CHAPTER XII.

THE REIGN OF VICTORIA (_continued_).

Condition of India--The Bengal Army--Its Want of Discipline--Effects

of Caste--System of Promotion-Independent Spirit of the

Sepoys--Position of the Regiments--The Greased Cartridges--The

Prudence of Hearsey--The Chupatties--At Berhampore--Mangul

Pandy--Disarming of the 19th--Inactivity of Anson--The Sepoys

at Lucknow--A Scene at Barrackpore--At Meerut--The Rebellion

begins--The Rush on Delhi--The City is sacked--The Powder

Magazine--It is exploded--The Fall of Delhi--Sir Henry Lawrence--The

Telegraph saves the Punjab--Energetic Measures at Lahore--Philour

and Jallandhar--Mutiny at Ferozepore--Kangra and Mooltan--Peshawur

is saved--Anson at Simla--Action of the Civil Authorities--The

Siege Train--Death of Anson--John Lawrence in the Punjab--Cotton

disarms the Sepoys--Noushera and Hotee Murdan--The Trans-Indus

Region is secure--Mutiny supreme elsewhere--Progress of the

Rising--Lucknow--Oude ripe for Revolt--The first Outbreak

suppressed--Shahjehanpore and Bareilly--Seetapore--The Ranee of

Jhansi--The Five Divisions of Oude--The Province is free from

British Control.

The stipulations of the Treaty of Paris had not been fully carried out

by the high contracting parties ere Britain found herself involved in

war with Persia on the west, and China on the east of her Indian Empire.

The Persian war had been caused by the Shah's temporary occupation of

Herat on the pretext of suppressing disorder, followed by certain insults

to Mr. Murray, the British representative at Teheran, events in which

Lord Palmerston saw "the first opening of the trenches against India

by Russia." After a mission to Constantinople had failed to effect an

arrangement of the dispute, an army was sent into the country under

Outram. A few months of active hostilities brought the Shah to reason, and

happily released the troops employed and enabled them to return to India;

while the regiments sent out from England to quell the Cantonese arrived

in the Indian Ocean just in time to lend material aid in suppressing

the mutiny of the Sepoy army in Bengal; and the rebellion of the people

of several native States. It was the spring time of 1857. Lord Canning

had been one year Governor-General of India. The King of Oude had just

been deposed, and his kingdom annexed to the British dominion by Lord

Dalhousie, on the ground that he was utterly unfit to rule. This act was

productive of the gravest consequences, and is technically indefensible;

nevertheless it was justified by its later results, and apparently excited

but little notice at the time. On the surface all was peace at the opening

of the year. In a few weeks there was a sputter of mutiny; in a few months

an army was in revolt from Calcutta to Peshawur; the British were lying

dead, or flying for their lives, or fronting and conquering the mutineers,

or shut up in forts; and the last of the Great Moguls was ruler in the

famous city of Delhi. There was first a struggle for existence, then a

fierce and determined effort to regain ascendency; finally, well-planned

and successful measures to secure what had been won back literally from

the jaws of death. The mutiny of the Bengal Sepoys is an event unique

in modern history. It furnishes a story of confidence abused, treachery

punished, and heroism rewarded. It vindicates the moral superiority of the

European over the Asiatic. But if it has illustrated our strength, it has

also illustrated our weakness and folly, for from them it sprang.

The Bengal native army was upwards of a hundred thousand strong. It

consisted of troops of all arms. There were seventy-four regiments of

regular and twenty of irregular infantry; there were ten regiments of

regular and eighteen of irregular cavalry; and besides these there was

a due proportion of artillery brigades. The distinction between regular

and irregular regiments consisted mainly in this: that the regular had

the usual number of European officers, while the irregular had only three

or four. There was no substantial difference in drill and discipline.

In addition to this fixed native establishment, there were five _corps

d'armée_ furnished by native States, and called contingents. They were

drawn from Gwalior, Bhopal, Kotah, Malwa, and Joudpore. These were small

armies complete in themselves: the Gwalior contingent, supplied by the

Maharajah Scindia, was the most formidable of these forces, being strong

in numbers of all arms, and admirably drilled. Like the regular and

irregular regiments of the Bengal army, those of the contingents were

officered by Europeans. In one short year the whole of this force, except

five irregular cavalry regiments and three regular infantry regiments, and

the whole of the contingents, had either mutinied or been disarmed.

[Illustration: INDIA]

In order to form any reasonable idea of the causes of the mutiny which

we are about to describe, it is necessary to explain the nature of the

instrument which broke in the hands of the rulers of India. In outward

form it was splendid. From the drill-sergeant's point of view, few things

in this world could be more perfect. The infantry were tall, shapely,

handsome. They moved with precision and regularity. They made a brave

show at parades. The cavalry were also well-made men, being excellent

horsemen, with a dashing bearing. The artillery were famous for the

neatness and accuracy of their movements, and their ability to serve and

point their guns. Such was the appearance of these troops. Their officers

were proud of them, and years of unquestioned fidelity and obedience had

made these officers confident that their men would follow them anywhere.

But, as Colonel Jacob wrote in 1851, "the thing was rotten throughout, and

discipline there was none." The wonder to this observant soldier was, even

then, that "the outward semblance of an army had still been maintained."

For the officers of this army, from various causes, had ceased to possess

a hold on the confidence and regard of the men. They were no longer

accessible as of old. They lived apart. "Young men," writes Mr. Gubbins,

"were no longer taught to take a pride in their regimental duty." They

were taught to look out for staff employment, that is, employment in

either civil or military tasks away from their regiments. It was not that

there were few officers left behind to do the ordinary duty that caused

the evil; it was "the want of interest felt in their work by the officers

present with the corps." Nor was this the fault of the officers. It arose

from a vicious system, gradually introduced, which deprived the commanding

officer of his due share of power. "The commanding officer of a regiment

in Bengal," to quote Colonel Jacob again, "is almost powerless for good.

He is allowed to do nothing; his men are taught to despise him; and in

many instances of late years the Sepoys have been allowed and encouraged

to forward written complaints (secretly) against their commanders direct

to headquarters. What can be worse than this? It is utterly destructive of

military discipline and soldierlike pride."

Then there was the grave evil arising out of caste. The Bengal army was

composed mainly of high-caste men from Oude and Behar and Rohilcund. A

very large part came from the same districts and were relatives. The army

was, in fact, a sort of military club, and caste, as in other clubs,

determined admission or exclusion. But what were the consequences? The

army became subject to the control of Brahmins and Fakirs. A man was not

chosen on account of his fitness to be a soldier, but because he was tall

and handsome and of high caste. "Whatever be his other qualifications,"

writes Colonel Jacob in 1851, as we must repeat, "if a man think that

a stone with a patch of red paint on it is not to be worshipped as the

Creator--still more, if he have been a shoemaker, etc.--he is not to be

admitted into the ranks of the Bengal army, for fear of offending the

lazy and insolent Brahmins. The consequences are ruinous to discipline.

By reason of this, a native soldier in Bengal is far more afraid of an

offence against caste than of an offence against the Articles of War, and

by this means a degree of power rests with the private soldier which is

entirely incompatible with all healthy rule. Treachery, mutiny, villainy

of all kinds, may be carried on among the private soldiers unknown to

their officers, to any extent, where the men are of one caste of Hindoos,

and where the rules of caste are more regarded than those of military

discipline." By this subservience to caste all real power rested in the

hands of the private soldier. Thus the Bengal Sepoy would not form what

is called a "working party," and it was thought a perfect wonder that in

Afghanistan, when fighting for life, a Sepoy regiment handled the spade.

A native cavalry regiment would not unsaddle, picket, feed, and groom

its horses--a host of inferiors, grooms and grass cutters, were kept for

those purposes. To such an extent was this system carried that men were

kept to strike the gongs at the guard-houses; the high-caste Sepoy would

not do it. And all this time--while the troops of all arms in Bengal

were petted and ruined in this way, on the ground that no rule of caste

must be infringed lest it should lead to mutiny--in Bombay, Sepoys from

the same villages in Bengal, relatives of the pampered gentlemen we have

described, did all that their officers required of them, and drilled,

lived, and slept side by side with men of many inferior castes. The

army wherein caste was the first thing thought of, and discipline and a

soldier's duties the second, mutinied from end to end. The army wherein

caste was not considered remained faithful, and did good service against

the mutineers. Nor was this all. Colonel Jacob's splendid regiment of

Scinde Irregular Horse was composed to a very great extent of exactly

the same material as that of the Bengal army. It was disciplined on

sound principles, in accordance, as we may say, with the laws of Nature.

Consequently it did anything and went anywhere at the orders of its

officers.

But there were other evils in this unhappy Bengal army. The bad system

of promotion was, in the opinion of Colonel Jacob, the worst of all. "In

the Bengal army," he says, "the promotion of natives is made to depend

on seniority only, so that if a man keeps clear of actual crime, and

lives long enough, he must become a commissioned officer, however unfit

for the office. Under this system, the private soldier feels himself

entirely independent of his officers; he knows that they neither hasten

nor retard his advance in the service. He has nothing to do but to live

and get through his duties with listless stupidity, and with the least

possible trouble to himself. No exertion on his part can help him--neither

talent, courage, fidelity, nor good conduct is of any avail. Confidence

and pride in each other between men and officers cannot exist. There is no

real co-operation; for the one being powerless to aid, the other becomes

careless of offending. This is the effect on the private soldier. The

system is equally if not more baneful as respects the native officers,

commissioned and non-commissioned. The whole of the native commissioned

officers are entirely useless; the amount of their pay is a dead loss to

the State; every one of them is unfit for service by reason of imbecility,

produced by old age, or where, in rare instances, the man may not be

altogether in his second childhood, he is entirely useless from having

been educated in a bad school."

With an army managed as this was, the really surprising thing is not that

it mutinied in 1857, but that it did not mutiny years before; indeed,

partial revolts were of fairly frequent occurrence, especially when the

Sepoys were called upon to serve out of India. Except in the mere outward

show, it was not an army at all, and all that was required to destroy it

was opportunity. The fact that there were good officers in the Bengal

army, beloved and trusted by their men, does not invalidate the opinion we

have set forth. These officers had triumphed over the system in so far as

the system tended to make the Sepoy despise his officers; but they could

not triumph over the system in so far as it affected the men. That bad

influence went on with unfaltering steadiness. Day by day the Sepoys felt

that they became more and more the masters of India. Day by day a sense of

their own importance grew and flourished in their breasts. They were able

to conspire with safety under the very noses of the Europeans; and the

gulf which separated them from their officers enabled intriguers to sow

the seeds of mutiny unchecked and unseen. Thus the native army of Bengal

became combustible, ready to take fire and flame up if a spark fell on it.

This combustible state was not produced in a year or ten years; it had

been growing for a quarter of a century. In short, it grew as the vicious

system of depriving commanders of power was developed; as the Sepoys, on

plea of caste, shirked more and more the duties of soldiers, and as the

senile system of promotion by seniority produced its inevitable effects.

The recent annexation of Oude, the late Russian war, the spread of British

dominion beyond the Indus, the scanty garrison of Europeans actually in

India in 1857--these were only the collateral influences, and only to a

limited extent causes. They were, indeed, rather occasions than causes;

the root of the whole colossal evil being the absence of discipline in the

Bengal army.

Let the reader figure to himself this army scattered about the country in

military posts, from the eastern provinces on the Irrawaddy to spurs of

the mountains beyond the Indus on the north-western boundary. Here they

are gathered in brigades of two or three regiments of all arms; there

stands a solitary regiment of infantry or cavalry; in another place a

squadron or a company. From Fort William in Calcutta, up the valley of

the Ganges, and beyond it across the Punjab to Peshawur, ran a chain of

military stations; throwing out detachments to the right and left, on one

side towards the Himalayas and Nepaul, on the other over the jungles of

Central India and Rajpootana, until the outposts touched those of Madras

in Nagpore and the Deccan, and those of Bombay in the valley of the

Nerbudda. In each of the stations there are the native lines with open

parades in front, and the detached quarters of the European community;

long rows of thatched dwellings, and cottages standing in gardens or

"compounds." In some there are no European troops; indeed, so few are the

Europeans in this vast region, that their presence is the exception and

not the rule. For instance, the great fort and magazine of Allahabad, at

the junction of the Ganges and Jumna, is in the hands of native troops.

The fortified city of Delhi, with its two magazines, is entirely occupied

by native infantry. In the whole of Oude there is only one European

regiment, the 32nd, at Lucknow. At Cawnpore, a very important station,

there are no Europeans. Mooltan, the key of the valley of the Indus,

is, in like manner, almost destitute of Europeans. In other stations

there are one or two European regiments or parts of regiments. Thus, at

the great station of Dinapore there was the 10th Foot; at Agra, the 3rd

Bengal Fusiliers; at Meerut, a whole European brigade of all arms, 6th

Dragoon Guards, 60th Rifles, and artillery; at Lahore, the 81st Foot and

some artillery; and at or near Peshawur the 27th, 70th, and 87th Foot.

In the hill stations of the North-West and in the Punjab the European

element was stronger than elsewhere, for there were fourteen regiments,

including two of horse, scattered about in that quarter. There were thus

about 12,000 Europeans north and west of Delhi, but there were upwards

of 40,000 Hindostanees, and beside these several thousand Sikhs and

Punjabees. Between the Jumna and the Nerbudda there was not a single

European regiment. British India altogether was six regiments short of her

complement of European troops; but four of these were in Persia making war

on the Shah, and with them were Generals Outram and Havelock. Such was the

state of affairs at the end of 1856, when India stood on the threshold of

an awful calamity and knew it not. The country seemed to be profoundly

tranquil, but there were 5,000 fewer British soldiers than was usual to

secure or defend the sway of their race.

[Illustration: OUTBREAK OF THE INDIAN MUTINY: HIGH CASTE V. LOW CASTE.

(_See p._ 185.)]

Government had determined to arm the Sepoys with the Minié rifle. It

followed, as a matter of course, that Schools for Instruction in Musketry

were established. With the old musket instruction was of little avail,

for Brown Bess could not be relied on to shoot straight for a distance of

a hundred and fifty yards. Therefore, at various points men from several

regiments of the native army met to be taught how to load and fire the

new rifle. This weapon was loaded with a greased cartridge. It was usual

in those days to bite the cartridge, in order to pour out the powder. At

Dumdum, near Calcutta, there was an arsenal, and here these cartridges

were made up, chiefly by native servants. Early in January one of these

men asked a Sepoy of the 2nd Grenadiers for a draught of water from his

lotah, or brass drinking-pot. The high-caste native was astonished at

the insolence of the man, for he was low caste; and if the lips of the

latter touched the pot, it would be defiled. He refused with disdain. The

low-caste man was one of those who made up the cartridges, and he retorted

with a sneer that the Sepoy need not be so particular about his caste; for

the new cartridges were greased with bullock's fat, and every Sepoy would

lose caste when he bit off the end. The Sepoy spread the tale abroad among

his comrades. The Hindoos were told that the grease was the grease of the

sacred cow, and the Moslem soldiers were informed that it was the fat of

the unclean swine; and finally, to meet the case of both, the story ran

that the grease was a compound of the fat of pigs and cows. This story

has been received as authentic. Whether it be true or not in detail, it

illustrates the feeling that the new cartridges, with their unctuous ends

and ill odour, had aroused in the native mind. Here, then, was a plot to

deprive the whole army of its caste, striking high and low alike, and with

its caste of its religion! The fatal story flew on the wings of the wind

from cantonment to cantonment from station to station. In a few weeks the

native army was ready to rise and slay.

At first, indeed, the men at Dumdum appeared to be perfectly reasonable.

Called on at parade to state complaints, they objected to the cartridge,

and suggested the use of wax and oil. The Government ordered an

investigation, and in the meantime changed the drill, so that in future

the end of a cartridge was to be torn not bitten off. General Hearsey, an

experienced soldier, well known to all the Sepoys, harangued his division

at Barrackpore, showing them how impossible it was that they could be made

Christians by the mere biting of cartridges. But all was of no avail. A

native lieutenant informed the authorities that the Barrackpore brigade

was preparing to mutiny. General Hearsey wrote to Calcutta, saying, "We

have at Barrackpore been dwelling upon a mine ready for explosion." He

admitted that the native officers were of no use, being afraid of their

men, and he suggested that a European regiment should be sent up to the

station.

At this time, the middle of February, another singular sign was observed.

A native policeman entered a village of Oude, carrying two chupatties, or

cakes. He ordered his fellow official there to make ten more, and give two

to each of the five nearest village policemen, with the same instructions.

In a few hours the whole country was astir with watchmen flying about with

these cakes. This proceeding was and remains a mystery. One officer who

saw a watchman run in with his cakes, asked what it meant. He was told

that when the malik, or chief, required a service from his people, he

sent round these cakes to prepare them for the execution of his orders.

"And what is the order now?" inquired the officer. And the answer, with

a smile, was, "We don't know yet." Whatever may have been the reason for

this flight of cakes, there it stands in the forefront of calamity, and is

regarded as one of its signs. "How little was it thought," writes Mr. Cave

Browne, "that therein was really hidden an Eastern symbol of portentous

meaning! Five centuries before (1368), the Chinese had, by a somewhat

similar plan, organised and carried out a conspiracy by means of which

their dynasty of Mongol invaders was overthrown." This is a far-fetched

illustration. No doubt, the chupatty mystery had a meaning, though it may

never have been clearly ascertained.

From Barrackpore a detachment of the 34th Native Infantry went to

Berhampore, once a great and important station, 120 miles north of

Calcutta. Here were quartered the 19th Native Infantry, the 11th

Irregulars, and two guns. The 19th feasted their comrades, and these in

return told the story of the cartridges with great additions. John Company

had sent Lord Canning to convert India to Christianity, and he had been

ordered to begin by destroying the caste of the whole army! The men of the

19th heard, and forthwith believed. They made no inquiries of the English

officers. What were the "stranger gentlemen" to them? How could their

words in such a matter affect what their brethren had told them? On the

day after the detachment had come in, Colonel Mitchell, commanding at the

station, ordered a parade for the following morning. The men were to meet

for exercise with blank cartridge, and it was served out. These cartridges

were not new, and had inadvertently been made of two kinds of paper,

whereupon the Sepoys imagined that one sort must be the greased cartridges

fatal to their caste. So the men refused to take them. Not ripe at the

moment for mutiny, they yielded when threatened with a court-martial. But

the same night their passions got the better of them, and they rose and

seized their arms. Aroused by the noise and confusion, Colonel Mitchell

ordered out the cavalry and the guns. But the night was dark. Torches

were necessary. The ground was broken. Neither guns nor horsemen, it is

said, could be used. Colonel Mitchell doubted whether he could depend

on his native troopers and native gunners. He therefore harangued the

mutineers, explained the groundlessness of their fears, and begged them

to give up their arms. The Sepoys, still unready for revolt, made a

counter-proposition. They would give up their arms if the Colonel would

withdraw his cavalry and guns. He complied, and with this transaction the

tumult ended. Here, then, was decided mutiny. It broke out with a running

accompaniment of fires in different places, the work of wilful men bent on

spreading the contagion of alarm and treason.

On learning what had happened at Berhampore, the Government in Calcutta

called up the 84th Queen's Regiment from Burmah, and ordered the 19th

Native Infantry to march to Barrackpore to be disbanded. As they were

marching down, an emissary from the 34th met them with a proposal that,

when within a march of the station, the 19th should murder their officers,

while the 34th did the same; but the 19th refused, and marched quietly

into the cantonment. Here they found the 84th, a wing of the 53rd Foot,

two troops of horse artillery, and the Governor-General's body-guard

of picked Sepoy troopers. Two days before they were disbanded, a Sepoy

of the 34th, Mangul Pandy by name, endeavoured to rouse his regiment.

In the presence of the guard, who stood by, he wounded Adjutant Baugh.

While those were in deadly strife, the British sergeant-major dashed in;

but he was cut down, and the native lieutenant and guard took part in

the fray, striking the Europeans. A Mahometan, however, was faithful,

and, with the assistance of General Hearsey and other officers Baugh was

rescued and Mangul Pandy seized. Riding up to the mutinous guard, with

a loaded pistol in one hand, and ordering them back, Hearsey threatened

to shoot the first man who disobeyed him, and on this they returned to

their posts. Mangul Pandy and the native lieutenant were hanged in due

course, and the Mahometan and sergeant-major were rewarded; but for these

acts, such was the style of management that prevailed in Bengal, General

Hearsey was reprimanded! Otherwise the regiment was unpunished. On the

31st of March--a long delay caused by the fact that there was absolutely

no regiment that could be trusted with the disarmament until the return of

the 84th Foot from Burmah--the 19th were deprived of their arms, paid up

all their arrears, solemnly lectured in the presence of the whole force at

the station, European and native, disbanded, marched out of the station,

and sent to their homes. The 19th were really not so much in fault as

appeared, for they offered, if pardoned, to serve in China or anywhere;

but Government held it necessary to make an example. For now the fires in

cantonments were more rife than ever all up the valley of the Ganges, the

midnight meetings of the Sepoys more numerous, and the excitement of the

whole army was fast rising to a climax.

These symptoms of mutiny were manifest in Oude and in the North-West.

General Anson, the Commander-in-Chief, was on his way to comfortable

quarters in the hills. He was altogether unfitted for the deadly conflict

impending. He did not understand its gravity, and if he had caught a

glimpse of the facts, he would have been unable to deal with them. In the

middle of March, with the 36th Native Infantry for escort, he went to

Umballa. Two non-commissioned officers of this regiment were at the rifle

school. They went out to meet their comrades, and were by them repulsed

as outcasts--men who had touched greased cartridges and were defiled. In

fact, these natives had not touched greased cartridges, for there were

none in the school. But that made no difference to the infatuated 36th.

The Sepoys pretended that the rifle with its cartridge was "a Government

missionary to convert the whole army to Christianity." By this time the

whole army had become aware of its strength, and was in communication

from Calcutta to Peshawur. General Anson inspected the depôt, and

suspended the musketry practice of the Sepoys until further orders. He

ordered an inquiry, and when all the symptoms were disclosed to him, he

actually censured the Sepoys who had made known the fact that they had

been repulsed and treated as outcasts by their corps! He next forced the

Sepoys, not yet ripe for revolt, to use the cartridge. They did so, but at

night they burnt a number of Government buildings. A Sikh now reported the

existence of a conspiracy which was to break out in the beginning of May,

either at Delhi, Umballa, or Meerut. But General Anson would not believe

the information. He was already nestled snugly in the hills, playing

whist. And so the month passed away, lighted at its close by blazing

cantonments, and marked by the most flagrant signs of universal military

disaffection. In addition to this the agents of the King of Delhi and the

Shah of Persia and the Moslem priests were at work, preaching a religious

war by stealth, while the Hindoo pundits openly prophesied that the reign

of the English had lasted its appointed time, and that it was now coming

to an end.

The month of May came. It was the height of the hot season. There is

little doubt that the Sepoys, who had seen that their European masters

feared the sun, had calculated on its enervating effects. The storm was

gathering to a head. The strife was going on sullenly at Meerut as well

as at Umballa. At Lucknow, also, it was in progress. On the first days of

May the 7th Oude Irregular Infantry refused to touch cartridges, which,

they admitted, were in every respect such as they had been accustomed

to. The men were in absolute, but passive mutiny. On the 3rd of May,

threatening to kill the European officers, they seized their arms and the

magazine; but a force of cavalry and artillery arriving, the mutineers

were panic-stricken and gave up their arms. It was then discovered that

the 7th Oude and the 48th Native Infantry were actually conspiring. Thus

face to face with danger, Sir Henry Lawrence, Commissioner in Oude, began

to make preparations that enabled him to cope effectually with the crisis.

He had already struck down promptly the first mutinous regiment. He was

destined to save the power of Britain in Oude, and to sacrifice his life

in so doing.

[Illustration: GENERAL HEARSEY AND THE MUTINEERS. (_See p._ 187.)]

This scene at Lucknow aroused the Government at Calcutta. But mild

measures were the order of the day. A native lieutenant at Barrackpore had

been caught in the lines of the 70th, urging his men to revolt. He was

tried by a native court-martial and sentenced to dismissal. The effect

on the Sepoys is indescribable. "This," they said, "the only punishment

for mutiny! They are afraid of us; we can do as we like." But, alarmed

by the mutiny at Lucknow, Lord Canning determined to disband another

regiment. The corrupted 34th was to be so punished this time. Directing

the 84th Queen's, a wing of the 53rd, and two batteries of artillery upon

Barrackpore, he ordered the officer commanding at the station to disband

the mutinous regiment. It was done, but the punishment was felt to be no

punishment and the men went off exulting with their pay. In the order of

the Governor-General, disaffected soldiers were told that mutiny would

draw down upon them sharp and certain punishment like that inflicted

on the 34th. But the Bengal Sepoys had been long hardened to radical

insubordination, and the sharp and certain punishment of disbandment for

mutiny had no effect on them. This scene occurred at Barrackpore on the

6th of May. It was the second instance of paltering with mutineers. The

Government seem to have thought that they had destroyed the mutiny, root

and branch. In five days from that time Meerut was sacked, and the streets

of Delhi were running with European blood.

[Illustration: THE REBEL SEPOYS AT DELHI. (_See p._ 191.)]

The town and station of Meerut lies about forty-five miles north of Delhi,

in the upper part of the Doab of the Jumna and Ganges. As no European

troops could be stationed in Delhi, without violating the arrangements

made when the Great Mogul was dispossessed of his territories, Meerut

was fixed on as a station for European troops, and here were the 6th

Dragoon Guards, or Carabineers, the 1st Battalion of the 60th Rifles, and

two troops of Horse Artillery. There were also the 11th and 20th Native

Infantry and the 3rd Native Cavalry. The commander of the station was

General Hewitt, a worn-out old officer, of whom it had once been reported

officially that he was totally unfit for any command. As the disaffection

of the Sepoys was manifest, Colonel Carmichael Smith, of the 3rd Cavalry,

determined to bear it no longer. He paraded a part of the regiment, ninety

men, and ordered them to take the cartridges, showing them, at the same

time, that the end was to be torn not bitten off. Only five obeyed. The

rest were deaf to exhortations and warnings. They stood still, in passive

mutiny. This fact was reported to Brigadier Archdale Wilson, and by his

order the whole of the mutineers were arrested. They were tried, as usual,

by a native court-martial and sentenced to long terms of imprisonment.

On the 9th of May, by order of General Hewitt, the whole of the force in

the cantonment, European and native, was paraded. As soon as they were

drawn up, the Europeans were directed to load. Then the mutineers were

marched in, and so placed that any resistance would be followed by their

destruction. Their uniforms were stripped off and they were placed in

irons. The only sign of emotion was one deep sigh which burst at once

from all the battalions. The disgraced troopers actually reproached their

comrades for permitting the execution of the sentence; and we may well

believe that nothing but the loaded guns in front, and the grim men of

the Rifles and Carabineers, prevented the armed Sepoys from attempting

a rescue. The shackled troopers were marched off to the gaol and placed

under a guard of native policemen; and the Sepoys returned to their

lines to plot treason and communicate their intentions to the regiments

at Delhi. The sun went down on that Saturday, May the 9th, and darkness

covered up the meetings of swarthy soldiers planning a general revolt for

the next day.

About five o'clock next day the quiet of the evening was broken. A rocket

flew upwards in the Sepoy lines. The 3rd Cavalry rushed forth, seized

their arms, and slew at once four of their officers. A party of them

gallop away to the gaol, whirling their sabres over their heads. There is

only a native guard at the gaol; the doors are thrown open with shouts;

they set their imprisoned comrades free. Fourteen hundred convicts are

at the same time let loose, who rush eagerly away to reap the harvest of

plunder and violence. A party of the Sowars, with the 20th, went to the

lines of the 11th, to turn the tide of disaffection in its ranks, for it

was not yet entirely gained over. Colonel Finnis was there, endeavouring

to address the men and keep them to their duty. They instantly fired at

the unfortunate gentleman, whose death decided the wavering regiment. The

Sepoys of the 11th now joined with the rest, but protected the officers

and ladies. It was the plan of the mutineers to set upon and massacre

the Europeans assembled in church. Fortunately, the signal was given too

early. The Sepoys fall upon and kill everybody they meet; joined with the

rabble of the bazaars, they run to plunder the long line of beautiful

cottages in which the European families resided. They push their muskets

into the thatch, and fire; in a few minutes they are all in a blaze.

Ladies and children are seized with exultation and tormented to death.

The Europeans who get clear fly away to the English barracks. All the

bungalows in the native lines are burned and sacked. For two hours the

work of hell goes on--tumult, murder, pillage, conflagration. They fight

for the spoil and kill one another. And what are our soldiers doing? They

are all armed and ready, panting with fury, eager to rescue their dying

countrywomen, eager for blood and vengeance. To them thus ready for the

fray General Hewitt's order comes. What is it? "Defend your lines!"

Such was the fatal order. Instead of attacking the mutineers with horse,

foot, and artillery, he stood on the defensive. At length he was prevailed

on to move; but when he did, the mischief had been completed and the

mutineers were speeding southward to Delhi. Moving in the gloom, the angry

Europeans came up within sight of some of their foes, and the guns poured

a shower of grape into the darkness as the Sepoys vanished. There was no

pursuit. Captain Rosser offered to ride after them with horsemen and guns,

and follow them to Delhi; but General Hewitt would not hear of it, and

returned to his lines!

In Delhi all was peace. There were no signs of mutiny in the city or

cantonments. There had been a sign of Mahometan disaffection, for a

placard had been posted on the walls of the Jumma Musjid, declaring that

the Shah of Persia was coming to drive the Europeans from India. The old

King of Delhi and his sons and grandsons could not be expected to love us

or be loyal to us. They lived a life of conspiracy in those stormy times;

they were all sensual, cruel, and idle; but they dared not act openly

against the Company. There were three native regiments in the city and

cantonments, the 38th, 54th, and 74th, and a native battery. Brigadier

Graves commanded the brigade, and he and all the officers had the most

complete confidence in the loyalty of their men. It was nine o'clock; from

the magazine, which also looked on to the river, a sharp eye saw a body of

troopers coming down the Meerut road. The news spread to the Europeans;

one after the other they heard of these galloping horsemen. The brigadier,

warned by Mr. Hutchinson, at once ordered the 54th, under Colonel Ripley,

and two guns, to march. Sir Thomas Metcalfe warned Lieutenant Willoughby

at the magazine, and wished that two guns might be planted to sweep the

bridge. Fraser and Captain Douglas went into the palace to rouse and

induce the king to exert his influence. In the meantime the troopers had

ridden up to the bridge, had cut down the sergeant in charge, had crossed

over, and were in the palace and the city.

They were prompt men, these troopers. So long as there was one white

face left, they felt that they were not masters. So when Mr. Fraser

expostulated with them, they shot at him, wounded Mr. Hutchinson, and

killed a European clerk. Mr. Fraser seized a gun and shot a trooper; but

there were none to aid him, and he had to fly. Sir Thomas Metcalfe tried

the police; they stood unmoved. Sir Thomas drove away. As yet there were

only troopers in the city; but they had been looked for by the native

troops, and though few, they were sufficient, since there were none to

oppose them. Fraser, Hutchinson, and Douglas had gone into the palace.

There were the troopers, a mob from the city, and convicts delivered

from gaol. The British gentlemen still faced the mutineers, reasoning,

reproaching, exhorting. Suddenly one of the king's servants cut down

Fraser, and then a body rushed up the stairs and there slew Hutchinson,

Douglas, the Rev. Mr. Jennings, Miss Jennings, and Miss Clifford. The

ladies were killed outright on the spot and suffered no dishonour. Then

the troopers rushed forth to complete the massacre of the white men and

the native Christians. They scoured through the European quarters, with

reeking blades--the centre of a horde of ruffians steeped in cruelty,

crying, "_Deen! Deen!_" and sparing none. Some gallantly resisted; some

were smitten at their desks and employments. Mr. Beresford, at the bank,

fought stoutly, but was slain, and all who belonged to his household. The

dwellers in the College shared the same fate; the whole force of the Delhi

Mission fell. In the midst of their fury they were not likely to forget

the telegraph. The chief clerk was slain, but the rebels were not quick

enough in getting to the office to prevent his assistant from sending his

message to Lahore, ere the troopers cut him down "The Sepoys have come in

from Meerut, and are burning everything. Mr. Todd is dead, and, we hear,

several Europeans. We must shut up." They died; like good men and true,

they fell at their posts, but they had saved the Punjab.

Brigadier Graves had not been idle. He first sent word that all Europeans

in the city should muster at the Flagstaff Tower, a stone building, with

battlements, standing on the centre of the ridge; but his orders were too

late, or rather the troopers and felons were too speedy for the orders

to be of service. Then, as we have stated, he sent the 54th, followed by

two guns, to quell any tumult. But the 54th had no sooner entered the

Cashmere Gate than some troopers rode up and shot Colonel Ripley and all

his officers, except three who got away. Major Patterson now entered

with the guns, and at sight of these the troopers rode off. But the 54th

immediately broke up and joined the mutineers. Brigadier Graves sent down

three companies of the 74th and two more guns. These only provided fresh

mutineers, for not a man would obey orders. The guns were ordered back;

but on their road a party of mutineers met them, wounded the horse of the

officer in charge and carried the guns back to Delhi. All the Sepoys now

became active mutineers.

There were two magazines in the station: a large one, containing above a

thousand barrels of powder, placed two miles outside the city walls, and

at anybody's mercy, and a smaller one within the walls, not far from the

palace, containing not more than fifty barrels. It is of the latter we

have to write. Sir Charles Napier had condemned this building. Its gates

were so weak, he said, a mob could push them in. On the 11th of May there

were nine officers and men to defend this magazine. They were Lieutenant

George Willoughby in command, Lieutenants Forrest and Raynor; Conductors

Buckley, Shaw, and Scully; Sub-Conductor Crow, and Sergeants Edwards and

Stewart. Their memories are worthy of all honour. In the forenoon they

were beset by a crowd, raging, tumultuous, demanding admission. Seeing

this, Willoughby prepared for defence. He closed and barricaded the gates,

and a train was laid by Conductors Buckley, Scully, and Sergeant Stewart,

ready to be fired at a preconcerted signal, which was that of Conductor

Buckley raising his hat from his head, on the order being given by

Lieutenant Willoughby.

The mob had been balked at the outset. They had been reinforced by a body

of the king's soldiers, but still they were kept at bay. But when the

old king and his counsellors found that the troops in cantonments were

in revolt, that the spies he sent out returned reporting that no British

were coming from Meerut, and that the Native Infantry from Meerut had

entered Delhi, then fresh troops poured down upon the magazine. The whole

of the besieging crowd were eager for powder and arms. The king's soldiers

summoned the Europeans to surrender. They were defied. Then the crowd

swarmed to the attack and opened fire. At the first round the natives

in the magazine fled. But the nine Englishmen remained. Scaling-ladders

were brought; Sepoys mounted the tombs in the burial-ground overlooking

the enclosure, and fired on the little garrison. These plied their foes

with grape, but as fast as the iron sleet swept away one body, another

followed. For five hours the gallant nine maintained the unequal contest.

Scully stood by the trunk of a tree, ready to fire the mine. Every moment

the attack grew hotter and the defence weaker: for Edwards and Crow were

killed; Forrest and Buckley were wounded. All hope was gone. Willoughby

passed the word to Buckley to raise his hat, the signal for firing the

train, and Scully coolly and with deliberate care applied the match. In a

moment the whole building was rent by the explosion, and hundreds of the

enemy, crowding on, were buried in the ruins. Forrest, Raynor, Willoughby,

Buckley, and Scully made their way out, scorched and bruised, but alive. A

trooper cut down the brave Scully, and Willoughby was killed by marauders

in a village on the road to Meerut; but Forrest, Raynor, Stewart, and

Buckley succeeded in reaching that place alive, and each received the

Victoria Cross as a reward.

The explosion of the magazine may be regarded as the last act in defence

of Delhi. The fugitives who had reached the Flagstaff Tower were now

crowded within it, uncertain of their fate. The Sepoys who surrounded

the two guns were watched by armed Europeans from the roof of the tower;

but it would have been destruction to fire. The ladies were loosening

cartridges, and the men were resolving on defence when defence was

hopeless. One by one the fugitives had come in. Major Abbott had brought

up a cartload of dead and wounded officers. The Sepoys were growing

defiant. When the magazine blew up they became excited; they had long

refused to obey orders; they now told the officers they had better be

gone, "this was no longer a place for them." The words were true. All who

could got carriages or horses, and those who could get neither, set out on

foot. The Sepoys did not oppose them. The brave Brigadier Graves, Captain

Nicholl, and Dr. Stewart lingered to the last; but at length these went

also, and Delhi was in the power of the king and the Sepoys. An attempt

had been made to blow up the great magazine, but the Sepoys frustrated

it, and so ended the scene. One Sepoy only followed the officers in their

flight. The fugitives bent their steps towards Kurnaul, and only some

arrived. They were beset by the village marauders, who robbed and wounded,

or murdered, all parties alike. Some were nearly naked, their clothes

having been torn from them; some were severely wounded; some lay down to

die from fatigue and grief. It was a dreadful night; and in Delhi there

were still forty-three persons, chiefly women and children. They had taken

refuge in the palace; on the 18th of May the poor creatures were given up

to the mutineers, and massacred in a body by them and the king's brutal

sons.

Sir Henry Lawrence, ever vigilant and prompt, saved Lucknow for a time,

by disarming the 7th Oude Irregulars, on the 3rd of May. On the 12th

Sir Henry held a durbar, and rewarded, with solemn forms, a subahdar, a

havildar, and two Sepoys, who had been instrumental directly in arresting

emissaries who were preaching sedition. Sir Henry made a noble speech

to the soldiers representing all the native forces in the cantonment,

praised, warned, exhorted them, and so he gained a month to prepare for

a doom that was inevitable; a month to prepare and provision a fortified

post in the heart of Lucknow, where a handful of Europeans and a few

faithful natives were destined, with endless honour, to uplift and keep

flying the British standard in one of the centres of rebellion.

The electric telegraph saved the Punjab. We have already told how from

the office in Delhi went a message along the wire to Lahore. It was read

at Umballa, _en route;_ it was read at Lahore; it was shot north-westward

to Sir John Lawrence at Rawul Pindee, and to Herbert Edwardes, John

Nicholson, and Sydney Cotton at Peshawur. They had it by noon in Lahore:

a messenger coming in from Meerut confirmed it. By eventide Sir John

Lawrence had read the momentous words at Rawul Pindee; by midnight they

were scanned at Peshawur. They fell into the hands of men prompt to face

and to overcome danger; keen of sight and swift of action. There was to

be no paltering with mutiny in the Punjab. The Britons were resolved to

be masters in that land. The morning of the 12th of May brought fresh and

fuller tidings, and out of them grew a fixed resolve. The Europeans had

kept the secret imparted by the magic dial, and determined to be first in

the field.

There were at Mean Meer, six miles from Lahore, three regiments of native

infantry and one of cavalry. These Brigadier Corbett and Mr. Montgomery

and others, after brief deliberation, resolved to disarm. The means

at hand were slight, but sufficient for brave men. They were the 81st

Queen's, and two troops of horse, and four companies of foot artillery. A

ball had been appointed for the night of the 12th, and it was agreed that

this festivity should be held, and that the troops should parade on the

morning of the 13th. The 12th brought fresh news. A Sikh discovered and

revealed a plot to seize the fort in Lahore, and massacre every white man.

The authorities kept their discovery to themselves, and prepared by a bold

stroke to anticipate the conspirators. The ball was held. The revel was

kept up till nearly dawn, when the officers stole away to attend a parade

which was to determine the fate of British rule in the country of the five

rivers. During that night a company of the 81st were driving along in

carts to Govindghur, three companies were held in readiness to relieve the

conspirators of the 26th in Lahore Fort, and six companies were left in

cantonments to perform a principal part on the parade ground. The pretence

for the parade was to read a general order touching the disarmament of

the 34th, at Barrackpore. When the regiments were in line, an order was

read aloud to the Sepoys, explaining to them that they were about to be

deprived of their arms to prevent them from disgracing themselves and

their colours by yielding to the temptations of bad men, and rising in

mutiny. At the conclusion of the reading, the order went forth to "pile

arms." By this time the 81st had moved to the rear of the guns. There were

twelve, each loaded with grape, and by each gun stood an artilleryman

port-fire in hand. Colonel Renny of the 81st also gave the order to load,

and the ring of the steel ramrods told the Sepoys there was no hope for

them. The infantry piled arms, the cavalry took off their sabres and

pouches; a company of the 81st swept them up; the crisis was past, and

Lahore was saved on the third morning after the outbreak at Meerut. On

that memorable morning, too, three companies of the 81st marched into the

fort of Lahore. The 26th, astonished and surprised, laid down their arms

without a murmur.

[Illustration: DISARMAMENT OF THE 26TH AT BARRACKPORE. (_See p._ 193.)]

On the same day there were other deeds performed between the Ravee and

Sutlej. On the right bank of the latter river, and commanding the Great

Road from Delhi to Lahore, stands the fort of Philour. To the south-east,

over the river, is the cloth-working town of Loodiana, also on the Great

Road, and to the north-west the cantonment of Jallandhar. Philour was

wholly in the hands of the Sepoy guard, and a native regiment, the 3rd,

was encamped under its walls. There were only eight Europeans in the fort,

one of whom, Mr. Brown, had arrived on the 12th of May with telegraphic

apparatus to open communication with Jallandhar. For when the officer

commanding at the latter station heard of the mutiny, his first thought

was for the safety of Philour. He sent Mr. Brown and his apparatus in a

light cart, and he marched out 150 men of the 8th Queen's at night to

garrison the fort. The gallant eight had one gun. They closed the fort,

and loaded the piece with grape; and kept watch over the Sepoys within and

the Sepoys without. It was an anxious night, and the gun was not quitted

for one moment. Before day had dawned, up came the men of the 8th, with

the welcome addition, picked up on the road, of two horse-artillery guns

and some Punjabee troopers, under the chivalrous Probyn. The Sepoys in the

fort were surprised and dismayed when they were relieved, and marched out

of the fort. They, too, were to have risen on the 15th, and Philour was to

have been the rendezvous of all the mutineers in the Punjab.

At Jallandhar itself very vigorous measures had been taken. We have seen

how Philour was saved. Mr. Ricketts, at Loodiana, was also warned to look

sharply after the bridge of boats which carries the traffic of the Great

Road over the Sutlej. The troops at Jallandhar were, the 6th Cavalry,

the 36th Native Infantry, and the 61st Native Infantry, the 8th Queen's,

and one troop of Horse Artillery. Brigadier Hartley would have disarmed

the natives, but he feared for the out-stations; so he contented himself

with taking ample precautions, by an able disposition of his guns and his

European infantry. The civil chief of the station appealed for aid to the

Rajah of Kuppoorthulla, a Sikh chief, whose territories lie between the

Beas and the Sutlej, and the Rajah responded with promptitude, bringing

up at once a body of troops and guns. This was the first evidence of the

goodwill of the Sikh chieftains in this district. They were destined to

render the most valuable services in the trying days at hand. Thus was

mutiny for a time parried at Jallandhar.

Far different had been the incidents of the crisis at Ferozepore. This

town stands on the left bank of the Sutlej, nearly due south of Lahore,

and below Loodiana; it contained the largest arsenal in Upper India and

its importance was immense. The brigade at the station consisted of the

10th Cavalry, the 45th and 57th Native Infantry, the 61st Queen's, and

three batteries; the whole under Brigadier Innes, who had just arrived

from Mooltan. Strong symptoms of disaffection had appeared among the

57th but not in the 45th, or the 10th Cavalry. When on the 13th decisive

news arrived, the brigadier held a council of war; but here, as in all

other stations, his avowed suspicions of the native troops were sharply

combated by their own officers. He adopted a half measure: he resolved

to divide the two native regiments, placing them so that the Europeans

and the guns would be between them, and he intended to disarm them the

next day. On the evening of the 13th he held a parade, at the same time

threw a hundred men of the 61st into the magazine, and selected the best

positions for his artillery. From the parade he directed the 57th to

march in one direction, and the 45th in another. The former obeyed, and

encamped quietly in their new quarters; but the 45th took a route that

brought them in sight of the magazine, which they made an unsuccessful

attempt to rush. In the meantime the 61st had to guard the barracks, where

the women and children had sought shelter, as well as the magazine, and

thus were compelled to look on while the mutineers and the mob burnt the

cantonments. The 57th took no part in the mischief, and the next day gave

up their arms and colours. The 45th were still bent on wrong doing, and

as a precaution, the brigadier blew up the regimental magazines. Then the

45th, except a few, broke into open mutiny, and set out for Delhi, pursued

by the Europeans and the 10th. Very few escaped, for the 10th caught some,

and the villagers brought in others. Brigadier Innes had now leisure to

secure all the powder and stores. Of the native force, the 10th alone

retained their arms and received General Anson's thanks for their loyalty.

In a few weeks they too were mutineers.

There were three other points of moment: one of supreme importance in the

Punjab-Peshawur. The others were Kangra and Mooltan. Kangra was to the

Rajpoots of the hills what Umritsir was to the Sikhs of the plains--a

place invested with a moral prestige. Major Lake, getting one of Mr.

Montgomery's notes from Lahore, marched a body of Punjab police into

Kangra and it was secured. We have already seen the men of the 8th enter

Philour at dawn. Mooltan, standing on the left bank of the Chenab, a few

miles above its junction with the Indus, was the key of the whole country

around the point where the five rivers become one. It commanded the

navigation; it was the connecting link between the Punjab and Scinde and

the Punjab and South Afghanistan. There were only sixty Europeans there,

and 3,500 natives. Of these the most dreaded were the 62nd and 69th Native

Infantry; their officers alone were full of trust in them. Major Crawford

Chamberlain could rely only on his sixty Europeans and some 250 Punjabees;

he had hopes of a regiment of irregular cavalry, his own regiment, known

all over India as Skinner's Horse. His policy was to temporise and

prepare; and most ably he did both. It was pluck and skill which saved

Mooltan.

Peshawur was, after all, the critical point in the Punjab. Five infantry

regiments of the Bengal army were there, the 21st, 24th, 27th, 51st, and

64th; three cavalry regiments, the 5th Regulars, and the 17th and 18th

Irregulars. In three adjacent forts were detachments of a Hindoo regiment,

called the Khelat-i-Gilzies. The British force consisted of the 70th and

87th, and four batteries; in all about 2,000 men. At Noushera, the station

at the east end of the Peshawur Valley, and more than twenty miles off,

were the 27th Queen's, the 55th Native Infantry, the 10th Irregulars, and

a battery. At Hotee Murdan, a mountain station, sixteen miles north of

Noushera, were the Guides, natives, but true as steel, because raised,

officered, and disciplined on sound principles. These were the forces,

native and British, north of the Indus. The Europeans were outnumbered by

three to one.

The telegram from Lahore was received here and kept secret. The men who

had to deal with probable mutiny were Brigadier Sydney Cotton, Colonels

Edwardes, Nicholson, and Neville Chamberlain, for General Reid, the

Commander-in-Chief, was not one of the prime moving spirits. On the

morning of the 12th a council was held, and swift were its decisions.

The bold spirit of John Nicholson suggested at once that the British

should take the initiative and form a movable column, so that aid might

be rendered where it was required, and visible tangible power shown to

all. To form this column, the 55th Native Infantry were ordered to occupy

Hotee Murdan; so that the Guides might join the 27th Queen's at Noushera,

and that these two should form the kernel of the column. At the same time

the 64th Native Infantry were split up into three parts, and sent to the

forts near Peshawur. The next morning, the 13th, the council heard the

news of the disarming at Lahore, and proceeded with the work. Sir John

Lawrence, though at Rawul Pindee, talked with his coadjutors by telegraph,

and at his suggestion General Reid joined him, and thus the heads of the

two public services were united. The measures taken extended over a wider

field. The Punjabee infantry and the Sikh regiments, the remains of the

old Khalsa army, were called in from all quarters to join the movable

column. Not only was the station made safe, and the passage of the Indus

at Attock secured, but Edwardes and Nicholson took advantage of their

popularity on the frontier to call for aid from the very tribes whom it

had been their business to rule, and to rule with no unsteady hand. For

the moment these men, by boldness, promptitude, and sagacity, held down

the raging element of mutiny on both banks of the Indus, and finally drew

its teeth with little loss.

But for the present we must leave them with these armed traitors all

around, to show what General Anson was doing in the first week after the

outbreak at Meerut.

We have already caught a glimpse of General Anson, whose distinction among

men it was to be the greatest whist-player in either hemisphere. We have

seen him at Umballa, misunderstanding the mutiny, and snubbing Sepoys and

Sepoy officers for telling tales. He was on the road to Simla, and to

Simla he went. Below him were spread out the Cis-Sutlej States, governed

chiefly by native Sikh chiefs who owned allegiance to the Company. It was

among these that we had sought and found our earliest allies. We have

seen how the Rajah of Kuppoorthulla cast his lot at once with ours. There

were others ready to follow his example. The whole country below had been

for three days in the ferment of mutiny; the troops at Lahore had been

disarmed; the movable column had been formed, an outbreak of the 5th and

60th Native Infantry at Umballa on the 10th of May had been frustrated by

a mere accident; and blood had been shed at Ferozepore, before General

Anson heard that there was any serious mutiny in the army. When the famous

message from Delhi reached Umballa, General Barnard sent off Captain

Barnard, his aide-de-camp, to inform the Commander-in-Chief. As he passed

through Kussowlie, he warned the 75th Foot to be ready to march at a

moment's notice. On the 12th he astonished the Commander-in-Chief by

presenting the Delhi telegram! It was fortunate for General Anson that he

had with him at that moment men like Colonel Chester and Major Norman.

Whatever indecision there may have been in the mind of the chief, there

was none in that of his subordinates, and when he could not decide, they

decided for him. Orders were sent that very night for the march of the

75th and for the 2nd Fusiliers to be ready for marching, and the 1st

Bengal Fusiliers at once to Umballa; But General Anson did not stir.

Fresh news came in on the 13th, as precise as it was horrible. The 2nd

Fusiliers were ordered to march. On the 14th the general and his staff

quitted Simla, and the next day they were at Umballa. The 1st Fusiliers

arrived the same day; having marched in two nights sixty miles. The 75th

had come in, and these, with the 9th Lancers, under Colonel Hope Grant,

and two troops of horse artillery, formed a weak but respectable brigade.

On the 17th they were joined by the 2nd Fusiliers.

Pending the arrival of General Anson the civil authorities had not

been idle. Acting under the inspiration and on the orders of Sir John

Lawrence, whose comprehensive mind embraced the whole state of affairs

north of Delhi, Mr. Barnes and Mr. Forsyth had called upon the Maharajah

of Putteeala, and the Rajahs of Jheend and Nabha, for the aid of troops,

provisions, carriage, and it was instantly granted. Detachments of their

forces were sent to guard fords and places of importance in the country,

to Loodiana, and on the road to Kurnaul. The military commissaries could

not meet the immense demand for transport; it was met by the civilians.

These were days of vast activity. For the first time European soldiers

mounted sentry, and European officers rode and walked in the burning sun.

With the aid of the native princes the civilians took firm hold on the

country between the Jumna and the Sutlej, and thus secured the road from

Delhi to the Punjab, whence troops and ammunition and spirited counsels

alone could come.

One of the first acts of General Anson, or rather of his able staff

officers, was to organise a siege train at Philour. The order, however,

did not reach that fort until the 17th, and four days elapsed before

it could be prepared. In the meantime, a Ghoorka battalion near Simla,

which nobody doubted was badly managed, broke into mutiny, creating a

disgraceful panic at Simla. The siege train had to be entrusted to the

escort of the 3rd Native Infantry, encamped at Philour. Part of this

regiment, and of the 4th Cavalry, had already been sent to guard a small

supply of ammunition for the Europeans. It was said the 3rd had sworn

the siege-train should never reach Delhi, and it is not an improbable

story; nevertheless, when, hearing that the Ghoorkas were in revolt,

they volunteered to act as escort, the offer was accepted. The train

crossed the Sutlej, and two hours afterwards the bridge was carried away.

Perplexed and harassed by the responsibility thrown upon him, General

Anson reached Kurnaul on the 25th; on the 26th he was attacked by cholera,

and on the 27th of May he died. It may be said he died of a consciousness

of his own incapacity to contend with the gigantic difficulties around

him. It was not his fault that he was neither a Lawrence nor a Montgomery,

neither a Havelock nor a Campbell; but it was the fault of the British

Government that they selected a man of such moderate abilities and no

force of character to command the Indian army. On the 26th the Delhi Field

Force under Sir Henry Barnard reached Kurnaul, and Sir Henry assumed

command. It was now nearly the end of May, twenty days since the mutiny

began; and here were the troops from Umballa and the brigade from Meerut

converging on a point, to effect a junction and lay siege to Delhi.

By this time the Punjab had been the theatre of more decision and vigour.

Sir John Lawrence, Mr. Montgomery, and their able coadjutors had shown

how mutiny should be dealt with. No half measures were adopted. They went

upon the time-honoured principle that he who is not for us is against

us. "Treason and sedition," writes one of the Punjab men, "were dogged

into the very privacy of the harem, and up to the sacred sanctuaries of

the mosques and shrines." Mr. Montgomery banished red tape. All letters

were intercepted; all important ferries, fords, and roads were watched.

Rewards were offered for fugitive mutineers, dead or alive. It was soon

found that the population were on our side, and the villagers ready to

stop mutineers, or to report their movements. The Hindostanee soldiers had

boasted throughout the Punjab that _they_ had conquered it, and now it was

the turn of the Sikh and the Punjabee. The Sikhs were burning to march on

Delhi. More than a century and a half before, Aurungzebe, the Great Mogul,

had beheaded a prophet of the Sikhs in his palace at Delhi, and there was

a prophecy current that the Sikhs, in conjunction with the British, should

sack Delhi, and avenge the death of their martyr Gooroo. This made the

work of the British leaders less difficult; but it was, in the middle of

May, still a problem whether we should stand or fall.

[Illustration: SIR JOHN LAWRENCE (AFTERWARDS LORD LAWRENCE).]

The Punjab still had to be made safe. Peshawur was not yet secure. The

blow to be struck there by the Sepoys had only been parried. The hill

tribes looked on with suspicion and doubt. The cantonments were full of

intrigue. The Sepoys were the first to draw down on themselves the doom

awaiting them. The 55th had been sent from Noushera to Hotee Murdan, and

the 64th into their forts near Peshawur. This had reduced the force to

be watched to four infantry and three cavalry regiments. They had all

heard of the success of their "brothers" at Meerut and Delhi. In spite

of vigilant watching and severe measures, these regiments were in close

communication. But some of the letters seized not only showed that an

extensive conspiracy existed, but revealed its nature. Happily, Colonel

Nicholson felt danger in the air, and induced Sir John Lawrence to send

back half the 27th Foot to the Indus. Happily, also, the Punjabee troops

on the frontier were coming in. But there was no time to lose. The

Sepoys in the station were ripe for revolt, and the plot formed was only

discovered eight-and-forty hours before the time fixed for its execution.

The 51st Native Infantry at Peshawur sent a letter to the 64th and the

Khelat-i-Gilzies, inviting them to march into Peshawur on the 22nd of

May, and hinting what should then be done. The letter got safely to

hand, but the Sepoy who received it took it to the officer commanding at

one of the three forts. The officer sent it back instantly to Peshawur,

and thus saved the station. Now was the time to disarm the whole of the

native troops. It was the 21st of May. Edwardes had just come in from

Rawul Pindee. Promptly a council was held, and although the colonels

of the Sepoy regiments--as they did every where--vehemently refused to

believe that their men were mutinous, Cotton, Edwardes, and Nicholson saw

more clearly, and would not be gainsaid. News from Noushera and Hotee

Murdan quickened their resolves into acts. The 55th were in open mutiny.

Brigadier Cotton decided that the 24th, 27th, and 51st Native Infantry,

and the 5th Cavalry should be disarmed on the 22nd. The 21st Native

Infantry and the 7th and 15th Irregular Cavalry were still trusted. The

hazardous operation was performed with complete success. The British

had won again. While the issue was doubtful, the chiefs of the valley

had refused to take sides. "Show us that you are stronger," they said,

"and there shall be no lack of support." The demonstration of strength

was given. On that very day recruits came in by the hundred. "The chiefs

of the valley crowded in upon General Cotton, flung their swords on the

ground at his feet, and tendered the services of themselves and their

vassals." Such it is to be morally intrepid at the right moment and in the

right way.

More had to be done, for the 55th were in open mutiny at Noushera and

Hotee Murdan. The first-named station lies on the road from Peshawur

through Attock on the Indus to Rawul Pindee and Lahore. The second lies

to the north, over the Cabul river, which, twisting down through the

rocky bottom of the Khyber pass, joins the Indus near Attock. The 55th

had marched to Noushera on the 13th. The 27th Foot had gone eastward. The

Guides were hurrying towards Delhi. The 55th held Hotee Murdan, had two

companies at Noushera, and one on the right bank of the Indus, opposite

Attock. There, too, were a hundred Pathans, under Futteh Khan, once a

captain in the Guides, and in the fort of Attock were the 5th Punjabees.

The 55th men opposite Attock tried to seduce the Pathans from their

allegiance; but these were true and revealed the secret. Finding they were

discovered, the 55th men mutinied and made for Noushera. Here they were

met and captured by the 10th Irregulars, but from these they were rescued

by their comrades in the station. It happened that Lieutenant Davies had

under his orders a few men of the 27th Foot, who were guarding the sick,

and the women and children of the regiment, and these, though few in

number, displayed so bold a front that the mutineers recoiled, and hurried

away to Hotee Murdan. But, finding that the bridge of boats over the

Cabul river had been broken, the greater part marched back and only a few

joined their regiment. When the 55th heard that a force under Nicholson

was coming against them from Peshawur, they prepared to hurry off into the

hills, but were caught and scattered like dust before the wind.

From Hotee Murdan, the Peshawur column, under Colonel Chute, moved

upon the three forts, garrisoned by the 64th Native Infantry and the

Khelat-i-Gilzies. Chute reached the first fort, Aboozai, and easily

disarmed the men of the 64th who were there. He reached Subkuddur the

next day, and disarmed the men of the 64th, both in that fort and in Fort

Michnee. Peshawur was no longer in danger; the whole of the trans-Indus

region had been secured. It had been shown that although the Irregular

Hindostanee Cavalry could not be trusted, yet that the Punjabees were

true, for the men of the 5th had not hesitated a moment to shoot a cavalry

mutineer, who had incited his comrades to murder an officer. Improving

on their bold policy, the leaders at Peshawur levied new corps among the

frontier tribes--hitherto our direst foes--and found them trusty warriors;

drew enough men from the British Infantry to make a squadron of horse,

and mounted them on the chargers of the disarmed native cavalry; formed

in like manner a battery, took the Sikhs out of the disarmed regiments,

re-armed them, and placed them in a separate regiment. The old Sikh

leaders eagerly came forward, and soon there was the nucleus of a new and

trusty native army of Sikhs and Punjabees. It is recorded of a frontier

chief that when he heard the story of the Meerut and Delhi atrocities,

filled with rage, he spat on the ground, and said with wrath, "Who can

charge us with ever touching a helpless woman or defenceless child? No! we

would not do it, not for a prince's ransom!" And it was true.

The North-West was now completely cut off from Calcutta. The 9th Native

Infantry, stationed at different towns on the trunk road between Agra and

Delhi, mutinied on the 20th, 22nd, 23rd, and 24th of May, and marched to

Delhi. Some gallant Europeans--Mr. Patterson Sanders, a zemindar of those

parts, among them--forming a little squadron of cavalry, remained for

months afterwards about Allyghur; but with this exception British rule

ceased in the Doab below Delhi. At Agra, indeed, the British stood out

bravely amid a sea of mutiny roaring around them, suffered their moments

of peril, had their combats and hair-breadth escapes, but nevertheless

survived. At the end of May mutinies increased on all sides. Let the

reader bear in mind that, from the 10th of May onwards, there were, day

after day, incessant explosions of Sepoy regiments, sometimes bloody and

cruel, sometimes mild--that is, not followed by the slaughter of many of

our kin. The track of the mutiny ran from the Delhi country eastward,

through the Doab into Behar, and north and south, marking Rohilcund and

Oude, and Central India, with many bloody spots; for the Sepoys were many,

and the British were few--so few, that they could be reckoned by hundreds,

while their exasperated foes were numbered by thousands and tens of

thousands. While the Delhi field force was getting itself together, siege

train and all, while the men of the Punjab were fighting their great fight

with their Sepoys, the military revolution was growing supreme in every

province garrisoned by Hindostanees, until only Agra and Lucknow, like

rocks in that turbulent ocean, were left to bear the British flag and

shelter men of British race. Before following the army to Delhi, let us

look nearer at the mutiny, now blazing so far and wide.

We shall take the events in chronological order. On the 16th of May the

native sappers stationed at Roorkee were ordered to march to Meerut. They

mutinied, slew Captain Fraser, and strode away to Delhi. On the 20th,

a spy, caught and surrendered by the 9th Native Infantry at Allyghur,

was hanged in the presence of the regiment, the bulk of whom seemed to

approve. But one suddenly crying, as he pointed to the corpse, "Behold a

martyr to our religion!" the whole of the companies present broke into

mutiny. They spared the officers, but plundered the place, liberated the

convicts, and marched to Delhi. In four days the whole regiment was in

revolt; but it is distinguished among other regiments, because it did

not commit murder. At Mynpooree, Lieutenant De Kantzow rendered himself

conspicuous by his sterling courage. He stood up against the mutineers,

exhorting, remonstrating, threatening. When some pointed their muskets

at him, he folded his arms and bade them fire if they dared. When they

tried to storm the treasury, he was there to resist, and, aided by the

gaol-guard, he induced the raging multitude to turn away. They went off to

Delhi, and De Kantzow received the thanks of Lord Canning, and a command.

On the 28th the Hurrianah battalion rose at Hansee and Hissar, a few

miles south-west of the Great Road from Delhi to Kurnaul, and murdered

every European they could overpower; and on the same day, showing how the

mutineers acted from a common feeling, the 15th and 30th Native Infantry

stationed at Nusseerabad, in Rajpootana, seized their arms and a native

battery, and began to shed blood. The 1st Bombay Lancers charged them, but

without effect, and then retreated, with the surviving Europeans, to a

place of safety, while the mutineers went forth towards the common centre,

Delhi.

Two days afterwards, the Lucknow Brigade showed itself in its true

colours; within twelve hours the Bareilly Brigade revolted, and within

a week the whole of Rohilcund and Oude, save Lucknow, had been wrested

from British rule. Lucknow city stands on the right bank of the Goomtee,

one of the tributaries of the sacred Ganges. Within the city was a most

turbulent population; without, a camp swarming with mutinous Sepoys.

The only men who could be trusted wholly were the 32nd Foot and the

Europeans, civilians, merchants, and traders dwelling in Lucknow. The

chief commissioner was Sir Henry Lawrence; the Financial Commissioner, Mr.

Gubbins. Another commissioner was Major Banks. Colonel Inglis commanded

the 32nd Foot, and Brigadier Gray the native troops. In and near the

cantonments were 4,800 foot, and 2,100 horse, with two batteries of

artillery. In the whole of Oude there were 19,200 native troops, and only

one British regiment and one company of British artillery, in all 800

men. These last were at Lucknow. Thus, there were upwards of twenty to

one against us. But in the mutinies about to occur, all our enemies did

not turn upon us at once; and such preparations had been made to secure a

stronghold, that, when nearly all had fallen away, there still remained

a place of refuge for the civilians and traders, and a place for all to

defend.

Nearly the whole of the troops in Oude were ripe for revolt, and the

people were becoming suspicious of our ability to maintain our power.

The state of transition from the rule of the ex-king to that of the

Governor-General helped to create disaffection. The sway of the former

was irregular and inequitable; the sway of the latter, though regular and

equitable, had not come fully into play. In Oude, the maxim of all was,

and had long been, every one for himself. The villagers were accustomed

to resistance; the talookdars, rulers of petty and sometimes extensive

districts, were accustomed to revolt. In the latter end of May Sir Henry

Lawrence sent a small column, under Captain Hutchinson--who wrote an

interesting memoir of the mutinies--to move about between the Goomtee and

the Ganges, and fourteen miles from Lucknow this column was watched by

armed villagers. The great province of Oude, so full of fighting men, had

not, like the Punjab, been disarmed when it was annexed, and we were about

to pay the penalty of over-confidence. This column had not been gone two

days before the troops in the cantonment mutinied.

As usual, they gave no premonitory sign. It was well known that the native

troops might break out any day, and on the 30th of May a Sepoy reported

that the troops would rise in the evening; but the brigadier did not

believe the report, and did not forward it to Sir Henry Lawrence. In the

twilight the 71st and the 7th Cavalry turned out and began firing. They

tried to surprise the officers and the mess-house, but these were too

quick for them. Sir Henry repaired to the camp of the 32nd, which was soon

under arms, with the guns ready for action. The mutineers shot Brigadier

Handscomb dead, and then essayed to charge the 32nd and the guns. But

grape shot proved enough for them. Falling back, they slew Lieutenant

Grant, The 13th and 48th were drawn up on parade, but would not act,

and only a few of the 71st, and 200 of the 13th, and fifty-seven of the

48th could be got to follow their officers to the side of the British.

The Sepoys seized the magazine, and plundered the officers' bungalows,

in spite of some gallant efforts to prevent them. The 32nd, with the few

faithful Sepoys, remained under arms all night. In the morning Sir Henry

pursued the mutineers, who fled away before him. The scoundrels in the

city now rose, but they were speedily and severely punished; and Sir Henry

was able to raise 3,000 police, who, under Captain Carnegie, did good

service. Some of the mutineers struck across country for the Ganges and

Delhi.

On the very day after this outburst at Lucknow, on Sunday, the 31st,

Bareilly and Shahjehanpore were the scenes of horrible atrocities. At the

latter, the 28th Native Infantry selected the moment when the Europeans

were at church, and tried to slay them altogether; but they failed. Mr.

Ricketts was killed in the church, with others, and Major James fell on

the parade ground. The greater number took to the country, and reached

Mohumdee. Here they found Captain Patrick Orr, with a company of the 9th

Oude, and these were reinforced by fifty men from Seetapore. Captain Orr

extracted from the native officers an oath binding them to escort the

whole party to Seetapore; but they had not gone far before the troops

turned them adrift to go where they pleased. They went, but the ruffian

Sepoys soon followed, and near Aurungabad began the work of murder. The

Sepoys, strangely enough, saved Orr and a drummer boy, and took them to

Lonee Singh, of Mithowlee.

The tragedy at Bareilly made a deep impression. That Sunday was a day

fatal to the British. At Bareilly there were two regiments of native

infantry, one of cavalry, and a battery, under Brigadier Sibbald.

Happily, the women and children had been sent to the hills. There were

no European troops in Rohilcund; the Sepoys had nothing to fear. They had

only delayed the execution of their intentions in the hope that their

officers could be induced to call their wives and children from Nynee

Tal. Finding the hope vain, they mutinied in the most complete way. On

that quiet Sunday, being all agreed, they suddenly opened with both grape

and musketry on the officers, while a detachment released 3,000 felons,

and the fierce Rohillas rushed out to burn and slay. The devastation of

the camp completed the day's work. Khan Bahadar Khan, an old servant of

the Company, proclaimed himself king, and appointed a native officer of

artillery to be his general. Then he held a court, tried two European

judges, found them guilty, and caused them to be hanged. The Bareilly

Brigade was not long in marching to Delhi, but nothing, except the fatuity

of General Hewitt, saved it from disruption, if not destruction, at a

ferry over the Ganges.

Seetapore, in the westernmost division of Oude, lies on the Sureyan river,

about fifty miles north of Lucknow. It was the seat of government for

Khyrabad. The commissioner there was Mr. George Christian. The troops

there consisted wholly of natives, one regiment being the 41st Native

Infantry, the others being Oude Irregulars. Here, too, mutiny was felt to

be in the air. Here, too, the British officers refused to believe that

their men could revolt, and even Mr. Christian believed he could trust

the Oude Irregulars. All the troops were paid on the 2nd of June; on the

3rd they broke into mutiny. Like the regiments at Bareilly, these men

reproached their officers because they had sent their women and children

into the commissioner's house. How many were actually slain at Seetapore

is not known, but twenty-four can be named and numbered--among them Mr.

and Mrs. Christian. Among those who escaped towards the hills on the north

was Captain Hearsey of the Military Police, whose men protected him and

even saved two ladies. The wanderings of Captain Hearsey and the fugitives

from different quarters whom he met, surpass in romantic incidents the

inventions of the novelist. After eight months' wanderings, Hearsey

rejoined the army of Sir Colin Campbell, by making an immense detour

through the hills, and issuing into the plains far north of Meerut.

[Illustration: DE KANTZOW DEFENDING THE TREASURY AT MYNPOOREE. (_See p._

199.)]

The mutiny of Jhansi was even more tragic than this of Seetapore. Jhansi

was formerly one of the independent principalities of the extensive region

known as Bundelcund. It stands between the Betwa and the Sinde rivers,

two affluents of the Jumna, and is 100 miles from Calpee and 150 from

Agra. It had been annexed by Lord Dalhousie. He had refused to recognise

the adopted heir of the last Rajah, and the Ranee, his wife, refused,

so angered was she, to accept a pension from the British Government.

There were parts of two regiments at Jhansi. The Ranee, an able and bold

woman, saw her opportunity for revenge had come. As soon as she heard of

the successful mutinies of the Sepoys in the North-West, she instigated

the regiments in her city to follow their example. The Europeans had

determined to make a stand in the fort, and this they provisioned; but a

company of Sepoys entered on the 4th of June, and declared they intended

to hold the fort, thus depriving the British of a defensible post. A

parade was held; the Sepoys were respectful, and swore to stand by their

officers. The place of refuge now selected by the residents was the town

fort. In a few hours the whole native force was in revolt. The cavalry

began the fray. Riding over the plain, they met and shot two officers of

the 12th Native Infantry. "They then made a rush at their own commanding

officer, who, well mounted, was making for the fort; but, though they

managed to wound him, he reached the fort in safety, and our countrymen

on the ramparts, opening fire on his pursuers, killed some five or six of

them.... With loud shouts, the mutineers then proceeded against the fort,

and on the second day the Ranee sent her guns and elephants to assist

them. But there was not only force without, there was treachery within.

The Europeans numbered only fifty-five, including women and children;

the natives who were with them were numerically superior. Two of these,

brothers, were discovered in the act of opening one of the gates to the

enemy. Lieutenant Powys, who saw them, instantly shot one dead, and was

himself cut down by the brother. Captain Burgess avenged him in a second,

and the assassins lay side by side in the ditch. But provisions were

failing them; two attempts to communicate with Nagode and Gwalior had been

abortive; some Europeans who had tried to escape over the parapet had been

caught and killed; all appeared hopeless. At this crisis the Ranee sent

to say that if they would surrender their lives should be spared, and they

should be sent safely to some other station. She swore, the troopers of

the cavalry swore, the Sepoys swore, the native gunners swore, to adhere

to these terms. Seizing this as the only chance of life--unable, indeed,

to hold out for twenty-four hours longer--the garrison surrendered. They

came out, two and two; as they advanced through the line of cavalry and

infantry, they saw none but hostile faces; but there was no movement

against them. At last, every Christian had quitted the fort. Then was

commenced a deed of ruthless treachery, unsurpassed even by the Nana

Sahib. The gates were shut behind them; they were seized, the men and

women separated, and tied together in two rows, facing one another; the

children standing by their mothers. The men were then decapitated, the

children were seized, and cut in halves before their mothers' eyes; and

last of all, the ladies found what, under those circumstances, they must

have felt to be a happy release in death."

In the interval between the 4th and the 10th of June the whole of the

troops at Cawnpore and throughout Oude had revolted. Cawnpore demands a

separate story, and we turn again to Oude.

There were five considerable stations. On the 8th the troops at every one

became their own masters. The military station in the Bareytch division,

north of Lucknow, was Secrora. The Commissioner of the Division, Mr.

Wingfield, later Chief Commissioner of Oude, was at Secrora. Feeling that

the two regiments and battery there would mutiny, the ladies and children

were sent by the officers to Lucknow on the 7th, and were met halfway

by a body of Sikhs and volunteer horse, and taken to the residency. Mr.

Wingfield rode off to Gonda, determined to take refuge at Bulrampore. The

next day all the remaining officers, except Lieutenant Bonham, started

for Gonda, for the troops rose and bade them go. Lieutenant Bonham was

protected by his men for a day. Then he, too, was obliged to leave,

and he made his way across country to Lucknow. The Europeans at Gonda

were now forced to retreat, and they were fortunate in finding shelter

at Bulrampore, and they finally got into Goruckpore, and were saved.

But three officers, all in the civil service, retreating from Bareytch

disguised as natives, were recognised at the main ferry over the Gogra,

and all murdered, after they had made a gallant defence.

The division of Fyzabad lies to the south-east of Lucknow, and extends

from the Ganges to the Gogra. The chief station was Fyzabad, a town on the

left bank of the Gogra, just then notorious for the sharp quarrel which

had occurred in the previous February between the Moslems and Hindoos.

Here lay in gaol that moulvie who had traversed Hindostan preaching

sedition, and whose daring had compelled the Government to employ force

against him, and to put him in prison. There were two regiments of

infantry, one of cavalry, and a horse battery at Fyzabad. These were known

to be so disposed to mutiny that the civilians had sent their wives and

children to Shahgunge, a fort belonging to Rajah Maun Sing, a powerful

talookdar. Several other European women and children joined them, but some

of the officers' wives remained. On the 8th it was clear that the dreaded

moment was at hand. Mutineers were coming up the river from Goruckpore

and Azimghur, notably the 17th Native Infantry, whose agents entered the

lines at Fyzabad, and summoned the troops there to join. This they did

on the night of the 8th of June. "They did not go through the form of

pretending a grievance, but said they were strong enough to turn us out

of the country, and intended to do it." Nevertheless, these men would not

murder their officers. They provided them with money and boats wherewith

to descend the Gogra, and then, with horrible treachery, instigated the

17th to waylay the boats at Begumgunge and kill the Europeans. Twenty

officers and sergeants and one lady embarked in four boats. Of these only

six escaped; for as the boats approached Begumgunge, the Sepoys of the

17th opened fire on the fugitives. Some fell wounded, others were killed.

At Sultanpore were Fisher's Irregulars and two foot regiments. Colonel

Fisher, the commandant, sent away the ladies and children, who, befriended

by Madho Sing, reached Allahabad, plundered, but alive. But the Military

Police shot Colonel Fisher, his own men, who "liked him," looking on.

They slew Captain Gibbings, and ordered Lieutenant Tucker to be gone. Mr.

Block and Mr. Stroyan were also cruelly and treacherously murdered near

Sultanpore. The British at Salone on the Sye, and Durriabad, north of the

Goomtee, receiving protection from zemindars and talookdars, their lives

were preserved. It was thus that, in ten days, all the native troops

in Oude freed themselves from British control; and by a sort of common

impulse directed their steps towards Nawabgunge Bara Baukee, which became

the point of concentration for the meditated attack on Lucknow.