THE FIGHTING ROUND MOOLTAN AND AFTER
These prompt measures, however, served only a local and temporary
purpose, effective but little beyond striking distance of the troops
stationed at Lahore. The flame of unrest damped down here had burst
forth under a different banner at Mooltan, where the Diwan Mulraj farmed
the province under treaty with the Sikhs. The Diwan himself was a
miserable personality, but carried away by the tide of popular feeling,
he became inextricably involved in antagonism to the British cause by
the cold-blooded murder of Agnew and Anderson. These two British
officers, with the full consent and support of the Sikh Durbar, had been
sent to Mooltan on special duty in connection with the voluntary
abdication of Mulraj, which had been accepted by his suzeraine. The
escort sent with the British officers was a strong one, and, if loyal,
perfectly competent to deal with any disorders. It consisted of fourteen
hundred Sikhs, a regiment of Gurkhas, seven hundred cavalry, and six
guns.
This seemingly formidable and carefully composed body of troops proved,
however, to be entirely unreliable. Agnew and Anderson were, within a
few hours of their arrival at Mooltan, attacked and severely wounded by
fanatics, and no one raised a hand to help them. Lying helpless and
sorely wounded in the temporary asylum which their quarters afforded,
they heard with dismay that practically the whole of the escort on whom
their safety depended had gone over to the faction of Mulraj, a faction
which insisted on his remaining in power, and which was strongly
antagonistic to the claims of British political influence. Alone amid
thousands, it remained only for these brave young officers to offer up
their lives on the altar of British dominion.
Thus strongly committed to a line of action which was far from according
with his weak and vacillating nature, Mulraj raised the standard of
revolt, and sending the fiery cross through the country, called on all
to join in expelling the hated foreigner, and common enemy, from the
Land of the Five Rivers. The prospects of the cause looked bright
indeed. No organised body of British troops lay nearer than Lahore,
hundreds of miles distant; the hot season had commenced, when the
movement of regular troops encounters almost insuperable difficulties;
the whole country was smarting under the sense of recent severe but
hardly conclusive defeat; while hundreds of petty chiefs, and thousands
of soldiers, were chafing under the thinly disguised veil of foreign
sovereignty.
Yet out of the unlooked for West arose a star which in a few brief weeks
eclipsed the rising moon of national aspiration, and, shining bright and
true, helped to guide the frail bark of British supremacy through
victory to the haven of a permanent peace. That star was an unknown
British subaltern named Herbert Edwardes. Edwardes was one of the young
officers deputed to assist the Sikhs in the work of systemising and
purifying their administration, and was at this time engaged in the
revenue settlement of the Dera-Ismail-Khan district. One day in June as
he sat in court settling disputes, there came to him a runner, covered
with dust and sweat, who brought to him a last message from Agnew, as he
lay wounded on his bed in Mooltan. The message asked urgently for help,
and appealed, as the writer knew, to one who would spare no risk or
pains to furnish it. To succour the wounded British officers was a
matter which had passed beyond the region of possibility, for the ink
had hardly dried on their message before they were murdered; but to
re-establish the prestige of the British name, to reassert its dignity
and influence, and to bring to punishment the perpetrators of a hideous
and treacherous crime,--these tasks Herbert Edwardes at once set before
himself.
Alone, save for the presence of one other Englishman, the young British
subaltern, with the sage intrepidity of ripest experience, hastily
summoned the chiefs of the Derajat and Bannu districts to his aid, and
assembled their motley followings under his banner. He sent messengers
to the friendly chief of Bhawulpore, and called on him to join in the
crusade against Mooltan. Then after much feinting and fencing, and
greatly assisted by the stout Van Cortlandt, Edwardes threw his army
across the Indus, at this season a roaring torrent three miles wide, and
sought out his enemy. Coming up with him he defeated Mulraj and his army
of ten thousand men in two pitched battles, and drove him to take refuge
behind the walls of Mooltan.
Accompanying Herbert Edwardes was a detachment of the Guides, lent by
Lumsden, and before the war bent on learning their way about this
portion of the frontier, in accordance with the rôle assigned their
corps. This detachment not only joined with natural zest in the hard
fighting that fell to the share of all, but proved of great service to
the commander as scouts and intelligence men. So far did intrepidity and
love of adventure carry them, that four _sowars_,[4] under Duffadar
Khanan Khan, rode through the enemy's outposts, and with admirable
coolness picketed their horses, probably without excessive ostentation,
amidst the enemy's cavalry. They then separated, and went about to see
and remember that which might be useful to their own commander and their
own comrades in the war. It is perhaps needless to say that discovery
meant instant death, yet, with the happy insolence of the born
free-lance, superb indifference carried them through where the slightest
slip would have been fatal. Indeed, one of them, by name Mohaindin, with
nerves of steel, actually succeeded in being taken on as an orderly by
Diwan Mulraj himself, and while acting as such was severely wounded by a
round shot from one of our own guns at the battle of Sadusam.
[4] _Sowar_, a native trooper.
Meanwhile the headquarters of the Guides, under Lumsden, were hastening
down from Lahore to give Edwardes that invaluable support which, however
meagre in numbers, stout hearts, whose loyalty is above suspicion,
afford to a harassed commander. Joyfully were they welcomed, as one
sweltering day in June the Guides joined the little force which was
besieging an army of equal or perhaps greater strength lying behind the
growing ramparts of Mooltan.
Nor were the new arrivals long in showing their mettle. The camp was
then pitched on the right of the _nullah_ at Suraj Kund, and in this
position was much annoyed by twelve pieces of ordnance, placed in
position round the Bibi Pakdaman mosque. These Lumsden offered to
capture and silence and, if possible, bring away. The service was
carried out with much dash and gallantry, and the guns were captured and
rendered useless, though it was found impossible, in face of the heavy
odds, to bring them off.
But the siege of Mooltan, in so far as the Guides were concerned, was
chiefly memorable for bringing prominently to notice the gallant and
romantic figure of Fatteh Khan, Khuttuk. This noble fellow was one of
those Bayards of the East who know no fear, and as soldiers are without
reproach. Born of a fighting stock and fighting tribe, cradled amidst
wars and alarms, he developed the highest qualities of a brave,
resolute, and resourceful partisan leader. Always ready, always alert,
nothing could upset his equanimity, nothing take him by surprise, while
no odds were too great for him to face. With the true instinct of the
cavalry leader he struck hard and promptly, and upheld in person the
doctrine that boldness, even unto recklessness, should be the watchword
of the light cavalryman. Yet this paladin of the fight could barely
write his name. It is not every soldier who has the opportunity
nowadays, as in the days of champions, to perform a historic deed in the
open with both armies as spectators. Yet so it happened to Ressaldar
Fatteh Khan one hot day in August, 1848, before the walls of Mooltan.
Lumsden was absent on some duty; indeed, there were only three British
officers, and these took turn and turn about in the trenches, when a
messenger galloped into the Guides' camp to report that a marauding
party of the enemy's cavalry, some twenty strong, had driven off a herd
of General Whish's camels which were grazing near his camp. Fatteh Khan,
as ressaldar, was the senior officer in camp, and at once gave the order
for every man to boot and saddle and get to horse at once. The little
party, numbering barely seventy, led by Fatteh Khan, followed the
messenger at a gallop for three miles to the scene of the raid. Arrived
there they suddenly found themselves confronted, not by a marauding
troop of horsemen hastily driving off a herd of camels, but by the whole
force of the enemy's cavalry, some twelve hundred strong. These veteran
swordsmen and lancers, of whose skill and bravery in battle we had had
ample proof during this and previous wars, had been sent out to
intercept a convoy of treasure expected in the British camp. Having,
however, failed in their mission, they were leisurely returning to
Mooltan, when a little cloud appeared on their fighting horizon. Some
returning patrol, no doubt, they thought, some frightened stragglers
driven in perhaps, some stampeding mules or ponies. But no! the little
cloud now discloses a little line of horsemen, tearing along as if the
devil drove. The whole mass of cavalry, like startled deer, halted and
stared at this reckless onslaught; and while thus standing, transfixed
with astonishment, Fatteh Khan and his gallant troop of Guides were on
them.
Yelling fiercely, with lance and sword the Guides clove their way
through the huddling mass of the enemy. Then clearing, they wheeled
about, and with unabated fury fell again upon the benumbed and paralysed
foe. Not yet content, the heroic Khuttuk again called on his men for
another effort, and, rallying and wheeling about, the weary troopers
and still wearier horses once more rode down into the stricken mass. But
"God preserve us from these fiends," muttered the demoralised Sikhs,
and, assisting their deity to answer the pious prayer, the whole mass
broke and fled, pursued up to the very walls of Mooltan by "that thrice
accursed son of perdition, Fatteh Khan, Khuttuk," and the remnants of
his seventy Guides.
Through the intense heat of the summer of 1848 the little cluster of
English officers who stood for British dominion kept heart and energy in
the siege of Mooltan. As Edwardes described the position, it was only a
terrier watching a tiger; but it was at any rate a good stout-hearted
English terrier, and the tiger was afraid to face it. Yet even this
stout terrier had to give way a little, when no reinforcements arrived,
and when, in September, Sher Sing, with three thousand four hundred
cavalry and nine hundred infantry, deserted and went over to the enemy.
The siege, however, was only temporarily raised, and was at once resumed
on the arrival of a column of Bombay troops. This reinforcement
consisted of two British infantry regiments, five Native infantry
regiments, and three regiments of Native cavalry. With his force thus
strengthened General Whish immediately resumed the offensive, and not
only renewed the siege, but determined to take the place by assault. In
the furtherance of this project he first stormed and captured the city,
many of the buildings in which completely dominated the fort at short
effective ranges. From the coigns of vantage thus gained the British
artillery and infantry poured a hail of shot and shell into the doomed
defences, while the cavalry hovered outside ready to pounce on those who
broke cover. Placed in these desperate straits, and without hope of
succour, Diwan Mulraj and the whole of his force surrendered
unconditionally on the 22nd of January, 1849, after a siege which had
lasted nearly seven months.
This timely success released at a critical moment, for service
elsewhere, the British forces engaged in the siege. For meanwhile great
events had been happening in the upper Punjab, and great were yet to
come. On January 13th had been fought the bloody battle of
Chillianwalla, where the casualties on both sides were very severe, and
where the gallant 24th Foot had thirteen officers and the sergeant-major
laid out dead on their mess-table. Lord Gough required nearly three
thousand men to fill the gaps in his ranks before again closing with the
redoubtable Sikhs. On every count, therefore, the news of the fall of
Mooltan was received with considerable satisfaction, and the troops
recently engaged in it with keen alacrity turned their faces northwards
to Lord Gough's assistance, in the hope of arriving in time to throw
their weight into the balance in the closing scenes of a campaign
destined to add a kingdom to the British Empire.
Ahead of the troops from Mooltan went Lumsden and the Guides' cavalry,
followed by Hodson with the Guides' infantry. The corps when re-united,
before it joined Lord Gough, was deflected for the performance of a
detached duty which brought it no little honour. It was reported that
considerable numbers of Sikh troops, under Ganda Singh and Ram Singh,
having crossed the Chenab, were moving south-east heavily laden with
spoil, which having disposed of, they would be free to fall on the
British lines of communication.
Starting in hot haste, Lumsden and Hodson took up the trail, and by
dogged and relentless pursuit, after three days and nights of incessant
marching, came up with their quarry. They found Ganda Singh and his
following at Nuroat on the Beas River, while Ram Singh was some miles
further on.
The position taken up by Ganda Singh was in a clump of mango trees,
surrounded by a square ditch and bank in place of a hedge, as is often
the case in the East. This formed a good natural defence, and piling
their spoil up amongst the trees, Ganda Singh prepared to fight
desperately to hold what they had won with so much toil. The right of
the Sikh position rested on a deep and tortuous nullah, or dry
watercourse, whose precipitous sides, if properly watched, formed an
excellent flank defence; but if unwatched they formed an equally
admirable covered approach whereby an opponent might penetrate or turn
the position. The manifest precaution of setting a watch was, however,
neglected, an error not likely to slip the attention of so skilled a
campaigner as Lumsden. Occupying, therefore, the attention of the enemy
in front by preparations for the infantry attack under Hodson, Lumsden
himself, with the cavalry, slipped into the nullah, and working quietly
past the enemy's flank emerged on to his rear at a spot where a friendly
clump of sugar-cane afforded further concealment till the appointed
moment. A signal was now made for Hodson to attack vigorously in front,
which he accordingly did, and after severe fighting drove the enemy into
the open. Seizing the auspicious moment, Lumsden issued from his
shelter, and falling like a whirlwind on the retiring enemy, literally
swept them from the face of the earth; one man only escaped to tell the
tale. Amongst the recovered loot were found the silver kettle-drums of
the 2nd Irregular Cavalry lost in the recent fighting, and amongst the
slain was Ganda Singh. General Wheler coming up on the following day,
the combined force crossed the Beas, attacked, and utterly routed Ram
Singh, who was occupying a strong position behind that river.
These services performed the Guides turned back, and hastening
northwards arrived in the camp of the Grand Army in time to take part in
the crowning and decisive victory of Gujrat. The battle, according to
history, was chiefly an artillery duel, the preponderance and accuracy
of our fire paving the way for a practically unchecked advance of the
infantry. The Guides, therefore, did not see much fighting during the
battle; but their turn came that night, when, attached to Gilbert's
cavalry division, they joined in the strenuous pursuit of the Sikhs,--a
pursuit which began on the battle-field and ended at the rocky gates of
the Khyber two hundred miles away. The first burst carried the pursuing
squadrons past the battle-field of Chillianwalla, across the Jhelum
river, capturing on the way all the Sikh guns that had escaped from the
battle-field. Snatching a few hours' rest, Gilbert's fine horsemen were
again in the saddle, and with relentless fury hunted the demoralised
enemy, allowing him not a moment's respite, not an hour to steady his
flight or turn to bay. Right through the bright winter days, through a
country of rocks and ravines, pressed on the avenging squadrons; till,
utterly worn out, starving, with ammunition failing, a dejected and
exhausted majority laid down their arms and surrendered unconditionally
at Rawul Pindi. But the Affghan Horse in the service of the Sikhs fled
still further north, hoping to escape to their own country, and in hot
pursuit of these went the Guides, a stern stiff ride of close on a
hundred miles; and running them staunchly to the end, they drove the
sorry remnants across the Affghan border.
Thus brilliantly concluded the second Sikh War, which, after many
anxious moments and much hard fighting, resulted in adding to the
Queen's domains a kingdom larger than France or Germany and more
populous than Italy or Spain; and herein is recorded the modest share
taken by the Guides in these great events.