THE OUTBREAK.
A week after the boar-hunt came the news that a Sepoy named Mangul
Pandy, belonging to the Thirty-fourth Native Infantry, stationed at
Barrackpore, a place only a few miles out of Calcutta, had, on the 29th
of March, rushed out upon the parade ground and called upon the men to
mutiny. He then shot the European sergeant-major of the regiment, and
cut down an officer. Pandy continued to exhort the men to rise to arms,
and although his comrades would not join him, they refused to make any
movement to arrest him. General Hearsey now arrived on the parade
ground with his son and a Major Ross, and at once rode at the man, who,
finding that his comrades would not assist him, discharged the contents
of the musket into his own body.
Two days later the mutinous Nineteenth were disbanded at Barrackpore.
On the 3rd of April Mangul Pandy, who had only wounded himself, was
hung, and the same doom was allotted to a native officer of his
regiment, for refusing to order the men to assist the officer attacked
by that mutineer, and for himself inciting the men to rise against the
government.
"What do you think of the news, papa?" Dick asked his father.
"I hope that the example which has been set by the execution of these
ringleaders, and by the disbandment of the Nineteenth, may have a
wholesome effect, Dick; but we shall see before long."
It needed no great lapse of time to show that this lesson had been
ineffectual. From nearly every station throughout Bengal and the
northwest provinces came rumors of disaffection; at Agra, at Umballah,
and at other places incendiary fires broke out with alarming frequency,
letters were from time to time intercepted, calling upon the Sepoys to
revolt, while at Lucknow serious disturbances occurred, and the Seventh
Regiment were disarmed by Sir Henry Lawrence, the Commissioner of Oude.
So the month of April passed, and as it went on the feeling of disquiet
and danger grew deeper and more general. It was like the anxious time
preceding a thunderstorm, the cloud was gathering, but how or when it
would burst none could say. Many still maintained stoutly that there
was no danger whatever, and that the whole thing would blow over; but
men with wives and families were generally inclined to take a more
somber view of the case. Nor is this to be wondered at. The British
form an almost inappreciable portion of the population of India; they
are isolated in a throng of natives, outnumbered by a thousand to one.
A man might therefore well feel his helplessness to render any
assistance to those dear to him in the event of a general uprising of
the people. Soldiers without family ties take things lightly, they are
ready for danger and for death if needs be, but they can always hope to
get through somehow; but the man with a wife and children in India, at
the time when a general outbreak was anticipated, would have the
deepest cause for anxiety. Not, however, that at this time any one at
Sandynugghur looked for anything so terrible. There was a spirit of
insubordination abroad in the native troops, no doubt, but no one
doubted but that it would, with more or less trouble, be put down. And
so things went on as usual, and the garden parties and the drives, and
the friendly evening visiting continued just as before. It was at one
of these pleasant evening gatherings that the first blow fell. Most of
the officers of the station, their wives, and the two or three
civilians were collected at Major Warrener's. The windows were all
open. The girls were playing a duet on the piano; five or six other
ladies were in the drawing-room and about the same number of gentlemen
were standing or sitting by them, some four or five were lounging in
the veranda enjoying their cheroots; native servants in their white
dresses moved noiselessly about with iced lemonade and wine, when a
Sepoy came up the walk.
"What is it?" asked Major Warrener, who was one of the group in the
veranda.
"Dispatch for the colonel, Sahib."
The colonel, who was sitting next to the major, held out his hand for
the message, and was rising, when Major Warrener said:
"Don't move, colonel; boy, bring a candle."
The servant brought it: the colonel opened the envelope and glanced at
the dispatch. He uttered an exclamation which was half a groan, half a
cry.
"Good Heaven! what is the matter, colonel?"
"The native troops at Meerut have mutinied, have murdered their
officers and all the European men, women, and children they could find,
and are marching upon Delhi. Look after your regiment."
A low cry broke from the major. This was indeed awful news, and for a
moment the two men sat half-stunned at the calamity, while the sound of
music and merry talk came in through the open window like a mockery on
their ears.
"Let us take a turn in the compound," said the major, "where no one can
hear us."
For half an hour they walked up and down the garden. There could be no
doubt about the truth of the news, for it was an official telegram from
the adjutant at Meerut; and as to the extent of the misfortune, it was
terrible.
"There is not a single white regiment at Delhi," exclaimed the colonel;
"these fiends will have it all their own way, and at Delhi there are
scores of European families. Delhi once in their hands will be a
center, and the mutiny will spread like wildfire over India. What was
the general at Meerut about? what were the white troops up to? It is as
inexplicable as it is terrible. Is there anything to be done, major, do
you think?" But Major Warrener could think of nothing. The men at
present knew nothing of the news, but the tidings would reach them in
two or three days; for news in India spreads from village to village,
and town to town, with almost incredible speed, and Meerut was but a
hundred and fifty miles distant.
"Had we better tell them inside?" the major asked.
"No," answered the colonel; "let them be happy for to-night; they will
know the news to-morrow. As they are breaking up, ask all the officers
to come round to the messroom; I will meet them there, and we can talk
the matter over; but let the ladies have one more quiet night; they
will want all their strength and fortitude for what is to come."
And so, clearing their brows, they went into the house and listened to
the music, and joined in the talk until ten o'clock struck and every
one got up to go, and so ended the last happy evening at Sandynugghur.
The next morning brought the news of the rising at Delhi, but it was
not till two days later that letters giving any details of these
terrible events arrived, and the full extent of the awful calamity was
known.
The flame broke out at Meerut at seven o'clock in the evening of
Sunday, the 10th of May. On the previous day a punishment parade had
been held to witness the military degradation of a number of men of the
Third Native Cavalry, who had been guilty of mutinous conduct in
respect to the cartridges. The native regiments at the station
consisted of the Third Cavalry, the Eleventh and Twentieth Infantry;
there were also in garrison the Sixtieth Rifles, the Sixth Dragoon
Guards, and two batteries of artillery; a force amply sufficient, if
properly handled, to have crushed the native troops, and to have nipped
the mutiny in the bud. Unhappily, they were not well handled. The
cantonments of Meerut were of great extent, being nearly five miles in
length by two in breadth, the barracks of the British troops were
situated at some distance from those of the native regiments, and the
action of the troops was paralyzed by the incompetency of the general,
an old man who had lost all energy, and who remained in a state of
indecision while the men of the native regiments shot their officers,
murdered all the women and children, and the white inhabitants whose
bungalows were situated at their end of their cantonment, opened the
jail doors, and after setting fire to the whole of this quarter of
Meerut, marched off toward Delhi, unmolested by the British troops.
Even then an orderly sent off with dispatches to the officer commanding
at Delhi, informing him of what had happened, and bidding him beware,
might have saved the lives of hundreds of Englishmen and women, even if
it were too late to save Delhi; but nothing whatever was done; the
English troops made a few meaningless and uncertain movements, and
marched back to their barracks. No one came forward to take the lead.
So the white troops of Meerut remained stationary under arms all night,
and the English population of Delhi were left to their fate.
From Meerut to Delhi is thirty-two miles, and the mutineers of Meerut,
marching all night, arrived near the town at eight in the morning.
Singularly enough, the ancient capital of India, the place around which
the aspiration of Hindoos and Mohammedans alike centered, and where the
ex-emperor and his family still resided, was left entirely to the guard
of native troops; not a single British regiment was there, not a
battery of white troops. As the center of the province, a large white
population were gathered there-the families of the officers of the
native infantry and artillery, of the civil officers of the province,
merchants, bankers, missionaries, and others. As at all other Indian
towns, the great bulk of the white inhabitants lived in the cantonments
outside the town; had it not been for this, not one would have escaped
the slaughter that commenced as soon as the Third Cavalry from Meerut
rode into the town. The Fifty-fourth Native Infantry, who had hastily
been marched out to meet them, fraternized with them at once, and,
standing quietly by, looked on while their officers were murdered by
the cavalrymen. Then commenced a scene of murder and atrocity which is
happily without parallel in history. Suffice to say, that with the
exception of some half-dozen who in one way or other managed to escape,
the whole of the white population inside the walls of Delhi were
murdered under circumstances of the most horrible and revolting
cruelty. Had the news of the outbreak of Meerut been sent by a swift
mounted messenger, the whole of these hapless people would have had
time to leave the town before the arrival of the mutineers. Those in
the cantonments outside the city fared somewhat better. Some were
killed, but the greater part made their escape; and although many were
murdered on the way, either by villagers or by bodies of mutineers, the
majority reached Meerut or Aliwal. The sufferers of Delhi did not die
wholly unavenged. Inside the city walls was an immense magazine
containing vast stores of powder, cartridges, and arms. It was
all-important that this should not fall into the hands of the
mutineers. This was in charge of Lieutenant Willoughby of the royal
artillery, who had with him Lieutenants Forrest and Rayner, and six
English warrant and non-commissioned officers, Buckley, Shaw, Scully,
Crow, Edwards, and Stewart. The following account was given by
Lieutenant Forrest:
"The gates of the magazine were closed and barricaded, and every
possible arrangement that could be made was at once commenced. Inside
the gate leading to the park were placed two six-pounders doubly
charged with grape. These were under acting sub-conductor Crow and
Sergeant Stewart, with lighted matches in their hands. Their orders
were that if any attempt was made to force the gate the guns were to be
fired at once, and they were to fall back to that part of the magazine
where Lieutenant Willoughby and I were posted. The principal gate of
the magazine was similarly defended by two guns and by the
_chevaux-de-frise_ laid down in the inside. For the further defense of
this gate and the magazine in its vicinity, there were two six-pounders
so placed as to command it and a small bastion close by. Within sixty
yards of the gate, and commanding two cross roads, were three
six-pounders, and one twenty-four pound howitzer, which could be so
managed as to act upon any part of the magazine in that neighborhood.
After all these guns and howitzers had been placed in the several
positions above named, they were loaded with a double charge of grape.
After these arrangements had been completed a train was laid ready to
be fired at a preconcerted signal. On the enemy approaching the walls
of the magazine, which was provided with scaling ladders, the native
establishment at once deserted us by climbing up the sloped sheds on
the inside of the magazine and descending the ladders on the outside."
When the attack began the mutineers climbed the walls in great numbers,
and opened fire upon the little garrison; these replied by an incessant
fire of grape-shot, which told severely upon the enemy. There were but
two men to each gun, but they stood nobly to their pieces until all
were more or less wounded by the enemy's fire. Finding that no more
could be done, Lieutenant Willoughby gave the order, Conductor Scully
fired the several trains, and in another instant a tremendous explosion
took place which shook all Delhi, and covered the city with a cloud of
black smoke. It was calculated that from fifteen hundred to two
thousand of the mutineers and rabble of the town were killed by the
falling walls, or crushed under the masses of masonry. Lieutenants
Willoughby, Forrest, Rayner, and Conductor Buckley survived the
explosion, and effected their retreat in the confusion through a small
sallyport on the river face. The mutineers were so enraged by their
misfortune that they rushed to the palace and demanded of the king a
number of European officers and ladies who had sought refuge under his
protection. They were handed over to the mutineers, and at once
slaughtered.
The Warreners listened with pale faces as their father, on his return
from the orderly-room, where the news had been discussed, told them the
sad story.
"There is nothing to be done, I suppose, papa?" Ned said gently.
"No, my boy; we are in the hands of God. We must wait now for what may
come. At present the regiment professes its fidelity, and has now
volunteered to march against the mutineers. The colonel believes them,
so do some of the others; I do not; it may be that the men mean what
they say at present, but we know that emissaries come and go, and every
fresh rising will be an incentive to them. It is no use blinking the
truth, dear; we are like men standing on a loaded mine which may at any
moment explode. I have been thinking, indeed for the last week I have
done nothing but think, what is best to be done. If the mutiny breaks
out at night or at any time when we are not on parade, we have agreed
that all the whites shall make at once for Mr. Thompson's house. It is
the strongest of any of the residences--for there would of course be no
getting to the messhouse--and then we will sell our lives as dearly as
we may. If it happens when we are on parade, defense by the rest of the
residents would be useless. There are but six civilians, with you two
boys--for we have counted you--eight. Probably but few of you could
gain Thompson's house in time; and if all did, your number would be too
small to defend it. There remains then nothing but flight. The rising
will most likely take place on parade. The residents have agreed that
each day they will, on some excuses or other, have their traps at their
door at that hour, so that at the sound of the first shot fired they
may jump in and drive off."
"But, you, papa?" Kate asked.
"My dear," said her father, "I shall be on duty; so long as a vestige
of the regiment remains as a regiment, I shall be with it; if the whole
regiment breaks up and attacks us, those who do not fall at the first
volley will be justified in trying to save their lives. The colonel,
the adjutant, and myself are mounted officers, and two or three of the
others will have their dogcarts each day brought up to the messhouse,
as they often do. If there is a mutiny on parade, the unmounted
officers will make for them, and we who are mounted will as far as
possible cover their retreat. So it is arranged."
"But will the road be open to Meerut, uncle?" Rose asked after a pause,
for the danger seemed so strange and terrible that they felt stunned by
it.
"No, my dear; it certainly will not. There are three garrison towns
between us, and they also will probably be up. The only thing is to
keep to the road for the first ten or twelve miles, and then take to
the woods, and make your way on foot. I have spoken to Saba this
morning. We can trust her; she nursed you all, and has lived with me
ever since as a sort of pensioner till you came out. I have asked her
to get two dresses of Mussulman country women; in those only the eyes
are visible, while the Hindoo dress gives no concealment. I have also
ordered her to get me two dresses: one, such as a young Mussulman
_zemindar_ wears; the other, as his retainer. They are for you boys.
Keep the bundles, when you get them, in that closet in the dining-room,
so as to be close at hand; and in case of alarm, be sure and take them
with you. Remember my instructions are absolute. If by day, escape in
the trap at the first alarm; if the trap is not available, escape at
once on foot. If you hear the enemy are close, hide till nightfall in
that thick clump of bushes in the corner of the compound, then make for
that copse of trees, and try and find your way to Meerut. I trust I may
be with you, or that I may join you on the road. But in any case, it
will relieve my anxiety greatly to know that your course is laid down.
If I had to return here to look for you, I should bring my pursuers
after me, and your chance of escape would be gone--for I rely upon you
all to follow my instructions to the letter."
"Yes, indeed, papa," was the unanimous answer of the young Warreners,
who were deeply affected at the solemn manner in which their father
spoke of the situation.
"I have a brace of revolvers upstairs," he said, "and will give one to
each of you boys. Carry them always, but put them on under your coats,
so that they may not be noticed; it would be as well for you to
practice yourselves in their use; but when you do so, always go some
distance from the station, so that the sound will not be heard."
"Can you give Rose and me a pistol each, too, papa?" Kate said quietly.
Major Warrener kissed his daughter and niece tenderly.
"I have a pair of small double-barreled pistols; you shall each have
one," he answered with a deep sigh.
That afternoon the young Warreners and their cousin went out for a
walk, and, fixing a piece of paper against a tree, practiced pistol
shooting for an hour. Any passer-by ignorant of the circumstances would
have wondered at the countenances of these young people, engaged,
apparently, in the amusement of pistol practice. There was no smile on
them, no merry laugh when the ball went wide of the mark, no triumphant
shout at a successful shot. Their faces were set, pale, and earnest,
Scarcely a word was spoken. Each loaded in silence, took up a place at
the firing point, and aimed steadily and seriously; the boys with an
angry eye and frowning brow, as if each time they were firing at a
deadly foe; the girls as earnestly, and without any of the nervousness
or timidity which would be natural in girls handling firearms for the
first time. Each day the exercise was repeated, and after a week's
practice all could hit, with a fair amount of certainty, a piece of
paper six inches square, at a distance of ten yards.
During this time Captains Dunlop and Manners spent their whole time,
when not engaged upon their military duties, at Major Warrener's. They
were now the recognized lovers of Kate and Rose; and although, in those
days of tremendous anxiety and peril, no formal engagements were
entered upon, the young people understood each other, and Major
Warrener gave his tacit approval. Very earnestly all the party hoped
that when the dread moment came it might come when they were all
together, so that they might share the same fate, whatever it might be.
The young officers' buggies now stood all day in Major Warrener's
compound, with the patient _syces_ squatting near, or talking with the
servants, while the major's horses stood ready saddled in the stables.
However much the party might hope to be together when the crisis came,
they felt that it was improbable that they would be so, for at the
first symptoms of mutiny it would be the duty of the officers to hasten
to the barracks to endeavor to quell it, even if certain death should
meet them there.
In the face of the tidings from Meerut and Delhi, all the pretense of
confidence, which had hitherto been kept up at the station, came to an
end; and even had there been implicit confidence in the regiment, the
news of such terrible events would have caused an entire cessation of
the little amusements and gatherings in which Sandynugghur had
previously indulged.
As is usual in cases of extreme danger, the various temperaments of
people come strongly into relief at these awful times. The pretty young
wife of the doctor was nearly wild with alarm. Not daring to remain at
home alone, she passed the day in going from house to house of her
female friends. Advice and example she obtained from these, but poor
comfort. The colonel's wife was as brave as any man in the station; she
hardly shared her husband's opinion that the regiment would remain
faithful in the midst of an almost general defection; but she was calm,
self-possessed, and ready for the worst.
"It is no use crying, my dear," she said to the doctor's wife. "Our
husbands have enough to worry them without being shaken by our tears.
Death, after all, can only come once, and it is better to die with
those we love than to be separated."
But there were not many tears shed in Sandynugghur. The women were pale
and quiet. They shook hands with a pressure which meant much, lips
quivered, and tears might drop when they spoke of children at home; but
this was not often, and day after day they bore the terrible strain
with that heroic fortitude which characterized English women in India
during the awful period of the mutiny. Ten days after the news came in
of the rising at Delhi Major Warrener told his family, on his return
from parade, that the regiment had again declared its fidelity, and had
offered to march against the mutineers.
"I am glad of it," he said, "because it looks as if at present, at
least, they have not made up their minds to mutiny, and I shall be able
to go to mess with a lighter heart; as I told you yesterday, it is the
colonel's birthday, so we all dine at mess."
In the meantime Saba had faithfully carried out her commission as to
the dresses, and had added to the bundles a bottle containing a brown
juice which she had extracted from some berries; this was to be used
for staining the skin, and so completing the disguise. The Warreners
knew that if their old nurse had any information as to any intended
outbreak she would let them know; but she heard nothing. She was known
to be so strongly attached to the major's family that, had the other
servants known anything of it, they would have kept it from her.
The hour for the mess-dinner was eight, and the young Warreners had
finished their evening meal before their father started.
"God bless you, my children, and watch over and protect us all till we
meet again!" such was the solemn leave-taking with which the major and
his children had parted--if only for half an hour--since the evil days
began.
For an hour and a half the young Warreners and their cousin sat and
read, and occasionally talked.
"It's time for tea," Kate said, looking at her watch; and she struck a
bell upon the table.
Usually the response was almost instantaneous; but Kate waited two
minutes, and then rang sharply twice. There was still no reply.
"He must be asleep," she said, "or out of hearing; but it is curious
that none of the others answer!"
Dick went out into the veranda, but came in again in a minute or two:
"There is no one there, Kate; and I don't hear any of them about
anywhere."
The four young people looked at each other. What did this mean? Had the
servants left in a body? Did they know that something was going to
happen? Such were the mute questions which their looks asked each other.
"Girls!" said Ned, "put your dark shawls round you. It may be nothing,
but it is better to be prepared. Get the bundles out. Dick, put a
bottle of wine in your pocket; and let us all fill our pockets with
biscuits."
Silently and quietly the others did as he told them.
"There is that great biscuit-tin full," Ned said when they had filled
their pockets; "let us empty it into that cloth, and tie it up. Now, if
you will put your shawls on I will look in at the stables."
In a couple of minutes he returned.
"The horses are all unharnessed," he said, "and not a soul is to be
seen. Ah, is that Saba?"
The old nurse had been found asleep in her favorite place outside the
door of her young mistresses' room.
"Do you know what is the matter, Saba? All the servants are gone!"
The old nurse shook her head. "Bad news; no tell Saba."
"Now, Saba, get ready to start," for the nurse had declared that she
would accompany them, to go into the villages to buy food; "Dick, come
with me; we will put one of the horses into the dogcart."
They were leaving the room when they heard the sound of a rifle. As if
it were the signal, in a moment the air rang with rifle shots, shouts,
and yells. The boys leaped back into the room and caught up the bundles.
"Quick, for your lives, girls! some of them are not fifty yards off! To
the bushes! Come, Saba!"
"Saba do more good here," the old nurse said, and seated herself
quietly in the veranda.
It was but twenty yards to the bushes they had marked as the place of
concealment; and as they entered and crouched down there came the sound
of hurrying feet, and a band of Sepoys, led by one of the jemadars, or
native officers, rushed up to the veranda from the back.
"Now," the jemadar shouted, "search the house; kill the boys, but keep
the white women; they are too pretty to hurt."
Two minutes' search--in which furniture was upset, curtains pulled
down, and chests ransacked--and a shout of rage proclaimed that the
house was empty.
The jemadar shouted to his men: "Search the compound; they can't be far
off; some of you run out to the plain; they can't have got a hundred
yards away; besides, our guards out there will catch them."
The old nurse rose to her feet just as the Sepoys were rushing out on
the search.
"It is of no use searching," she said; "they have been gone an hour."
"Gone an hour!" shouted the enraged jemadar; "who told them of the
attack?"
"I told them," Saba said steadily; "Saba was true to her salt."
There was a yell of rage on the part of the mutineers, and half a dozen
bayonets darted into the faithful old servant's body, and without a
word she fell dead on the veranda, a victim to her noble fidelity to
the children she had nursed.
"Now," the jemadar said, "strip the place; carry everything off; it is
all to be divided to-morrow, and then we will have a blaze."
Five minutes sufficed to carry off all the portable articles from the
bungalow; the furniture, as useless to the Sepoys, was left, but
everything else was soon cleared away, and then the house was lit in
half a dozen places. The fire ran quickly up the muslin curtains,
caught the dry reeds of the tatties, ran up the bamboos which formed
the top of the veranda, and in five minutes the house was a sheet of
flame.