1858–9--A PURSUIT
A pursuit--Highlanders march in three days 73 miles and attack--
Varied duties--Ride on a giraffe--A well-dressed rebel
mistaken for a loyal Sepoy.
We halted on the 20th October, uncertain in which direction the main
body of the rebels had gone after we had driven them across the Jamni
River. We afterwards learned that the Infantry had separated; some
going northwards, joined Maun Singh, and others travelled with Tantia
Topi for another fortnight.
We marched on the 21st to Lalitpúr, and having encamped, nearly all of
us were asleep in the afternoon, when fifty rebel horsemen came into
the village in ignorance of our presence. Sir William Gordon mounted,
but did not overtake the fighting men, bringing in only some of the
camp followers. Tantia doubled back between us and the Betwa River,
passing within four miles of our camp; we followed, and our European
Infantry, consisting of a wing of the 71st and 92nd Highlanders, for
the next three days covered long distances. We generally started in
the middle of the night; our first march, on the 23rd October, was
27 miles; next day, 29 miles; and on the 25th October, 17 miles. The
General had promised the Infantry a halt, but as we came on the spot
selected for our camping-ground near Kurai, the rebels arrived there at
the same moment.
I quickly shifted the saddle on to “The Pig,” and accompanied the
Native Cavalry out to the flank, while our Infantry advanced in an
extended line. Organised resistance soon ceased, and during the
pursuit the mounted troops spread out on an extended frontage, the
Cavalry separating into three bodies. I had led a Squadron against a
collected body of the Rebels, and then, to avoid seeing them killed,
I followed, with a dozen soldiers, a formed group of men; leaving my
followers engaged in exterminating them, I rode at a Sepoy who escaped
into a jowarry field. I pursued him, but when I got into the middle
of the field regretted having done so, for the stalks were stiff and
strong, and I had to spur my horse sharply to induce him to move. If
the Sepoy had realised my difficulty, and awaited my coming, I must
have fought at a disadvantage; he went through the grain however, and
halted on a clear spot. As I approached he threw down his musket, which
was empty, and drawing a sword, cried, “Sahib, I know I must die, but
it is not an officer’s duty to kill individuals; send a private to
fight me. I shall either wound or kill you.” I replied, “It is more
likely I shall kill you,” as I cantered at him. He was an active man,
and threw himself down on his back so suddenly as to escape the point
of my sword, irritating me by cutting at my horse’s hocks. Now I had
given £110 for the horse, and having no money to replace it, I lost my
temper, calling to the Sepoy that I had taken him for a warrior, and
not a horse-slaughterer. Before I could turn the horse, my men, who had
come up, by getting round the Rebel in a circle effectually prevented
my fighting him by approaching at speed, as all Cavalry soldiers should
do. He kept five or six at bay for some minutes by snicking their
horses’ faces, until he fell to a pistol shot.
We killed in the pursuit about 150 of the rebels, and the General
estimated their total losses at 350. Tantia fled towards Ratghur, and
then turning south-west moved by Garaispur towards Bhopál, where,
forestalled by another small column, he crossed the Narbadá.
After the pursuit I fell ill with a severe attack of fever and ague,
complicated by acute toothache, and was carried into Bhilsa, where
fortunately for me the Force halted for three days. I persuaded the
doctor to let me go back to duty a day too soon, and thus got another
touch of fever, but succeeded in concealing the fact, and recovered by
the 6th November.
When we reached Hosingabad three days later, troops at that town and
others coming up were formed into a Cavalry column of 7 Squadrons, and
D Troop Royal Horse Artillery, under command of Colonel Benson, 17th
Lancers, who had just arrived from Jalna. I was nominated as his Staff
officer, doing also the duties of Interpreter and Bazaar Master; and
I should soon have got ill again, had not the Colonel let me have an
intelligent Corporal of the Regiment to assist me with the office-work.
I was indeed so hard worked that my English letters remained unopened
in my pocket for five hours on the 14th November, when we halted at
Betul to collect grain for the horses, before following the rebels to
Multai. We had saved the Treasury from Tantia, which he had hoped to
seize, but were now obliged to wait, or the horses must have starved.
Besides the ordinary routine work of a Staff officer in the Field, the
duties of Bazaar Master were varied and numerous. On the 14th November
I was engaged nearly all the forenoon, while sitting in Sir William
Gordon’s leaky tent with my face tied up in a pepper poultice, in
dispensing justice like a Kadi in the _Arabian Nights_. There appears
a Native, who after prostrating whines, “I was buying sugar in the
Bazaar, and had a rupee tied in the fall of my puggaree, when this
child”--producing an urchin six years old--“calls out, ‘Look behind
you, a man steals the rupee.’ I looked behind me, and the rupee was
gone.” The culprit gives up the rupee, receives twenty-four lashes on
the spot, and disappears. A Native Corporal reports that the Squadron
which marched at daylight to join another column has left baggage on
the camping-ground, would the Sahib provide transport? This I order
from the town, and he goes. A doctor writes: “Dear Sir, I learn that
you have flogged one of my dooly-bearers, will you state for what cause
and on what evidence?” I reply, “Dear Sir, I flogged your dooly-bearer
on what I considered to be sufficient evidence.--Your faithful
servant.” Colonel Benson’s servant appears and says, “My master’s
cart is broken, please mend it.” I send a Native messenger with him
into the town to the wheelwright’s shop. Dhokul Singh, my orderly at
Rajghur, and who came to my assistance at Sindwaha, says, “Oh, father
and mother, why have you left us? There is nothing for me but Death.”
I reply, “I obey orders, but say at once what you want.” “Oh, master,
four of us gave our boots to the cobbler yesterday, who disappeared,
and the Commanding officer said I might stay behind the Regiment to
search for him. I have found the cobbler, but he is helplessly drunk:
what is to be done?” I reply, “Wait;” and sending to the cobbler’s
house, in a short time his friends bring the boots, and Dhokul Singh
rides off, saying he “will try to live for the happiness of seeing me
again.”
Tantia Topi had hoped to enter the Dekhan, but confronted by hostile
forces in every direction, he dismissed the footmen who had followed
him south of the Narbadá, and they dispersed in the Pachmarhi Hills,
while his horsemen turned down the valley of the Tapti. Colonel Benson
followed him, and for ten days we rode through jungle, the wretchedly
poor villages being unable to furnish adequate supplies for our horses,
which for two days had no grain. We went close to Ellichpoor, making
a round of 40 miles in order to obtain food for our animals, while
another column in command of Colonel Parke, which was close to the
Narbadá, took up the chase, and Tantia, fleeing westward, made for
Khandeish, vigorously pressed by Colonel Parke, whose men and horses
were fresh. Tantia doubling northwards, eluded his pursuers, but
ran across five companies of Infantry before he was aware of their
presence, losing 150 men, but succeeded in crossing the Narbadá at
Burwanee.
We had struck the Asseerghur-Máu road to the north of the former place
and were moving northwards, when Colonel Benson, at 3 a.m. on the
30th November, received an urgent message to reach Máu as quickly as
possible, as Tantia once across the Narbadá had headed for Indore,
ten miles to the north of the Máu Cantonments, which were denuded of
British troops, and we made a record march.
We arrived at the bank of the river at noon, got the last load across
by 6 p.m., and starting two hours later rode into Máu at 8 a.m. on the
1st December, a journey of 50 miles in twenty-six hours, of which six
had been occupied in crossing a big river. Greater distances have been
accomplished in recent years in less time, but Cavalry soldiers in
those days generally made even the longest marches at a walk.
We halted twenty-four hours at Máu for information, but left on
the morning of the 3rd for Rutlam, hearing Tantia had ridden in a
north-westerly direction. It is possible he learnt we were between him
and Indore, or perhaps Colonel Parke was too close at his heels to
allow the wily Mahratta time to turn. Colonel Parke overtook him near
Udaipúr, 40 miles north of the Narbadá, chasing him to Dewud, whence
Tantia turned in a south-westerly direction towards Baroda. He ran
against another column sent out from that place, suffered more loss,
and then headed north-east to Banswara.
On the 9th December, Colonel (Brigadier-General) Somerset took over
the command from Colonel Benson, and halted for three days, uncertain
of Tantia’s movements, and the military situation being complicated by
the fact that Firoz Shah was crossing the Ganges to join Tantia. It was
necessary for us to keep within reach of Jaora, for the Nawab’s brother
was with Tantia, and had vowed he would plunder the city, into which we
marched on the 14th.
The Nawab came to meet us, and in the evening sent elephants, on which
we proceeded in procession round his somewhat squalid capital, and
later to his palace. While waiting for dinner some horrid exhibitions
were given, amongst others a sheep being killed by a lynx, and we were
shown the Nawab’s menagerie, which was varied, though not extensive. A
giraffe was brought round, led by a string in its nose. Eventually it
was halted under the balcony on which we were sitting, when an officer
observed, “I’ll lay a rupee that Wood doesn’t dare ride that beast.”
“Done with you,” said I, and pulling the spurs from the heels of my
boots, I opened my legs and dropped on to the creature’s back. The
motion was not unpleasant while it walked, but when it began to trot
I became uncomfortable. It carried no saddle, but round its neck was
a circlet of ornamental worsted, by which I held. While the creature
trotted in a circle I maintained my seat, but presently jumping high
from the ground he pulled over the attendant, who held on manfully for
50 yards while being dragged, but then let go, and the giraffe broke
into a canter. I was not much inconvenienced at first, but soon the
ungainly motions gave me all the sensations experienced by a landsman
crossing the Channel between Dover and Calais in a choppy sea, and I
was wondering how I could get off, when the giraffe turned a corner,
and I saw in front his stable. Fearing for my head, I let myself down,
and should have escaped with only a shaking but that the creature’s
knee struck me in the chest, and sent me backwards to the ground. His
hind foot came down on my face, and knocked me insensible, cutting a
hole in either cheek and in my lip, and making a mash of my nose. For
the next three days I was carried in a dooly.
In Christmas week our destination was changed four times. On the
23rd we were marching towards Purtabghar, when General Somerset was
ordered to “hand over his Command to Colonel Benson, and move with all
speed towards Sehore, bringing as many Highlanders as he could mount
on camels, 8 guns, and Lieutenant Wood.” We marched day and night to
Ujjain, where we were ordered to turn back and march to Agar, and from
thence to Mehidpur. On the 27th we left Mehidpur at 3 a.m., and marched
continuously till 7 p.m. on the 31st, having one halt of four hours,
one of two hours, and others of only an hour. The men carried only
cloak and haversack.
At Zirapur we overtook Colonel Benson with two Squadrons and two guns,
who having chased Tantia from near Maundsar for over 80 miles, had had
a fight the previous day, and taken six elephants. Both he and Sir
William Gordon, who was the hardest of the hard, looked very thin and
ill. General Somerset asked them to come on with us, but they declared
that neither men nor horses, which had been without grain during the
four days of forced marches, could move.
We moved on 16 miles to Khilchipur, and with rests of twenty minutes
to feed the horses, marched 40 miles continuously till the evening of
the 31st, closing on the rebels, now only 10 miles in front of us. I
sent two spies from Sarthal to stay with them until they halted, for we
knew that we were close on them, every now and then coming on foundered
horses. My two spies were captured, but telling plausible stories
escaped with their lives.
When I had shown the troops where to bivouac--for we had dropped tents
and all baggage on the 26th--I induced a horsekeeper to go out to the
enemy. The man was stupid, for when I inspected him before he started
he had a tin pannikin marked “17th Lancers” tied to his cummerbund. I
stripped him and a torch-bearer whom I had obtained from a village, and
made them exchange every particle of clothing, and my horsekeeper was
thus fairly disguised, having nothing appertaining to a European about
him; and I accompanied him three or four miles, till we got near a
Piquet of the Rebels.
While I was away the Commanding officers had been to see the Brigadier,
and pointing out that such incessant marching was having a prejudicial
effect on the men’s health, begged that he would go on as soon as the
troops had eaten. This decision was announced to me when I came back
later to have some food, and I asked my General what he proposed to do
when we came on the enemy’s Piquet; but he determined to go forward,
and so at midnight we moved off. When we were 3 miles south of Barode
we were fired on, and turning back to the General, who rode 100 yards
behind me, I asked him what he would do. He was then sorry he had not
accepted my suggestion, and asked what I advised, and I said, “Lie down
until daylight:” and so we did. I brought twelve men of the Highlanders
up to the head of the column in place of the few Lancers who had been
there, enjoining the Sergeant that the sentry should awake me when
he saw the first streak of the false dawn.[71] I awoke about half an
hour before it appeared, witnessing a strange sight. There was not
one single man in the little Force awake. The Sergeant and the twelve
Highlanders were sleeping soundly; every Lancer had his arm through his
horse’s rein, which was standing with drooping head; and the drivers
were stretched alongside the gun teams. Kicking the Sergeant and the
Piquet up, I bade them run down the column and awake the men, and we
advanced. Three-quarters of a mile distant, in a large group of trees,
we saw camp fires, and I rode with an orderly of the 17th Lancers into
the grove, which was occupied by camp followers, whose only anxiety was
to escape. Disregarding them, the column pressed on, following a cloud
of dust which marked Tantia’s retreat. He had camels and elephants,
and the latter certainly must have moved earlier or we should have
overtaken them.
When we had gone about 6 miles and I was ahead guiding the column,
the horse of one of the rebels putting his feet inside the standing
martingale, came down in front of me, and I told Trumpeter Brown[72]
to shoot him. Presumably the Trumpeter had not much confidence in his
skill, for he would not fire until he had placed the pistol close to
the rebel’s head. Eventually Brown fired, and the man ducking his head
the bullet missed him, and I peremptorily forbidding another shot, let
the man run off into a field of jowarry, his horse still remaining
cast on the road. He must have escaped, for when we returned in the
afternoon the horse was gone.
Two miles farther on we were hurrying through a village with high mud
walls, and a roadway so narrow as only just to take the guns. The
leading gun detachment was in front, and the Squadron 17th Lancers half
a mile out on either flank, and had dropped somewhat behind, as the
guns followed a track, and the Lancers were moving through poppies,
which being in full bloom and high, were tiring to the horses. The 150
Highlanders were as near behind the battery as they could keep.
I did not know at the time how ill the Brigadier was, suffering from
a disease from which he died a few months afterwards; but on this
occasion, when in actual presence of the enemy, he came out grandly as
a leader of men. As he, Captain Paget, and I rode out of the village,
there were 2000 horsemen drawn up 700 yards from us in one long line,
and on seeing the gun they cheered, and advanced at a slow trot. I
turned to General Somerset and said, as I put my hand over my sword,
“We have only to die like gentlemen to which he replied, “Die? Not at
all. Paget, gallop.” Captain Paget always talked in a drawling voice,
and on this occasion he did not quicken his intonation, as he ordered,
“Leading gun--gallop.” And gallop it did for 100 yards, and came into
action, thus enabling the remaining three guns to emerge from the
village. The Rebel horsemen were within 400 yards of us as the first
gun was fired; the projectile, a round-shot, hit the horse of the
leader, killing it, the rider and horse turning a somersault. This
caused a delay. Three or four men jumping off their horses, picked up
their leader, who was a man of note. The second round was high, but the
third and fourth shot found the target, causing the line to halt, and
now to my intense relief I saw coming through the village the leading
camels.
Riding up to the first man, I said, “Jump off.” The kilted Highlander
had come 150 miles on a baggage-camel with rough paces, and had lost
skin; his feelings caused him to border on the insubordinate, as he
replied, “Na, na; I winna brak ma neck.” It was no time to argue, and
jumping off my horse I pulled at the nose string of the camel and
brought him down, and the Highlander then slid off, quickly followed by
others, and in much less time than it takes to tell the story, a dozen
men were standing on each side of the guns. While I was forming them
up, we heard a cheer, and saw the Squadron 17th Lancers, divided into
two troops, with about half a mile interval, bring their lances down,
as they galloped at the enemy, who, demoralised by our Artillery fire,
turned and fled. So far as I recollect, we had only one man speared.
We moved on after the Rebels, for we had seen nothing of their
treasure, which we wanted less for our pockets than to break up
their Force, realising that when Tantia could no longer pay his men
handsomely they would disperse. We had gone 10 miles from Barode when
on approaching a low range of hills we came on hard soil and lost the
trail (pag). I asked the General if he would follow the track while I
rode to a village in a gap in the hills half a mile to our left for
information, and I trotted off, followed by an orderly of the 17th
Lancers, while the column proceeded at a walk. Just before I reached
the village I came to some sandy soil, and tracing without difficulty
camels and elephants, sent the orderly back to ask the General to turn
the column.
I saw the chief man of the village and asked him for chupattis (bread),
as I had had nothing to eat since a scanty meal on the previous
evening. I did not at first realise I had shut my eyes, but when I
looked at my watch I found I had been asleep for half an hour, sitting
alongside my horse. Most of the people were on a high hill which
overlooked the village, and shouting to them, I asked which way the
English Force had gone. They replied it had followed the main track,
outside the range of hills which formed a basin, at one entrance of
which their village stood. I asked if I could save distance by riding
across the valley to another pass which I could see a mile on, and
they answered in the affirmative. Mounting, I rode on, followed by a
horsekeeper of the Artillery, who was riding bareback on a horse which
was too exhausted for draught.
We had gone a few hundred yards, when a man came from behind a hut,
so neatly dressed as to make me think he was one of the Bombay Native
Infantry, some of whom were following us, but 60 miles in the Rear.
I approached him to ask how he got up, when he came to “the charge,”
and I then saw he was one of the rebels. I was about to attack him, as
the horsekeeper shouted to me, “Enemy’s Cavalry in front,” and looking
ahead I saw a Squadron of the Gwáliár Contingent coming through the
pass for which I was making. I reflected that if the man fired, and
missed me, the Squadron would catch me, unless indeed our column was
close behind it, and so saying to the Rebel, “Not just now,” as he went
into a hut, I rode on, with much anxiety as to whether the Squadron I
saw, which was crossing my front without regarding me, was the first
or last of the Rebel Cavalry in the pass, where, however, I met the
Advance guard of the 17th Lancers. The General after some discussion
decided he would return to Barode, where we arrived at five o’clock on
the evening of the 1st January, having marched--if direct distances
from village to village only are counted--171 miles since the morning
of the 27th.
When I had obtained a guide to lead the column by the nearest track
to Barode, taking an orderly I went off to look for the Sepoy whom
I had not ventured to fight half an hour earlier. I found the hut
without difficulty in which he had disappeared, and having dismounted,
approached, feeling sorry I had come, when I saw that I had to go down
on my knees to get through the door, and was considerably relieved when
I found the place empty.