1859--BEATSON’S HORSE
Tantia Topi executed--I rejoin 17th Lancers and am sent to
Poona to train recruits--Sir John Michel at Máu--Am sent
to Beatson’s Horse at Árangábád--Novel cure for scorpion
bite--General Beatson--I qualify as Interpreter--Ordered to
Bersia--Tiger-hunt on foot--Irregular Cavalry.
While we were halted at Biora, another Squadron of the Regiment farther
north made two forced marches, being ordered to attend the execution of
Tantia Topi, who had been given into the hands of our Political agent
at Sipri, Major Meade, under the following circumstances. Maun Singh, a
vassal of Scindia, quarrelled with his overlord some time previous to
the Mutiny and was outlawed by him, but being too powerful on account
of his fighting retinue, and the difficult country over which he ruled,
to be suppressed, had never been seriously molested.
Tantia Topi in passing through Maun Singh’s country invited him to
join him, and on his refusal imprisoned the Rajah. Maun Singh escaped,
and in April of the following year, when Tantia sought an asylum in
the Rajah’s territory, Maun Singh, after some deliberation, sent to
Major Meade at Sipri and offered to give up the fugitive. Tantia
became suspicious of Maun Singh’s intentions, and left the Rajah, who,
however, decoyed him back, and when he was asleep had him surrounded
by Native soldiers sent by Major Meade. When Tantia awoke, perceiving
the trap into which he had fallen, he said, “What sort of friendship is
this?” The Rajah answered, “I have never considered you as a friend.”
Tantia was hanged under painful circumstances, his executioners being
without experience.
My servants engaged at Kirki the night before we left, at the end of
May 1858, had gone home just before I received the order to proceed
there, and I had been obliged to obtain a fresh set in Gwáliár. I had
no difficulty in obtaining good men, because, although my servants
were “Strangers in the land,” yet such is the freemasonry in the
class in all countries, no sooner had I told them they could leave me
and go home on their finding substitutes, than such were produced.
Nevertheless, I must admit that I had some misgivings when I handed
over my horses to men I had only known for a fortnight. They were to
lead them about 700 miles to Poona, where I, starting a few days later
in the Bullock train, hoped to arrive in twenty days.
I left Morar on the evening of the 29th May and early next morning
breakfasted 40 miles south of Scindia’s capital. I found Maun Singh,
who had given Tantia into our hands, living for a few days in a temple
immediately opposite to where I halted. He came over to see me, and
after the usual compliments, showing me his rifles, of which he was
proud, invited me to try a shot with a Westly Richards. Now I had not
used a rifle since I left the Crimea, and being unwilling to discredit
the shooting powers of the British officer, I hesitated, until Maun
Singh said to me bluntly, “Do not be afraid. I am not an ordinary
Native; it is not overloaded.” I was then in the dilemma of either
appearing afraid or of showing myself a bad shot, and accepted the
latter alternative. Taking the rifle from the Rajah, I looked around
for some object which I might miss without discredit. The head of a
squirrel was showing over a stone 50 yards distant, and throwing the
rifle to my shoulder, I immediately pulled the trigger. The Natives
shouted, and one of them running up, held in the air the body of the
squirrel, the head of which had been decapitated by the bullet, as if
cut with a knife. I declined the Rajah’s suggestion to have another
shot.
I stayed in a temple next night at Goona. The Commanding officer and
acting Political agent, Major Mayne, offering me hospitality, gave
me an escort as far as Biora for myself and horses, which I had just
overtaken. This was the more acceptable as two Eurasians had been
killed by rebels three days earlier. We reached Pachor without further
incident, but 8 miles south of it encountered a deluge of rain with
a strong wind from the south, which our oxen declined to face, and
the bullock cart carrying a sergeant, 17th Lancers, detailed as a
Drill Instructor to help me, going off the track, upset in a nulla.
Pulling off all my clothes except my shirt, I walked back, and after
considerable manual labour succeeded in extricating the sergeant and
his conveyance. I overheard the Natives talking in the night, and the
observation made by one throws a curious light on our rule in India
at the time. The speaker mentioning with approbation my efforts in
extricating the non-commissioned officer’s cart, added, “and the Sahib
never beat one of us.”
I reached Máu late on the 11th June, and calling soon after daylight on
the General, Sir John Michel, learnt I had been appointed Brigade-Major
of Beatson’s Horse, the Headquarters of which were moving to Árangábád,
where I was to join my new Chief; so I waited until the 18th for my
horses, staying with Sir John until they arrived. He was kindness
personified. A man of mental and bodily vigour, having been at the
Senior Department, Sandhurst, he was educated to a higher degree
than were most officers in the Army. When I was at Máu I found him
engaged one afternoon after luncheon trying to teach Mathematics to
two of his Staff, and it was pathetic to see his eager face fall with
disappointment when he saw their drowsy heads sink on the table.
I had been unwell ever since I had left Gwáliár, troubled with
intestinal complaints and indigestion, which I did not shake off till
the end of July. Nevertheless, I travelled at the rate of 25 miles a
day, and arrived at Árangábád without further incident. I witnessed,
however, a curious instance of “One pain is lessened by another’s
anguish.” When settling down in a village for the night, one of the
grooms uttered a piercing shriek, having been bitten by a big scorpion.
I was perturbed by the man’s agony, and inquired if there was any
doctor within reach. The Head man said, “No; but there is an old woman
who can treat the groom.” I summoned her, and she said she could
without doubt alleviate the man’s sufferings, if I gave her a piece of
tobacco. This was simple, for I had only to buy it of the other grooms;
and my aged visitor sitting down, proceeded to chew an enormous lump
of the strongest tobacco of the country. Under her direction the man
was held down, and then the practitioner sat astride on his chest, and
with considerable force opened one of the patient’s eyes, into which
she ejected a volume of tobacco saliva. The sufferer gave a yell, then
jumped up, and avowing he was quite well, proceeded to cook his supper.
I arrived at Árangábád after some long stages, and reported myself to
Colonel Beatson, the Commander of Beatson’s Irregular Horse, which
was for all purposes, except serious cases of discipline, under the
Viceroy. He was fifty-five years of age, and had entered the Service
in 1820, when sixteen. He had a handsome face, was 5 feet 7 inches in
height, weighing 14 stone. He was a man of remarkable energy, always
riding an hour before daylight. He was not particular about uniform,
but insisted on a sword being always worn, and went so far in being
ready for service as to ride daily with a supply of groceries in his
wallets. He worked all the forenoon, and dined at two o’clock, riding
again between four and five, had some tea at seven, and went to bed at
nine o’clock.
I had marched over 30 miles when I reported my arrival, but he desired
me to accompany him for a ride in the afternoon. Accepting the order
cheerfully, I asked him to lend me a horse; this he did for two days,
but on the morning of the second day I rode one of his horses so
eagerly in chasing a deer, that he was not so willing later to mount
me. The General was busily engaged in preparing for a civil action
he had brought against Mr. Skene, a Consul, to prosecute which he
proceeded to London three months later.
The General ordered me--for though put as an invitation it was
practically an order--to come and live with him, stating he lived “Camp
fashion,”[76] and our fare would be plain. Plain it was, but this did
not disturb me so much as the want of refinement. He had lived in great
discomfort, with iron cups and metal plates, which were seldom washed.
I nevertheless soon got to like my Chief, admiring his boundless
energy, and my butler improved the serving of our meals.
I rode down to Poona from Árangábád in September. The Colonel followed
me about a week later on his way to Europe, and I spent the next two
months at Poona and Bombay preparing for my examination. I overtaxed
my strength in endeavouring to read seven hours daily with Moonshees,
and five to seven hours by myself. A Doctor insisted on my doing less,
but I was young and foolish, and as a result, on the 3rd October, when
at Bombay, I awoke with severe pain in my ears, which continued for a
week, leaving me so deaf that I had difficulty in hearing the Examiner
dictating Hindustani.
I was better on the 15th, when the colloquial examination was held, and
therein I reaped the advantage of the continuous practice I had had in
the twelve months since leaving Kirki. I was naturally fluent, and as I
took up for the examination 2000 words, had an unusual vocabulary at my
command, and passed the examination for Interpreter without difficulty,
at a cost of from £180 to £200. I rode back to my Station with renewed
health, the deafness passing away when I ceased to overtax my strength.
I remained at Árangábád three days, employed in packing the Brigade
office papers, and then started to join the Officer commanding the
1st Regiment, who was now in command of the Brigade. From Árangábád
to Bersia, where I arrived on the 10th November, I averaged just
over 20 miles for eighteen days; but my servants were very footsore,
and my horses’ legs gave evidence of the constant work they had done
for fifteen months. On the 13th the Commandant and I went out to
Sindhara, where, dividing our troops, consisting of 200 Cavalry and 150
Infantry,[77] into three parties, we made a circuit simultaneously in
hopes of catching Adil Muhamad Khan.
Firoz Shah and the Rao Sahib, although in the neighbourhood, were no
longer accounted fighting men. The small bands of rebels were acting as
did Robin Hood, plundering the well-to-do and sparing poor people, and
thus had friends in every village. We concentrated on the 20th November
at Shamsabad, where on the previous evening a tiger had carried off a
boy from the village. The Commandant and I went out next morning after
breakfast. He was well equipped with two rifles and a gun; I had only
a shot-gun, Major Tremayne’s present, which I loaded with bullets.
Two of the villagers conducting us to a ravine, said, “Now there are
two places where this tiger always comes out--here, and another farther
on, near some water.” The Commandant stood at the first place, where
there was a clear field of fire, while the villager, with a confidence
I could not share, placed me in dense jungle on a narrow path, two feet
wide, bordered by grass as high as our heads, observing, “We will stand
here, for it is almost certain the tiger will come along the path.” I
climbed a tree, and insisted on the villager doing the same; but the
covert was drawn blank.
In the second drive, the Commandant stood 5 yards from the head of the
ravine, and I felt obliged to stand alongside of him. When he tried
for a tiger in the same place some months earlier, he missed his first
shot, and in turning to the Native who had his second rifle, he saw him
running with his companions. The Commandant stood firm, and looked at
the tiger, which, bounding past him, seized one of the flying Natives
and literally bit off his head.
I personally was not disappointed that no tiger came out of the ravine;
but one of the Natives, with a misplaced confidence in my skill,
attracted I believe by my fluency in the language, was anxious for my
success, and for the third drive took me on my hands and knees for
100 yards into the jungle, close to a shallow pond, but to my intense
relief of mind the tiger broke back.
While we were hunting for rebels and tigers, I received an offer to
raise a Regiment of Irregular Cavalry, under the orders of Major H. O.
Mayne, and by the same post a note from Sir John Michel directing me
not to leave Bersia until further orders. Some days later, on our
return to Bersia, the post brought the Army Order dissolving the
Brigade, and the Commandant a confidential letter reverting him to
his Regiment, and directing him to hand over the command temporarily
to me. I never heard the details of the case, culminating in a Court
of Inquiry held while I was at Bombay, in which he had incurred the
displeasure of the Commander-in-Chief and the Viceroy, but I gathered
that his intentions were laudable, and that he had done the right
thing, but in the wrong way, in preferring charges against officers
which he could not substantiate.
He left on the 1st December, handing me over the command of 535 men and
542 horses, with a Government debt of £25,000, and a large approved
debt to the Regimental banker, it being the custom for the Commanding
officer to initial the promissory notes of the men who borrowed money,
as an indication that they would, while the soldier was serving, assist
the banker in recovering the sums due.
The banker financed the Chunda, or Horse Regimental Insurance Fund,
which being £500 in debt, and with an increasing liability, paid him
5 per cent. interest. The banker was an important personage in the
Regiment, and until the Commandant left on the 1st December, the portly
Brahman when riding out of an afternoon was escorted by a guard of
honour. He sent monthly for the Regimental pay to Sehore, a distance
of 35 miles, charging a percentage of 1.32 on all Ranks, _i.e._ taking
6d. out of the Privates’ 16s. monthly stipend. Ten days after assuming
command, I abolished his escort, and announced my intention of sending
the Government camels to Sehore, under a guard, for the money. The
Adjutant, who was older than myself, warned me that I should be held
personally responsible for any loss; but I did not agree, if the proper
precaution of having a sufficient guard was taken, and from that time
forthwith the soldier got all to which he was entitled.
The theory of the Irregular Horse system before the Mutiny was simple.
The Government paid 50s. monthly for a trained, armed, mounted soldier,
without incurring any further liability for the man, horse, their
equipment, or food. There were two plans: one in which the soldier
owned and rode his own horse, which was obviously effective only in
peace-time, unless the soldier had ample private means. The usual
plan was for the Native officers to own a certain number of horses,
generally varying with their Rank; but in Beatson’s Horse there were
Lieutenants with more horses than had certain Captains. The most
incompetent officer owned forty-five, and some sergeants had four,
which was in many ways convenient, as affording sufficient margin of
profit in ordinary circumstances, and enabling the non-commissioned
officer with his section to be detached on duty. Such detachments
might enrich or ruin the owner of the horses, for, owing to the
difficulties of transport in the roadless country in which we were
stationed, the price of gram, a horse’s ordinary food, varied at the
outposts from 40 to 160 lbs. to the rupee.[78]
In nearly all Regiments, except where the riders were relatives of the
horse-owners, the former got 16s., and the latter 34s., for each horse.
Under this arrangement, in most parts of the country during peace the
sum paid by Government (£2, 10s.) enabled the owner and rider to live,
and maintain his equipment in fair order, and support a wife. It also
enabled the horse-owner to keep a man acting as groom and grass-cutter
for two horses, and yet to make a profit, after paying all charges,
including 24s. per annum towards a Horse Insurance Fund, from which in
case of loss not attributable to negligence, he received compensation
varying from one-half to three-quarters of the average cost price of
horses in the Regiment.
When Colonel W. F. Beatson received permission in 1857 to raise 1000
Irregular Horse, he undertook, with an imprest on account, to put them
into the Field within six months. This was approved, but it was not
anticipated to what the advance would amount. The Colonel allowed £40
for many of the horses, and £10 outfit for each rider, to be repaid
by monthly instalments of 4 rupees and 1 rupee respectively, thus
encumbering the Regiment with a crushing debt from which it could
never recover. This, however, was not the full extent of the evil; for
though the advances were given generally to men of position, later the
proprietary, or right of owning a horse, was in some cases transferred
to men of straw, and thus the Government lost security for their money.
The Regiment had been raised in a hurry, and showed all the
imperfections due to haste. Many of the Native officers had served
as non-commissioned officers; some of the non-commissioned officers
had served as Privates in the Haidarábád Contingent. Others had been
recruited from the Irregular Levies of the numerous minor potentates of
Central India. The Native officers were generally illiterate,[79] and
even the better educated were under the impression that in the mixing
of Hindustani and English words in command, the latter were Persian.
In each troop there was a sergeant who could read and write, and he
kept such accounts as there were, showing how much had been repaid to
Government; for the monthly instalments had been suspended while the
Regiment was on Field Service. These men, however, like many uneducated
men, had marvellous memories, and it was from them I adjusted and made
out the accounts of the Regiment, of which there were none previously
in existence, showing to whom the £25,000 advanced to the Regiment
in two years had been paid. The greater number of all Ranks were
Mussulmen, but there was one troop of Hindoos, in which a sergeant
named Burmadeen Singh was the ruling spirit, having much more influence
than the Native officers. He was a fine athletic man, but like most
of his race, not a horseman; he was twenty-five years of age, and
had lived according to the strictest letter of the Brahminical law,
a life of absolute purity, without tasting meat. The majority of the
men were poor riders, and the Regiment as such was undrilled. I never
wished to see Irregular Cavalry drilled with the precision of British
or Continental Cavalry, but these men were unable to advance 20 yards
in a line, or wheel to the right or left without jostling each other.
I adopted Rank Entire or Single Rank, as advocated by the Duke of
Wellington after Waterloo for all Cavalry.
Although there was little Military knowledge in the Corps, some of the
men came from warlike races, and from 1 to 1½ Squadrons might have been
selected out of the 535 who, as Irregulars, would have been fairly
efficient. Nevertheless, my difficulties were great, chiefly owing to
the want of education, and the consequent want of intelligence, of
those whom I had to instruct. My new command was intensely interesting:
for fifteen days I spent all my time from daylight to dusk in the
Horse Lines, where out of a total of 542 horses 80 were sick. There
were 20 sore backs, many severe cases of mange, 4 of farcy and 9 of
glanders, none of which were separated from the effective horses.
Indeed, so ignorant were all in the Regiment, that the Adjutant
thought it his duty to tell me that the owners of the infected horses
objected to having them separated. This was done, however, and within
forty-eight hours I found the officer[80] who owned 45 horses was
deliberately starving 4 of the glandered horses. Their market value if
sound was something under £15 a horse, and he would have got from the
Insurance Fund £20 for each, if it should die. I checked this inhuman
practice by striking them off the Insurance Fund.
The premium to the Fund was based on the assumption that 40 to 50
horses would become non-effective annually, and that the owners were
to be allowed £15 on each. A short calculation will show that even
this sum was not financially sound, but when I assumed charge the
horse-owners received £20 for each non-effective horse, and 4 died in
the first week of my command. Every owner of 2 horses was supposed to
have a groom who was also a grass-cutter, and whose duties cutting
grass occupied him at least six hours a day; but some of the more
careless owners had not replaced the grooms, who for various reasons
had become non-effective, and in consequence but few horses were
properly cleaned. At (durbar) or orderly-room, I pointed out the
impossibility of the horses remaining healthy unless they were properly
groomed, and on being met by the objection that it would be derogatory
to a warrior to clean his horse, I replied that I would take off my
coat in the Horse Lines and thoroughly groom a horse, that I insisted
on every horse being cleaned either by a groom or by the soldier who
rode him; and that evening, having done an hour’s hard work, when I
replaced my turban and coat, I said plainly that dismissal would be the
fate of any soldier who declined to follow my example. After this I had
no more trouble on that point.
I daily regretted my want of knowledge of the Veterinary art, but
by dint of hard work and diligent study of _Youat on the Horse_,
and _Miles on the Horses Feet_, aided by the Doctor, who compounded
medicines, the non-effective list was reduced to 48 in the course of
three weeks.
The Second in command was away on sick leave, so the only European
officers were the Adjutant, who came from an Infantry Regiment, and
the Doctor. The Adjutant, three or four years older than myself, was
short-sighted, a fair rider, without any love for horses, but an
excellent office man. He was a born accountant, never tired of figures,
and preferred being at such work to spending his time in the saddle or
amongst the men.
John Henry Sylvester, the Doctor, was a man of unusual ability, and
had carried off all the prizes in all subjects at the end of his
school career. He had made a considerable sum of money when at Bombay
by practice amongst wealthy Natives, but disliked his profession, and
would have made a good Cavalry officer.
During the Court of Inquiry, he and the Adjutant, having taken opposite
sides, were not when I took command on speaking terms, and consequently
I had trouble in inducing them to exchange even a word at meals, which
was the only time at which they met. I succeeded gradually, mainly
by so placing bread on the table as to oblige them to ask each other
and not me for it. Bread was a luxury for which we sent to Sehore, a
distance of 35 miles, at the cost of a shilling for each journey.
When my brother-officers were on better terms, I persuaded them to
accompany me to look for a hare, in some broken ground close to our
lines. Unfortunately, the Adjutant being on low ground, and without
his spectacles, saw above him what he took to be a hare, but was the
fawn-coloured puggaree of the Doctor’s helmet; I was at some little
distance, but realising when he raised his gun what was about to
happen, I shouted, though too late, and Sylvester’s helmet was struck
heavily, one or two pellets lodging in his neck. This accident retarded
the reconciliation.
Two days later, getting news of rebels, I rode to Sindhara, and
starting at 1 a.m. with 20 men from that outpost, searched but
unsuccessfully for the band, and was back for dinner next day, having
covered 62 miles in 26 hours. Fifteen days’ hard work followed, during
which time, fond as I was of riding, I only once got into the saddle.
I effected some improvement in the Horse Lines, as the men were happy
and willing to learn; the reforms instituted did not affect them
financially, as they did the horse-owners.
I suspected that the horses detached on outpost duty were not
adequately fed, grain being always dearer in the jungle than in
the cultivated country, where camel, and in some cases wheeled
transport was available, and I now paid a series of surprise visits
to the outposts, riding out 20 miles, and returning to eight-o’clock
breakfast.