[4] _Kaye's Sepoy War._
[5] Colonel Wilson's letter to Colonel Baird Smith, dated 30th August,
1857.
V.
CAPTURE OF JHUJJUR.
One evening, as my Commanding Officer, Captain Sanford, and I, after
dining at mess, returned to the tent which we shared between us, he
told me that I need not expect to enjoy that night a very long rest;
for he had planned a little expedition on which I was to accompany
him. He had got information from a spy of the whereabouts of a small
body of the enemy at a village about twelve miles from our camp. He
had already given orders for fifty of our men who had been separately
and secretly told off to arm themselves and mount their horses as
quietly as possible soon after midnight, and sneak out of camp, one
by one, through a picquet which had been warned to let them pass. He
had taken none of the officers except myself and the Adjutant into
his confidence, partly to escape their importunities to be allowed
to accompany us, and partly because there was no certainty that we
might not be going on a wild goose chase. At the stroke of midnight we
arose, dressed and armed ourselves, fortified our stomachs with a cup
of hot tea, crammed into our holsters a cold roast fowl apiece and some
chapatties, mounted our horses and stole out of camp to the rendezvous,
where we found our party and a guide waiting for us. Placing the guide
in front under the escort of a couple of sowars, and whispering to the
men on the right flank to follow in single file, Sanford noiselessly
led the way. Not till we had placed a couple of miles between ourselves
and camp did we halt, form up, and "tell off," after which necessary
proceeding we continued our journey, stumbling along in the dark over
fields and by foot-paths till our guide intimated that we were within
a mile of our destination. As it was still an hour or so before dawn
we now halted, dismounted, looked to our girths, and loosened our
swords in their scabbards. When we again moved on, preceded by a few
scouts, with whom was the guide, the very faintest flush of light was
beginning to suffuse the sky in the east. In a few minutes more the
darkness of night had partially rolled away; and we could see, not
far to our front, a group of thatched roofs, and a few tiny curls of
blue smoke where some early risers had begun their preparations for
breakfast. Almost at the same moment we came across two or three sepoys
who had thus early come out into the field. Short shrift had they. We
pressed on; and then a carbine shot broke the stillness, followed by
the clattering of horses' hoofs, as a small picquet, which--strange
to say--had actually been posted on the look-out, took the alarm and
galloped away.
After them we went, _ventre a terre_, and drove them right into the
village, which turned out to be a small one, and not in any way
protected by earthworks. From the complete absence of any attempt
at checking us by musketry fire, coupled with the uproar within
the hamlet, it was evident that our sudden attack had smitten its
defenders with panic; so Sanford with his usual boldness promptly
decided to strike while the iron was hot. Detaching two small squads
to sweep round the place and join us on the opposite side, he led the
main party at a gallop straight up the main street, and through the
village, into the fields beyond, which were already full of fugitives.
They were all mounted, but many of them had been in such a hurry to
bolt that they had not had time to saddle their horses. Though they
were two or three times our number, and--if they had kept a really
efficient look-out, could easily have beaten us off--they were so
completely demoralised by terror that they did not make the slightest
effort to rally, but fled in all directions, each man for himself, and
each trying to make the fastest time on record. It may be imagined
what a holiday this was for our fierce "Guides." Soon was the plain
strewn with the bodies of their victims; and though many of the rebels
when overtaken used their _tulwars_ as well as they could, they only
succeeded in slightly wounding a few of our men.
One unfortunate fellow, who fell to my lot, threw himself off his horse
when I had nearly overtaken him, and boldly facing me on foot, tried
to draw his _tulwar_; but the more he tugged the less would it leave
the scabbard. For a moment I thought fear had paralysed his arm; but I
discovered afterwards that he had tied his hilt to the scabbard, and
in his hurry and very natural agitation had forgotten all about the
fastening. It was not at all an unusual practice with native swordsmen
to thus fasten up their _tulwars_, with the view of preventing their
keen edges from getting blunted by friction.
For three or four miles we kept up the pursuit, when Sanford sounded
the "halt" and "rally" and our scattered men gradually obeyed the
summons, and assembled, many of them leading captured horses, and laden
with loot in the shape of arms and odds and ends, among which were
doubtless many gold mohurs and rupees extracted from the _cummerbunds_
of the fallen sowars. Very unobtrusive was our return into camp that
evening. Not till after dusk did we sneak in as we had sneaked out, by
ones and twos; for we were by no means anxious that the General should
come to hear of our unsanctioned escapade, till, at any rate, Sanford
had found time to think over the most judicious excuse for it.
As we stretched our tired legs under the table in the mess tent, and
refreshed our dry throats with a welcome draught of "tarbund" beer, we
looked forward to a good night's rest after our day's adventures, for
the force was not to resume its march till daylight next morning. At
this juncture an official letter was brought by an orderly and handed
to the commanding officer, whose face while he read it presented an
interesting study. He ended its perusal with a low whistle clearly
indicative of puzzled embarrassment; and then communicated its contents
to the table. The staff officer of the column had, it seemed, the
honour to inform him that the General had received information that
a certain village--the very one we had paid our morning call at--was
occupied by a strong outpost of the enemy's cavalry. Captain Sanford
was desired to take all the available sabres of his regiment and beat
up that outpost, timing his march so as, if possible, to effect a
surprise about the break of day. In the event of the enemy proving too
strong to be dislodged Captain Sanford was to communicate with the
General, who would be found on the line of march previously notified in
Orders. Here was a pretty dilemma; what was to be done now? It would
never do at this stage of the affair to report that we had anticipated
the General both in information and in acting on it. He would have been
furious, so our commanding officer contented himself with acknowledging
the receipt of the order. Once more, soon after midnight, we turned
out, this time the whole Regiment, some 250 strong; and marched away
in the same direction as on the previous night. Our spirits were not
quite so lively as on that occasion, and Sanford was not so gay as
usual; for he did not quite see his way out of the scrape he had got
into.
At daylight we reached the village, now apparently deserted; and here
we met with a wonderful stroke of luck: for in one of the houses we
captured a foolish fellow, who, after escaping us the day before,
had, thinking the coast was clear, come back in the night to recover
some things which he had not had the leisure to pack up before taking
his leave. The poor fellow's surprise was painful to witness; but he
soon brightened up when he was promised his life on condition that he
conducted us to the place where his comrades had taken refuge. This he
undertook to do; and, to ensure his fidelity, his hands were securely
tied together, and he was mounted on a stray pony, the leading rope of
which was given in charge to a couple of men who had orders to shoot
him if he attempted to escape.
He said that about six miles further we would find most of his
comrades, who had established a bivouac in the open, for they had
apparently had enough of village enclosures. His information proved
perfectly correct. Directly the enemy saw our scouts they made off in
an even greater hurry, if possible, than before. During the pursuit we,
as usual, got a good deal scattered. Presently I observed two figures,
far away to the left, disappearing into the distance, while behind
them, at a long interval, was riding Captain Sanford, followed by a
few men. After him I galloped as hard as I could go. When at last I
overtook him I found him and his party halted at the gate of a "serai,"
inside which were about fifty sowars of the Jhujjur troops, with their
horses picketed to pegs, and--best prize of all--two light brass guns.
The two figures I had first seen were one of the enemy pursued by
a non-commissioned officer of ours who was generally known as the
"Shahzada," and who was suspected of not being gifted with an excess
of courage. The reader will judge, however, whether the suspicion was
well founded. In the pursuit he had singled out one of the enemy, who,
being nearly as well mounted as himself, had led him a long chase
across country; but he had stuck to him till he ran him to earth in
the serai, at the gate of which the Shahzada had to pull up, for it
was full of "moofsids." Nothing daunted, he had produced from his belt
an enormous horse pistol, covered the lot with it in a general sort
of way, informed them that the "Guide Rissala"--name of terror to the
rebels--was close at his heels, and threatened to drill a hole into the
first man who stirred. The cowardly crew, who had doubtless heard all
about the previous day's surprise and slaughter, were too frightened
to move. In a few moments Sanford and his men reinforced the Shahzada;
and when I rode up were all keeping guard at the gate. Before long we
were joined by the main body of the regiment; and then the prisoners
were secured; their horses seized; and Sanford, with a light heart,
sat down to indite a short despatch to the General, informing him that
we had captured fifty prisoners and two brass guns. This was sent off
without loss of time; and we commenced our march to rejoin the column;
but we were met by an order to stay where we were, as the column would
come to us. So we retraced our steps to the serai. Whether Captain
Sanford, on the General's arrival, made a clean breast of it, and told
him the whole story of the previous day's affair or not, I know not. At
any rate, we never heard anything more about it.
A capture of horses was always welcome, for that was the only way in
which we could replace casualties among our own mounts; and casualties
were pretty frequent in those days from wounds and hard work. We used
to select the best of the captives and pass them into the ranks; and
sell by auction in camp the others and those whom we rejected from
among our own animals. Hitherto we had always considered such prize of
war our own perquisites; and no one had interfered with us. It now
happened, however, that a levy of mounted police was being raised;
and this batch of horses was requisitioned for them. We were, much to
our disgust, obliged to part with some of them; but I have a shrewd
idea that many of the best remained picketed in our lines. For my own
part I was determined to stick to a very handsome roan mare of which
I had relieved her former owner, after putting it out of his power
to ride her or any other mare any more. Whether the officer to whom
the captured animals were to have been made over suspected that some
were kept back or exchanged for "screws," I cannot say; but we heard
that one of the prisoners was to be sent round our lines to identify
them. Before he came the roan mare had been carefully groomed, her
mane and tail dressed, my military saddle and bridle fitted on her,
and a blanket thrown carelessly over the saddle and her loins. Very
charger-like she looked, and very unlike what she had been an hour
before. The prisoner when he came on his visit of inspection did not
even look at her, but fixed his eyes on a grey Arab, for which I had
given a long price some months previously, and after pretending to eye
him critically all over, confidently declared that he was one of the
captured horses. Such a transparent mistake effectually discredited his
evidence; and he was turned out of our lines with ignominy. Many a hard
day's work did that roan mare do afterwards; and I daresay she served
the State as well when carrying an officer of Irregular Cavalry as she
would have done if she had joined the new levy.
That mare was the only "loot" that I allowed myself to take during the
Mutiny campaign; and as she was literally the "captive of my bow and
spear," in so far as these weapons were represented by a Wilkinson
blade, I cannot feel that I was very much to blame for keeping her.
On at least one occasion, however, I was sorely tempted. We had taken
possession of a deserted town; and our men were busily "searching
for arms," a euphemism which covered the quest for many more valuable
articles, when I rode into a courtyard under a gate so low that I had
to cling to my horse's neck to avoid breaking my own. As I crossed the
yard to where a group of my brother officers was standing, one of my
horse's feet sunk deep into the ground, which was elsewhere as hard as
a stone pavement. This was a sufficient hint to us to dig: and dig we
did without delay. Imagine our excitement when, at a depth of two or
three feet, we came upon the lid of a large iron chest. Some of our men
had been helping us with native spades and hoes which had been left
lying about in the huts; and we now placed a couple of them on sentry
at the gate to warn off intruders, while we redoubled our labours, and
before long had lifted the heavy chest out of its hole. It was locked,
and for a time defied all our efforts to break it open. While this was
being done, the ever vigilant Father of Evil took advantage of his
opportunity. There could be no doubt that the chest, so carefully
hidden, must be full of barbaric gold and gems. Why should we hand all
this wealth over to the prize agents? Their operations were confined to
Delhi. This village was clearly outside their sphere. They and their
employés would never come near it. But for us the chest would never
have been discovered. While thoughts such as these were being freely
expressed and eagerly discussed the lid of the box was somehow or other
forced open; and then was revealed--a mass of documents, quantities of
papers bearing revenue stamps, numbers of unused stamps, and absolutely
nothing else. These papers, though worthless to us, were yet of great
importance and value, as we were informed by the political officers to
whom they were made over.
After all "auld Clootie" had not wasted his time. He had succeeded in
making some of us feel the power of a good solid temptation; and I
daresay had a quiet laugh in his sleeve at our disappointment in not
being permitted to succumb to it.
In this same deserted town a certain "Chobdar," a kind of Oriental
"gold stick" of the old King's was suspected to be in hiding; and as
he was particularly "wanted" by Sir John Metcalfe, the officer in
political charge of Delhi, we instituted a very vigorous search for
him. A young native lad had been won over by the blandishments of
H---- to conduct us to a group of huts in one of which he asserted
we should surely find the object of our quest. For an hour or more
we hunted without success, when, in a small dark room, I noticed one
of the large mud-built jars in which natives store their grain. This
is, to describe it roughly, a section of a tube closed at both ends,
about three feet in diameter and five or six feet high, and stands
upright on one end. Near the top a circular hole is cut in the side,
into which the grain is poured, and a lid is fitted on to this hole.
Possibly Morgiana and the forty thieves flashed across my mind. At any
rate I removed the lid, and shoving the muzzle of my revolver into
the reservoir, requested its possible occupant to come out. The pistol
certainly struck against something which yielded. So I thrust in my arm
and caught hold of--a thick beard. A long pull and a strong pull--and
out came the Chobdar at full length!
I made him over to my commanding officer, who delivered him up to the
political authorities, who, for doubtless sufficient reasons, hanged
him on a branch of a tree.
At length came the time when we were to try conclusions with the Nawab
of Jhujjur. That rebel Chief was waiting for us at home in his capital,
where he had collected a considerable force.
One day, after a long march which had brought our column within a few
miles of Jhujjur, we, the Guides Cavalry and a body of Irregular Horse
under Captain Pearse, were not a little disgusted by the receipt of
orders to retrace our steps at once to a point not far from whence we
had just come. To the subaltern mind there seemed no sense in this
arrangement; and as our commanding officer did not enlighten us as to
the reason for it, we grumbled a good deal as we hurriedly watered and
fed our horses, and then started on the weary return march.
Late in the afternoon we had arrived at our destination, and were then
warned to be in readiness to march again soon after midnight. Just
before dark I had strolled a few hundred yards from camp by myself and
was returning, when I was suddenly confronted among some low rolling
sandhills by a "sowari" camel carrying two native riders. To present
my revolver at them and call on them to halt took about a second; and
so taken aback were they that they obeyed at once. I then made them
dismount and lead their camel before me to camp. Far better would it
have been for them if they had risked my fire and tried to escape; for
on them was found a letter which they were carrying to the Jhujjur
Nawab, and which contained the news of our movements and a guess
at our strength. They paid the penalty which in all wars is exacted
from spies. As things turned out their capture were a most fortunate
accident; for when, in the darkness of the night, our small force of
sabres paraded for the march, we were for the first time informed of
the reason for our eccentric movements. It seemed that General Showers
intended to attack Jhujjur that morning from the opposite side to that
where we were now posted. His having taken us with him and then sent us
back was a _ruse de guerre_, the object of which the reader will easily
divine. He thought it more than probable that the Nawab and his troops
when they were driven out of Jhujjur would--thinking the coast was
clear in our direction--take that route to another strong place which
lay behind us, and that they would fall into our hands.
We were warned to make as little noise as possible, and were strictly
forbidden to smoke. We had a good many miles to cover before getting
near Jhujjur, so we moved off in column of route. Shortly before dawn
we heard a distant voice gaily singing and gradually becoming louder
as it approached us. The minstrel proved to be one of a small party of
sowars who must have been the most egregious cowards of the Jhujjur
garrison, for they had evidently fled long before any one else; and
were doubtless congratulating themselves on their timely escape from
the fierce "Feringhis" when to their horror they found themselves in
our midst. A few swift flashes of steel and their songs were over for
ever.
The day began gradually to break as we pushed eagerly on, meeting at
intervals other small parties, of whom not one escaped, though some
made a desperate fight for life. At length, just before the sun rose,
as we neared the summit of some rising ground which we were ascending,
our scouts galloped back with news that the main body of the fugitives
was within sight. We at once formed line to the front in rank entire, a
formation which I may explain for the benefit of civilian readers, is
composed of only one rank instead of two, and which, of course, doubles
the extent of front; for our leader wished to frighten the enemy by an
imposing show of force, rightly judging that at a distance they would
not see that we had no rear rank. Our line advanced to the crest of
the high ground, and then burst on our view a sight which can never be
forgotten.
A gentle slope stretched away from us, ending in a wide plain which
was covered with a huge crowd moving towards us in a disorderly mob.
Fighting men on horse-back and on foot--on camels--on a stray elephant
or two--in bullock carts and "ekkas"--without any show of discipline or
regular formation, mingled with hundreds of non-combatants all pressing
tumultuously onwards.
For a moment our long line halted full in view of the enemy. Then rang
out the commands "Prepare to draw swords."--"Draw swords." Our sabres
flashed into light, gleaming in the rays of the rising sun. "Forward
at a walk;" "March;" "Trot;" "Gallop;" "Charge." Down the slope we
thundered. Like the sands on a dry plain struck by a sudden squall the
dense mob before us with a wild cry of despair, broke into fragments
and fled--in vain! Our impetus carried us into the midst of them. For
miles we pursued them, and heavy was the loss we inflicted on those who
bore arms.
Theoretically, cavalry should at all times be kept well in hand and
under perfect control. Practically, it would be quite as easy to bind
the winds after they had burst out of the bag of Æolus, as to control
cavalry once launched in pursuit. What else could possibly be expected?
The enemy, if mounted, scatters in flight in all directions, and at
racing pace. If they are to be overtaken and destroyed the pursuers
also must scatter, and at still greater speed. A very few minutes will
cover miles of country with a rapidly extending fan of more or less
isolated swiftly-moving groups. Such, at any rate, was our frequent
experience during the Mutiny campaigns. The only remedy would have
been to have invariably kept a strong reserve; but this precaution
was, with such contemptible antagonists, hardly necessary. After the
first few trials of strength the rebels had thoroughly learned the
lesson that an encounter with our troops in the open field invariably
meant defeat, and that the consequences of defeat were terrible.
Having no real discipline or organisation, and no confidence in their
leaders, they always met us with what may be best described as nervous
hesitation; and their promptitude in bolting was often astonishing.
Frequently would individuals and small knots of men turn to bay and
fight manfully; but usually not till they also had yielded to the
general impulse of panic, and had joined for a time in the stampede.
In this pursuit I had the good fortune to kill a mutineer who must
undoubtedly have been concerned in the murder of some European, for I
found on him a gold mourning ring bearing on the circlet, in black
enamelled letters, the words "In memory of." The stone, which evidently
must have been inscribed with some name, was missing. The wretch
made no fight, but died like a cur, with my blade through his back.
Observing that his _cummerbund_ bulged considerably, I unrolled it;
and out of its folds fell a quantity of rupees and other things, among
which was the ring, which I took, leaving the rest of the loot for any
one who might be inclined to pick it up. I placed the ring on one of
my fingers, resolving, when the opportunity should offer, to have a
bloodstone inserted in it, with the date 1857.
To my great regret, later in the day, I found that the ring, which was
rather loose for my finger, had slipped off it, and was lost.
It will be admitted that when we joined the rendezvous at Jhujjur we
had, during the past forty-eight hours, done a fair share of work; but
more was in store for us. The Nawab was a prisoner in the hands of
the General, who decided to send him without delay to head-quarters
at Delhi; and we were ordered to escort him. Accordingly in the
afternoon the Nawab, who was a heavy, corpulent man, was placed in
a doolie provided with a large number of bearers; and once more our
tired horses were on the move. I forget what was the distance between
Jhujjur and Delhi; but I well remember that the march was a very long
and fatiguing one; and that it was not before the dawn of next day that
we had finished it, and were able to hand our prisoner over to other
custodians.
He was duly tried, found guilty, and hanged in the Chandni Chowk, the
principal street of Delhi.
VI.
EN ROUTE FOR LUCKNOW.
About this time I seized an opportunity of getting a few days' leave
to run over to Meerut. Soon after my return the Corps of Guides which,
since its arrival in the camp before Delhi after its famous forced
march from the far frontier, had continuously rendered services not
eclipsed by any other troops which had the honour to take part in the
siege, received orders to return to Hoti Murdan. Its losses, both in
the cavalry and infantry branches of the regiment, had been so numerous
that it became absolutely necessary to fill their places with recruits.
To my deep sorrow my connection with this distinguished regiment then
came to an end; but while I live it will always be a source of pride to
me to have been privileged to serve with it, even for so short a time,
during the memorable siege of Delhi.
Though Delhi had fallen and the Punjab was secure, the revolt was yet
far from having been suppressed in the Provinces of the North-West and
Oudh. There was still plenty of service to be seen in those parts;
and I was naturally anxious to find my way down to them. In those
days it was fortunately not very difficult to get to the front when
any fighting was to be done. There was work for every one, and plenty
of it. Since then, many a keen soldier not possessed of influential
friends at head-quarters, has had to be content to find himself shut
out from the series of "little wars," so prolific of medals and
decorations and brevet promotion, which seem providentially provided
for the swift advancement in the service of his more fortunate comrades
who are equipped with that best of military qualifications--"interest."
Not to digress, however, the opportunity was afforded me of getting
transferred to the 1st Sikh Irregular Cavalry, a corps which had been
newly raised in the Punjab by the late Captain Wale, and was commanded
by him; and which about this time arrived at Delhi _en route_ to join
Sir Colin Campbell's forces in the south. That regiment began, under
Wale, a distinguished career which it continued under Probyn in China.
It is now the 11th Prince of Wales's Own Bengal Lancers, and still
maintains its high reputation among the many splendid regiments which
compose the Bengal and Punjab Cavalry; a force of horsemen which, it
is safe to say, is not excelled, as regards all the best qualities of
light cavalry, by any troops in the world.
If the smart 11th Bengal Lancers could see themselves as they
appeared when, as the 1st Sikh Irregulars, they marched down the
grand trunk road from Delhi in the winter of 1857, they would be not
a little amused and astonished. Every variety of bit, bridle, saddle
_tulwar_--every variety of horse, entire, mare, and gelding,--of all
heights, from 15 hands to animals little bigger than ponies. Such were
the equipment and the mounting of the regiment; and our notions of
drill were at first equally primitive. It was all we could do to "form
threes right" or "left." The men, however--if no two of them rode
alike, and none of them had a "cavalry seat"--were undeniable horsemen;
and there was never any difficulty in getting them, when an enemy was
before them, to form some sort of a line to the front, and to ride as
hard and as straight, if not with quite as good "dressing," as the
better drilled troops of the present day.
On our first march from Delhi a comical incident, which, however, might
easily have turned out rather a serious one, occurred. I was riding
with the advanced files, when a young native woman, wielding with both
hands a very long straight double-edged sword, such as is frequently
used by acrobats at Indian festivities, suddenly appeared in the
middle of the road and barred our way. The creature must have been mad
or under the influence of "bhang" or some other intoxicant; for she
deluged us with a torrent of abuse as she vigorously brandished the
long thin blade. For a moment I was nonplussed: the situation was so
entirely novel! Mad or sane, the virago evidently meant business. There
was clearly no getting past her without a fight; and that was quite out
of the question.
"Shoot her, sahib," said one of the sowars with me, little troubled
with the polite consideration for the sex which the obligations of an
effete civilisation imposed upon his British officer. At that moment,
as if by inspiration, a "happy thought" flashed on my mind. "Give her
_galee_," (abuse) I said to the sowar; "and give it her hot and strong,
and plenty of it." Instantly grasping the idea, the grinning sowar
opened such a battery of abuse of the vilest and most comprehensive
nature upon the unfortunate young person and her female relatives to
the remotest degree that her own fire was promptly silenced. Encouraged
by this success, the sowar redoubled his efforts; and slung such awful
and shameful language with such force and precision that the rout
of the enemy speedily became complete. Dropping her long sword and
stuffing her fingers into her ears, she fled with a horrified shriek;
and we marched triumphantly on, chuckling at the success of our tactics.
Nothing very exciting occurred during the long, dusty march to
Cawnpore. For a considerable part of the way we had to escort an
immense train of empty bullock carts, destined for the use of Sir
Colin's army; and our duties were monotonous in the extreme. Heartily
would we have welcomed an attack on our convoy; but none was ever made.
At Cawnpore I was left in command of a detachment of fifty sabres,
while the head-quarters of the regiment went on to Alumbagh, near
Lucknow. This was a grievous disappointment to me; but as things turned
out, nothing more lucky could have happened.
After having marched here and there about the country with a column
under Brigadier-General Cardew, during which time nothing worth
record occurred, we returned to Cawnpore and remained there for a
while. My comrade and fellow-subaltern at that time was Lieutenant
now (Colonel) Sir Robert Sandeman, _K.C.S.I._, to whose wisdom and
tact and perseverance India owes her present impregnable frontier
on the North-West, and the gradual conversion of the wild tribes of
Baluchistan into friendly and peaceful communities. He and I one day
rode out to visit our friends, the 3rd Battalion of the Rifle Brigade,
at Unao, on the Lucknow road, where they were encamped under the
command of Colonel Macdonell. While there the Colonel took me aside and
informed me that a messenger had just come in with an urgent request
for help from a village some few miles to the north, which was held
by a small detachment of police. The village which, like most others
in Oudh at that date, was fortunately protected by a strong and lofty
mud-built wall, was attacked by a force of some hundreds of rebels;
and unless speedily relieved its defenders were in danger of running
short of ammunition. It was promptly arranged that Sandeman and I
should gallop back to Cawnpore, report the state of affairs to General
Sir John Inglis, and obtain his permission to bring our detachment as
quickly as possible across country to a point about three miles from
the threatened post, where we were to join a couple of companies of the
Rifle Brigade and proceed to its relief.
Off we set as fast as our horses could carry us. It was late in the
evening when we arrived; Sandeman going straight to our lines to turn
out our men, while I went to the Fort and obtained an interview with
Sir John Inglis.
He was at first apparently disinclined to let so young an officer take
a detachment at night so far from support into the wilds; but at last
he listened to my arguments, and after impressing on me that I was to
act under the orders of Colonel Macdonell, allowed me to go.
When I got to the lines I found the men already mounted and "told
off," and fresh horses ready for Sandeman and myself: so that we got
under way at once. After crossing the bridge of boats we struck across
country in a slanting direction to the left of the road. Night had
fallen, but we had the advantage of a certain amount of moonlight, and
were able to move pretty rapidly. When we arrived at the rendezvous
there were no signs of Colonel Macdonell or his rifles; but a letter
from him was put into my hands by a native messenger, who said that
the Colonel, after starting from Unao, had gone back there on hearing
that at nightfall the rebels had raised the siege of the village, and
had retired to another some miles away. This after our long journey to
Cawnpore and back was a terrible disappointment.
Possibly, however, the Colonel might have thought it undesirable to
follow the enemy so great a distance with infantry, and might wish
me to do so with my troop. The thought no sooner struck me than its
"sweet reasonableness" began to grow on me; and I had very soon
persuaded myself that the yet unopened missive contained instructions
which chimed with my wishes. Unfortunately, however, it was too dark
to read the letter without a light, and I had no matches! Neither,
very curiously, had Sandeman! At any rate, we did not find any in our
pockets: so we held a short council of war; and decided that in the
absence of instructions, we felt it our duty to proceed to the lately
beleaguered village, and learn all we could about the movements of the
enemy. We took the messenger with us as a guide, and in another hour
had reached our destination.
The brave defenders were delighted to see us; but they informed us that
the rebels had not gone far, and would certainly return in the morning;
and they implored us not to leave them to their fate.
On inquiring how many fighting men they could muster, we found that
they could turn out about a hundred muskets and matchlocks of sorts. I
then asked them what they thought was the strength of the enemy. About
five or six hundred they said. Allowing for Oriental exaggeration, we
guessed that two hundred and fifty or three hundred would probably
be nearer the mark; so I asked them if they were game to accompany
us and beat up their late assailants, whom we would certainly find
quite unprepared for our midnight visit. With the greatest alacrity
they agreed: so, without loss of time, I made my dispositions, and
formed up my little army in the order which it was to keep till the
moment of attack. In the centre I managed with some difficulty to get
the police and the armed villagers to arrange themselves in a line,
impressing on them that if they could keep that formation till we came
in contact with the enemy, they would certainly be mistaken for a
company of the dreaded _gora logue_ (white troops), which would be a
heavy score in our favour. My own party I divided into two bodies of
25 sabres each and placed one on each flank, giving the command of
the left to Lieutenant Sandeman and of the right to a native officer,
till the moment of the charge, when I proposed to lead it. I then
explained the plan of attack, and took very good care that every man of
my motley allies thoroughly understood it, and appreciated the extreme
necessity of adhering to it. A guide was placed in front of the centre
of the line, where I took up my position; and he was ordered to lead
me straight to the camp of the rebels, who, we were assured, would be
found "en bivouac" close to a village about three miles away. The very
strictest silence was enjoined on all. As my object was to surprise
the enemy and fall on him without giving him the slightest hint of
our approach, I did not send forward a single scout. The line was to
advance quietly and steadily, till I should give a loud "Hurrah,"
which was to be the signal for the police and village heroes to "loose
off" every musket they had, and to yell with all their lungs, when the
cavalry from both flanks would charge, also with a shout.
If all that did not freeze the marrow in the bones of a lot of sleepy
Pandies, I flattered myself nothing would!
So we moved off over the fields--the soft earth muffling all sound--my
improvised infantry keeping a really wonderful line--and all as eager
as panthers.
In an hour or so the guide whispered to me that we were close on our
quarry, but nothing was to be seen. The night, though not pitch-dark,
was sufficiently so to obscure all objects beyond thirty or forty
yards. Most fortunately a belt of trees was now behind us, which must
have effectually prevented us from being seen from our front. Suddenly
I became aware of the _silhouette_ of a man's figure against the sky
of the horizon before me, slowly moving, apparently along the top of a
low wall. Almost at the same instant from the dim figure came a loud
challenge:--"Hookumdar!" He must have been startled by some sound, for
he could not have seen us.
I held my breath, for I feared that my villagers might get excited,
and spoil my plans by beginning to fire; but they behaved admirably
and crept steadily on. Now we were within forty yards of the sentry.
"Hookumdar!" he shouted again. For a few yards more we crouched
forward, when the sentry, now thoroughly alarmed, once more roared
"Hookumdar," and fired his musket. Now was the moment! I gave the
signal "Hurrah" as loud as my lungs would let me, and galloped off to
my squad of sowars, while the line of villagers simultaneously let off
all their fire-arms, and burst into an uproar of wild yells to which
the worst efforts of a pack of mad jackals would have been a feeble
joke.
A few seconds covered the ground between us and the rebel bivouac, and
brought us up to a shallow ditch and a low wall, which, though they
brought down one or two of our horses, did not for a moment check the
furious charge. So complete was the surprise and so utterly unprepared
for, that beyond a few scattered musket shots fired off harmlessly in
panic, not the very slightest effort at a stand was made. The wretched
Pandies as they jumped up, half dazed with sleep, from the ground and
off the charpoys on which they had been lying, must have been utterly
bewildered by the fiendish yells and the roar of musketry which for
many of them was their last "reveille;" and they fled helter-skelter in
all directions into the fields, pursued and mercilessly slain by the
Sikh horsemen, whose scanty numbers their fears must have magnified
a hundredfold. Some were actually sabred on the ground before they
were well awake. Others were caught before they had got a dozen yards
away; and in a few minutes the surrounding fields were covered with
the bodies of many more; while the lucky survivors, favoured by the
darkness, made off at best speed to unknown and distant parts, and
doubtless had a gruesome tale to unfold when at last they reached some
safe asylum, as to how they had escaped by the favour of God and by the
skin of their teeth, after performing prodigies of unavailing valour,
from a midnight attack by the whole British army.
The darkness made it inadvisable to push the pursuit very far, more
especially as the defeat of the rebels was so decisive that there was
practically no danger of their recovering from it and making any effort
to rally, and it was very certain that they would not for some time
trust themselves in our part of the country, far less attempt to renew
the attack on the police outpost. So I re-assembled the troop, and was
happy to find that beyond a few trifling scratches we had incurred no
casualties whatever.
We now contrived to read Colonel Macdonell's letter, and found that its
contents were not exactly what we had persuaded ourselves they might
be. The Colonel had in fact desired me to return to camp at Cawnpore,
since the voluntary retirement of the besiegers from the threatened
village had put an end to the object of our expedition. However, to use
a homely phrase, there is no help for spilt milk. What we had done
could not be undone, so we decided to finish the job in a workmanlike
manner. To this end we collected in heaps such property as had been
abandoned by the enemy, and made bonfires of it. We also destroyed by
fire the neighbouring fortified village which had harboured them, and
which it was most fortunate they were not occupying when we arrived on
the scene; for it stood on high ground, and we should have found it a
hard nut to crack. It was delightful to witness the exuberant joy and
vainglorious excitement of our valiant matchlockmen; and we all marched
back in the best of spirits to their home, now released from danger;
where we left them to enjoy the congratulations of their womenfolk,
while we continued our journey back to Cawnpore--a journey which turned
out to be not entirely without adventure.
We had, of course, secured a guide; and for some few miles we marched
quietly on, when, judging that we could easily find our way to the
bridge over the river by the position of the moon and stars, Sandeman
and I, taking an orderly with us, left the party to follow leisurely
while we trotted on, for I was anxious to report our success to Sir
John Inglis as speedily as possible; but we had not gone more than a
mile or two when the sky became so thickly overcast with clouds that
not only was the darkness intensified, but our beacons were lost to
view. We had to fall into a walk, and very cautiously did we move;
for if we did unfortunately lose the proper direction there was no
certainty that we might not fall in with a stray camp of the enemy, who
at that time infested the district.
Presently we came in sight of a number of twinkling lights, and held
a debate as to whether we should make for them or not. We decided,
however, that it would be prudent to avoid them, so we moved on in
the opposite direction; and after a while came across a small hamlet,
the watchful dogs of which all commenced to bark in chorus. Into the
village we trotted at a smart pace, and finding a man asleep on a
"charpoy" outside his hut, we roused him up, and started him at a run
out of the place and into the open fields almost before he had time to
wake. We then explained matters to him and offered him a reward if he
conducted us safely to the bridge, with the alternative of something
quite different if he led us into any trap.
We found that we had, after all, come pretty straight, and were within
a mile or two of the river. At the bridge we dismissed our guide with
the promised reward; and as dawn was now breaking I went on to the
Fort and sought the General's quarters, not without trepidation; for
now that cool reflection had time to sit in judgment on hot impulse,
I was not quite certain in what light our proceedings would strike
that redoubtable officer, and what measure of allowance he would make
for the rather lame excuse which I had to offer for not having obeyed
Colonel Macdonell's instructions. I began to have grave doubts as to
whether he would swallow the match story; and I heartily wished the
interview well over.
Sir John gravely listened to my report and then proceeded to administer
a "wigging" which took all the conceit out of me, and made me wish
that I had passed the previous night quietly in my bed instead of in
hunting rebels in the jungle. My twitching face must have betrayed the
acuteness of my pain, for the kind old General, laying his hand on my
shoulder, went on to say something to the following effect:--"Don't be
too much upset about this. As your General I was bound to rebuke you;
for if by any chance you had failed instead of succeeded--if your party
had lost many lives and had been repulsed into the bargain--you would
have got into serious trouble. As things have turned out all has gone
well, and you have read these Pandies an excellent lesson; and, in
fact, I am not really at heart displeased with you. Perhaps I may find
you another job some day soon."
If a condemned criminal were reprieved at the scaffold, and were
presented with a handsome fortune into the bargain, his feelings would
be like mine at that moment.
The promised job turned up not very long afterwards.
I was directed to take my troop to a point on the river several miles
above Cawnpore, and to establish a series of picquets along its course
for the purpose of frustrating any attempt on the part of the rebels to
cross it. To assist me in this duty a considerable body of newly-raised
semi-military police was placed at my disposal, and I was told that I
could thoroughly rely on their fidelity. As the length of front which
I had to guard stretched for many miles, it was clear that my fifty
sabres could do little in the way of furnishing picquets. I therefore
made the following dispositions. At favourable points along the river
I established a chain of small police posts, of about ten men, each
under a non-commissioned officer. Further inland, on the lines of radii
leading to my own position, I placed three parties of my own men, each
consisting of a duffadar and three sowars.
The rest of the detachment I kept together at a central point a mile
or two from the river. The duties of the police posts were to keep
an incessant and vigilant look-out, and to patrol the banks, keeping
touch with each other. In the event of any suspicious movements being
observed on the opposite side of the river, or of any attempt to cross
it anywhere, they were at once to communicate with the nearest of my
connecting links, who would forward the information to me; and I should
thus be always able to move the main body of my detachment promptly
to any threatened point. Sandeman and I took it in turns to visit the
whole of the picquets--a duty which entailed a ride of between twenty
and thirty miles. Having made these arrangements I felt quite easy in
my mind, and waited on events. For some time, however, no attempt at
evading our vigilance was made.
One morning I was informed that the day was a sort of religious
festival, on which a certain rebel Raja, whose territory was on the
other side of the river, was accustomed to come with a considerable
following to the bank for the purpose of bathing in State; so Sandeman
and I betook ourselves to the police post opposite which the "tamasha"
was expected to take place. At that point the river was over a thousand
yards wide, far beyond the range of any weapons possessed by us, with
the exception of a double-barrelled Lancaster oval smoothbore of
my own, whose powers I proposed to try if I got the chance. I then
procured a couple of "charpoys," and sat upon one while I rigged the
other up in front of it, placing it upright on one of its sides in
such a manner as to afford an excellent and steady rest for my rifle.
Presently a couple of elephants with howdahs on their backs, and
surrounded by the usual rag-tag and bobtail which in those days was
inseparable from a native magnate, emerged from some trees on the other
side of the river, and slowly moved down to it with much waving of
"chowries" and beating of "tom-toms."
While the elephants were splashing in the water I drew a bead on the
biggest of them, and fired. The bullet sped through the air. Whether
it hit the elephant or not I cannot say; but the effect of its arrival
on the hitherto festive scene was quite ludicrous. With one accord did
both elephants and their attendants turn tail and scamper out of the
water, and up the bank into the shelter of the trees, followed by a
messenger from the other barrel, which I despatched to hasten their
movements. The angry Raja now replied to my insults with half-a-dozen
matchlock bullets, which fell harmlessly into the water about half way
across; but he did not venture to resume his interrupted bath, and very
soon departed _re infecta_.
After he had gone I observed a couple of large "country" boats lying
under the opposite bank, and offered a reward to some villagers if they
would go across and get them, while I promised to drive off with the
rifle, whose wonderful range they had just witnessed, any assailants
who might try to interfere with them. A few manjees (boatmen)
volunteered for the job, and, by wading in shallow parts and swimming
in deeper ones, soon succeeded in crossing the river, each of them
taking with him a long bamboo pole. They took possession of the boats
without being molested, and had got them half way across to our side
when a few matchlock men appeared, running along beside the river and
firing at them. A couple of shots from the Lancaster, however, very
quickly persuaded them to take themselves out of its reach; and the
boats were at length safely moored under the protection of the police
picquet.
It was not often that anything of interest happened, and the days
sometimes passed rather monotonously. On such occasions we would
occasionally beguile the time by getting one or other of the native
officers or men to relate their adventures when fighting against
"the Sirkar," which many of them had done at Moodkee, Chillianwalla,
Sobraon, and many another famous field, when the brave troops of the
Khalsa covered themselves with glory, and earned from their British
antagonists the respect which all soldiers entertain for "foemen worthy
of their steel."
One of the stories we thus heard fixed itself on my memory, and I
will endeavour to reproduce it. The narrator, a fine sturdy old Sikh
gentleman, had been persuaded to divulge the history of each of the
honourable scars which adorned his body, with the exception of one
which crossed the bridge of his nose, and rather spoiled its symmetry.
On my asking him whether that wound also was a memento of war, he
replied:--"Ah, Sahib! I cannot tell you that story. You would be angry
with me." "Angry with you," I said, "why should I be angry if, as I
suppose, you got the wound in honest fight against us? Even if you
killed the man who inflicted it, that was his luck. What is it to me?
Come! Tell us all about it." "Very well, Sahib, if you wish it and
will promise not to think the worse of me, I will tell you. This is
how it was. You have heard of the great battle at Chillianwalla, and
you know how fierce it was, and how stoutly the Sikhs of the Khalsa
fought that day. The Sirkar Angrez[6] claims the victory; but believe
me, Sahib, we won that fight. Did not the Jungie Lat Sahib[7] retire
from the field after the battle? Did not we capture four of your guns
and the standards of three of your regiments? Did not our horsemen
overthrow the Gora regiment and the Hindustani risala? Forgive me,
Sahib; but that is true; and if Shere Singh had, next day, pushed his
advantage, and had boldly attacked the shaken troops of the Sirkar, he
must have driven them clean out of the Punjab. At that time I was--as
I am now--a Sirdar; and commanded a tolee[8] of infantry of my own
people. At a certain moment of the battle we found ourselves opposed
at close quarters to a British battalion, which the fury of our fire
had temporarily checked: but if they hesitated, so did we. In vain did
I call on my men to throw away their muskets, and rush, sword in hand,
to the attack. Neither line dared advance; and neither would retire;
and there we knelt--for a dreadful minute or two--pouring a frightful
hail of fire into each other at less than a hundred yards. Both sides
were actually melting away under it. Such fearful stress could not
possibly last. One or other line was certain to give way. Whichever had
the courage to rush forward first was sure to win. Frantic were the
efforts of the officers of the Gora logue to urge on their men; but
in vain. Nothing could get them to move. Suddenly a young officer--so
young--he was but a smoothfaced, rosy-cheeked 'butcha'[9]--got beside
himself with excitement, and waving over his head his foolish little
'Regulation' blade, and shouting 'Hurrah!' 'Hurrah!' he sprang forward
quite alone, and flew at me like a madman; and almost before I could
see what he was doing, smote me across the face. Poor boy! What could I
do! If I had not protected myself he would have run me through the body
with his thin spit of a sword. So I had to smite with my keen tulwar,
and smite hard. Next moment the Gora logue were upon us, roaring like
tigers, and we were swept away before them. I remember the rush, the
clash of steel, and then nothing more. I became _behosh_.[10] When I
recovered my senses I found my head bleeding, and a great lump on the
top of it; but no other wound except the cut on my nose. I suppose I
must have been knocked down by a clubbed musket. Night had fallen, and
the field was deserted except by the dead and dying, and by gangs of
plunderers. I stumbled along for a _kos_ or two, helped by some of our
own people whom I met on the way; and then I found myself once more in
safety in the camp of Shere Singh. You are not angry, Sahib! What could
I do? That boy would have killed me. Every one must protect his own
life."
Thus, with mingled grief and pride, did we listen to the story of how
"somebody's darling" had died for his country's honour.