. The Infantry felt the intense heat, though they were spared
unnecessary fatigue by the Native Cavalry, which passed through all
high-standing grain crops and swamps. In fording the Kala Sind River we
lost a good deal of baggage, many mules being washed away. On the 12th
the rain came down so heavily that it was impossible to move our camp,
nor did our enemy attempt to march. On the 14th the Advance Guard, a
Squadron of the 17th, 98 all Ranks, Native Cavalry 190 sabres, and 3
guns, arrived at Rajghur. As we halted in sight of the enemy’s camp
they began to strike tents. The European Infantry were much exhausted
by the previous march, on which several men had died from sunstroke.
We waited impatiently for them to come up, as a strong Cavalry picket
crossing the river halted for two hours within half a mile of us. Then
the General rode up, and said the Infantry could not advance, and must
encamp where they were.
Two battalions of Native Infantry now came up, and volunteered to
attack; but the General naturally wished to wait till the Europeans
could take part in the action. He left me with one Squadron of Native
Cavalry, with orders to hold my ground at all costs till the Europeans
had rested.
Two Squadrons of the enemy advanced as I was placing vedettes, and
conformed to my dispositions, on a ridge about 400 yards distant. As
the Native officer opposite to me placed a pair of vedettes exactly
opposite to mine, I got off my horse after I had gone about 500 yards,
and sitting down, waited to see if he had sufficient self-confidence to
choose a spot on his own initiative; this he did not do, however, and
he remained sitting on his horse waiting for me.
I had been in position two hours, and the sun was setting, when looking
through my field-glasses I observed a Native woman approaching from the
river, walking with a long swinging stride. The Native endeavoured to
pass through our line of vedettes at about 200 yards from where I was
sitting on my horse, and having noticed that the stride had perceptibly
shortened, I called to the nearest vedette to bring the person to me.
Stripping off the clothing round the Native’s body, we found it was a
man, and after a few questions he admitted he was a spy. I sent him
into camp, and he was shot next day.
When I got back into camp at night I realised the General’s anxiety,
for one-third of the European Infantry had fallen out exhausted,
and several had died from the heat. I had not a particle of skin on
my nose, which was swollen to an enormous size, and my eyelids were
blistered by the sun.