Reign of Victoria (_continued_).
March of the British on Delhi--Battles on the Hindon--Wilson joins
Barnard--Hodson reconnoitres Delhi--Battle of Badlee Serai--Behold
Delhi!--The Guides arrive--Outbreak at Jallandhar--Johnstone
and Ricketts--The Delhi Force in Position--The Enemy assume the
Offensive--A "Mistake of Orders"--Destruction of a Battery--A Three
Days' Battle--An Unfulfilled Prophecy--Reinforcements arrive--Lord
Canning's Inaction--Lord Elphinstone's Discretion--Troops from
Madras and Persia--Benares is saved--So is Allahabad--Cawnpore--Nana
Sahib and Azimoolah--The Europeans in the Entrenchment--The
Mutiny--The Sepoys start for Delhi--Nana Sahib brings them
back--Sufferings of the Garrison--Valour of the Defence--The
Well--The Hospital catches Fire--Incidents of the Siege--Moore's
Sortie--Nana Sahib's Letter--The Massacre at the Ghaut--Central
India--Lawrence fortifies the Residency at Lucknow--An ineffectual
Sortie--The Defences contracted--The Death of Lawrence.
It is necessary to return to Delhi again, to bring the British force well
up before its walls, and show the Punjab authorities once more in action.
We left the troops under Sir Henry Barnard advancing slowly towards Delhi.
Among them were the 60th Native Infantry; but instead of disarming them,
he placed Colonel Thomas Seaton at their head, and sent them to Rhotuck,
in the vain hope that they would escape the contagion. Of course in due
time they mutinied, but did not kill their officers; and we may dismiss
them here with the remark that the Sepoys swelled the rebel army, and the
officers joined the British. Thanks to the journey made by the gallant
Hodson, of Hodson's Horse, the Meerut force were under orders to march
on Bhagput, where there was a bridge over the Jumna. They were to reach
this place and cross on the 1st of June. Accordingly, on the 27th of May,
Colonel Archdale Wilson collected his little brigade. It consisted of half
a battalion of the 60th Rifles, two batteries, and two squadrons of the
Carabineers, with a few native sappers and troopers. The King of Delhi had
got wind of this movement, and he sent out a body of mutineers to meet the
column. Wilson's force encamped on the 30th on the Hindon, a feeder of the
Jumna, crossed by an iron bridge at Ghazeeoodeen Nugger. The rebel force
took up a position on their own side of the river. The warning of their
proximity given by the outposts was followed by the fire of their cannon.
Two heavy round shot were flung into the camp, wounding two bearers. In a
moment the force was under arms. A company of the Rifles took possession
of the bridge. Major Tombs, with four guns and a troop of dragoons, dashed
along the river and took the enemy in flank, while two 18-pounders, posted
in front, soon shook the nerves of the rebel gunners over the river.
Then, seeing their fire growing unsteady, the Rifles on the bridge were
reinforced, and, led by Colonel John Jones, they charged and captured five
rebel guns. Thus in a short time the mutineers were worsted in the first
pitched battle. They hurried away so fast that pursuit was impossible, and
were so cowed that the very Goojurs despoiled their stragglers of arms and
accoutrements. We lost one killed and thirty-one wounded. But fresh forces
came out from Delhi to retrieve their lost military honour. Our advance
was now over the bridge in a burnt village. The enemy, who came up on
Whitsunday, the 31st of May, posted themselves on a ridge, with a village
on their left. The fight began by a fire from their heavy guns, which were
rapidly answered, by Tombs and Light, with 9- and 18-pounders. For two
hours the contest was one of artillery, during which the Carabineers were
drawn up in the open ground to protect our guns. Then the Rifles charged
upon the village occupied by the enemy, and forced them out. The Sepoys,
in this fight, kept as far as possible out of musketry range and would
not allow our soldiers a chance of coming to close quarters. As we moved
on, although we were hundreds and they thousands, they fell back, and
when we crowned the ridge the discomfited army was seen in the distance
hurrying along the Delhi road. Our loss was six killed in battle, three by
sunstroke and twelve were wounded. After this fight, Wilson's force halted
four days, during which 100 Rifles and the Sirmour battalion of Ghoorkas,
under Major Reid, came up from Meerut--a welcome addition to the brigade.
Marching towards the Jumna on the 4th of June, they crossed it on the 6th
by the bridge of boats at Bhagput, which Hodson had taken care should be
in order. On the 7th they joined the main body under Barnard, which had
arrived at Alipore. The force now numbered 2,400 infantry, 600 horsemen,
and twenty-two field guns. The siege train from Philour, with 100
European artillerymen, strengthened the little army, and all was ready
for grappling with the enemy. Very early on the 7th Hodson rode out,
accompanied by a dozen native troopers. He went up to the very parade
ground before Delhi, scaring away the rebel vedettes and reconnoitring
the place so well that it was on his information the general based his
plans. The infantry were divided into two brigades; one, consisting of
the 75th and the 1st Bengal Fusiliers, under Colonel Showers; the second,
consisting of the 60th Rifles, the 2nd Bengal Fusiliers, and the Ghoorkas,
under Brigadier Graves. With each brigade went some horse and guns; the
remaining horse formed a cavalry brigade under Colonel Hope Grant, with
two troops of horse artillery. These soldiers had come down from Umballa
and Meerut, under a blazing sun of the Indian June with the wind blowing,
when it blew, in a current of "liquid fire." Cholera had stricken down
officers and men. The soldiers were fretful from impatience to fight.
Few armies have ever marched to battle animated by so fiery a spirit of
revenge.
Before daylight on the 8th of June the army began its forward movement.
The Sepoys had taken a post of vantage a few miles north of Delhi. They
formed across the Great Road at the serai of Badlee. A serai is a square
walled enclosure, having a tower at each angle, one door, and a flat
roof. It contains many small chambers for the use of travellers, and is
loopholed all round. Thus, it is really a strong post. Badlee Serai lay a
little to the west of the Great Road. Around it was the Sepoy camp; and in
front, on a hillock commanding the road, they had made a sandbag battery
for four heavy guns and an 8-inch howitzer for grape. On both sides of the
road the ground is swampy, having pools here and there. The left flank of
the Sepoys was covered by the Delhi canal, which ran parallel to the road,
and was crossed by bridges not far from each other. This was the position
which Hodson had looked at the day before. The plan of attack was simple.
Sir Henry Barnard, with the main body, was to assail the front from the
Great Road; while Hope Grant turned the left flank with three squadrons
of the 9th Lancers, under Colonel Yule, fifty Jheend Horse, under Hodson,
or 350 lances, and ten horse-artillery guns, under Tombs, Turner, and
Bishop. This little force moved out of camp first, and crossed the canal
near Alipore, with the intention of recrossing it in rear of the Sepoys,
thus cutting them off from Delhi. The main column, 1,900 infantry, 170
horse, and fourteen guns, marched later, but still in the dusk before
dawn. A march of five miles brought them within sight of the Sepoy camps,
where the lights were still burning. As our troops were moving down the
road the enemy opened fire, and our guns coming rapidly into action, the
battle began. The left brigade, under Graves, was still in the rear,
when the 75th and the 1st Fusiliers deployed to the right of the road,
and soon felt the weight of the heavy shot from the sandbag battery,
which our light guns could not silence. Time was precious, but men were
more so, and it would never do to play at long bowls with the mutineers.
Grant's horsemen were not in sight, but the left brigade were hurrying
up, when Sir Henry Barnard ordered the 75th to carry the battery. The men
eagerly obeyed. Moving on steadily over rough and watery ground, they
were exposed to a fire so heavy that in a few minutes nearly a hundred
fell. But without a halt they pressed on, and bringing down the bayonet to
the charge, surged into the battery. The 1st Fusiliers had supported the
75th, and soon joined them, when the two regiments dashed at the serai and
stormed it. The left brigade had now come up. Grant's cavalry, delayed by
watercourses which obstructed the progress of the guns, debouched on the
left rear of the rebels, and these scattering and fleeing, left our troops
masters of their camp and the greater part of their guns.
The enemy had fled, but not yet into Delhi. They had halted on the ridge
overlooking that city, and here seemed disposed to make a stand. Sir Henry
Barnard, with one brigade and guns, moved to the left, upon the cantonment
lines, while Brigadier Wilson with the remainder took the road to the
Subzee Mundi, a suburb of Delhi, while Reid's Ghoorkas extended between
the two. The march of the main body had to be performed under fire, which,
as the troops were filing over a canal bridge, proved very galling. But
they went on with a will, and emerging from the old lines, near the
Flagstaff Tower, opened fire and instantly silenced the enemy's guns. The
60th and the 2nd Fusiliers, charging, took the guns, and sweeping along
the ridge, arrived at a building at the right extremity, called the Hindoo
Rao's house, and destined to be famous in the siege. Here the whole force
rallied, Wilson having cleared the Subzee Mundi and captured a gun. All
this time the Sepoys in Delhi cannonaded the British from the walls. It
was now noon, and the troops withdrew behind the ridge to the camp, after
posting pickets at the Hindoo Rao's house, and in the Flagstaff Tower.
Thirteen guns had been captured; our loss was fifty-one killed and 152
wounded; among the former was Colonel Chester, Adjutant-General. The loss
of the enemy is supposed to have been about 400 killed and wounded. So
far, a good beginning had been made; but instead of rushing into Delhi
with the enemy, here was the little force obliged to sit down and begin a
siege destined to last three months.
[Illustration: HODSON RECONNOITRING BEFORE DELHI. (_See p._ 204.)]
At length, then, behold Delhi. There lay the prize which might have been
seized by a bold march from Meerut, on the night of the 10th of May, under
an Edwardes or a Nicholson, but which now, swarming with the soldiers of
sixteen or eighteen corps of our own training, having in its arsenal and
magazine a practically inexhaustible supply of guns and ammunition, defied
the gallant few who, after a month's delay, once more looked down upon the
handsome walls and beautiful buildings. And trooping along from all points
were mutineers hastening to rally round the Great Mogul, and dispute for
empire with the pale faces.
Early on the morning of the 9th there was a scene in camp well worth
recording, because, in many respects, it illustrates forcibly the
transition from the old to the new. There came into the camp squadrons
of swarthy horsemen and dusky foot. An officer was out riding; suddenly
horse and foot closed upon him, surrounding him, shouting, and "behaving
like frantic creatures." They seized his bridle, his dress, his hands, his
feet; they threw themselves before his horse, and wept for joy, hailing
him in their own tongue as "Great in Battle." The officer was Hodson, the
warriors were the horse and foot of the Guide Corps, which had started
just three weeks before, from Hotee Murdan, beyond the Indus, 580 miles
away. These real soldiers had crossed the Punjab and the Cis-Sutlej States
in twenty-one days, doing thirty miles a day, and halting only three
days, and then by order. Three hours after they entered the camp the
Sepoys showed fight, and the Guides were at once to the front, engaging
the enemy hand to hand, and coming out with one officer, Quentin Battye,
mortally, and every other officer more or less, wounded. Such was the
first exploit of the force which had been raised through the prescience of
Sir Henry Lawrence.
While the British, the Ghoorkas, and the Guides were establishing
themselves before Delhi, a fresh mutiny in the Punjab threatened for a
moment the safety of the Great Road to Lahore. The Sepoys broke out at
Jhallandhar. The reader will remember that here were the 36th and 61st
Native Infantry and the 6th Cavalry; that it was from this station the
troops went out who secured Philour; and that here incipient mutiny, on
the 12th of May, had been checked by menace and precaution. Brigadier
Johnstone succeeded Colonel Hartley on the 17th of May, and from that time
the effects of a feebler hand are discernible. The brigadier humoured the
Sepoys, listened to the prayers of their colonels, who here, as elsewhere,
were infatuated, and, on the plea of conciliation, gave in to their
demands. He was exhorted to disarm Sepoys who could not be expected to
resist the contagious example of their brothers, neither could he resist
the reproaches and appeals of their officers. He had an ample European
force. Captain Rothney halted his famous 4th Sikhs, and Charles Nicholson
brought in the 2nd Punjab Cavalry, to aid in the disarming. The brigadier
could not make up his mind; and these could stay no longer. At length,
when it was too late, Brigadier Johnstone determined to do what he should
have done before: too late, for the Sepoys took the initiative, rose on
the 7th of June, led, as usual, by the Moslem cavalry, fired the station
and shot some of their officers. They called on the native gunners to
join, but these replied with grapeshot and would have given more such
effective replies had not the brigadier stopped them. All was soon
confusion. The Europeans were not allowed to act. The mutineers had it all
their own way. For an hour and a half they burnt, plundered, and murdered,
and then marched off, unpursued. About 200 remained staunch to their
officers; and one whole company, kept in order by a subahdar, preserved
the treasury, containing £10,000. The rest decamped, part going towards
Loodiana, part taking the hill road, and striking the Sutlej higher up.
The former got safely off, the latter met with unexpected resistance,
being intercepted by Mr. Ricketts with a small force of Sikhs. And where
was the European force from Jhallandhar? In camp near Philour, within
hearing of the sound of Ricketts' solitary gun, yet forbidden to move by
the brigadier, who thought them too fatigued! Had half the force marched
up the river, and opened only on those mutineers who had not crossed,
how different would have been the result! As it was, the mutineers were
able to enter Loodiana, open the gaol, burn the church and the mission
houses, try ineffectually to destroy the powder in the fort, and then fly
in a panic across country towards Delhi. Had they moved down the Great
Road they would have swept everything before them. A few days later Mr.
Ricketts, having the passing aid of Coke's Punjabees, disarmed the town,
seized and punished the ringleaders in the late riots and inflicted a
heavy fine on the community. Sir John Lawrence also felt the necessity of
securing Umritsir, and thither he sent Nicholson with the movable column;
while at the other extremity of the Punjab, Crawford Chamberlain, acting
on Sir John's orders, very deftly disarmed the native infantry and cavalry
at Mooltan by the aid of two Punjab regiments and a European battery.
While these blows were parried in their rear, the army before Delhi had
made good its position. It was strong and defensible. To the north of
Delhi, some two miles, there is a sandstone ridge running nearly parallel
to the course of the Jumna--that is, north-north-east. The slope from the
city walls is gradual, but somewhat broken. The plateau on the summit
is tolerably flat, and along the whole course of the ridge, but well in
rear--that is, north of it,--lay the lines of the camp. The ridge, in
fact, may be roughly described as the right bank of the Jumna, to which
it approaches at its northern, and from which it recedes at its southern,
end. This was the position of the besieging army. Its left rested on the
ridge near the river; its centre was behind the Flagstaff Tower; its right
at the butt end of the ridge, where the ground fell rapidly towards the
Subzee Mundi and Kishengunge, suburbs of Delhi, facing its western walls
and set in gardens and groves. At this end the ridge was crowned by a
house formerly belonging to a Mahratta chief, and called the Hindoo Rao's
house; and here we quickly established a battery, and made a strong post
to defend that side. The Grand Trunk Road to Loodiana and Lahore, going
from the Cashmere Gate, ascended the ridge, and crossed it to the east
of the Flagstaff Tower, and a good road ran along the interior of the
ridge parallel to it, thus tying together the position. From this ridge,
but especially from Rao's house, Delhi was visible, standing up bold and
distinct in the clear air, with its stout red walls and bastions, and
white buildings embowered in trees. Between the ridge and the city the
ground was rugged, and dotted all over with houses, mosques, tombs, and
ruins, rising up among clumps of trees. Such was the base of our attack;
for on the south, the whole of the country, as far as Agra, was in the
hands of the enemy; the river protected the eastern face, and we had no
choice but to assail the north.
As soon as the force settled down on the ridge, the enemy commenced a
series of attacks which may be described as incessant. This was policy,
for it harassed the besiegers, and kept the Sepoys in good heart, although
they were invariably beaten. The first of these was on the 9th of June.
They issued from the Lahore Gate on the west, covered by a cannonade from
the Moree bastion, at the north-western angle, and, moving on the right
flank of the position, strove to storm the ridge. But in vain. The Guides,
coming up to support the Rifles and Ghoorkas, charged so vigorously that
the Sepoys were driven up to the very walls with great loss. On the 10th
and the 11th the mutineers sent up fresh men to turn and carry the right,
and paid heavily for their temerity. The heavy guns were now in battery on
a knoll forming part of the garden of the Hindoo Rao's house, but their
fire was not sufficient to silence, barely to cope with, that of the enemy
from his bastions. Our officers began to respect the rebel artillerymen,
whose guns were so accurately laid that some could only account for it
by supposing that there were European deserters in their ranks. On the
12th the enemy, tired of trying the right, fell unexpectedly on the left.
There, in front and due east of the Flagstaff Tower, stood the house and
grounds of Sir T. Metcalfe, just where the fertile soil ends and the sands
of the Jumna begin. Here the mutineers had established a garrison and a
battery; and from this, on the morning of the 12th, they pushed out a
large force, which by stealthy movements approached within musket-shot
of the Flagstaff Tower, without being detected. There were a few of the
75th and two guns in position. The Sepoys turned its flank and, pressing
vigorously forward, gained the ridge and even crossed it. For a moment
the whole of that side was in extreme peril; but the 75th soon rallied,
and the guns began to play. Then supports came up--1st Fusiliers, Guides,
Rifles. A steady charge was made, and the enemy, cut up and bayoneted,
rolled down the hill. The charge became eager. The pursued went fast, but
the pursuers were almost as speedy; and seeing the opportunity, chased
the men into and out of Metcalfe's house, and up to the walls of Delhi.
Thus won, this advanced post was held and made the most of, completely
barring the way to any force directed on our left, and placing us so far
nearer Delhi. This sharp onset had no sooner been repulsed than the enemy
showed himself on the right. It was a clumsy attempt at a combined attack
on both flanks. Issuing from the Subzee Mundi, on our right rear, the
Sepoys made a fruitless effort to mount the hill. The Ghoorkas and Rifles
on picket, and part of the 1st Fusiliers, met them, drove them back, and
chased them out of the enclosures, killing a goodly number. No quarter was
given. The loss inflicted on them in these fights was estimated at 400
killed.
On the 11th five young officers, Hodson, Wilberforce, Greathed, Chesney,
and Maunsell, were directed to sit in council, and draw up a plan showing
how they would take Delhi out of hand. Their plan was simple enough. They
proposed that all the infantry available, some 1,800 men, should move
at midnight down to the walls, blow in two gates with powder bags and,
storming in, surprise and capture the place. The general took the plan,
considered it, adopted it, and issued his orders. The thing was to be done
on the night of the 12th, on the heels of the repulse inflicted that day.
The young men were sanguine of success, and eager to try--none more so
than Hodson. Part of the troops marched; they reached their stations, then
halted and reconnoitred: all was still; but the remainder did not arrive;
instead of the remainder, came an order to retire. Brigadier Graves
refused to believe that the general intended to leave the camp in charge
of native troops and horsemen; and in place of sending his infantry, went
himself to remonstrate with Sir Henry Barnard. The brigadier admitted
readily that the city could be taken, but doubted whether it could be
held. Sir Henry hesitated, time was lost, and so he gave way. The conduct
of the brigadier is described both by Hodson and Norman as a "mistake of
orders." This mistake was bitterly censured at the time, but we cannot
help agreeing with those who are thankful for the delay, since even
success would have saved no one from massacre, and would have sent a horde
of armed ruffians pouring down the unprotected south road; whereas for
three months Delhi served as a rallying-place and the Sepoys were kept
together.
Unsuspicious of the danger hanging over them, the enemy were still full
of fight, and encounters, more or less sharp, continued every day. The
front and flanks of the position were now more strongly secured, as it
was plain that Delhi could not be taken until large reinforcements of
infantry, more guns, and especially more gunners, arrived. Major Reid
held the Hindoo Rao's house with his Ghoorkas, commanding Kishengunge and
protecting the batteries. Major Tombs had charge of a post to the right
rear, over against the Subzee Mundi. The whole front was strengthened by
entrenchments, and Hodson kept both eyes on the rear. But they were not
content to stand still and repel attacks. Few though they were, they could
show their teeth on occasions. On the 17th the enemy, under cover of a
very severe cannonade, threw a large force on to a hill near the Eedgah,
a walled enclosure, and there began to work on a battery, which, when
finished, would enfilade the position on the ridge. Sir Henry Barnard
determined to stop this dangerous move; in the afternoon he formed two
columns, one under Major Reid, the other under Major Tombs. Starting from
our right flank, Reid pushed straight through Kishengunge, and emerged on
the right of the new rebel battery, while Tombs, having made a detour,
fell upon their left. The new battery was soon carried; the magazine blown
up; the mutineers were hunted from garden to garden; the doors of four
serais were destroyed, and one gun was carried off by the gallant Tombs.
The enemy lost about 300 killed and wounded. Considering the nature of the
country, our loss was trifling--three killed and twelve wounded.
The rebels, however, now received a large reinforcement. The brigade
that had mutinied at Nusseerabad, in Scindia's country, on the 28th of
May, entered Delhi on the 17th of June, and on the 19th were sent out to
fight their old masters. Their tactics were new. They resolved to operate
strategically, and cut us off from the Punjab. With this object they
marched out with much ostentation at mid-day, filing bravely through the
Lahore Gate, traversing Kishengunge, and disappearing from view to the
westward. The movement had been, of course, observed by Reid and Tombs,
and the whole force turned out, but they turned in again when the Sepoys
vanished from view. But late in the afternoon news came in from the rear
that the Sepoys had worked round, and were in position across the Great
Road. This was serious. Colonel Hope Grant could only oppose them with
seven troops of British cavalry and the Guides and twelve guns. Although
the odds were so great against them--3,000 to about 350--Grant did not
hesitate to attack. The guns, under Turner, Tombs, and Bishop, went
rapidly into action. The cavalry, under Yule and Daly, of the Guides,
charged with headlong gallantry as often as opportunities presented
themselves. Right and left the mutineers were checked, by lance and
sabre, and cannon, until night drew near. But the rebel infantry worked
through the enclosures, and fired on our gunners, while their artillery,
splendidly served, did considerable execution. Our cavalry and guns were
obliged to fall back before the masses crowding in upon them on all sides,
when 300 infantry from the camp reached the field. Yule had fallen dead;
the Guides had brought off Daly wounded; two guns were in the hands of the
Sepoys. At this moment our foot, Rifles and Fusiliers, went in with the
bayonet, and in a few moments the tide of rebel success was arrested and
the guns were won back. Night had fallen; the enemy retreated, covering
himself with a random fire in the dark, and the action was over.
The next morning Colonel Hope Grant rode on to the field and found it
abandoned; dead men and horses were lying about, and he brought in
a deserted 9-pounder. Soon came a fresh alarm. The enemy brought up
his guns--the famous Jellalabad battery, part of the "illustrious"
garrison--and his round shot rolled through the camp. But his triumph
was short. Sweeping down with every available bayonet, Brigadier Wilson
closed with the rebels and swiftly drove them away. They hurried off,
carrying away their guns, and, having had enough of strategy, returned by
a roundabout march to Delhi. It was a critical moment in the history of
the siege. We were triumphant, but our little force was diminished by 100
men killed and wounded. Precautions were now taken to guard the rear as
effectually as the smallness of the force would permit. On the very day of
the first attack, Captain M'Andrew, acting on a mere rumour of an attack,
had drawn off the force guarding Bhagput Bridge over the Jumna, and Hodson
was obliged to ride thither and restore this line of communication with
Meerut. M'Andrew was censured for running away without even seeing an
enemy.
On the 21st, the Jhallandhar Brigade augmented by the 3rd Native Infantry,
picked up at Philour, entered Delhi. The rebels were now so numerous that
they encamped outside the place, but out of our reach, and under their
own guns. On the 23rd, 850 men, including Rothney's 4th Sikhs, arrived
in the British camp. It was a timely succour. The 23rd of June was the
anniversary of Plassey. For 100 years the British "raj" had endured. Now
crazy, or wily, pundits brought to light a prediction that, on the 23rd
of June, 1857, British rule would end. So the Delhi garrison moved out in
great excitement to fulfil the prophecy. They paid for it, and dearly.
Crowding into the Subzee Mundi, and bringing guns up to the Eedgah, they
raked the right flank and skirmished up the slope with their infantry.
These attacks were easily repulsed, but the artillery fire was very
destructive; and Brigadier Showers begged Sir Henry Barnard to assume the
offensive. He assented. The first attacks failed, with the loss of two
officers and several men. Then the column was reinforced. The 4th Sikhs,
and part of the 2nd Fusiliers, just in from a march of twenty-two miles,
went gaily into action and, using the bayonet very freely, rapidly cleared
the Subzee Mundi, killing great numbers of rebels, who had shut themselves
up in a temple, and forcing the remainder to fly, galled by the fire of
our batteries on the ridge. This action gave us the Subzee Mundi, which we
occupied, connecting it by a breastwork with the ridge, thus securing the
position on that side; but it cost us thirty-eight killed and 118 wounded
to prove to the Sepoys that our "raj" had not yet come to an end.
[Illustration: THE PALACE, DELHI. (_From a Photograph by Frith & Co.,
Reigate._)]
Thus the position of the British before Delhi became gradually more
extensive, stretching now from the Subzee Mundi to Metcalfe's house,
and thus commanding both roads leading to our rear. Neville Chamberlain
arrived to act as adjutant-general. Then came further reinforcements: half
the 8th Foot, a hundred European artillerymen, and many score old Sikh
gunners who had served at Sobraon, a battery, and the 2nd Punjab Cavalry,
bringing up the force present to about 6,600 men of all arms. This was the
force destined to hold on to that ridge, and two months afterwards, when
aided by John Nicholson, to rush into Delhi. But now we must leave these
heroes for a time, to track the bloody steps of mutiny on the Ganges and
Jumna.
It cannot now be denied that at the outset of the mutiny the magnitude
of the crisis was totally misapprehended at Calcutta. Lord Canning was
new to India. He was a man of a powerful but a slow intellect. With time
to think, he acted wisely. But on the first days of the mutiny the civil
servants--the Grants, Beadons, Dorins, men of a stamp very different from
the clear-sighted and determined statesmen of the Punjab--sadly misled
him. They treated the mutiny in the army as a military squabble that
would soon be quelled. The civil servants looked down on the military
servants of the Company, and from the height of their conceit lived on in
blessed ignorance of military affairs. To this we must trace the paltering
way in which the Government dealt with the mutiny at the outset; and
the severe rebuffs they administered to all--not of the Government--who
offered either counsel or advice. It is true, the Governor-General had
very few European troops under his hand--only the 53rd at Fort William,
and the 84th at Barrackpore. But at an earlier, he ought to have done
what he did at a later stage: he might have called in troops from Madras,
Ceylon, Mauritius, and the Cape. On the 10th of May, before he knew of
the outburst at Meerut, Sir John Lawrence had telegraphed his opinion
to Calcutta that the whole regular army was ready to break out. And
then he gave this large-minded counsel:--"Send for troops from Persia.
Intercept the force now on its way to China, and bring it to Calcutta.
Every European soldier will be required to save the country if the whole
of the native troops turn against us. This is the opinion of all leading
minds here"--in the Punjab. But at Calcutta, had the civilians been as
quick-sighted as Lawrence, this advice would have been needless, for the
course it recommended would have been adopted in March, or at least in
April. After Meerut, it was too late to prevent, though not to cure. Lord
Elphinstone, indeed, at Bombay, saw what was coming; and as soon as he
knew that peace had been made with Persia--that is, in April--he pressed
on General Outram the necessity of sending back to India the European
troops at once. The Governor-General allowed him to act on his discretion,
and Sir James, being discreet, complied with the urgent request of the
Governor of Bombay. Yet General Havelock did not quit Mohamerah, at the
head of the Persian Gulf, until the 15th, nor did he land at Bombay until
the 29th of May, when he was astounded by the news that Delhi was in the
hands of mutinous Sepoys. He at once set out for Calcutta by sea; but
being wrecked off Ceylon, he did not reach Calcutta until the 17th of
June. With him went from Madras Sir Patrick Grant, who, on the death of
Anson, was appointed Commander-in-Chief. By this time the Bengal native
army had practically "gone."
It was not until the middle of May that Lord Canning, getting some insight
into the facts, sent to Ceylon, Mauritius, and Madras for troops, and
despatched a steamer to lie in wait for the regiments bound to China, and
ordered the late army of Persia to come to Calcutta. The first to arrive
were the Madras Fusiliers, under Colonel Neill, a man swift to see and to
strike, who did not understand the system of paltering with mutiny. The
Madras Europeans arrived on the 23rd of May, and were at once, with the
84th, despatched towards the North-West.
While Neill was hastening onwards towards Benares, and Allahabad, and
Cawnpore, the native regiments at these and other stations had thrilled
to the shock of the news from Delhi and were prepared to imitate the
example. There was one European regiment, the 10th Foot, and three native
regiments, at Dinapore, near Patna, 130 miles from Benares; at Benares
there were a Sikh regiment, and two Bengal regiments, and thirty European
artillerymen; at Allahabad there were a few Sikhs under Braysher--a
gallant soldier who had risen from the ranks--and the 6th Native Infantry.
Benares, the sacred city, was the headquarters of Hindooism. Its
population, numbered at 300,000, mainly Hindoos, was turbulent. Within its
walls lived many dethroned princes, from Nepaul and Sattara, a branch of
the Delhi family, and several Sikhs. Here, if anywhere, disaffection was
certain to exist; and here were only thirty British soldiers and the civil
servants. Among these civil servants was Mr. Frederick Gubbins, a very
resolute man; and when news of the Meerut mutiny came, although he saw the
peril, he determined to stand stiffly up against it and resist. On the 3rd
of June the vanguard of the Madras Fusiliers arrived--sixty men--and the
question of at once using them and the Sikhs to disarm the 37th Native
Infantry was debated. News came that the 17th Native Infantry at Azimghur
had just mutinied, and it was resolved on the 4th to disarm the regiment
the next day. At this crisis Colonel Neill came in. He saw no good in
delay. "As soon as the 37th hear of the mutiny at Azimghur," he said,
"they will rise. Do it at once." Brigadier Ponsonby yielded. The troops
were paraded; the Sikhs and irregular cavalry on the left, the artillery
on the right, of the 37th. The latter at once mutinied, and began firing.
Two or three officers fell. The artillery opened fire. By some mistake,
never explained, the Sikhs fired on their officers and on the Fusiliers.
Then the guns opened on them, and all was confusion. Brigadier Ponsonby
fell from sunstroke. Neill took command, and with his handful of thirty
gunners and Fusiliers, routed the rebels. The whole district around for
many miles rose in revolt at once; but such was the stern energy of Neill,
the occult and long-acquired influence of Gubbins, the devotion of men
like Venables and Chapman, indigo planters, that not only was the city
population held down, but in a very short time we regained our power here
also. At this time gibbets were set up and, for many months, traitors and
mutineers of every caste and rank were mercilessly hanged thereon.
The safety of Benares was important in a political point of view and it
was guarded by thirty European artillerymen! The safety of Allahabad was
essential in a military point of view and it did not contain a single
European soldier! Its absolute masters were the 6th Native Infantry, a
native battery, and part of the Ferozepore regiment of Sikhs. Yet what
was Allahabad? It was not only a very strong fortress, commanding the
confluence of the Ganges and Jumna; it was not only the point of passage
over the Jumna into the Doab on one side, and thence to the north-west,
and over the Ganges on the other into Oude and the valley of the Goomtee;
it was the greatest arsenal in India--full of guns, stores, ammunition;
our sole base of operations upwards towards Cawnpore and Lucknow. The 6th
Native Infantry were quite ready to mutiny. Fortunately, Government in a
moment of alarm--for it had its moments of alarm as well as its moments
of confidence--ordered up from Chunar some sixty European artillerymen,
all invalids, yet fit for garrison duty. These arrived on the 23rd of
May, and entered the fort. They saved this invaluable post. The 6th had
volunteered to march on Delhi, and Government was so delighted that on the
5th its commander, Colonel Simpson, was directed by telegraph to thank
the regiment, and tell them the order would appear in the next Gazette.
On that very day came news of the mutiny at Benares, and on the 6th of
June, twenty-four hours after it had been thanked for loyalty, the 6th
rose, and the men shot nearly every one of their officers. In the fort
all was anxiety. The real nature of the contest raging in cantonments
was not known until an officer, naked from a swim in the Jumna, ran in.
Then, by the steadfastness and skill of Braysher, the Sikhs were induced
to disarm the company of the 6th, and the fort was saved. But the rabble
invested the fort! For five days this was permitted and not a gun allowed
to be fired. Colonel Neill, with forty men, came up on the 11th from
Benares. The bridge of boats was in the hands of the rebels, but he got a
boat and crossed below it. Then, without resting, he organised a plan for
recovering the bridge; and early next morning he executed it with vigour
and promptitude. From that time he continued to regain the lost sway
over the city. Neill became a name of terror all along the banks of the
Ganges, and by his wise as well as severe measures he made it possible for
Havelock to avenge Cawnpore.
Cawnpore is a large station. Seated on the right bank of the Ganges, it
is midway between Lucknow and Calpee and Agra and Allahabad. Thus, it
was one of the most important stations in the Doab of the Ganges and
Jumna--a central point whence troops might move on an enemy or intercept
one on four great lines. There were three regiments of native infantry,
the 1st, 53rd, and 56th, and one regiment of native cavalry, in the
station. There were about sixty European artillerymen and six guns. The
commandant was Sir Hugh Wheeler, a soldier who had served under Lord
Lake fifty-four years before, and who then and since had led Sepoys in
battle in half a dozen great campaigns. There were at Cawnpore the wives
and children of the men of the 32nd Foot; a number of ladies, wives of
officers and civilians, and many merchants and traders and their families.
Agitated by the earlier incidents of the mutiny, the natives were more
deeply stirred by the outbreak at Meerut and Delhi, and General Wheeler
felt that no trust could be placed in the men he commanded. But he was
absolutely powerless. He had only sixty-one Europeans. He could not disarm
the Cawnpore garrison. He could only wait and watch, and prepare some
ark of refuge, however frail. Nor had he much time. News of the Delhi
massacres arrived on the 14th of May. The troops gave no outward sign. A
few days afterwards Mrs. Fraser entered the station. Her husband had been
slain at Delhi, and she had travelled down 266 miles in safety. A native
had undertaken to perform the journey, and he did. This lady was a real
heroine, and in the dreadful days at hand, regardless of herself, she gave
up everything to soothe and minister to the wounded.
On the 20th of May all communication with Delhi and Agra had ceased. Fires
broke out in the native lines, and prophecies of evil were uttered.
Sir Hugh Wheeler entrenched an old hospital--two brick buildings, one
thatched, one roofed with stone. The entrenchment was so slight that a
British horseman could have leaped in anywhere. In this enclosure the
guns were placed, and the women and children were ordered to take up
their quarters therein. Stores of food, but not sufficient, were laid
up. Happily, ammunition was plentiful. There were nine guns in the work.
Still there was no sign of mutiny. But, as the treasure was exposed, Sir
Hugh and Mr. Hillersden requested the Nana Sahib of Bithoor to supply a
guard. He complied, bringing down troops of his own, and taking up his
quarters in the civil lines. Who was the Nana Sahib? He was the son of
a Brahmin living near Bombay. His name was Seereek Dhoondoo Punt. Bajee
Rao, the last Peishwa, having no issue of his own, adopted him; and when,
for his treachery, Bajee Rao was dethroned, the Government granted him
a pension, and sent him to live at Bithoor, on the Ganges, a few miles
above Cawnpore. When he died, the Nana, by forging a will, obtained his
enormous wealth; but Government refused to continue the pension allowed
to the late Peishwa. That Nana Sahib never forgave, but he showed no
sign of resentment. He lived a life of the lowest sensual indulgence in
the splendid fort at Bithoor. He was on the most friendly terms with the
British officers, frequently entertaining them at Bithoor, but accepting
no hospitality in return. He had for prime minister, or chief agent, one
Azimoolah, originally a waiter, then teacher in the Government schools at
Cawnpore, then agent to Nana Sahib. Azimoolah was sent to London to pray
the Board of Directors to grant the Nana his pension. He came in 1854, was
a lion in society, much admired by the ladies, at one time nearly carrying
off one to grace his harem. He returned to India by way of Constantinople,
and was there in the depths of that dreary winter when our soldiers were
holding the heights at so much cost.
After the 20th of May the Sepoys did not conceal their feelings. They
held nightly meetings; the character of those meetings was known from
spies. The 2nd Cavalry, especially, displayed hostility; and when Sir Hugh
sought to remove the treasure, the Sepoys would not part with it, and it
had to be left under the joint care of them and Nana Sahib. On the 21st,
all the European residents, except one, Sir George Parker, cantonment
magistrate, entered the entrenchment. The next day a company of the 32nd,
under Captain Moore, arrived from Lucknow, lent by Sir Henry Lawrence.
For a week there was dreadful suspense; then 160 men of the 84th Foot and
Madras Fusiliers arrived, with the cheering news that more troops were on
their way. On the 26th Sir Hugh thought he should soon be able to dispense
with the 32nd men, and hold his own until troops came from Calcutta.
But the mutinies at Benares and Allahabad put an end to the fulfilment
of that hope. There is every reason to believe that at this time Nana
Sahib was playing a double game, and that he found willing agents in the
2nd Cavalry. But up to the last moment the Sepoys affected loyalty, and
actually gave up one man on a charge of spreading sedition. But the poison
of mutiny had worked deeply into their hearts, and the day of disaster
duly arrived.
Up to the 4th of June the officers had slept in the native lines. After
that day Sir Hugh would not allow them to do so any more, and they found
corners in the entrenchment. The signs of approaching mutiny were now
plain. There were 210 soldiers of the artillery, the 32nd, the 84th,
and the Madras Fusiliers, about a hundred officers, the same number of
merchants and clerks, and forty drummers; giving a total of 450 fighting
men, and nine guns. It has been well said that these could have fought
their way out in any direction; but encumbered with 330 women and
children, they could do nothing but remain and wait for succour. On the
night of the 6th of June the 2nd Cavalry rose. Captain Thomson, one of
the few survivors of the Cawnpore tragedy, thus describes the mutiny:
"An hour or two after the flight of the cavalry, the 1st Native Infantry
also bolted, leaving their officers untouched upon the parade ground. The
56th Native Infantry followed the next morning. The 53rd remained till,
by some error of the general, they were fired into. I am at an utter loss
to account for this proceeding. The men were peacefully occupied in their
lines, cooking; no signs of mutiny had appeared amidst their ranks; they
had refused all the solicitations of the deserters to accompany them, and
seemed quite steadfast, when Ashe's battery opened upon them, by Sir Hugh
Wheeler's command, and they were literally driven from us by 9-pounders.
The only signal that had preceded this step was the calling into the
entrenchments of the native officers of the regiment. The whole of them
cast in their lot with us, besides 150 privates, most of them belonging to
the Grenadier company. The detachment of the 53rd posted at the treasury
held their ground against the rebels about four hours. We could hear
their musketry in the distance, but were not allowed to attempt their
relief. The faithful little band that had joined our desperate fortunes
was ordered to occupy the military hospital, about 600 yards to the east
of our position, and they held it for nine days, when, in consequence of
its being set on fire, they were compelled to evacuate. They applied for
admission to enter the entrenchments, but were told that we had not food
sufficient to allow of an increase to our number. Major Hillersden gave
them a few rupees each, together with a certificate of their fidelity."
[Illustration: SIR HENRY HAVELOCK. (_After the Portrait by F. Goodall,
A.R.A._)]
The first impulse of the mutineers was to march on Delhi. There, they
rightly judged, the struggle would be fought out. They had laden
elephants with treasure, and carts with ammunition and plunder. They had
marched forward on the road, when Nana Sahib beset them with offers of
service, and incitements to destroy their white masters. For some time
they resisted; but the temptations proved to be too seductive, and they
enlisted, as it were, under the flag of one who dreamed of restoring the
Mahratta empire. So the whole force turned back towards Cawnpore, and sat
down before the entrenchment. To please his new followers, Nana Sahib
hoisted two standards--the Moslem and the Hindoo flag. To gratify his
troops, he directed the sack of the European houses, and even those of
wealthy natives in Cawnpore. He took possession of the store of shot and
shell; he mounted heavy guns. To give a colour of fairness to his conduct,
he notified to Sir Hugh Wheeler by letter that he intended to attack him,
and he followed up the threat by opening fire on the 8th of June.
The little garrison of Cawnpore, thus beleaguered, held out for twenty
days, and even then yielded honourably to famine, not arms. Their
sufferings during this time can neither be imagined nor described. The
entrenchment was about 250 yards square. The mud wall had been made by
digging a trench and throwing the earth outwards. Thus, about five feet
cover was obtained; but where the spaces were left for the guns there
was no cover at all. From the eastern side a little redan was made and
armed, and at three other points there were small batteries. As muskets
and ammunition abounded, five or six loaded muskets, with bayonets fixed,
were placed near each man in the trenches, so as to ensure a rapid fire.
In the centre of the entrenchment was a well. Near it were two buildings,
each having only a single storey, and one only a stone roof. They were
intended to accommodate a company of a hundred men. Within them were
stowed more than three hundred women and children, and the sick. The heat
was so fierce that it was often impossible to hold a musket barrel, and
once or twice muskets exploded from heat alone. Think, then, what these
women and children must have suffered, crowded together in those barracks.
As soon as the place was beleaguered, men drew water at the risk of their
lives, and from the beginning of the siege not a drop could be spared
for purposes of cleanliness. With scanty clothing, meagre diet of flour
and split peas; with water, often bought for its weight in silver from
the men who drew it, and measured out in drops; with cannon thundering
day and night, with shot and shell tearing through the buildings, with
the sickness of hope deferred upon them, who can imagine the agonies of
those weary hours? The men, all save one officer, went forth to fight, but
the women could only watch and wait, and listen to the piteous cries of
children, whose throats were parched, whose lips were baked with thirst.
For the men there was the chance of a death-struggle, or death from shot
or shell. Nothing but patience and longsuffering for the women. Some went
mad; some sought death; but others behaved as angels may, with a courage,
a fortitude, a forgetfulness of self, men may imitate but not excel.
This little enclosure was defended solely by the courage of the garrison.
The Sepoys had seen how white men fight, how they dare danger in every
shape, almost in sport, above all, how in battle they stand by each other
with never-failing confidence. The prestige of the British soldier never
stood him in better stead than in this Indian mutiny. Driven to bay here
with such slender defences as we have described, it is a fact that
the surrounding multitudes never once charged home. In a very few days
the original force of mutineers was tripled. There came up men of the
6th from Allahabad, and men of various regiments from Oude, and hordes
of scoundrels from all the country side, until there were 10,000 armed
men raging round the little force. They had three mortars and ten guns
firing night and day, in addition to the musketry of the Sepoys. The
entrenchments were entirely commanded from two buildings, and all around
there was plenty of cover; yet with all these numbers and advantages
the cowards did not venture on a hand-to-hand fight. On the west of
the fort was a series of unfinished barracks. They were connected with
the entrenchment by a sort of covered way, made of carts; two or three
of these were held by small detachments of fifteen or twenty men, one
composed of railway engineers and platelayers. With nothing but musketry
and this cover, these gallant fellows kept the enemy at bay, and inflicted
on them great losses. On one occasion a host of Sepoys charged up with
the seeming intention of getting in. The garrison of seventeen men killed
eighteen assailants at pistol-shot range, and drove them away. On another,
Captain Moore, the soul of the defence, resolved to try a new trick; he
and Lieutenant Delafosse, suddenly leaped out, calling in a loud voice,
"Number one to the front!" The skulking scoundrels, thinking a company was
about to charge, rose from their cover like a flock of sparrows, and gave
the defenders an opportunity of pouring in a deadly volley.
All this time the thermometer ranged from 128° to 138°. Tortured by this
dreadful heat, grimed with dirt, devoured by myriads of flies, suffering
agonies from thirst, enduring the severest pangs of hunger, exposed to
death in every shape, our beleaguered countrymen and countrywomen still
bore up against fate, with grim and steadfast determination. The Sepoys
took every advantage; not a little child could stray out from the scanty
shelter of shattered walls or holes in the trenches without drawing upon
itself the fire of a hundred muskets. If any one went to the well, he was
a mark for big guns and bullets; and at night the sound of the creaking
wheels revealing the fact that men were drawing the water, called forth a
hail of shot. Yet men went out and endured this fate by day and night, to
draw water for the women and the wounded. "My friend, John M'Killop, of
the Civil Service," writes Captain Thomson, "greatly distinguished himself
here; he became, self-constituted, Captain of the Well. He jocosely
said that he was no fighting man, but would make himself useful where he
could, and accordingly he took this post; drawing for the supply of the
women and the children as often as he could. It was less than a week after
he had undertaken this self-denying service, when his numerous escapes
were followed by a grape-shot wound in the groin, and speedy death.
Disinterested even in death, his last words were an earnest entreaty that
somebody would go and draw water for a lady to whom he had promised it."
Besides this well there was another near one of the unfinished barracks.
"We drew no water there; it was our cemetery." Stealthily at night, the
bodies of the dead were carried out, and thrown into this well; and in
three weeks it was choked up with the remains of 250 persons! On the 13th
of June a great misfortune befell the garrison. One of the buildings in
the entrenchments was used as a hospital. It had a thatched roof. On
the evening of the 13th a shell or "carcase" set this on fire, and the
whole building was soon in a blaze. By the light of the flames the Sepoys
poured in a heavy fire on the women and children running out, and on the
men bearing off the wounded, some of whom perished there, while all the
medicines and surgical instruments were destroyed! This moment of trial
the enemy selected for an attack, hoping to find the garrison unprepared.
They were deceived. Every man was on the alert. The mutineers were allowed
to come close up, and then the guns opened with grape, and the infantry
firing muskets, ready loaded, as fast as they could pick them up, drove
off the yelling assailants, with great slaughter. At another time they
approached, rolling before them bales of cotton, but these were speedily
set on fire with shells, after which grape-shot soon thinned the ranks of
the flying crew. These attacks were repeated in different ways, but always
with the same result.
But a few details abridged from Captain Thomson's narrative of what he
called the superficial horrors of the siege, will better enable the reader
to conceive the agonies of those three weeks, than pages of general
description. A group of soldiers' wives were sitting in the trenches.
A shell fell among them, and killed and wounded seven. "Mrs. White,
a private's wife, was walking with her husband, under cover, as they
thought, of the wall, her twin children one in each arm, when a single
bullet passed through her husband, killing him. It passed also through
both her arms, breaking them, and close beside the breathless husband and
father fell the widow and her babes; one of the latter being also severely
wounded. I saw her afterwards in the main-guard, lying upon her back, with
the two children, twins, laid one at each breast, while the mother's bosom
refused not what her arms had no power to administer." An ayah, nursing a
baby, lost both legs from a cannon shot, while the infant was uninjured.
Mrs. Evans was killed by falling bricks brought down by a round shot. Mr.
Hillersden, the collector, was talking to his wife, when he was cut in
two by a round shot. Two days afterwards a mass of falling bricks killed
his wife. Here are two other terrible pictures. In the unburnt, but not
unbroken barrack, "Lieutenant G. R. Wheeler, son and aide-de-camp of the
general, was sitting upon a sofa, fainting from a wound he had received
in the trenches; his sister was fanning him, when a round shot entered
the doorway, and left him a headless trunk. One sister at his feet, and
father, mother, and another sister, in different parts of the same room,
were witnesses of the appalling spectacle. Mr. Herberden, of the railway
service, was handing one of the ladies some water, when a charge of grape
entered the barrack, and a shot passed through both his hips, leaving an
awful wound. He lay for a whole week upon his face, and was carried upon a
mattress down to the boats, where he died. The fortitude he had shown in
active service did not forsake him during his extraordinary sufferings,
for not a murmur escaped his lips."
Enough of these horrors. It is a relief to turn from them to the recorded
acts of daring, of which let this one suffice. As Sir Hugh Wheeler was
too old to take an active share in a defence, which he, nevertheless,
helped to sustain by his unconquerable spirit, Captain Moore, of the 32nd,
was the real leader of the garrison. A genuine soldier, he conceived the
idea of making a sortie by night, and spiking the Sepoy cannon. He was at
the time suffering from a wound; yet, one night, he led out fifty men,
spiked three guns near the church, killed several gunners, and spiked
two 24-pounders at the mess-house, with the loss of one killed and four
wounded. This illustrates the active valour of this garrison. It availed
little, for fresh pieces were brought up the next day.
Aware that aid was approaching, though slowly, Nana Sahib now had recourse
to a devilish expedient in order to get the garrison in his hands. He
had in his power a Mrs. Greenway, one of a family who had paid to the
Nana £30,000 as a ransom, yet who were all slain. This poor woman, half
naked, and carrying an infant, he sent with a message to the entrenchment.
It was addressed "To the subjects of her Most Gracious Majesty Queen
Victoria," and it ran as follows:--"All those who are in no way connected
with the acts of Lord Dalhousie, and are willing to lay down their arms,
shall receive a safe passage to Allahabad." At first Sir Hugh Wheeler was
utterly opposed to any dealing with Nana Sahib, but he finally agreed to
treat. Accordingly a negotiation was begun, and rapidly concluded, Nana
Sahib signing a treaty of capitulation to the effect that the garrison
should march out under arms, with sixty rounds of ammunition per man, and
should be sent, with the women and children, in boats to Allahabad. No
precautions were neglected by Sir Hugh or Captain Moore. Their sole error
was in placing any trust in Nana Sahib.
On the 27th the woe-begone and tattered procession set out for the
ghaut, or landing-place. The women and children went on elephants and
in palanquins, the men, except the sick and wounded, walked. When they
found the boats--but they were all aground on sandbanks--every one, men,
women, and children, had to wade knee-deep to embark. Suddenly, at the
signal to start, the native boatmen, firing the thatched roofs of the
boats, leaped into the water, and rushed to the shore. Then, first a
dropping fire of carbines, succeeded by volleys of musketry, and round
shot from four 9-pounders, opened on the fugitives. The banks were lined,
the neighbouring houses were filled with assassins. Soon the boats were
in flames, the water was full of women and children on whom the shot was
poured. Only two boats got off and one was instantly sunk by a round shot.
The other, crowded with survivors, some of whom had swum to her side,
began to float down the stream, when guns opened on her from the Oude
side. Her rudder was shot away, the oars were gone, but the current bore
her on, now stranding her on a shoal, now drifting her off, aided by the
use of a spar or two of wood. All day long this boat was chased and one by
one her occupants became fewer. Some fell overboard, some sank wounded to
the bottom of the boat. At night she stranded and the Sepoys fired lighted
arrows at her to set her on fire. The next morning they were beset again;
a boat full of armed Sepoys came down and grounded near, when the British
at once charged through the water and slew their pursuers. A hurricane
of rain and wind followed, and once more the boat with its starving and
bleeding freight was afloat; but it soon stuck again in shoal water. Here
Captain Thomson, Lieutenant Delafosse, Sergeant Grady, and eleven privates
landed by order to drive away the Sepoys while the boat was eased off.
The boat and its occupants they never saw again. They quickly drove back
the enemy, but could not find the boat on their return, and so they were
forced to retreat along the banks; pursued, they took refuge in a small
temple and held it against a host, until the enemy lighted brands at the
door and began to throw bags of gunpowder on them. The little band charged
at once and made for the river; seven out of fourteen reached it alive and
plunged in; the number was soon reduced to four. These swam on and on,
six miles down stream, and, exhausting pursuit, went ashore. Here they
found a protector in one whose name should be preserved--Diribijah Singh,
of Moorar Mhow, in Oude. He saved their lives. At this time Thomson's
clothing consisted of a flannel shirt; Delafosse wore a cloth round his
waist; Murphy and Sullivan were naked. Every one except Delafosse was
wounded. These were the sole survivors of the massacre at the ghaut. About
130 of the women and children were taken out of the water and carried
prisoners into Cawnpore. We shall hear of them again.
During this period mutiny had been making great progress elsewhere. Bombay
had been saved by the energy of Lord Elphinstone and the prompt appearance
of the 37th from Mauritius, just as Madras had been quieted by the landing
of a regiment from Ceylon. But in Central India not a station remained.
The Europeans had been driven away from Indore, the residence of Holkar.
At Mhow, near by, some officers were killed, but the others, with the
women and children, took shelter in the fort. The Maharajah remained true
and they were saved. At Gwalior the contingent had mutinied, killing some
officers, but the women and children got away to Agra; and Scindia, acting
on the advice of his minister, Dinkur Rao, the ablest native in India, so
managed the contingent that they did not move until months afterwards. Mr.
Colvin, at Agra, in the North-West, after paltering with mutiny, had been
forced to disarm two regiments there on the 31st of May, and to prepare
and occupy the fort; for the Khotah contingent mutinied, and there were no
regular soldiers on whom dependence could be placed but the 3rd Europeans,
a battery of artillery, thirty or forty volunteer horse, and the armed
civilians. Such was the state of the country from the Himalayas to the
Nerbudda, from the sand deserts of Bikaneer to the frontiers of Behar.
Here and there, as at Saugor, Agra, Lucknow, there were little knots of
beleaguered Britons, and all around them a raging sea of anarchy.
[Illustration: _By permission of the Leicester Corporation Art Gallery._
THE FLIGHT FROM LUCKNOW (1857).
FROM THE PAINTING BY A. SOLOMON IN THE POSSESSION OF THE LEICESTER
CORPORATION ART GALLERY.]
[Illustration: MEMORIAL AT THE WELL, CAWNPORE. (_From a Photograph by
Frith & Co._)]
The reader will remember that the 8th of June was a day of disaster
in the history of the Oude mutinies, and that from this day Lucknow
alone remained in the hands of the British; and even this was held by a
precarious tenure. Sir Henry Lawrence, seeing himself alone, and observing
no signs of prompt support from any quarter, soon began to fortify the
Residency. At first he contemplated the occupation of a larger position.
He garrisoned and fortified the Muchee Bhowun, a strong fort commanding
the iron bridge; and his military police held several parts of the town.
At a later period he found how necessary it was that he should contract
his lines, bring all his troops in from the cantonments, and make himself
as strong as he could around the Residency. Before he came to that
conclusion the work of preparation and provisioning went on with ardour
under a burning sun. A large gateway, from the top of which the Residency
enclosure was commanded, was blown down. Many lacs of rupees were buried,
to save the trouble of guarding them. Upwards of 200 pieces of ordnance,
many of large calibre, were found, and with great labour brought in.
Neighbouring houses were cleared away or unroofed. Large bodies of coolies
were kept at work upon the defences, which now began to assume shape and
order and connection. The racket court was full of forage; the church was
crammed with grain; the fuel, stacked in vast piles, formed a rampart in
front of the Residency. Every day the volunteer cavalry were drilled, and
the civilians, merchants, clerks, were organised, and posts were assigned
them. The heat was almost insupportable. Cholera, small-pox, fever, broke
out. Evil news came in day after day. Finally, the troops were withdrawn
from the cantonments and placed in the Residency and Muchee Bhowun. All
this time the courts had sat and business went on, malefactors, traitors,
mutineers, were tried and executed, and order was maintained. Patrols went
out on the road to Cawnpore and Fyzabad. The news of the massacres of the
Futtehghur fugitives, and of the Cawnpore garrison, and of officers on
all sides, came in; and Colonel Neill reported his arrival at Allahabad,
and promised to move up as soon as he could. A price was set upon Nana
Sahib--£10,000 was offered for him, dead or alive.
For three weeks the Oude mutineers had been gathering at Nawabgunge, on
the Fyzabad road, about twenty-five miles from Lucknow. Sir Henry Lawrence
thought it would be desirable to attack them when he heard they were
marching on the city. Keeping his intention secret, he collected a force
consisting of four European and six Oude guns, and one 8-inch howitzer,
the whole under Major Simons; thirty-six European and eighty Sikh horse;
300 of the 32nd Foot, and 220 Sepoys, the faithful few who had not
mutinied. With these he marched, and his advance guard fell in with the
enemy near Chinhut. They were in great strength, a complete army, having
in the field cavalry, infantry, and artillery. The mutineers began the
fray by a heavy fire of cannon, and then extending their wings, bore down
on both flanks of the British. The volunteer cavalry charged boldly, but
the Sikhs fled. The Oude gunners abandoned their pieces. The mutineers
pressing on, turned our flank completely, and repulsed the 32nd in an
attempt to drive them out of a village. The combat was now lost, and Sir
Henry ordered a retreat. All fell back in confusion, leaving the howitzer
behind. A body of horsemen tried to cut them off, but the volunteer
cavalry, careless of odds, charged and routed them. Agonised with thirst,
for the water-carriers had deserted, our little force fell back, turning
and firing as often as they could, covered by the gallant volunteer horse,
and so reached the iron bridge, and filed over into the city. They had
lost 200 men killed and wounded (112 Europeans being among the slain),
and four guns were missing. The pursuit was only checked by the fire of an
18-pounder from the redan, which commanded the iron bridge. The mutineers
had brought into the field 5,000 infantry, 800 horse, and 160 gunners. As
a sequel to this unhappy adventure, it may be stated that the military
police and the companies of Oude regiments in the city at once mutinied.
The troops from Chinhut crossed the river lower down, and invested the
Residency. It was then found that the detachments in the Muchee Bhowun
would be required to defend the Residency. But the enemy were in force
between the two. No messenger could pass. In this crisis, at great risk,
for the enemy kept up a heavy fire, four officers rigged a telegraph on
the roof of the Residency, and thus sent orders that the Muchee Bhowun
should be evacuated and blown up. That night the feat was achieved. The
garrison had just reached the Residency, and were filing in, when a
tremendous explosion shook the earth--240 barrels of powder and 594,000
rounds of ammunition had destroyed the Muchee Bhowun.
The next day, July 2nd, Sir Henry Lawrence was mortally wounded by a piece
of shell, and died on the 4th. Shot and shell raining on the Residency,
confusion all around, were the accompaniments of his last hours. He was
not only an able man, but a good man, with a heart abounding in charity
for all. Few men have left a brighter track on the dark stream of Indian
history. Schools and asylums are as much his monuments as deeds of
statecraft, and it may be that the Lawrence Asylum for European children,
up in the hills of the North-West, will bear his name vividly to a
posterity which will have only a faint idea of the early administration of
the Punjab.