1859--THE END OF THE MUTINY
Passive disloyalty of many Central India chiefs--A record in
pig-sticking---Eighty hours’ work without sleep--The rebels
exhausted by fatigue give in--Field Forces are broken up.
We halted till the 4th January at Barode, and then moved in a
north-westerly direction to Chuppra, where our baggage column rejoined
us on the 9th, to our great comfort; for we had not changed our
underclothing since the 25th December, bivouacing with what we carried
on our saddles. A great number of camels had broken down, and some had
died, being unable to support the fatigue of the forced marches we were
making. Commanding officers were vexed with me because I always had a
small string of camels following us without loads, which they regarded
as a waste of power, not realising that when they were once distributed
to Corps I had no means of bringing along ammunition should any of the
camels carrying it become non-effective.
As we were passing through Sarthal, two Lancers who were employed by
me for Intelligence purposes caught a man hiding behind a hut, and
took off him an order written by an agent of the Jalra Patan Rajah,
commanding certain villages to have ammunition and stores collected for
Tantia’s forces. The bearer of the letter was sentenced to be shot,
but I obtained a reprieve for him, being anxious to punish the writer
of the order. On arriving at Chuppra, I arrested and placed him in
charge of the chief of the town, who undertook to be responsible for
him. That evening I had a visit from another Jalra Patan official, who
offered me a thousand rupees to give up the letter. He left the tent
quicker than he entered it; but the Brigadier, to whom I reported the
circumstance, would not sanction my request to have it made known that
the letter-writer was in a waggon, under a Horse Artillery sentry, and
I suffered in consequence of my General’s decision; for that night,
in spite of my precaution in having a servant to sleep in the doorway
of the tent, it was rifled of all its valuable contents, including my
medals, uniform, etc. The two tin clothes-boxes in which they were
packed were found 200 yards from the tent, as were some articles of
uniform, but the medals I never recovered. When the official was tried
at Ajmír, he escaped punishment, the Political officer averring that
nearly all the Minor States in Central India assisted the rebels as far
as they could without getting into trouble with the Paramount Power.
General Michel rejoined us on the 12th, and I was appointed
Brigade-Major. This did not give me any more work, but the day on
which he arrived I had particularly heavy cases as Bazaar Master, and
I should have become ill had not the General, noticing my face, and
with many kind words, relieved me of those duties, which indeed were
sufficient for a man who had nothing else to do. The General never
tired of doing me a kindness, and years after it was the subject of
a joke between us, that a mixture of croton oil, red pepper, and
something else, he had prescribed for toothache, had burnt a hole in
my cheek. We found the alternations of cold and heat trying, generally
marching at 2 a.m. The thermometer was low at night and the sun
scorching at midday, and my baggage-camels dying after a long march
in September, I had lived since that time in a small single roof tent
intended for Natives.
In the third week in January we moved to Kotá, on the Chambal River.
The city stands on a sandy plain of bare sandstone slabs, with
intervening rain holes, and some scrub jungle of camel thorn; but close
to it there are magnificent gardens with trees of many varieties,
ranging from bamboos to the leafy mangos. Near a large lake there was
a beautiful residence, but I was more interested in the citadel, going
there as soon as I had encamped the troops, to look at the place where
the commander of the rebels met his dramatic death after the capture
of the city in 1858. He with a few desperate men had retreated to the
upper walls of the citadel, and the chief sat quietly on his horse
till the leading files of the Seaforth Highlanders ran at him with
levelled bayonets, when, putting his horse at the low parapet wall, it
jumped, and man and horse fell a lifeless mass on the rocks 56 feet
below.
While at Kotá I had my first day’s pig-sticking, which is undoubtedly
the most exciting of all sport, both from its danger of falls, omitting
that of the tusks of the boar, and because, as in a steeplechase, only
one man can win, he who first strikes the pig. Kotá was celebrated
for the amount of game close in to the city, and on the 24th January,
having procured beaters, half a dozen of us rode out before daylight
to the nearest covert, 2½ miles from the city walls. The beaters were
scarcely in when up jumped a sow and eight or nine small pigs, and we
had some difficulty in preventing the more excitable sportsmen from
pursuing them. I was on the left of the horsemen when I saw, 400 yards
away, a dozen black objects which in the dim light I took for buffalo,
and was afraid to speak; but the sun was just rising at the moment, and
I then saw that they were pigs, and shouting rode for the biggest boar
of the sounder.[73] The pig ran from the left to the right of the line,
and Sir William Gordon, riding as he only could, cut in, and would
have got the first spear but that the pig escaped into a nulla covered
with small trees, and we failed to find him again. I knew I could find
the others, however, and guided the party back. We had three short
runs, but the pigs all got back into the jungle, and we then adjourned
to breakfast in a garden of the Rajah’s close at hand, sitting under
orange trees bearing ripe fruit. After breakfast we remounted. I had
sent my horse back to camp, and was on a big Native pony. The beaters
put out three pigs, but the sportsman “rode them” too soon, and all
three turned back into the thick jungle. After another similar mistake,
Sir William Gordon made the party promise to be more patient. When the
beaters went in again, in a few minutes about thirty pigs broke covert
and separated, as did our party. Sir William Gordon got first spear of
those who rode with him, while Major Lewis Knight had alone followed a
pig, and killed it.
This success made him very keen for another hunt, and he came into my
tent late at night, for when I got back to camp I had to make up the
day’s work, and offered to mount me next day if I would arrange another
beat. I replied I had no horse available, and I did not care to ride
another man’s horse on such rough ground; but on Knight’s explaining
that the offer of a mount was not for my pleasure but for his own,
since he could not work the beaters without my help, I accepted the
mount on his £200 horse, being told “to ride it out” as if it were my
own.
I got very little sleep that night, as the Artillery and heavy baggage
were moving off at 3 a.m. to cross the Chambal River, and I had to hand
over the guide, and to see them off. I came back after doing so, and
had an hour’s sleep till 5.30 a.m., when I got up to do some brigade
work before we went out at nine o’clock.
From what I had seen the previous day, I put the men in so as to
get the pigs out on the soundest ground. We waited with breathless
anticipation, I especially, since it was only my third day of
pig-sticking, and I had never before managed a hunt. In a few minutes
the beaters began to shout, and out came a big black buck, followed by
a number of hares, two jackals, and then amidst a herd of deer there
came a pig. I called to my companions, and drove the pig clear of a
nulla, sending him towards Knight, who galloping fast was unable to
turn when the pig did, and he escaped in some broken ground. He was
apparently lost, and when I sent the beaters over the line they saw no
signs of him. Looking round at the moment, I viewed the pig rather more
than a quarter of a mile off, only just showing as a black speck, and
calling to my friend we rode. Knight coming up to me, told me he would
like to see his horse extended, so I gratified him, and we pushed the
pig for about three-quarters of a mile, when the other two sportsmen
cut in, and one of them got first spear, although Knight and I had done
all the galloping.
The pig having sat down, I rode slowly up, thinking he was mortally
wounded; but as I approached he rose and charged exactly at my horse’s
chest. I lowered my spear, which caught the pig on the nose, sending
him over backwards and cracking the spear. As we were despatching
the animal, the beaters brought on by the horsekeepers crossed the
plain in line, and drove before them a large sounder, nearly as many
as came out the first time. I mounted, straightened my spear as well
as I could, and followed a boar beyond the covert from which he had
originally come. I passed the other three sportsmen who were following
a pig, and my own horsekeeper, but my tongue was so dry I could not ask
for help, and though close behind the boar, from exhaustion could not
kill it. The boar was equally exhausted, and disregarded men working
in a field who threw stones at him. Eventually he stopped in a dry
ravine, whence he charged me. I was obliged to turn and gallop to save
the horse, for my spear was no longer reliable. The boar then made for
a watercourse, with overhanging steep banks, down which he slid, and
swam across. I dismounted, and ascending the far bank, saw the pig lie
down in a run covered with bushes. My companions had now followed me,
and getting one of them to stand in the watercourse, and holding the
spear by the shaft-head, I struck the boar. He turned and charged my
companion, and Lewis Knight killed it. This must be a record: five pigs
in an hour and a half, amongst four sportsmen.
From Kotá, making short marches, we followed our General, who had
ridden on to Nasírábád, being uncertain where Tantia Topi had gone,
the last reports locating him as 150 miles north-west of Ajmír. While
we were encamped at Shaporah I saw in a Political officer’s tent an
essay on “How to Watch the Passes of the Aravalli Range,” and copied
it, without anticipating, however, how useful it would become. We were
encamped at Musooda, a small town 25 miles south-west of Nasírábád,
on the night of the 12th-13th February, when we received a letter
from the General, stating that Tantia being unable to subsist his
followers in the Bikaneer District was moving southwards on the western
side of the Aravalli Range, and that General Somerset was to make a
forced march of 40 miles at least, and endeavour to block the passes.
Our only information of the passes was the paper I had fortuitously
copied. It was impossible for us to march 40 miles carrying the kit we
had with us, and as we could not rearrange it at night, in order to
save time we marched immediately for Ramghur. There we spent several
hours in selecting the best camels, and having loaded up two days’
grain and fifteen days’ groceries, we started again, and marched not
only 40 miles, but day and night, for nine days. The Force consisted
of 4 Squadrons 17th Lancers, 2 weak Squadrons of the Bombay Cavalry,
D Battery Royal Horse Artillery, 130 men of the 92nd Highlanders, and
140 of the 4th Bombay Rifles on camels. I have now before me the hours
of our marching off and coming into camp, and after an experience of
forty-six years I think that no one in South Africa or elsewhere ever
sat longer hours in the saddle than did our men. We knew, however, less
of mounted soldiers’ work, and performed even the longest marches at a
walk, covering only 4 miles in the hour.
I never underwent such continuous fatigue, and lost the holding power
of my legs after being for 80 hours without sleep. On the 15th February
we marched from 6.30 a.m. to 11.30 a.m., and I was occupied till we
marched again at 4 p.m. sending out spies, of whom I had a continuous
succession coming and going. The price paid to each man averaged 6
rupees, and while we were riding down on the east side of the range of
mountains I spent 113, which involved a great deal of conversation,
and effectually prevented my lying down to rest. When we got on to
our ground at 10.30 p.m. on the 16th, I had to interview men who
arrived with information, and just as I was about to lie down, a post
rider arrived with the English mail. I could, no doubt, have got a
non-commissioned officer from the 17th Lancers to assist me; but every
man, including those who were supposed to be sentries, was asleep by
the bivouac fires, and so I went on sorting until 2 a.m., when I had
the “Rouse” sounded, and at 3 a.m. we were again travelling. The order
of march was slightly varied daily, but was simple. One hour after the
“Rouse,” the column passed by the Brigade-Major’s torch-bearer; there
the Advance Guard picked up the guide, and so nobody but the General
and I knew where we were going, and treachery was impossible, even if
the camp followers had not been too tired to think of it. We marched
till 1.30 p.m. that day, and then, having travelled 30 miles, halted to
let the men cook, and also because I was uncertain in which direction
the enemy had gone.
We got this information about 6 p.m., and at 8 p.m. were making for a
village 32 miles distant. I had seen the Column off without mounting,
my bivouac being on the track, and as I was tired told the horsekeeper
to put me up in the saddle. He put me over, on to the ground the far
side, and grumbling at him I told him to come round the off side,
and put me up; he did, with a similar result, and then I discovered
I had no power in my legs. Calling to an elephant-keeper, I bade
him make the elephant sit down, and hand me a rope, up which I was
hauled, and stretching out on its load, a hospital tent, I followed
the Column, awaking only when the elephant passing under trees brushed
my face against the boughs. My horsekeeper had walked close behind
the elephant, and at 4 a.m., mounting my horse, I cantered up to
the head of the Column, receiving very grumpy answers to my cheery
“Good-morning,” uttered as I cantered past the Squadrons. When we
halted for breakfast, I asked a friend why they were all so cross at
4 a.m., and received the naïve answer, “Because your voice was so
cheerful.”
We had nearly arrived at the limit of human endurance. Many officers
had straps sewn on to the front of the saddle, by fixing their wrists
in which they were able to sleep when on the march; but I counted three
Lancers on the ground at one time, who had tumbled off while asleep.
The horses became so leg-weary that they would lie down before they
were picketed on the lines, and many refused to eat. The Australian
Squadron horses showed least endurance; then the Cape Squadron; the
Arab Squadron outlasted all others. I saw “The Pig” lie down one day as
I dismounted, but he ate his food greedily, without offering to rise.
The rebels got through the range of mountains, and we missed them by
an unfortunate circumstance. We had actually marched off for Kankroli,
when a horseman arrived from an officer who was at Amet, with two
companies of a local battalion, stating that the Rebels were close to
him, and that the town people were openly hostile. We made a detour
of 10 miles, and found the enemy had never been within 6 miles of the
place, and later we learnt if we had gone to Kankroli we should have
arrived there at the same time as the Rao Sahib, for Tantia at that
time was not with his troops.
On the 23rd, when we were within 10 miles of the Banswara jungle,
some Rebels whose horses’ feet were worn to the quick, and others who
were so exhausted as to be unable to sit in the saddle, submitted.
Ordinarily, we shot everyone, but I begged the General to try the
experiment of not shooting them, and two or three days later Jaroor
Ali, the Chief of the fighting men escorting Firoz Shah, asked to
surrender. We should have got all of them in, but that columns were
brought in to surround them, and the Prince, fearing treachery, moved
on. We marched up to the north of Bundi, and then turned southwards
again, still chasing the men, who would have come in if we had been
more patient, till on the 4th February we were again on the Chambal,
near Chenwassa. Here I got another sharp touch of fever. I had marched
for 3000 miles in Central India since the end of August, and my blood
was in so bad a state that the slightest cut on my hands festered. We
moved to Biora, and encamped on a spot where we had halted on the 15th
September in the previous year, and then after some fruitless marches
between Pachor and Biora, looking for reported rebels, we finally
received an order to break up the Force;[74] the 17th Lancers being
ordered to Gwáliár.
The General had gone back to Máu, whence he wrote asking for my Record
previous to coming under his command. Later I heard that he was trying
to obtain for me the Victoria Cross for the episode at Sindwaha, but
had some difficulty, however, on account of his having irritated the
officer who made the favourable report on me; for the day after the
action a Divisional Order was issued, pointing out that “Cavalry is not
justified in pursuing a beaten enemy in dressed lines at the walk.” The
officer now declined to move in the matter. I only heard of this long
afterwards, for Sir John Michel[75] never told me when I stayed with
him; also that he had applied for my name to be noted for a Brevet as
soon as I became a Captain; but the application was returned, noted,
that “His Royal Highness the Commander-in-Chief always declined to
promise promotion in advance.”
After we started for our Station we were twice recalled, when rebels
crossed the main road from Máu to the north. They were no longer
organised bodies, but bands varying in numbers from time to time
infested the jungle country of Narsinghar and Sironj till 1860. When
at last allowed to proceed towards Gwáliár, we marched by the regular
stages, till an order was received to hasten as much as possible.
A battalion of the East India Company Army at Morar had become so
insubordinate as to cause apprehension of mutiny, and there was grave
misconduct in Bengal. The men had not been asked, but were transferred
with the Native Army to the Crown, by Act of Parliament, and many
European soldiers flatly refused to serve on, demanding re-engagement,
and bounties. Eventually they gained the first point, and those who
stood out for the bounty were discharged. More consideration would
have prevented any difficulty arising, but the idea of the Rank and
File that the Queen’s Regiments would refuse to act against them was,
I believe, unfounded; and certainly it was so in the 17th Lancers, as
anyone could learn from the language of the men when making forced
marches in May. The trouble at Morar happily subsided when the
Government admitted its mistake, and we eventually got into Barracks on
the 15th May.
Three weeks later I was warned for duty at Kirki, 690 miles to the
south, where I was to receive, mount, equip and train a large draft
of Recruits from England, who were to march up to Gwáliár after the
Monsoon. I was unwilling to go, for my horses had marched continuously
for 342 days; moreover, I was happy in the Regiment, although my
pay had dropped from £80 to £36, 10s. per mensem, and I enjoyed the
friendship of Sir William Gordon, from whom a horse-lover could learn
something daily. Both he and Major White being in advance of their
time in liberality of mind, wished to prevent my paying for wine I
did not drink at Mess, but I declined to lend myself to any request
for an alteration of the system, as the Colonel had refused a similar
suggestion made by Major White without my knowledge when we were at
Kirki. The Colonel himself was acting on principle, and was personally
kind to me, and, influenced I think by Captain Duncan the Adjutant,
sent for me before I left Morar and asked me if I would like to be
Adjutant on my return. I replied, “I thought you were going to give it
to the Sergeant-Major,” and he said, “No, I shall give it to the man I
think will do the Regiment best, and I advise you to work up for it, if
you wish to have the appointment.”