A SAD PARTING.
Sir Colin Campbell had considered it possible that the enemy would,
upon finding that the Residency was relieved, and the prey, of whose
destruction they had felt so sure, slipped from between their fingers,
leave the city and take to the open, in which case he would, after
restoring order, have left a strong body of troops in the city, and
have set off in pursuit of the rebels.
It soon became apparent, however, that the enemy had no intention of
deserting their stronghold. Lucknow abounded with palaces and mosques,
each of which had been turned into a fortress, while every street was
barricaded, every wall loopholed. As from forty thousand to fifty
thousand men, including many thousands of drilled soldiers, stood ready
to defend the town, foot by foot, it was clear that the fighting force
at Sir Colin Campbell's command was utterly inadequate to attempt so
serious an operation as the reduction of the whole city. To leave a
portion of the force would only have submitted them to another siege,
with the necessity for another advance to their relief. The
commander-in-chief therefore determined to evacuate the Residency and
city altogether, to carry off the entire garrison, and to leave Lucknow
to itself until the reinforcements from England should arrive, and he
should be able to undertake the subjugation of the city with a force
adequate for the purpose.
His intention was kept a secret until the last moment, lest the news
might reach the enemy, who, from the batteries in their possession,
could have kept up a terrible fire upon the road along which the women
and children would have to pass, and who would have attacked with such
fury along the whole line to be traversed, that it would have been next
to impossible to draw off the troops.
In order to deceive the enemy, guns were placed in position to play
upon the town, and a heavy fire was opened against the Kaiserbagh, or
King's Palace, a fortress of great strength. In the meantime
preparations for retreat were quietly carried on. Bullock hackeries
were prepared for the carriage of the ladies and children; and on the
morning of the 23d of November the occupants of the Residency were
informed that they must prepare to leave that afternoon, and that no
luggage beyond a few personal necessaries could be carried.
The order awakened mingled emotions--there was gladness at the thought
of leaving a place where all had suffered so much, and round which so
many sad memories were centered; there was regret in surrendering to
the foe a post which had been so nobly defended for so many months.
Among many, too, there was some dismay at the thought of giving up all
their movable possessions to the enemy. One small trunk was all that
was allowed to each, and as each tried to put together the most
valuable of his or her belongings, the whole of the buildings occupied
were littered, from end to end, with handsome dresses, silver plate,
mirrors, clocks, furniture, and effects of all kinds. A short time
since every one would have gladly resigned all that they possessed for
life and liberty; but now that both were assured, it was felt to be
hard to give up everything.
Dick went in to Mrs. Hargreaves' to see if he could be of any service,
but there was comparatively little to do, for that lady had lost all
her portable property in the destruction of the bungalow on the estate
owned by her husband, and had come into Lucknow shortly before the
outbreak, when the cloud began to lower heavily, with but a small
amount of baggage. Dick had not been able to see them since his first
visit, being incessantly on duty.
"I was so sorry I could not come up before," he explained; "but each of
the officers has been up to have a look at the Residency; and as we may
be attacked at any moment, Captain Peel expects them all to be on the
spot with their men."
"Shall we get away without being fired at?" Nelly asked.
"I am afraid you will have to run the gantlet in one or two places,"
Dick said. "The enemy keep up an almost incessant fire; and although,
we must hope, they will not have an idea that any number of people are
passing along the road, and their fire will therefore be only a random
one, it may be a little unpleasant; but you are all accustomed to that
now. I must be off again, Mrs. Hargreaves; I really only came to
explain why I did not come yesterday, and only got leave for an hour,
so I have come at a trot all the way."
And so Dick made off again; and as he shook hands with them, he could
feel that Nelly had not yet forgiven the coldness of his last good-by.
Upon the previous day all the sick and wounded had been moved to the
Dil Koosha; that done, the very large amount of money, amounting to
nearly a quarter of a million, in the government treasury, was removed,
together with such stores as were required. Then the guns were silently
withdrawn from the batteries, and at half-past four in the afternoon
the emigration of the women and children commenced. All had to walk to
the Secunderbagh, along a road strewn with _débris_, and ankle deep in
sand, and in some places exposed to a heavy fire. At one of these
points a strong party of seamen were stationed, among whom Dick was on
duty. As each party of women arrived at the spot they were advised to
stoop low, and to run across at full speed, as the road being a little
sunk, they thus escaped observation by the enemy, whose battery was at
some little distance, but the grape whistled thickly overhead, and
several were wounded as they passed.
Dick had been on the lookout for the Hargreaves party, and came forward
and had a talk with them before they started across the open spot. He
had quite recovered from Nelly's attack upon his dignity as a man and a
naval officer, and the pair as usual had a wordy spar. Dick was,
however, rather serious at the prospect of the danger they were about
to run.
"Will you let me cross with you one at a time?" he asked.
"Certainly not, Dick," Mrs. Hargreaves said. "You could do us no good,
and would run a silly risk yourself. Now, girls, are you ready?"
"Stoop low, for heaven's sake!" Dick urged.
Mrs. Hargreaves started at a run, accompanied by Alice. Nelly was a
little behind. Dick took her hand and ran across, keeping between her
and the enemy.
"Down low!" he cried, as, when they were half across, a heavy gun
fired. As he spoke, he threw his arms round Nelly, and pulled her to
the ground. As he did so a storm of grape swept just above them,
striking the wall, and sending a shower of earth over them. Another
half-minute and they were across on the other side.
"Good-by," he said to them all; "you are over the worst now."
"Good-by, my dear boy. Mind how you cross again. God bless you." And
Mrs. Hargreaves and Alice shook his hand, and turned to go. Nelly held
hers out to him. He took it and clasped it warmly; he was loosening his
hold when the girl said: "You have saved my life, Dick."
"Oh, nonsense," he said.
"You did, sir, and--yes, I am coming, mamma"--in answer to a word from
her mother. "Oh, how stupid you are, Dick!" she cried, with a little
stamp of her foot; "don't you want to kiss me?"
"Of course I do," Dick said.
"Then why on earth don't you do it, sir?--There, that is enough. God
bless you, dear Dick;" and Nelly darted off to join her mother.
Then he returned to his post, and the ladies went on to the
Secunderbagh. Here a long halt was entailed, until all were gathered
there, in order that they might be escorted by a strong guard on to the
Dil Koosha. Then came an anxious journey--some in bullock-carts, some
in doolies, some on foot. The Hargreaves walked, for the anxiety was
less when moving on foot than if shut up in a conveyance. Several times
there were long halts in expectation of attack; and a report that a
great movement could be heard among the enemy at one time delayed them
until reinforcements could be sent for and arrived. But about midnight
all reached the Dil Koosha, where a number of tents had been erected,
and refreshments prepared for the many fugitives.
Later on the troops came tramping in, having gradually, and in regular
order, evacuated their posts, leaving their fires burning and moving in
absolute silence, so that it was not until next morning that the enemy
awoke to the knowledge that the Residency was deserted, and that their
expected prey had safely escaped them.
The next day was spent quietly, all enjoying intensely the open air,
the relief from the long pressure, and the good food, wine, and other
comforts now at their disposal. Dick brought Colonel Warrener to make
the acquaintance of his friends, and a pleasant afternoon was spent
together. On the 25th a heavy gloom fell upon all, for on that day the
gallant General Havelock, worn out by his labors and anxieties, was
seized with dysentery, and in a few hours breathed his last. He was a
good man as well as a gallant soldier, and his death just at the moment
when the safety of those for whom he had done so much was assured cast
a gloom not only over his comrades and those who had fought under him,
but on the whole British nation. All that day the great convoy had been
on the move between the Dil Koosha and the Alumbagh. Half the fighting
force served as an escort, the other half stood in battle order between
them and Lucknow, in case the enemy should come out to the attack. The
whole road between the two stations was throughout the day covered by a
continuous stream of bullock carts, palanquins, carts, camels,
elephants, guns, ammunition carts, and store wagons.
Mrs. Hargreaves and her daughters were on an elephant, with their ayah;
and as the Warreners had placed in the howdah a basket of refreshments,
the long weary march was borne, not only without inconvenience, but
with some pleasure at the novelty of the scene and the delight of air
and freedom.
Sir Colin Campbell had intended to allow a halt of seven days at the
Alumbagh, but on the 27th of May a continuous firing was heard in the
direction of Cawnpore. Fearful for the safety of that all-important
post, the commander determined to push forward his convoy at once. On
the morning of the 28th they started. Dick had come soon after daybreak
to the tents where the Hargreaves were, with many others, sleeping.
"There is bad news from Cawnpore," he said, "and you will have to push
on. I expect that it will be a terrible two days' march with all this
convoy. Pray take enough provisions with you for the two days in the
howdah, and some blankets and things to make a cover at night. I am
sure that the tents will not be got up, and the confusion at the
halting-place will be fearful; but if you have everything with you, you
will be able to manage."
It was well that they were so prepared, for the first march, owing to
the immense length of the convoy, lasted until long past dark; then
there was a halt for a few hours, and then a thirty miles' journey to
the bridge of boats on the Ganges.
The naval brigade accompanied the convoy, but Dick had seen nothing of
his friends. Colonel Warrener, however, who with his troop had moved
along the line at intervals, spoke to them, and was able at the
halting-place to assist them to make a temporary shelter, where they
snatched a few hours' sleep.
The news that had caused this movement was bad indeed. General Wyndham,
in command at Cawnpore, had been defeated by the Gwalior rebel
contingent, aided by the troops of Nana Sahib and those of Koer Sing, a
great Oude chief, and part of the town had been taken. Sir Colin
himself pushed forward at all speed with a small body of troops and
some heavy guns, so as to secure the safety of the bridge of boats; for
had this fallen into the hands of the enemy the situation of the great
convoy would have been bad indeed. However, the rebels had neglected to
take measures until it was too late, and the approaches to the bridge
on either side were guarded by our guns. The passage of the convoy then
began, and for thirty-nine hours a continuous stream passed across the
river.
The whole force which had accomplished the relief of Lucknow had not
returned, as it was considered necessary to keep some troops to command
the town, and prevent the great body of mutineers gathered there from
undertaking expeditions. The Alumbagh was accordingly held by the
Fifth, Seventy-eighth, Eighty-fourth, and Ninetieth Foot, the Madras
Fusiliers, the Ferozepore Sikhs, and a strong artillery force, the
whole under the command of Sir James Outram.
As the long day went on, and the thunder of the guns at Cawnpore grew
louder and louder, Sir Colin Campbell took the naval brigade and the
greater portion of the fighting troops, and pushed forward. The
regiments as they arrived were hurried across the bridge, to take part
in the defense of the position guarding the bridge, where General
Wyndham's troops were defending themselves desperately against immense
forces of the enemy.
"What has happened?" was the question the officers of the naval brigade
asked those of the garrison when they first met.
"Oh, we have been fearfully licked. A series of blunders and
mismanagement. We have lost all the camp equipage, all the stores--in
fact, everything. It is the most disgraceful thing which has happened
since the trouble began. We lost heavily yesterday, frightfully to-day.
They say the Sixty-fourth is cut to pieces."
It had indeed been a wretched business, and was the only occasion when
British troops were, in any force, defeated throughout the mutiny. The
affair happened in this way. The British force at Cawnpore were
stationed in an intrenched position, so placed as to overawe the city,
and to command the river and bridge of boats, which it was
all-important to keep open. The general in command received news that
the mutinous Gwalior contingent, with several other rebel bodies, was
on its way to Cawnpore. Unfortunately, they were approaching on the
opposite side of the city to that upon which the British intrenchments
were situated, and the general therefore determined to leave a portion
of his force to protect the intrenchments and bridge, while with the
rest he started to give battle to the enemy in the open at a distance
on the other side of the city, as it was very important to prevent
Cawnpore from again falling into their hands. He advanced first to
Dhubarlee, a strong position on the canal, where a vigorous defense
could have been made, as a cross canal covered our flank.
Unfortunately, however, the next day he again marched forward eight
miles, and met the advanced guard of the enemy at Bhowree. The British
force consisted of twelve hundred infantry, made up of portions of the
Thirty-fourth, Eighty-second, Eighty-eighth, and Rifles, with one
hundred native cavalry, and eight guns. The troops advanced with a
rush, carried the village, defeated the enemy, and took two guns, and
then pressing forward, found themselves in face of the main body of the
enemy's army. Then for the first time it appears to have occurred to
the general that it was imprudent to fight so far from the city. He
therefore ordered a retreat, and the British force fell back, closely
followed by the enemy. Had he halted again at Dhubarlee, he might still
have retrieved his error; but he continued his retreat, and halted for
the night on the plain of Jewar, a short distance from the northeast
angle of the city.
No preparations appear to have been made in case of an attack by the
enemy, and when in the morning they came on in immense force, the
British position was seriously threatened on all sides. For five hours
the troops held their ground nobly, and prevented the enemy advancing
by a direct attack. A large body, however, moved round to the flank and
entered the city, thus getting between the British forces and their
intrenchments. The order was therefore given to retire, and this was
carried out in such haste that the whole of the camp equipage,
consisting of five hundred tents, quantities of saddlery, uniforms for
eight regiments, and a vast amount of valuable property of all kinds,
fell into the hands of the mutineers. All these stores had been placed
in a great camp on the plain outside the fortified intrenchments. It
was a disastrous affair; and Cawnpore blazed with great fires, lighted
by the triumphant mutineers.
During the retreat a gun had been capsized and left in one of the lanes
of the town, and at dead of night one hundred men of the Sixty-fourth,
accompanied by a detachment of sailors, went silently out, and
succeeded in righting the gun, and bringing it off from the very heart
of the city.
The next day the whole force moved out, and took up their position to
prevent the enemy from approaching the intrenchments. The mutineers,
commanded by Nana Sahib in person, advanced to the attack. One British
column remained in reserve. The column under Colonel Walpole succeeded
in repulsing the body opposed to it, and captured two of its
eighteen-pounder guns. The column under General Carthew maintained its
position throughout the day, but fell back toward the evening--a
proceeding for which the officer in command was severely censured by
the commander-in-chief, who, riding on ahead of his convoy, with a
small body of troops, reached the scene of action just at nightfall.
But it was the division under Brigadier-General Wilson, colonel of the
Sixty-fourth, that suffered most heavily. Seeing that General Carthew
was hardly pressed, he led a part of his own regiment against four guns
which were playing with great effect. Ned Warrener's heart beat high as
the order to charge was given, for it was the first time he had been in
action with his gallant regiment. With a cheer the little body, who
numbered fourteen officers and one hundred and sixty men, advanced.
Their way led along a ravine nearly half a mile long; and as they moved
forward a storm of shot, shell, and grape from the guns was poured upon
them, while a heavy musketry fire broke out from the heights on either
side. Fast the men fell, but there was no wavering; on at the double
they went, until within fifty yards of the guns, and then burst into a
charge at full speed.
Ned, accustomed as he was to fire, had yet felt bewildered at the iron
storm which had swept their ranks. All round him men were falling; a
bullet knocked off his cap, and a grape-shot smashed his sword off
short in his hand. The Sepoy artillerymen stood to their guns and
fought fiercely as the British rushed upon them. Ned caught up the
musket of a man who fell dead by his side, and bayoneted a gunner; he
saw another man at four paces off level a rifle at him, felt a stunning
blow, and fell, but was up in a minute again, having been knocked down
by a brick hurled by some Sepoy from a dwelling close behind the
guns--a blow which probably saved his life. Two of the guns where
spiked while the hand-to-hand conflict raged.
Major Stirling fell dead, Captain Murphy and Captain Macraw died
fighting nobly beside him, and the gallant Colonel Wilson received
three bullets through his body. From all sides masses of the enemy
charged down, and a regiment of Sepoy cavalry swept upon them. Captain
Sanders was now in command, and gave the word to fall back; and even
faster than they had approached, the survivors of the Sixty-fourth
retreated, literally cutting their way through the crowds of Sepoys
which surrounded them.
Ned was scarcely conscious of what he was doing; and few could have
given a detailed account of the events of that most gallant charge. The
men kept well together; old veterans in fight, they knew that only in
close ranks could they hope to burst through the enemy; and striking,
and stabbing, and always running, they at last regained the position
they had quitted. Of the fourteen officers, seven were killed and two
wounded; of the one hundred and sixty men, eighteen killed and fifteen
wounded; a striking testimony to the valor with which the officers had
led the way. Such slaughter as this among the officers is almost
without parallel in the records of the British army; and lads who went
into the fray low down on the list of lieutenants came out captains.
Among them was Ned Warrener, who stood fifth on the list of
lieutenants, and who, by the death vacancies, now found himself a
captain.
It was not until they halted, breathless and exhausted, that he
discovered that he had been twice wounded; for in the wild excitement
of the fight he had been unconscious of pain. A bullet had passed
through the fleshy part of his left arm, while another had cut a clean
gash just across his hip. Neither was in any way serious; and having
had them bound up with a handkerchief, he remained with his regiment
till nightfall put an end to the fighting, when he made his way to the
hospital. This was crowded with badly wounded men; and Ned seeing the
pressure upon the surgeons, obtained a couple of bandages, and went
back to his regiment, to have them put on there. As he reached his
camp, Dick sprang forward.
"My dear old boy, I was just hunting for you. We crossed to-night, and
directly we were dismissed I rushed off, hearing that your regiment has
suffered frightfully. I hear you are hit; but, thank God! only
slightly."
"Very slightly, old boy; nothing worth talking about. It has been an
awful business, though. And how are you? and how is father?"
"Quite well, Ned. Not a scratch either of us."
"And the Hargreaves?"
"Mrs. Hargreaves and the girls are all right, Ned, and will be in
to-morrow; all the rest are gone."
"Gone! dear, dear! I am sorry. Now, Dick, come to the fire and bandage
up my arm; and you must congratulate me, old boy, for by the slaughter
to-day I have my company."
"Hurrah!" Dick exclaimed joyfully. "That is good news. What luck! not
eighteen yet, and a captain."
It was only on the 1st of December that the whole of the convoy from
Lucknow were gathered in tents on the parade-ground at Cawnpore, and
all hoped for a short period of rest.
On the morning of the 3d, however, notice was issued that in two hours
the women, children, and civilians of Lucknow would proceed to
Allahabad, under escort of five hundred men of the Thirty-fourth
Regiment. It would be a long march, for the convoy would be incumbered
by the enormous train of stores and munitions of war, while a large
number of vehicles were available for their transport.
Colonel Warrener heard the news early, and knowing how interested his
sons were in the matter, he rode round to their respective camps and
told them. Leaving them to follow, he then rode over to the Hargreaves'
tent.
They had just heard the news, and short as the time was, had so few
preparations to make that they were ready for a start. A dawk-garry, or
post-carriage, was allotted to them, which, the ayah riding outside,
would hold them with some comfort, these vehicles being specially
constructed to allow the occupants, when two in number only, to lie
down at full length. It would be a close fit for the three ladies, but
they thought that they could manage; and it was a comfort to know that,
even if no tents could be erected at night, they could lie down in
shelter.
The young Warreners soon arrived, and while their father was discussing
the arrangements with Mrs. Hargreaves, and seeing that a dozen of
claret which his orderly had at his orders brought across, with a
basket of fruit, was properly secured on the roof, they sauntered off
with the girls, soon insensibly pairing off.
"It will be two years at least before I am home in England, Nelly,"
Dick said, "and I hope to be a lieutenant soon after, for I am certain
of my step directly I pass, since I have been mentioned three times in
dispatches. I know I am a boy, not much over sixteen, but I have gone
through a lot, and am older than my age; but even if you laugh at me,
Nelly, I must tell you I love you."
But Nelly was in no laughing mood.
"My dear Dick," she said, "I am not going to laugh; I am too sad at
parting. But you know I am not much over fifteen yet, though I too feel
older--oh, so much older than girls in England, who are at school till
long past that age. You know I like you, Dick, very, very much. It
would be absurd to say more than that to each other now. We part just
on these terms, Dick. We know we both like each other very much. Well,
yes, I will say 'love' if you like, Dick; but we cannot tell the least
in the world what we shall do five years hence. So we won't make any
promises, or anything else; we will be content with what we know; and
if either of us change, there will be no blame and misery. Do you agree
to that, Dick?"
Dick did agree very joyfully, and a few minutes later the pair, very
silent now, strolled back to the tent. Ned and Edith were already
there, for Ned had no idea of speaking out now, or of asking Edith to
enter into an engagement which she might repent when she came to enter
society in England; and yet, although he said nothing, or hardly
anything, the pair understood each other's feelings as well as did Dick
and Nelly.
All was now ready for the start, everything in its place, and the ayah
on the seat with the driver. Then came the parting--a very sad one.
Mrs. Hargreaves was much moved, and the girls wept unrestrainedly,
while Colonel Warrener, who had made his adieus, and was standing a
little back, lifted his eyebrows, with a comical look of astonishment,
as he saw the farewell embraces of his sons with Edith and Nelly.
"Humph!" he muttered to himself. "A bad attack of calf love all round.
Well," as he looked at the manly figures of his sons, and thought of
the qualities they had shown, "I should not be surprised if the boys
stick to it; but whether those pretty little things will give the
matter a thought when they have once come out at home remains to be
seen. It would not be a bad thing, for Hargreaves was, I know, a very
wealthy man, and there are only these two girls."