DELHI.
Never did a government or a people meet a terrible disaster with a more
undaunted front than that displayed by the government and British
population of India when the full extent of the peril caused by the
rising of the Sepoys was first clearly understood. By the rising of
Delhi, and of the whole country down to Allahabad, the northern part of
India was entirely cut off from Calcutta, and was left wholly to its
own resources. Any help that could be spared from the capital was
needed for the menaced garrisons of Allahabad, Benares, and Agra, while
it was certain that the important stations of Cawnpore and Lucknow, in
the newly-annexed province of Oude, would at best be scarcely able to
defend themselves, and would in all probability urgently require
assistance. Thus the rebel city of Delhi, the center and focus of the
insurrection, was safe from any possibility of a British advance from
the south. Nor did it look as if the position of the English was much
better in the north. At Sealkote, Lahore, and many other stations, the
Sepoys mutinied, and the Sikh regiments were disturbed, and
semi-mutinous. It was at this all-important moment that the fidelity of
two or three of the great Sikh chieftains saved British India. Foremost
of them was the Rajah of Puttiala, who, when the whole Sikh nation was
wavering as to the course it should take, rode into the nearest British
station with only one retainer, and offered his whole force and his
whole treasury to the British government. A half-dozen other prominent
princes instantly followed the example; and from that moment Northern
India was not only safe, but was able to furnish troops for the siege
of Delhi. The Sikh regiments at once returned to their habitual state
of cheerful obedience, and served with unflinching loyalty and bravery
through the campaign.
Not a moment was lost, as it was all-important to make an appearance
before Delhi, and so, by striking at the heart of the insurrection, to
show the waverers all over India that we had no idea of giving up the
game. The main force was collected at Umballah, under General Anson.
Transport was hastily got together, and in the last week of May this
force moved forward, while a brigade from Meerut advanced to effect a
junction with it. With this latter force were Warrener's irregular
horse, which had returned only the evening before the advance from its
successful expedition to Nahdoor. On the 30th of May the Meerut force
under Brigadier-General Wilson came in contact with the enemy at
Ghazee-ud-deen-Nugghur, a village fifteen miles from Delhi, where there
was a suspension bridge across the Hindur. This fight, although
unimportant in itself, is memorable as being the first occasion upon
which the mutineers and the British troops met. Hitherto the Sepoys had
had it entirely their own way. Mutiny, havoc, murder, had gone on
unchecked; but now the tide was to turn, never to ebb again until the
Sepoy mutiny was drowned in a sea of blood. Upon this, their first
meeting with the white troops, the Sepoys were confident of success.
They were greatly superior in force; they had been carefully drilled in
the English system; they were led by their native regimental officers;
and they had been for so many years pampered and indulged by
government, that they regarded themselves, as being, man for man, fully
equal to the British. Thus, then, they began to fight with a confidence
of victory which, however great their superiority in numbers, was never
again felt by the mutineers throughout the war. Upon many subsequent
occasions they fought with extreme bravery, but it was the bravery of
despair; whereas the British soldiers were animated with a burning
desire for vengeance, and an absolute confidence of victory. Thus the
fight at Ghazee-ud-deen-Nugghur is a memorable one in the annals of
British India.
The mutineers, seeing the smallness of the British force, at first
advanced to the attack; but they were met with such fury by four
companies of the Sixtieth Rifles, supported by eight guns of the
artillery, by the Carbineers and Warrener's Horse, that, astounded and
dismayed, they broke before the impetuous onslaught, abandoned their
intrenchments, threw a way their arms, and fled, leaving five guns in
the hands of the victors, and in many cases not stopping in their
flight until they reached the gates of Delhi. The next day considerable
bodies of fresh troops came out to renew the attack; but the reports of
the fugitives of the day before, of the fury and desperation with which
the British troops were possessed, had already effected such an
impression that they did not venture upon close fighting, but after
engaging in an artillery duel at long distances, fell back again to
Delhi.
On the 7th of June the Meerut force joined that from Umballah, at
Alipore, a short march from Delhi; and the next morning the little
army, now under the command of Sir H. Barnard--for General Anson,
overwhelmed by work and responsibility, had died a few days before
advanced upon the capital of India, After four miles march they came at
Badulee-Ka-Serai upon the enemy's first line of defense, a strong
intrenched position, held by three thousand Sepoys with twelve guns.
These pieces of artillery were much heavier than the British field
guns, and as they opened a heavy fire, they inflicted considerable
damage upon our advancing troops. The British, however, were in no
humor for distant fighting; they panted to get at the murderers of
women and children--these men who had shot down in cold blood the
officers, whose only fault had been their too great kindness to, and
confidence in them. Orders were given to the Seventy-fifth to advance
at once and take the position; and that regiment, giving a tremendous
cheer, rushed forward with such impetuosity through the heavy fire
that, as at Ghazee-ud-deen-Nugghur, the Sepoys were seized with a
panic, and fled in wild haste from their intrenchments, leaving their
cannon behind them.
At the foot of the steep hill on which the signal tower stands, another
and stronger line of defense had been prepared; but the mutineers
stationed here were infected by the wild panic of the fugitives from
the first position, and so, deserting their position, joined in the
flight into the city.
The British troops had marched from their encampment at Alipore at one
in the morning, and by nine A.M. the last Sepoy disappeared within the
walls of the town, and the British flag flew out on the signal tower on
the Ridge, almost looking down upon the rebel city, and the troops took
up their quarters in the lines formerly occupied by the Thirty-eighth,
Fifty-fourth, and Seventy-fourth native regiments. As the English flag
blew out to the wind from the signal tower, a thrill of anxiety must
have been felt by every one in Delhi, from the emperor down to the
lowest street ruffian. So long as it waved there it was a proof that
the British Raj was not yet overthrown--that British supremacy,
although sorely shaken, still asserted itself--and that the day of
reckoning and retribution would, slowly perhaps, but none the less
surely, come for the blood-stained city. Not only in Delhi itself, but
over the whole of India, the eyes of the population were turned toward
that British flag on the Ridge. Native and British alike recognized the
fact that English supremacy in India depended upon its maintenance.
That England would send out large reinforcements all knew, but they
also knew that many an anxious week must elapse before the first
soldier from England could arrive within striking distance. If the
native leaders at Delhi, with the enormously superior forces at their
command, could not drive off their besiegers and pluck down the flag
from the Ridge, the time must come when, with the arrival of the
reinforcements, the tide would begin to flow against them. So India
argued, and waited for the result. The Delhi leaders, as well as the
English, felt the importance of the issue, and the one never relaxed
their desperate efforts to drive back the besiegers--the other with
astonishing tenacity held on against all odds; while scores of native
chiefs hesitated on the verge, waiting, until they saw the end of the
struggle at Delhi. It was called the siege of Delhi, but it should
rather have been called the siege of the Ridge, for it was our force
rather than that of the enemy which was besieged. Never before in the
history of the world did three thousand men sit down before a great
city inhabited by a quarter of a million bitterly hostile inhabitants,
and defended moreover by strong walls, a very powerful artillery, and a
well-drilled and disciplined force, at first amounting to some ten
thousand men, but swelled later on, as the mutineers poured in from all
quarters, to three times that force. Never during the long months which
the struggle lasted did we attempt to do more than to hold our own. The
city was open to the enemy at all sides, save where we held our
footing; large forces marched in and out of the town; provisions and
stores poured into it; and we can scarcely be said to have fired a shot
at it until our batteries opened to effect a breach a few days before
the final assault.
The troops with which Sir H. Barnard arrived before Delhi consisted of
the Seventy-fifth Regiment, six companies of the Sixtieth Rifles, the
First Bengal Fusiliers, six companies of the Second Fusiliers--both
composed of white troops--the Sirmoor battalion of Goorkhas, the Sixth
Dragoon Guards (the Carbineers), two squadrons of the Ninth Lancers,
and a troop or two of newly-raised irregular horse. The artillery
consisted of some thirty pieces, mostly light field-guns.
Upon the day following the occupation of the Ridge a welcome accession
of strength was received by the arrival of the Guides, a picked corps
consisting of three troops of cavalry and six companies of infantry.
This little force had marched five hundred and eighty miles in
twenty-two days, a rate of twenty-six miles a day, without a break--a
feat probably altogether without example, especially when it is
considered that it took place in India, and in the hottest time of the
year.
The Ridge, which occupies so important a place in the history of the
siege of Delhi, is a sharp backed hill, some half a mile long, rising
abruptly from the plain. From the top a splendid view of Delhi, and of
the country, scattered with mosques and tombs--the remains of older
Delhi--can be obtained. The cantonments lay at the back of this hill, a
few posts only, such as Hindoo Rao's house, being held in advance.
Until the work of building batteries and regularly commencing the siege
should begin, it would have been useless putting the troops
unnecessarily under the fire of the heavy guns of the city bastions.
When the troops had fairly taken possession of the old native lines on
the 8th of June many of them, as soon as dismissed from duty, made
their way up to the flagstaff tower, on the highest point of the Ridge,
to look down upon Delhi. Among those who did so were Major Warrener and
his two sons. Both uttered an exclamation of pleasure as the city came
into view:
"What a superb city!"
Delhi is indeed a glorious city as viewed from the Ridge. It is
surrounded by a lofty crenelated wall, strengthened with detached
martello towers, and with eleven bastions, each mounting nine guns, the
work of our own engineers, but in admirable architectural keeping with
the towers. Conspicuous, on a high table rock rising almost
perpendicularly in the heart of the city, is the Jumma Musjid, the
great mosque, a superb pile of building, with its domes and minarets.
To the left, as viewed from the Ridge, is the great mass of the king's
palace--a fortress in itself--with its lofty walls and towers, and with
its own mosques and minarets. These rise thickly, too, in other parts,
while near the palace the closely-packed houses cease, and lofty trees
rise alone there. The Ridge lies on the north of the city, and opposite
to it is the Cashmere gate, through which our storming parties would
rush later on; and away, a little to the right, is the Lahore gate,
through which the enemy's sorties were principally made. On the left of
the Ridge the ground is flat to the river, which sweeps along by the
wall of the town and palace. There are two bridges across it, and over
them the exulting mutineers were for weeks to pass into the city--not
altogether unpunished, for our guns carried that far, and were
sometimes able to inflict a heavy loss upon them as they passed, with
music playing and flags flying, into the town.
"A glorious city!" Ned Warrener said, as they looked down upon it.
"What a ridiculous handful of men we seem by the side of it! It is like
Tom Thumb sitting down to besiege the giant's castle. Why, we should be
lost if we got inside!"
"Yes, indeed, Ned," said his father; "there will be no possibility of
our storming that city until our numbers are greatly increased; for if
we scaled the walls by assault, which we could no doubt do, we should
have to fight our way through the narrow streets, with barriers and
barricades everywhere; and such a force as ours would simply melt away
before the fire from the housetops and windows. There is nothing so
terrible as street fighting; and drill and discipline are there of
comparatively little use. The enemy will naturally fight with the
desperation of rats in a hole: and it would be rash in the extreme for
us to make the attempt until we are sure of success. A disastrous
repulse here would entail the loss of all India. The news is worse and
worse every day from all the stations of the northwest; and as the
mutineers are sure to make for Delhi, the enemy will receive
reinforcements vastly more rapidly than we shall, and it will be all we
shall be able to do to hold our own here. We may be months before we
take Delhi."
"I hope they won't keep us here all that time," Dick said, "for cavalry
can't do much in a siege; besides, the ground is all cut up into
gardens and inclosures, and we could not act, even if we had orders to
do so."
"We may be very useful in going out to bring convoys in," Major
Warrener replied, "and to cut off convoys of the enemy, to scout
generally, and to bring in news; still, I agree with you, Dick, that I
hope we may be sent off for duty elsewhere. Hullo! what's that?"
As he spoke a sudden fire broke out from the walls and bastions; shot
and shell whizzed over their heads, many of them plunging down behind
the Ridge, among the troops who were engaged in getting up their tents;
while a crackling fire of musketry broke out in the gardens around
Hindoo Rao's house, our advanced post on the right front.
"A sortie!" exclaimed the major. "Come along, boys." And those who had
gathered around the flagstaff dashed down the hill to join their
respective corps. The Sixtieth Rifles, however, of whom two companies
held Hindoo Rao's, repulsed the sortie, and all calmed down again; but
the enemy's artillery continued to play, and it was evident that the
foe had it in his power to cause great annoyance to all our pickets on
the Ridge.
Fortunately our position could only be assailed on one side. Our
cavalry patrolled the plain as far as the river, and our rear was
covered by a canal, possessing but few bridges, and those easily
guarded. It was thus from our right and right front alone that serious
attacks could be looked for.
The next afternoon a heavy firing broke out near Hindoo Rao's house,
and the troops got under arms. The enemy were evidently in force.
An aid-de-camp rode up:
"Major Warrener, you will move up your troop, and fall in with the
Guide cavalry."
At a trot Warrener's Horse moved off toward the right. The guns on the
walls were now all at work, and our artillery at Hindoo Rao's were
answering them, and the shots from a light battery placed by the
flagstaff went singing away toward the right.
Warrener's Horse were now at the station assigned to them. The musketry
fire in the gardens and broken ground near Hindoo Rao's was very heavy,
and a large body of the enemy's cavalry was seen extending into the
plain, with the intention of pushing forward on the right of the Ridge.
"You will charge the enemy at once," an aid-de-camp said; and with a
cheer the Guides and Warrener's Horse dashed forward.
It was the moment they had longed for; and the fury with which they
charged was too much for the enemy, who, although enormously superior
in numbers, halted before they reached them, and fled toward the city,
with the British mixed with them, in a confused mass of fighting,
struggling men. The pursuit lasted almost to the walls of the city.
Then the guns on the wall opened a heavy fire, and the cavalry fell
back as the balls plunged in among them.
There were but two or three hurt, but among them was Lieutenant Quentin
Battye, a most gallant young officer, a mere lad, but a general
favorite alike with other officers and the men. Struck by a round shot
in the body, his case was hopeless from the first; he kept up his
spirits to the last, and said with a smile to an old school-friend who
came in to bid him farewell:
"Well, old fellow, _Dulce et decorum est pro patriá mori_, and you see
it's my case."
Such was the spirit which animated every officer and man of the little
army before Delhi; and it is no wonder that, day after day, and week
after week, they were able to repulse the furious attacks of the
ever-increasing enemy.
On the 9th, 10th, and 11th fresh sorties were made. Before daybreak on
the 13th a large force of the mutineers came out quietly, and worked
their way round to the left, and just as it began to be light, made a
furious assault on the company of the Seventy-fifth who were holding
the flagstaff battery. Warrener's Horse were encamped on the old
parade-ground, immediately behind and below the flagstaff, and the men
leaped from their beds on hearing this outburst of firing close to them.
There was a confused shouting, and then the major's voice was heard
above the din:
"Breeches and boots, revolvers and swords, nothing else. Quick, lads;
fall in on foot. We must save the battery at all hazards."
In a few seconds the men came rushing out, hastily buckling on their
belts, with their pouches of revolver ammunition, and fell into rank;
and in less than two minutes from the sound of the first shot the whole
were dashing up the steep ascent to the battery, where the tremendous
musketry fire told them how hardly the Seventy-fifth were pressed.
"Keep line, lads; steady!" shouted the major as they neared the crest.
"Now get ready for a charge; go right at them. Don't fire a shot till
you are within five paces, then give them three barrels of your
revolvers; then at them with the sword; and keep your other shots in
case you are pressed. Hurrah!"
With a thundering cheer the gallant little band fell on the mutineers,
many of whom had already made their way into the battery, where the
handful of white troops were defending themselves with desperation.
Struck with terror and surprise at this sudden attack, and by the
shower of pistol bullets which swept among them, the enemy wavered and
broke at the fierce onslaught, sword in hand, of these new foes; while
the Seventy-fifth, raising a shout of joy at the arrival of their
friends, took the offensive, swept before them the mutineers who had
made their way into the battery, and, joining the irregulars, drove the
mutineers, astounded and panic-stricken at the fierceness of the
assault, pell-mell before them down the hill.
The reinforcements had arrived but just in time, for Captain Knox, who
commanded at this post, and nearly half his force, had fallen before
Major Warrener's band had come up to their aid. The next day, and the
next, and the next, the sorties from the city were repeated, with
ever-increasing force and fury, each fresh body of mutineers who came
into the city being required to testify their loyalty to the emperor by
heading the attack on his foes. Desperately the little British force
had to fight to maintain their position, and their losses were so
serious, the number of their enemies so large, so rapidly increasing,
that it was clear to all that the most prodigious efforts would be
necessary to enable them to hold on until reinforcements arrived, and
that all idea of an early capture of the city must be abandoned.
Warrener's Horse, however, had no share in these struggles, for on the
day after the fight at the flagstaff a report spread among them that
they were again to start upon an expedition. A note had been brought in
by a native to the effect that several English ladies and gentlemen
were prisoners at the fortress of Bithri, in Oude, some hundred and
fifty miles from Delhi. The instructions given to Major Warrener were
that he was to obtain their release by fair means, if possible; if not,
to carry the place and release them, if it appeared practicable to do
so with his small force; that he was then to press on to Cawnpore.
Communications had ceased with Sir H. Wheeler, the officer in command
there; but it was not known whether he was actually besieged, or
whether it was merely a severance of the telegraph wire. If he could
join Sir H. Wheeler he was to do so; if not, he was to make his way on,
to form part of the force which General Havelock was collecting at
Allahabad for an advance to Cawnpore and Lucknow. It would be a long
and perilous march, but the troops were admirably mounted; and as they
would have the choice of routes open to them, and would travel fast, it
was thought that they might hope to get through in safety, and their
aid would be valuable either to Sir H. Wheeler or to General Havelock.
It was a lovely moonlight evening when they started. During their stay
at Delhi they had, profiting by their previous expedition, got rid of
every article of accouterment that could make a noise. Wooden scabbards
had taken the place of steel, and these were covered in flannel, to
prevent rattle should they strike against a stirrup. The water bottles
were similarly cased in flannel, and the rings and chains of the bits
in leather. Nothing, save the sound of the horses' hoofs, was to be
heard as they marched, and even these were muffled by the deep dust
that lay on the road. Each man, moreover, carried four leathern shoes
for his horse, with lacings for fastening them. Under the guidance of
two natives, the troop made their first six stages without the
slightest adventure. The country was flat, and the villages sparsely
scattered. The barking of the dogs brought a few villagers to their
doors, but in those troubled times the advantages of non-interference
were obvious and the peasant population in general asked nothing better
than to be let alone.
The troop always marched by night, and rested by day at villages at a
short distance from the main road. Upon a long march like that before
them, it would have been impossible to maintain secrecy by resting in
woods. Food for men and horses was requisite, and this could only be
obtained in villages. So far no difficulty had been met with. The head
men of the villages willingly provided provender for the horses, while
flour, milk, eggs, and fowls were forthcoming in sufficient quantities
for the men, everything being strictly paid for.
The last night march was as successful as the preceding, and crossing
the river by a bridge at Banat, they halted some five miles from the
fortified house, or castle, which was the immediate object of their
expedition. They were now in Oude, and had, since crossing the river,
avoided the villages as much as possible, for in this province these
are little fortresses. Each is strongly walled and guarded, and petty
wars and feuds are common occurrences. The people are warlike, and used
to arms, and without artillery even a small village could not be
carried without considerable loss. The troops therefore had made
circuits round the villages, and bivouacked at the end of their march
in a wood, having brought with them a supply of food and grain from the
village where they had halted on the previous day. They had not slept
many hours when one of the vedettes came in to say that there was a
sound of beating of drums in a large village not far away, and that
bodies of peasantry had arrived from other villages, and that he
believed an attack was about to take place.
Major Warrener at once took his measures for defense. The first troop
were to defend the front of their position with their carbines against
an attack. The second troop were to move round to the extreme end of
the tope, were to mount there, and when the enemy began to waver before
the musketry fire, were to sweep round and take them in flank. Major
Warrener himself took command of the dismounted troop, and posted the
men along behind a bank with a hedge, a short distance in front of the
trees. Then, each man knowing his place, they fell back out of the
scorching sunshine to the shade of the tree's, and waited. In half an
hour a loud drumming was heard, and a motley body, two or three
thousand strong, of peasants in a confused mass, with a tattered banner
or two, made their appearance.
The "Avengers," as Warrener's Horse called themselves, took their
places behind the bank, and quietly awaited the attack. The enemy
opened a heavy fire, yet at a long distance. "Answer with a shot or
two, occasionally," Major Warrener had ordered, "as they will then aim
at the bank instead of tiring into the wood. We don't want the horses
hurt."
Slowly and steadily the rifled carbines spoke out in answer to the
heavy fire opened on the bank, and as almost every man of Warrener's
Horse was a sportsman and a good shot, very few shots were thrown away.
The enemy beat their drums more and more loudly, and shouted
vociferously as they advanced. When they were within three hundred
yards Major Warrener gave the word:
"Fire fast, but don't throw away a shot."
Astonished at the accuracy and deadliness of the fire which was poured
into them by their still invisible foe, the enemy wavered. Their
leaders, shouting loudly, and exposing themselves bravely in front,
called them on, as slowly, and with heavy loss, the main body arrived
within a hundred yards of the hedge. Those in front were, however,
falling so fast that no efforts of their leaders could get them to
advance further, and already a retrograde movement had begun, when
there was a yell of fear, as the mounted troop, hitherto unnoticed,
charged furiously down upon their flank.
"Empty your rifles, and then to horse," shouted Major Warrener; and the
men dashed back through the tope to the spot in the rear, where four of
their number were mounting guard over the horses.
In three minutes they were back again on the plain, but the fight was
over. The enemy in scattered bodies were in full flight, and the
cavalry, dashing through them, were cutting them down, or emptying
their revolvers among them.
"Make for the village," Major Warrener said. "Gallop!"
At full speed the troop dashed across the plain to the village, whose
gate they reached just as a large body of the fugitives were arriving.
These gave a yell as this fresh body of horsemen fell upon them; a few
tried to enter the gates of the village, but the main body scattered
again in flight. The cavalry dashed in through the gates, and sabered
some men who were trying to close them. A few shots were fired inside,
but resistance was soon over, and the male inhabitants who remained
dropped over the wall and sought refuge in flight. A bugle call now
summoned the other troop from pursuit, and the women and children being
at once, without harm or indignity, turned out of the village, the
conquerors took possession.
"This will be our headquarters for a day or two," the major said, as
the troop gathered round him; "there is an abundance of food for horse
and man, and we could stand a siege if necessary."
Warrener's Horse was the happiest of military bodies. On duty the
discipline was severe, and obedience prompt and ready. Off duty, there
was, as among the members of a regimental mess, no longer any marked
distinction of rank; all were officers and gentlemen, good fellows and
good comrades. The best house in the village was set aside for Major
Warrener, and the rest of the squadron dispersed in the village,
quartering themselves in parties of threes and fours among the
cleanest-looking of the huts. Eight men were at once put on sentry on
the walls, two on each side. Their horses were first looked to, fed and
watered, and soon the village assumed as quiet an aspect as if the
sounds of war had never been heard in the land. At dark all was life
and animation. A dozen great fires blazed in the little square in the
center of the village, and here the men fried their chickens, or,
scraping out a quantity of red-hot embers, baked their chupatties, with
much laughter and noise.
Then there was comparative quiet, the sentries on the walls were
trebled, and outposts placed at a couple of hundred yards beyond the
gates. Men lighted their pipes and chatted round the fires, while Major
Warrener and a dozen of the oldest and most experienced of his comrades
sat together and discussed the best course to be pursued.