THE GREAT MUTINY.
Nicholson quitted Bannu early in 1856 for a six months' special mission
to Cashmere, preparatory to taking up an appointment as Deputy
Commissioner at Peshawur. It was at this frontier outpost that his
loyal friend Herbert Edwardes was stationed as chief political officer.
Before going on to speak of this important change, however, I may refer
to a side of Nicholson's work that has not been touched upon in the
preceding chapter.
His duties as a civil officer at Bannu comprised more than the
dispensing of justice and the keeping in order of the unruly tribesmen.
As "Warden of the Marches" he had to watch closely the agricultural
interests of the community, and it is well worthy of note that he
reclaimed a large waste tract of land named Landidák by running a canal
into it from the river Kuram. He also made a summary settlement of the
Land Revenue in 1854, thus following up a task that Reynell Taylor had
begun.
To make quite clear the course of future events, it is necessary
further to point out that Nicholson was now placed directly under John
Lawrence. Three years previously friction had arisen between Sir Henry
Lawrence, as Chief Commissioner of the Punjaub, and his equally
strong-willed brother. While the difficulties were purely technical,
and in no way affected their personal relations, it soon became evident
that affairs would come to a deadlock, and Lord Dalhousie very wisely
determined on a bold stroke. Transferring Sir Henry to Rajputana, to
act as Agent there, he gave John Lawrence the vacant post of Chief
Commissioner, a position for which he was well fitted.
To Nicholson the change of masters was by no means welcome. Between
him and Sir Henry there existed a rare bond of sympathy, and he felt
that he could never entertain a similar affection for John Lawrence.
Despite this, however, he worked loyally for his new chief, who, for
his part, thoroughly understood the nature of his fiery-tempered and
impetuous subordinate, at the same time that he appreciated his many
admirable qualities. There were differences of opinion between the two
naturally, but John Lawrence's firmness and tactful methods, together
with Nicholson's sense of justice, prevented any rupture.
At Peshawur Nicholson found that his reputation had preceded him, and
made his task all the easier. Bannuchi and Waziri tribesmen had
carried a faithful report of his doings to their more northern
compatriots, and the word quickly went round that "Nikalseyn" was a
dangerous man to flout. There were some, as it happened, who ventured
to cross swords with him, but the result taught them that this
stern-faced, black-bearded giant of a sahib was their master every whit
as much as was Edwardes.
The spring of the fateful year 1857 now arrived, and with it came a
desire in Nicholson's mind to exchange his post in the Punjaub for
another more remote. A restless fit was on him. He would have liked
to go to Persia to see some fighting, or to Oude, to serve under Sir
Henry Lawrence. Fortunately for India, Lord Canning, who had succeeded
Lord Dalhousie as Governor-General, did not see his way to oblige him.
Edwardes pleaded his cause at Calcutta in an interview in which, after
a eulogy of his friend, he uttered these memorable words: "My lord, you
may rely upon this, that if ever there is a desperate deed to be done
in India, John Nicholson is the man to do it!" But the time was too
critical for such a man as the Deputy Commissioner at Peshawur to be
spared. Already signs were to be observed of disaffection among the
native troops, and the time was rapidly nearing when a challenge was to
be flung at British supremacy in India. "Wait," said Lord Canning in
effect, and Nicholson went on quietly with his duties.
The native mine which had been slowly preparing exploded in May of the
same year. On the morning of the 12th the belated news was flashed
over the wires to Peshawur that three regiments of sepoys had revolted
at Meerut two days before, and massacred every European not in the
British lines. The Great Mutiny had begun in earnest.
How Edwardes, Nicholson, and the other British officers at Peshawur
received the startling tidings we learn from Lord Roberts, who was on
special duty in the city at the time. Roberts, then a youthful
subaltern in the artillery, acted as secretary at the council of war
which was immediately held at the house of General Reed, the divisional
commander. There were present, he tells us, besides Reed, Brigadier
Sydney Cotton, Herbert Edwardes, Nicholson, Brigadier Neville
Chamberlain, and Captain Wright. The last-named had been summoned to
act in a similar capacity with Roberts. The question to be decided was
how to make the Punjaub secure and prevent a general rising there, and
the point to be borne in mind was that there were only some 15,000
British troops with 84 guns in the province, as against over four times
the number of natives armed with 62 guns.
Almost the first proposal was made by Nicholson. To raise a strong
force of native levies who could be trusted was his recommendation,
warmly supported by Edwardes, and it was unanimously approved by the
council. All along the border which they had brought into submission
during those arduous years of labour at Bannu, Attock, and other
stations, Nicholson and his chief had staunch friends among the Sikh
warriors. To these they now turned for help in the time of need. And
so it was that the Movable Column came into existence, that splendid
body of picked men who made themselves and their leader ever famous in
Indian history.
In the meantime it was arranged that General Reed, as senior officer in
the Punjaub, should join Lawrence (now Sir John) at Rawal Pindi, to act
in concert with the Chief Commissioner, and that Brigadier Cotton
should succeed him in command at Peshawur. As a measure of precaution,
the "treasure" (computed at 24 lakhs of rupees) was now removed from
the cantonments to the fort outside, where a European garrison guarded
it. At the same time, for the security of the ladies and children in
the station, Brigadier Cotton made his headquarters at the Old
Residency, a strong, double-storeyed building which was capable of
being well defended.
For the next week or two Nicholson and his colleagues had their hands
full. He himself tapped the mail-bags at the post office, making
thereby many important discoveries in the shape of treasonable
correspondence, and saw to the prompt checking of seditious reports,
such as that issued by the Mohammedan editor of a native paper, who
went to prison for his pains. The raising of the native levies, to his
disappointment, proceeded slowly. Most of the border chieftains were
waiting to "see how the cat jumped," to put it figuratively, and both
Edwardes and Nicholson were kept hard at work exerting their influence
with the _maliks_ of the various villages.
After the news that Delhi had fallen to the mutineers came an alarming
report of a fresh outbreak at Nowshera, only a few miles away. In the
face of this development, the two friends came to the conclusion that
the sepoys at Peshawur must be disarmed. They carried their arguments
at once to Sydney Cotton, and convinced the Brigadier of the necessity
for such drastic action. This decision was arrived at in the small
hours of the 22nd of May. By six o'clock the same morning the colonels
of the sepoy regiments had received their orders, and by seven the work
of disarmament had begun.
"These prompt and decided measures," notes Edwardes, "took the native
troops completely aback. Not an hour had been given them to consult,
and, isolated from each other, no regiment was willing to commit
itself; the whole laid down their arms." The same writer records how,
as the muskets and sabres of "once-honoured corps" were thrown
unceremoniously into carts, there were to be seen here and there the
spurs and swords of British officers who had vouched for the loyalty of
their men, and who still refused to believe them traitorous. Very soon
after were these simple gentlemen to have their faith rudely shattered.
It was a dramatic scene, but to Nicholson, if to none other, it was not
painful. Too well did he know how the seeds of rebellion had been sown
in these same regiments.
The next day Nicholson was called upon for immediate active service.
The 55th Sepoys at Mardan had mutinied and taken to the hills. At the
head of a strong body of cavalry and infantry he hurled himself on the
track of the rebels, and then began a fierce pursuit that gave the
fleeing sepoys no respite. Up hill and down dale they were hunted,
until at last nearly three hundred had been killed or taken prisoners,
together with a large quantity of arms. The rest, it may be mentioned,
fell into the unfriendly hands of the hill tribes across the border,
and suffered either death or slavery. Not a man is known to have
escaped.
In this dashing piece of work Nicholson was ever foremost, bringing
many a mutineer to the dust with his own great sword. For twenty hours
he was in the saddle under a scorching sun, and "could not have
traversed less than seventy miles." He had given a practical lesson in
the art of punishing rebellion, and had demonstrated the value of a
mobile field force. He was now within a short time to further display
his abilities as the commander of the Punjaub Movable Column, to
perform, in fact, that "desperate deed" of which Edwardes had spoken to
Lord Canning.