A NARRATIVE OF THE SIEGE OF DELHI WITH AN ACCOUNT OF
THE MUTINY AT FEROZEPORE IN 1857
BY CHARLES JOHN GRIFFITHS LATE CAPTAIN 61ST REGIMENT
EDITED BY HENRY JOHN YONGE LATE CAPTAIN 61ST REGIMENT
WITH PLANS AND ILLUSTRATIONS
LONDON JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W. 1910
INTRODUCTION
The ever memorable period in the history of our Eastern Empire known as
the Great Indian Rebellion or Mutiny of the Bengal army was an epoch
fraught with the most momentous consequences, and one which resulted in
covering with undying fame those who bore part in its suppression. The
passions aroused during the struggle, the fierce hate animating the
breasts of the combatants, the deadly incidents of the strife, which
without intermission lasted for nearly two years, and deluged with blood
the plains and cities of Hindostan, have scarcely a parallel in history.
On the one side religious fanaticism, when Hindoo and Mohammedan,
restraining the bitter animosity of their rival creeds, united together
in the attempt to drive out of their common country that race which for
one hundred years had dominated and held the overlordship of the greater
portion of India. On the other side, a small band of Englishmen, a
few thousand white men among millions of Asiatics, stood shoulder to
shoulder, calm, fearless, determined, ready to brave the onslaught of
their enemies, to maintain with undiminished lustre the proud deeds of
their ancestors, and to a man resolved to conquer or to die.
Who can recount the numberless acts of heroism, the hairbreadth escapes,
the anxious days and nights passed by our gallant countrymen, who, few
in number, and isolated from their comrades, stood at bay in different
parts of the land surrounded by hundreds of pitiless miscreants, tigers
in human shape thirsting for their blood? And can pen describe the
nameless horrors of the time--gently nurtured ladies outraged and
slain before the eyes of their husbands, children and helpless infants
slaughtered--a very Golgotha of butchery, as all know who have read of
the Well of Cawnpore?
The first months of the rebellion were a fight for dear life, a constant
struggle to avert entire annihilation, for to all who were there it
seemed as though no power on earth could save them. But Providence
willed it otherwise, and after the full extent of the danger was
realized, gloomy forebodings gave way to stern endeavours. Men arose,
great in council and in the field, statesmen and warriors--Lawrence,
Montgomery, Nicholson, Hodson, and many others. The crisis brought to
the front numbers of daring spirits, full of energy and resource, of
indomitable resolution and courage, men who from the beginning saw the
magnitude of the task set before them, and with calm judgment faced the
inevitable. These were they who saved our Indian Empire, and who, by the
direction of their great organized armies, brought those who but a few
years before had been our mortal enemies to fight cheerfully on our
side, and, carrying to a successful termination the leaguer of Delhi,
stemmed the tide of the rebellion, and broke the backbone of the Mutiny.
The interest excited amongst all classes of our countrymen by the events
which happened during the momentous crisis of 1857 in India can scarcely
be appreciated by the present generation. So many years have elapsed
that all those who held high commands or directed the councils of the
Government have long since died, and the young participants in the
contest who survived its toils and dangers are all now past middle age.
But the oft-told tale will still bear repetition, and the recital of the
achievements of Englishmen during the great Indian rebellion will fill
the hearts of their descendants for all time with pride, and incite them
to emulate their actions. In the hour of danger the heart of the nation
is stirred to its profoundest depths, the national honour is at stake,
and that heritage bequeathed to us by our ancestors must at all hazards
be preserved. Thus it happened in 1857, and the result is well known. So
it may again occur, and with confidence it may be predicted that, as of
yore, Britain's sons will not be found wanting in the hour of trial,
that, keeping well in mind the glorious traditions of their race, they
will maintain unsullied the reputation of their forefathers, and add to
the renown of that Empire on which the sun never sets.
It is unnecessary, in this place, to enter into the causes which led
to the mutiny of the Bengal army. These can be read and studied in the
graphic pages of Kaye and Malleson. My intention is to give, as far as
in me lies, a truthful account of the events in which I personally bore
part, and which came under my own immediate observation.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
FEROZEPORE
_May 10 to June 13_
Outbreak at Meerut--Neglect of arsenals--H.M.'s 61st
Regiment--Characteristics of the British troops in India--Outbreak
unexpected--First indication of disaffection--News of the Mutiny at
Meerut--Steps taken at Ferozepore--Wives and families moved to the
barracks--A party of the 61st Regiment sent into the fort--Proceedings
within the fort--45th Regiment of Native Infantry tries to take the
fort--It is repulsed--Criticism of the Brigadier's conduct--His want of
initiative--The cantonment fired--The damage done--Bells of arms blown
up--The 61st dismissed to barracks--A patrol ordered--State of the
cantonment--Action of the mutineers--Officers quartered in the
barracks--Grenadiers again on special duty--Indifference displayed by
the Brigadier--Measures adopted for the safety of the cantonment--Search
for mess property--Parsimony of the Government--Anxiety in the
Punjab--Loyalty of the Sikhs--Sir John Lawrence's appeal to
them--Their characteristics--Spread of the Mutiny--Reaction
at Ferozepore--Night-attacks--One in particular--Trial of
prisoners--Sentences--Executions
CHAPTER II
ON THE MARCH
_June 13 to July 1_
A wing of the 61st ordered to Delhi--The five companies
selected--Readiness displayed by the regiment--On the march--Cholera
appears--I visit an old friend--Badli-ki-Serai--News from Delhi--Entry
into camp
CHAPTER III
BEFORE DELHI
_July 1 to September 7_
A view of Delhi--Vicissitudes of the city--Its defences--defences--The
ridge--Position of our camp--Our position--The Goorkhas--Cholera
raging--Heat and flies--Executions--The Metcalfe pickets--A sortie
expected--expected--Hodson--Bombardment of Metcalfe picket--Enemy
reported moving on Alipore--A force sent after them--The action
described--Forces complimented by Sir Henry Barnard--His death--His
services--Our meagre armament--Scarcity of ammunition--Amusing
incident--The Metcalfe house--Our bugle-calls in use by the enemy--A
sortie--Ruse by the enemy's cavalry--Gallant conduct of Lieutenant
Hills and Major Tombs, Bengal Artillery--Expedition under Brigadier
Chamberlain--Chamberlain--Gallant conduct of Brigadier Wm. Jones--Fight
at Kishenganj--Meeting with an old friend--A sad story--story--Story of
C---- d--A victim of the Meerut massacre--massacre--Strong feeling of
revenge in all ranks--A sortie--Attack on Sabzi Mandi pickets and right
ridge--An awkward position--Heavy loss of enemy--Cholera and other
sickness prevalent--Fishing--Provisions, etc., much appreciated--General
Reed resigns and is succeeded by General Wilson--Attack on Sabzi Mandi
and Hindoo Rao's repulsed--Bodies of slain sepoys rifled--Difficulty of
preventing it--General's approval of Colonel Jones's conduct--The number
of attacks by the enemy--Sortie on our left--Repulsed by Brigadier
Showers--Expedition under Major Coke--Attack on right pickets at
sunset--Combat continues all night--Enemy retires--Loss of enemy--Result
of General Wilson's appointment--We attempt to destroy the bridge
of boats--Demonstration by the enemy--Pickets on the right
harassed--Metcalfe pickets shelled--Brigadier Showers takes four
guns--Our reinforcements arrive under Nicholson--His character--Mrs.
Seeson comes in from the city--The enemy fires rockets--He establishes a
battery on the left bank of the river--river--Sortie--Expedition under
Nicholson--Battle of Najafgarh--Elkington mortally wounded--Gabbett
killed--killed--Death of Elkington--Right pickets harassed--An amusing
incident--The Afghans--Alarm in the Punjab--Bands play in camp--Fatal
shell from across the river--An uncomfortable bath--The siege-train
arrives--Our allies--Zeal of the engineers--New batteries established
CHAPTER IV
CAPTURE OF THE CITY
_September 7 to 14_
Strength of our force--General Wilson's order--Volunteers for artillery
called for--All our batteries open fire--Number of casualties during
bombardment--Frequent sorties--Death of Captain Fagan, Bengal
Artillery--Breaches examined--Orders for the assault--Details of
columns--The assault--Blowing in of Kashmir Gate--Details of the
operations--Cowardly tactics of the enemy--Gallant conduct of Private
Moylan, 61st Regiment--Gallant conduct of Surgeon Reade, 61st
Regiment--Doing of Nos. 1 and 2 columns--Nicholson mortally wounded--No.
4 column attacks Kishenganj--Conduct of the Kashmir troops--They
lose their guns--Their search for them--Failure of the attack on
Kishenganj--Intention of the enemy--Work of the Cavalry Brigade--Support
by the Guides infantry--Casualties on September 14--Bravery of the
native troops--Temptations to drink--All liquor destroyed--We construct
more batteries--Reported intentions of the General--These overruled--The
enemy attacks our advanced posts--We storm the magazine--Further
advance of Nos. 1 and 2 Columns--The 61st move to the church--Colonel
Skinner--State of the church--Unsuccessful attack on the Burn
bastion--Eclipse of the sun--The Burn bastion captured--The enemy begin
to retire--Capture of the Lahore Gate and Garstin bastion--The Palace
and Selimgarh taken--The Jama Masjid taken--The 61st move to Ali Khan's
house--Casualties--Reflections
CHAPTER V
OCCUPATION OF THE CITY
_September 20 to May, 1858_
Lack of appreciation by Government--A contrast--Delay in issue of prize
money and medals--Unceremonious presentation of the latter--Complete
desertion of the city by the enemy--A stroll through the
city--Looting--Discovery of hiding inhabitants--They are ordered
to leave the city--Disgraceful desertion of pets--State of the
streets--Hodson captures the King of Delhi--The King's appearance
described--His trial and sentence--Hodson captures the King's sons and
grandson--Their deaths--Diminished strength of the 61st Regiment--It
moves to the Ajmir Gate--The Jama Masjid and view from it--Its
garrison--A movable column dispatched towards Cawnpore--Soldiers
and others forbidden to enter or leave the city--The Mooltani
horse--Indulgence to Goorkhas--Their appreciation--An exodus--Strict
regulations--State of feeling of the army--Work of the Provost
Marshal--Two reputed sons of the King executed--The suburbs--An amusing
incident--Visiting the old positions--Cholera still rife--2,000 sick and
wounded in the Selimgarh--We move to the magazine--I am recommended for
sick leave--I leave Delhi for Umballah--I am robbed _en route_--Report
matters to Commissioner and receive compensation--Leave for Ferozepore
and home
CHAPTER VI
THE RICHES OF DELHI
Delhi famed for its treasures--General Wilson's order--Army anxious
about prize-money--Batta to be granted instead--Indignation of
army generally--Humorous placard--Interest on unpaid prize-money
promised--Opinion of the Times--Prize-agents appointed--Early looting--A
white elephant--Evidence of looting--The practice excused--A lucky
haul--Scruples cast aside--Personal experiences--A tempting display--No
proper account rendered--Method of search--A mine of wealth--A neglected
opportunity--A happy thought--A wrinkle--A favourite hiding-place--An
exceptional house--A mishap--Art treasures--"'Tis an ill wind,"
etc.--Pleasant memories
INDEX
LIST OF MAPS AND ILLUSTRATIONS
PLAN OF DELHI, 1857
PLAN OF THE MILITARY STATION AT FEROZEPORE
DELHI, FROM THE MOSQUE PICKET
THE SMALL PICKET, SABZI MANDI, FROM THE SOUTH-EAST
FROM THE SMALL PICKET, SABZI MANDI, LOOKING TOWARDS KISHENGANJ
SKETCH TO ILLUSTRATE THE ENGAGEMENT AT NAJAFGARH IN AUGUST, 1857
KING OF DELHI AS A PRISONER IN 1857
"HOMEWARD," NEAR JERRICK, ON THE INDUS
[Illustration: PLAN OF DELHI 1857
N _Here Nicholson fell on Sept 14th_]
REMINISCENCES OF THE SIEGE OF DELHI, 1857
CHAPTER I
FEROZEPORE
The actual Mutiny of the Bengal army broke out at Meerut on May 10,
1857. Events had happened in the Lower Provinces which foreshadowed the
coming storm, and one regiment of native infantry had been disbanded;
but no one, not even those in high authority, had the faintest suspicion
that our rule in India was imperilled. So strong, indeed, was the
sense of security from present danger that the Government, with almost
culpable neglect, still confided to the care of the native army the
large arsenals of Delhi, Ferozepore, and Phillour, in all of which
immense quantities of ammunition and munitions of war were stored.
There was not a single white regiment stationed at Delhi, not even a
European guard, the charge of the arsenal, the largest in Upper India,
being entrusted to a few officers and sergeants of artillery. The same
may be said of Phillour, in the Punjab--a small station, where only
native troops were quartered. The fort of Ferozepore, near the left bank
of the Sutlej River, was guarded by 100 men detailed from the sepoy
regiments at that cantonment, and, with Phillour, constituted the
only places from which ammunition could be drawn for the large force,
European and native, guarding the newly-acquired province of the Punjab.
Her Majesty's 61st Regiment of Foot was stationed at Ferozepore in May,
1857. In that corps I held a commission as Lieutenant, and, during the
absence of my Captain on leave in Kashmir, was in temporary command of
the Grenadier Company.
The regiment at this time mustered nearly 1,000 men, half that number
old and gallant veterans of from ten to twenty years' service. These
had fought in many Indian campaigns, and on the terrible day of
Chillianwalla, in January, 1849, when the Khalsa army rolled back in
utter defeat a portion of Lord Gough's force, had, under the leadership
of Sir Colin Campbell, altered the fortunes of the battle. Advancing
in line under a tremendous cannonade, and without firing a shot, they
marched as if on parade and in stern silence till within fifty yards
of the Sikh batteries, when, with a shout which struck terror into the
breasts of their enemies, they charged irresistibly and took the guns.
It was to men such as these that, fortunately for the maintenance of our
Empire in the East, England trusted in the perilous days of 1857. As
of my own regiment, so it may be said of all then quartered in
India--sturdy, fine fellows, of good physique, of rare discipline, and
inured to the climate, who, in the words of the Iron Duke, could march
anywhere and fight anything. The army then had not been improved out
of existence; reforms, if such they can be called, were received with
considerable disfavour; for what amelioration could be effected in the
discipline and steady courage of those who had stormed the heights of
the Alma, had stood the shock of the Muscovite at Inkerman, and had not
despaired on the bloody fields of Ferozeshah and Chillianwalla?
I may be excused if I thus energetically offer my tribute of praise to
that army, and more especially to that regiment in which I passed my
young days. I recall the numberless acts of devotion and courage, the
tender solicitude with which the veterans of the Grenadier Company
looked after the safety of their youthful commander, during the
campaigns of 1857; and my pen falters and my eyes grow dim with tears as
memory brings before me my gallant comrades in the ranks who fell before
Delhi, or lost their lives through disease and exposure.
I had been absent from my regiment during the whole of 1856, doing duty
at the Murree Convalescent Depot, and rejoined in March of the following
year. Nothing occurred for the next two months to break the monotony of
life in an Indian cantonment. Parade in the early morning, rackets and
billiards during the day, a drive or ride along the Mall in the cool of
the evening, and the usual mess dinner--these constituted the routine of
our uneventful existence.
Many of the officers lamented the hard fate which had doomed them to
service in the East, while the more fortunate regiments had been earning
fame and quick promotion in the Crimea and in the recent Persian
campaign. We little thought of what was in store for us, or of the
volcano which was smouldering under our feet.
The signs of incipient mutiny in the native army had been confined, up
to this time, to the Presidency of Bengal and to the regiments quartered
there. With us at Ferozepore there was little, if any, indication of the
coming outbreak. True it was that some of us noticed sullen looks and
strange demeanour among the sepoys of the two battalions. They, on
occasions, passed our officers without the customary salute, and, if
my memory serves, a complaint of this want of respect was forwarded to
their Colonels. Our billiard-marker, too, a high-caste Brahmin who had
served on our side in the Afghan campaigns of 1839-42 in the capacity
of a spy, a man of cunning and intelligence, warned us in unmistakable
terms of the increasing disaffection among the sepoys of Ferozepore, and
stated his opinion that the spirit of mutiny was rife among them. We
laughed at his fears, and dismissed from our minds all alarm, vaunting
our superiority in arms to the dusky soldiery of Hindostan, and in our
hearts foolishly regarding them with lordly contempt.
Thus passed in the usual quiet the first twelve days of the month of
May, 1857. The morning of May 13 saw us, as usual, on parade; then,
adjourning to the mess-house, we spent a few hours over breakfast and
billiards, and before midday separated to pass the heat of the day
reading, lounging, and sleeping at our respective bungalows.
I occupied a large house some distance from the mess in company with a
field-officer and the Adjutant of my regiment. The former, about
1 p. m., was summoned by an orderly to attend a meeting at the quarters
of the Brigadier[1] commanding the troops at Ferozepore. We paid no heed
to this incident, as it occurred to us that the Major's advice and
opinion were required on some matter of regimental or other routine.
Vicars and I were in the habit, since the hot weather began, of making
ices every afternoon, and had become, from long practice, quite
proficient at the work. At three o'clock we were in the midst of our
occupation, our whole thoughts and energies bent on the accomplishment
of our task. Clad in loose déshabillé, seated on the floor of the
sitting-room, we worked and watched the process of congelation.
Presently a quick step was heard in the hall, the door was thrown open,
and the Major, rushing in, sank breathless into a chair. The Adjutant
and I jumped up, and in our haste upset the utensils, spilling on the
floor the contents we had taken so much trouble to prepare. A minute or
two passed, and still no word from our friend, who, portly in shape, and
of a plethoric temperament, seemed overcome by some terrible excitement,
and fairly gasped for breath.
"What on earth is the matter?" we asked.
Slowly, and as though uttered with considerable difficulty, the answer
came:
"All the Europeans in India have been murdered!"
Now this was rather a startling announcement, and somewhat premature,
considering that we three, at any rate, were in the land of the living,
with no immediate prospect of coming dissolution. We looked at each
other, at first serious and alarmed, as became the gravity of the
situation, and utterly unable to comprehend what it all meant. This
phase of the affair, however, did not last long, and soon changed from
grave to gay. A merry twinkle appeared in Vicars' eyes, to which my own
responded, and at last, fully alive to the absurdity of the gallant
officer's remark, our pent-up sense of the ridiculous was fairly
awakened, and we roared with laughter again and again.
This unlooked-for result of his dismal communication roused the Major,
who first rebuked us for our levity, and, after an interval occupied in
the recovery of his scattered senses, proceeded to acquaint us with the
true facts of what had happened at the Brigadier's quarters.
A despatch by telegraph had arrived that morning from Meerut, the
largest cantonment in Upper India, stating that the regiment of native
light cavalry at that place had mutinied in a body on the 10th instant,
and marched for Delhi. This had been followed by a revolt of all the
sepoy infantry and artillery, a rising of the natives in the city, the
bazaars and the surrounding country, who, almost unchecked, had murdered
the European men and women on whom they could lay their hands, and
besides, had set fire to and "looted" many houses in the station.
Fortunately for the safety of the English in India, the miscreants
failed to cut the telegraph-wires at Meerut till too late, and the news
of the mutiny and outrage was as quickly as possible flashed to every
cantonment in the country.
The Brigadier had therefore ordered the commanding and field officers
of the different regiments stationed at Ferozepore to meet him in
consultation at his quarters. Intelligence so startling as that just
received required no small amount of judgment and deliberation in
dealing with the native soldiers at this cantonment, and some time
elapsed before the council decided as to what was best to be done under
the circumstances.
Finally it was resolved that a general parade of Her Majesty's 61st Foot
and the battery of European artillery should be held at four o'clock
on the lines in front of the barracks of the former corps. The two
regiments of native infantry were to assemble at the same time, and,
with their English Officers, were ordered to march from their quarters,
taking separate directions: the 45th to proceed into the country,
leaving the fort of Ferozepore on their right, while the 57th were to
march out of cantonments to the left rear of the lines of the European
infantry. The commanding officers of these regiments were also
instructed to keep their men, if possible, well in hand, to allow no
straggling, and to halt in the country until further orders after they
had proceeded three or four miles. The remaining regiment, the 10th
Native Light Cavalry, for some reason or other was considered staunch
(and as events proved, it remained so for a time), and it was therefore
ordained that the troopers should parade mounted and under arms in their
own lines ready for any emergency.
Thus far we learnt from the Major, and Vicars, whose duties as Adjutant
required his presence at the barracks at once, donned his uniform, and,
mounting his horse, rode in all haste to give directions for the general
parade.
Shortly before four o'clock the Major and I also left the house and
joined the regiment, which was drawn up in open column of companies in
front of the lines.
Notice had previously been sent to the married officers in the station
directing them to make immediate arrangements for the transport of their
wives and families to the barracks. This order was obeyed without loss
of time, and before half-past four all the ladies and children in the
cantonment were safe under the protection of our soldiers at the main
guard.
The barracks of the European infantry at Ferozepore were distant half
a mile from the station, and consisted of ten or twelve large detached
buildings, one for each company, arranged in echelon, with some thirty
paces between each. In front of these was the parade-ground where
we were drawn up, and before us an open plain, 300 yards in width,
extending to the entrenched camp, or, as it was generally called, the
fort and arsenal of Ferozepore. The space around the fort was quite
clear, its position being directly opposite the centre of the
cantonment, from which it was separated by some 200 yards.
From our situation on parade we had a direct and unbroken view of
the localities I have endeavoured to describe, and holding this
vantage-ground, we should be enabled to act as circumstances might
require.
The regiment wheeled into line more than 900 strong. One hundred men
under command of a field-officer were then detached, with orders to
disarm the sepoy guard in the fort, and to remain there on duty pending
any attempt which might probably be made by the two native regiments to
gain forcible possession of the arsenal.
The detachment marched off, and we watched our comrades cross the plain,
and enter without molestation the gates of the fort.
In anxious expectation we waited for the result, when, after a short
interval, shots were heard, and we knew that our men had engaged the
sepoy guard. The firing was continuous while it lasted, but soon died
away. A mounted officer then rode out at the gate, and, galloping to
where the Colonel was standing, reported that the sepoys, when ordered
to lay down their arms, refused, and that one of them, taking direct aim
at the Major,[2] shot him in the thigh, leaving a dangerous wound. Our
men then poured a volley into the mutineers, who fired in return, but
fortunately without causing any casualty on our side. Two sepoys had
been killed and several wounded, while the remainder, offering no
further resistance, were disarmed and made prisoners.
Meantime the regiment stood under arms in line, and another company was
sent to reinforce the men in the fort.
Amid great excitement, more especially among the young soldiers, we
waited to see what would follow when the sepoy battalions marching from
cantonments into the country appeared in sight. Eagerly it was whispered
amongst us, "Will the rascals fight, or remain loyal and obedient to the
orders of their officers?"
The evening was drawing on apace, but at last, about six o'clock, the
heads of the columns emerged from the houses and gardens of the station,
the 45th Native Infantry advancing in almost a direct line to the
fort, while the 57th Native Infantry were inclined to their right, and
followed the road leading to the rear of our lines. All eyes were turned
on the former regiment, and its movements were ardently scanned.
Closer and closer they came to the fort, till, when only about fifty
paces distant, the column wavered. We could see the officers rushing
about among their men, and in another instant the whole mass broke
into disorder and ran pell-mell in hundreds towards the ditch which
surrounded the entrenchment.
This was of no depth, with sloping sides, and easy to escalade, and in
less time than I take to write it the sepoys, with a shout, jumped into
the trench, scrambled up the parapet, and disappeared from our sight
into the enclosure.
It was not long before we heard the sound of firing, and shots came in
quick succession, maddening us beyond control, for we thought of our
men, few in number and scattered over the fort, opposed to some five or
six hundred of these savages.
We had loaded with ball-cartridge soon after forming on parade, and the
men now grasped their muskets, and cries and murmurs were heard, "Why
do we not advance?" and all this couched in language more forcible than
polite.
The order at last was given to fix bayonets, and then came the welcome
words:
"The line will advance."
Every heart thrilled with excitement. All longed to have a brush with
the mutineers, and help our comrades in the fort who were fighting
against such odds.
Twenty paces only we advanced, and then, by the Brigadier's command, our
Colonel[3] gave the order to halt.
The men were furious, and could hardly be restrained from marching
forward, when, looking towards the outer side of the fort, we saw some
sepoys on the ramparts, evidently in a state of panic, throw themselves
into the ditch, and mounting the other side, run helterhelterskelter
into the country. These were followed by numbers of others, who all made
off as fast as their legs would carry them, and then we heard a true
British cheer, our men appeared on the walls shooting at the fugitives,
bayonetting and driving them over the glacis.
The fight had continued some twenty minutes, and was pretty severe while
it lasted. A few of our men were more or less hurt, but of the sepoys
many had been killed and wounded. About 100 also had laid down their
arms, and, begging for mercy, were taken prisoners.
Nothing could have been more culpable than the conduct of the Brigadier
in not advancing a portion, at any rate, of my regiment to the fort at
the time the sepoys broke their ranks and entered the entrenchment. Had
he done so, it is probable that not one of the mutineers of the 45th
Native Infantry would have escaped, nor would the havoc which afterwards
occurred in the cantonment have taken place. But he was an old East
India Company's officer, and had served upwards of forty years in the
native army, having to the last, like many others at that eventful time,
implicit confidence in the loyalty of the sepoys. He feared, also, the
responsibility of letting loose the English soldiery to wreak their
vengeance on the mutineers, knowing too well that, with passions roused
and hearts steeled to pity by the murders and outrages committed at
Meerut, and the late wounding of their field-officer, our men would have
given no quarter. The Brigadier was one of the very few officers in high
command at the outbreak of the Mutiny who were found wanting in the time
of trial. His, no doubt, was a hard task; but, had he shown the smallest
aptitude to meet the crisis, there would have been no difficulty, with
the ample means at his disposal, in disarming without bloodshed the
whole native force at Ferozepore, and so crushing the rebellion at that
station.
Night came, and we still remained in line under arms without having
moved a foot from where we were halted. Conjectures were rife as to what
would next happen. Officers and men were grieved, no less than annoyed,
at the state of inaction in which we had been kept, and an uneasy
feeling prevailed that during the night the mutinous sepoys, aided by
the _badmashes_, or bad characters, who swarmed in the bazaars and city
of Ferozepore, would, under cover of the darkness, run riot over the
cantonment, without our being called on to interfere.
And so, unhappily, it came to pass. The native cavalry at about eight
o'clock marched down to our lines, and drew up on the right of the
regiment, the European artillery being on our left flank.
Soon after their arrival the arms were piled and the men fell out of
the ranks, some to lie down on the ground, others forming in groups and
discussing the strange events of the day.
Suddenly a light was seen in the direction of the cantonment, which
quickly turned into a blaze of fire. What new horror was this? Were our
houses to be gutted and burnt before our eyes without any attempt to
prevent such outrage?
The men, at the first appearance of fire, had sprung to their feet and
almost involuntarily seized their arms. Surely a detachment would be
sent to clear the cantonment of the incendiaries? Even this was not
done: the Brigadier was absent, or could not be found, and our Colonel
intimated to some officers who spoke to him on the subject that he could
give no orders without the chief's consent.
So, incredible though it may appear, we stood and watched the fires,
which followed each other in quick succession till the whole cantonment
seemed in a blaze, and the flames, darting up in every direction,
lighted up the surrounding country.
We could hear distinctly the shouts of the scoundrels, and pictured to
ourselves the black wretches holding high carnival among the burning
buildings and laughing at the white soldiers, who, with arms in their
hands, remained motionless in their own lines.
That night more than twenty houses were burnt to the ground. The English
church, we afterwards heard, was first fired, then the Roman Catholic
chapel, our mess-house, and nineteen other bungalows. The sepoys, mostly
of the 45th Native Infantry, attended by dozens of _badmashes_, marched
unchallenged through the station with lighted torches fixed on long
bamboo poles, with which they set fire to the thatched roofs of the
various houses.
All night long we lay by our arms, watching the destruction of our
property, and thankful only that the wives and children of our officers
and men were safe under our care, and not exposed to the fury of the
wretches engaged in their fiendish work.
Even after this long lapse of years, I cannot think of that night
without a feeling of shame. Here were 700 men, mostly veterans, of one
of Her Majesty's regiments, doomed to inaction through the blundering
and stupid perverseness of an old sepoy Brigadier. The same unhappy
events as those I have narrated occurred at the outbreak of the Mutiny
in three other stations in the Bengal Presidency.
The commanders would not act against their trusted sepoys, who, as in
our case, plundered, outraged, and destroyed all and everything that
came in their way.
_May 14_.--The morning of May 14 dawned, close and hot, not a breath of
wind stirring. The sun rose like a ball of fire, and shortly afterwards
we were startled by an explosion which shook the earth under our feet,
and sounded like a heavy peal of thunder in the still morning air.
Looking in the direction of the report, we saw on the far right side
of the cantonment a thick black column of smoke shoot up high into the
atmosphere. A quarter of an hour passed, and then another detonation
similar to the first sounded in our ears on the left rear flank,
followed, as before, by a dense cloud of smoke.
We said to ourselves: "Will the arsenal next be blown up?" In the fort
was stored an immense quantity of powder and munitions of war, and,
fearing that perhaps some rebel might have found his way in for the
purpose of devoting his life to the destruction of the entrenchment and
the annihilation of the European guard, we remained anxiously expectant
for some time.
No cause could be assigned for the explosions we had heard, but we
were informed subsequently that, by the orders of our commander, the
magazines or bells of arms belonging to the two native regiments had
been blown up by a party of sappers in the fear that they might fall
into the hands of the rebellious sepoys. It was a futile precaution, and
a mere waste of ammunition; for nothing could have been easier than to
send the contents of the magazines under our escort to the arsenal.
At eight o'clock we were dismissed to barracks, and left the spot where
we had stood in line inert and inactive since four o'clock the previous
afternoon.
Shortly after breakfast I was sent for by the Colonel to the
orderly-room, and informed that it was the wish of the Brigadier that I
should proceed with my company into the cantonments. I was ordered
to make strict search for, and to take prisoner, any sepoys or bad
characters that might be lurking about; and to this end I was to
patrol the station from one side to the other. I was also to visit
the commissariat quarters, disarm the native guard, using force if
necessary, and secure the treasure chest, which contained some 20,000
rupees.
It struck me that this duty might very well have been performed many
hours before. Why had not a company been detailed to patrol the
cantonment the previous evening, or, at any rate, at the first sign of
incendiarism?
However, I started without delay with ninety Grenadiers, and marched
over a great part of the station, extending the company in skirmishing
order whenever we passed through the numerous large gardens, orchards,
and enclosures.
Not a soul was to be seen, and the place seemed entirely deserted. The
sepoys, after their work of destruction, must have left during the
night, and were now probably well on their way to Delhi, while the
_badmashes_ who had assisted them had returned quietly to their
occupations in the bazaars of the city.
The cantonment presented a complete scene of desolation. The church and
chapel were a heap of burnt-up and smouldering ruins, our mess-house the
same, and numerous bungalows--former residences of the officers--were
still on fire. The heat from the burning embers was intense, and as we
passed slowly by we viewed, with anger in our hearts, the lamentable
results of the timidity and vacillation, the irresolution and culpable
neglect, of one man.
Lastly, we visited the commissariat quarters at the far side of the
station. Here there was no guard, not even a native in charge. Strange
inconsistency! It turned out that, some hours before our arrival, the
sepoy guard, true in this respect to their trust, had procured a cart,
taken the treasure to the fort, there handed it over to the officer at
the gate, and then started for Delhi.
My duty was accomplished, and I marched the Grenadiers back to barracks,
then reported the unsatisfactory result of my mission to the Colonel;
and, thoroughly tired and worn out from want of rest, I threw myself on
a bed and slept soundly for some hours.
We were told that afternoon that the 57th Native Infantry, who had
marched to the rear of our barracks the evening before, had remained
quietly in the country during the night without one sepoy showing any
mutinous disposition. In the early morning, without molesting their
English officers, about half the regiment signified their intention of
marching down-country; while of the rest, some 300 men returned to their
lines at Ferozepore, and on being called upon to do so by the Colonel,
laid down their arms.
It must be recorded to the credit of these regiments that no officer was
hurt by them, or even insulted. The sepoys quietly but firmly announced
that they released themselves from the service of the East India
Company, and were about to become enrolled as subjects of the King of
Delhi. Then, in several instances even saluting their officers and
showing them every mark of respect, they turned their faces to the great
focus of rebellion, to swell the number of those who were about to fight
against us in the Mohammedan capital of Hindostan.
The officers of these two corps were more fortunate than their comrades
of other regiments throughout the land, many of whom were shot down by
their own sepoys in cold blood under circumstances of signal barbarity.
They saw their wives and children murdered before their faces, while
those who escaped the fury of the sepoys wandered in helpless flight
through jungles and plains, suffering incredible privations. Some few
there were who reached a friendly station, or were succoured and hidden
by loyal natives. But the greater number fell by the hands of the
wretches who in these times of outrage and anarchy swarmed out of the
low quarters of the cities, and swept unchecked over the whole country
in hundreds and thousands.
The officers had taken up their quarters in the barracks in one or the
centre buildings, which was reserved entirely for their use. Here we
endeavoured to make ourselves as comfortable as possible under the
circumstances, the large apartment serving at once as mess-house
sitting-room and bedroom for us all. The Colonel alone lived apart,
while the married ladies and their families for the present occupied the
main guard bungalow pending arrangements for more suitable quarters.
The poor ladies, as was natural, were in a state of great agitation, and
would not be comforted. We did our best to quiet their fears, telling
them there was not the slightest danger as regarded their safety; that,
even were we attacked by the rebels, they need have no dread of the
result, for we were more than a match for double our number of sepoys.
Still, it pained us much to see their distress, and we could only be
thankful that, come what might, they were under the protection of
British soldiers.
On the evening of May 14, at sunset, I was sitting smoking and chatting
in the barrack-room with some of our officers when, quite unexpectedly,
I was again called to the orderly-room, and directed to march with the
Grenadier company on outlying picket to the left rear of the cantonment,
and close to the lines of the disarmed sepoys. Two guns of the Light
Field Battery, under a subaltern, were also placed under my orders, and
I took with me a young ensign to assist me in my duties.
The Brigadier said he had received intelligence that an attack by the
mutineers was expected from the direction of Lahore; and I was told to
keep a sharp lookout, in case the enemy made during the night a flank
movement on the station. I was also constantly to patrol the lines of
the native regiments, to confine the sepoys to their huts, and to take
prisoner any who ventured outside.
The short Indian twilight was drawing to a close when I arrived on the
ground, and, without losing time, I drew up the Grenadiers in line, with
the two guns a little in advance and on my left flank.
Two sentries were posted in front of the guns, two on the right and left
of my small detachment, and two in the rear.
The plain extended before us for miles to the horizon, bare and
treeless, without one intervening obstacle.
Evening closed and night came on--a night dark as Erebus, though the
stars shone bright and luminous in the heavens. All nature was silent
as the grave, and, save for the tramp of the sentinels and the marching
away and return of the patrolling parties, for hours we heard no sound.
Before leaving barracks the picket had loaded the guns with grape and
the old Brown Bess (there were no rifles in most of the Indian regiments
in those far-off days) with ball-cartridge. I had also ordered the
men to fix bayonets, and we were thus fully prepared to give a warm
reception to any sepoys who might attack us. The arms were piled, and in
silence we lay on the ground.
Presently, about midnight, one of the sentinels in front of the guns
challenged:
"Who comes there?"
There was no answer, and the cry was repeated, the sentry at the same
moment firing off his musket.
The company sprang to their arms, and I called on the sentries in front
to retreat under cover of the guns. Almost simultaneously, and before
the men could retire, flashes of fire appeared on the plain, and
numerous shots came whistling over our heads, while, clear and distinct,
a cry rang out, and we knew that one of the sentries had been hit. Close
following the first came several straggling shots, but the rascals fired
too high, and we had no casualty. I then ordered the men to fire a
volley, and the artillery officer at the same time swept his front with
grape from the two guns.
After these discharges all was still, and we strained our eyes in the
darkness, but could see nothing. Then, taking with me a sergeant and
four men, I proceeded to where the sentry had made the first challenge.
We found the poor fellow lying face downwards on the ground, and raising
him up, saw that he was quite dead. Slowly and tenderly the body was
borne to the picket, and on examination by the light of a lantern, we
discovered that he had received a bullet over the region of the heart,
and that death, therefore, must have been instantaneous. My heart
sickened at the sight; this was my first contact with the horrors of
war, and the remembrance will remain with me to my dying day.
The other sentinel was then questioned, and from him we learnt that,
peering through the darkness when the challenge was first given, he had
seen figures passing in his front across the plain. Soon they halted and
fired, and then disappeared, probably having lain down to escape being
hit by our men. Hearing this, I sent out a small reconnoitring party,
which patrolled the plain for some distance. They returned with the
news that all was quiet, and no human being was to be seen. Two fresh
sentries were placed in front of the guns, and the men lay down as
before, fully expecting another attack.
_May 15_.--All, however, passed off without further incident, and at
sunrise I marched the picket to barracks and reported myself to the
Brigadier. He made no comment on the events of the night, nor did he
even ask for particulars as to the manner of the soldier's death. The
mutineers, he said, were in scattered detachments still, no doubt
prowling about the outskirts of the cantonment and in the neighbouring
villages, taking advantage of every opportunity to harass and inflict
loss on our soldiers.
From this time forward for nearly a month, with the single exception of
one encounter with a body of mutineers, which I shall relate hereafter,
no event of importance occurred at Ferozepore.
The chief danger had passed from our midst in the flight towards Delhi
of more than half of the two battalions of sepoys, the disarmament of
300 of the 57th, and the imprisonment of those who had been captured
fighting when attempting to take the arsenal.
Everything being thus comparatively peaceful, with no enemy in the
vicinity, the Brigadier at last woke up to a sense of his duty; and
extraordinary measures were taken by his command for the safety of the
cantonments and lines of Ferozepore.
It was ordered that one company should be placed each night on advanced
outlying picket, another on rear picket, and a third to be stationed at
the main guard to furnish sentries as a cordon round the whole extent
of the barracks. Two companies were to remain constantly in the fort in
charge of a senior Captain, so that, out of the ten companies, six were
always on duty.
Under the excitement which first prevailed, and the necessity of being
prepared in case of a night attack from the roving bands of rebellious
soldiery who from all directions were making for the imperial city,
plundering and ravaging on the route, this duty was cheerfully
undertaken. But as time went by, and week succeeded week, without a
shot being fired to relieve the monotony of our lives, the work became
irksome in the extreme.
The regiment therefore fell into a regular groove of guard and picket
duty. We longed to have a fight with the enemy, and still were doomed to
remain in a state of masterly inactivity. At the fort the work was most
trying, and resolved itself into a course of manual labour. There it was
ordered that under the ammunition sheds deep pits were to be dug in the
ground. This duty was performed entirely by the English soldiers, and
continued for a fortnight in the hottest season of the year. In the
receptacles thus formed all the barrels of powder, as well as the small
arms, ammunition, etc., were packed and stowed away, the whole being
covered with earth to the depth of several feet. This was a very needful
expedient, for a stray spark might have blown up the vast stores of
munitions of war, without which it would have been impossible to carry
on future operations against the enemy. No fires for any purpose were
permitted in the fort, and, greatest deprivation of all, the men were
not allowed to smoke during the twenty-four hours they were on guard.
Three or four days after the outbreak, and when everything seemed quiet
in and around the cantonment, two officers and myself, taking with us
some native labourers carrying spades and shovels, proceeded, under
orders from our Colonel, to search for the silver plate buried under
the ruins of our mess-house. We found the brick walls standing; but all
inside the building was one mass of ashes and still-smouldering embers.
We knew the locality of the plate chest, and, setting the coolies to
work, after infinite labour, which lasted some hours, we succeeded in
removing a vast heap of cinders, and found portions of the silver. A
little lower down we came on more; and here were seen spoons melted
almost out of shape by fire. The large silver dishes, plates and
cups--many of the latter of priceless value, for they had been acquired
by the regiment during the Peninsular War--were lying one on top of the
other just as they had been placed in the chest, but all ruined and
disfigured, half melted and blackened from the intense heat.
Close by, where they had fallen off a table, were the four massive
silver candelabra, the gift of distinguished officers who had formerly
served in the corps. These were twisted out of all shape, and beyond
hope of repair, of no value but for the bullion. Other articles there
were, such as snuff-boxes, drinking-horns, and table ornaments; not one
single piece of silver had escaped the action of the fire.
It was a sorry sight to look on the total destruction of our beautiful
mess furniture. Costly goods had been sacrificed which no money could
replace; not one single article belonging to the officers had been
saved.
Gathering together all the silver we could find, and lamenting the
incompetence by which we had lost property amounting in value to £2,000,
we placed everything in a cart and conveyed it to the barracks.
Many months afterwards the Government directed a committee of officers
to value the effects destroyed by the mutineers, to the end that
remuneration might be granted to the regiment for loss sustained. This
committee, after due consideration, placed the estimate at a very low
figure--viz., £1,500. The parsimony of those in power refused us
full payment of this just debt, intimated also that the demand was
exorbitant, and closed all further action in the matter by sending us a
draft on the Treasury for half the amount claimed.
For the first week or ten days after the outbreak at Ferozepore we knew
very little of what was occurring down-country, as well as throughout
the Punjab, the province of the "Five Rivers" to our north. In that
newly-acquired territory there were twenty-six regiments of the native
army, while the Sikhs, the warlike people who inhabited the land, had
met us in deadly conflict only nine years before. From the latter, then,
as well as from the sepoys, there was cause for great anxiety. Every
precaution, therefore, was necessary to guard the Ferozepore Arsenal,
the largest, next to Delhi, in Upper India. The temper of the Sikhs
was uncertain; no one could foretell which side they would take in the
coming struggle. Our Empire in Hindostan--during the month of May more
especially--trembled in the balance. There was infinite cause for alarm
for months afterwards even to the Fall of Delhi; but at no time were we
in such a strait as at that period when the loyalty or defection of the
Sikh regiments and people was an open question.
The genius of Sir John Lawrence, the Chief Commissioner of the Punjab,
warded off the danger. That eminent man, the saviour of India, issued a
proclamation calling on the Sikhs to aid us in our trouble. They came
at once in hundreds--nay, thousands--to enlist on our side. Veterans of
Runjeet Singh's Khalsa army, the men who had withstood us on equal terms
in many sanguinary battles, animated by intense hatred of the Poorbeah
sepoy, enrolled themselves in the ranks of the British army, and fought
faithfully for us to the end of the war. Their help was our safety;
without these soldiers, and the assistance rendered by their chieftains,
Delhi could never have been taken; while, on the other hand, had they
risen and cast in their lot with the mutinous sepoys, no power on earth
could have saved us from total annihilation.
The Sikhs are the beau-ideal of soldiers. Tall and erect in bearing,
wiry and well-knit, and of great muscular development, their whole
appearance stamps them as men who look upon themselves as "lords of the
soil," whom it would be difficult to conquer. And without doubt the
campaigns of 1845-46 and 1848-49 were the hardest in which we had been
engaged in India.
For 100 years they had dominated the land of the Five Rivers. Ever eager
for war, their turbulent spirits gave them no rest. It had been a belief
that they would in the future acquire the sovereignty of Hindostan, and
I know for certain that among the soldiers for many years there had been
a tradition that one day they would sack the imperial city of Delhi.
The latter expectation was in a manner fulfilled; but not as an
independent nation or under their own leaders did they capture and
plunder the Mohammedan capital: they accomplished that feat as loyal
subjects of the British Crown.
Every now and then news reached us of the spread of the Mutiny, till
from Calcutta to Peshawar there were few stations where the native
troops had not joined in the rebellion. Cavalry, infantry, and
artillery, all had risen in revolt. The wave of mutiny was surging to
and fro throughout the land, and as yet little had been done to stem the
tide. True, a small force was being assembled at Umballah, which, under
the Commander-in-Chief, was about to march to Delhi, but of the doings
of that army we could learn no satisfactory tidings.
The closing days of the month of May passed wearily by, and time hung
heavily on our hands. We felt the inevitable reaction from the first few
days of excitement, and also missed the comforts and ease to which we
had been accustomed in former hot seasons. The barracks were close and
stuffy, and the officers, in place of the luxury of their bungalows and
their pleasant mess, had to endure privations of every kind.
Hot winds, parching up the already arid ground, blew fiercely every
day. At sunset the breeze usually died away; and though the temperature
lessened somewhat in degree, we felt a choking sensation from the
effects of the dry, still atmosphere. No officer slept in the
barrack-room; our servants carried the beds outside, and there, lying
down and gasping for breath, we vainly courted the sleep that would not
come.
There was, however, a humorous side to this desolate picture, which
I must now relate, as it shows that, notwithstanding the state of
dejection to which we had been reduced, there still lurked a spirit of
fun and mischief among the officers.
For some time after the revolt we had "night-attacks" on the brain.
Nothing was spoken of but the chance of our lines being assaulted by
wandering bodies of mutinous sepoys. The order-book each evening,
reminding us of the danger, inculcated strict vigilance on picket and
on guard. So long did this last without any attack being made that the
shadowy expectation of what never occurred became our bugbear, a chimera
which haunted us night and day.
At last, in a happy hour, it entered into the mind of one of our young
Lieutenants, an Irishman, imbued with the spirit of fun, and the
jolliest fellow in the regiment, that this illusion under which we were
all labouring might be made the subject for a frolic.
He communicated his ideas to myself and some others of the junior
officers, and it was then and there decided that, as the sepoys would
not attack us, we would create a little excitement and diversion by
playing for the nonce the role of mutineers.
The council of war then agreed unanimously that an assault was to be
made on the remaining officers when asleep outside the barracks, and
that the weapons to be used should be bolsters and pillows.
A certain night was fixed on for the accomplishment of our purpose, and
the signal for the attack was to be given by the originator of the plot,
who would take upon himself to make sure that the enemy were off their
guard, wrapped in the arms of Morpheus.
Everything had been arranged to our satisfaction, and the eventful night
came. At ten o'clock lights were put out, and the assaulting party,
consisting of six stalwart young subalterns, lay down on their beds
outside the barracks, ranged here and there among those who were to play
the part of the enemy, and waited for the signal from our commander.
Our opponents seemed to take an unconscionable long time in going to
sleep, but at length, in the small hours of the morning, when all was
quiet, the "alarm" was sounded in a low whistle.
Jumping up from our beds, each man armed himself with a bolster. In
stern and solemn silence our force was marshalled for the attack, and
then, without any word of warning, each one began belabouring with all
his might the recumbent figures of the foe.
Startled out of their sleep, and in a half-dreamy state of
unconsciousness, it may be imagined with what strange feelings they
received this assault. Some, more especially the older officers (for
in our zeal we spared no one), seemed perfectly bewildered, and in the
midst of the shower of blows which rained on them without intermission
vowed vengeance and threatened to put us under arrest. We answered them
that this was a "night-attack," and they must prepare for defence, as no
quarter would be given.
Even the fat and portly Major, notwithstanding his rank, felt the
strength of our arms, and, almost bereft of breath between each blow,
commanded us to desist. He might as well have spoken to the winds: our
blood was up, and the spirit of fun had taken possession, so that I
verily believe, had the Colonel or Brigadier been lying there, neither
of them would have escaped our onslaught.
The enemy were now fully aroused, and, not relishing the fun of being
buffeted unmercifully in their beds without resistance, they one and all
turned out and, seizing their pillows, joined in the fight. The attack,
begun with tactical judgment, turned now into a confused mêlée. Friend
and foe were mixed up in one grand shindy, and for many minutes the
battle continued without intermission. Blows fell fast and thick; there
was a rushing about of half-clad figures swaying bolsters, and each one
intent on the same object--namely, that of overcoming his antagonist for
the time being. So weird, and yet so utterly ludicrous a sight, surely
never has been seen before or since in India.
At length, from sheer exhaustion, the combat came to an end, and,
sitting on our beds panting from fatigue, and overcome by the heat of
the night, we discussed the incidents of the fight. Some of the senior
officers seemed at first inclined to treat the attack as something more
than a joke, and threatened to report us to the Colonel. We pointed out
to them that such a proceeding would be absurd, for had they not also
compromised themselves by joining in the fray? It was not long, however,
before they were struck with the grand ridiculousness of this very
strange episode; and the question at issue, as may naturally be
supposed, ended in laughter. Peace being restored, we wished each other
good-night, and, thoroughly worn out by our exertions, all slept soundly
till break of day.
The affair was kept quiet as far as possible, but gradually got noised
abroad among other regiments of Her Majesty's infantry. Great amusement
was caused by the recital, nor for a long period afterwards was the
comical "night-attack" at Ferozepore forgotten.
The trial of the sepoys who had been taken prisoners when resisting
the detachment sent to disarm them in the fort, and of those also who
attacked the arsenal on May 13, had been proceeding for some time. It
was a general court-martial composed of thirteen officers, presided over
by a Lieutenant-Colonel. Of the prisoners taken, some 100 were singled
out as the ringleaders, the rest being put back for trial till a future
occasion.
The evidence was most clear as to the heinous offences of mutiny and
rebellion with regard to all these men, and they were accordingly found
guilty. Sentence was at once pronounced on fourteen of the sepoys, and
the punishment was death.
Two men of low caste were to be hanged, while the remaining twelve,
comprising Mohammedans and high-caste Hindoos, were to expiate their
crime by that most awful and ghastly penalty, execution by being blown
to pieces from the mouths of cannons.
This terrible punishment had been but seldom inflicted during British
rule in India, the last instance occurring in 1825, when a native
regiment mutinied and refused to cross the sea to take part in the first
Burmese War.
Neither was it from the English that this special death penalty
originated. It had been for hundreds of years the recognized punishment
for mutiny and rebellion throughout Hindostan, and in numberless cases
was carried out by the Mogul Emperors.
With us at this period it was found necessary to strike terror into the
hearts of the rebels, to prove to them that we were resolved at all
hazards to crush the revolt, and to give warning that to those who were
taken fighting against us no mercy would be shown.
On religious grounds also the infliction of the death penalty by blowing
away mutineers at the mouths of cannons was dreaded both by the Hindoos
and Mohammedans.
The Hindoo, unless the corpse after death is burnt to ashes with all
ceremony, or else consigned to the sacred stream of the Ganges,
cannot partake of the glories of the future state, nor dwell in bliss
everlasting with the gods of his mythology.
So with the Mohammedan, the Koran enjoins that all true believers
must be buried with the body in the natural state, and only those are
exempted who have lost limbs in fighting against the infidel. The joys
of Paradise, where ever-young and beautiful houris minister to the wants
and pleasures of the faithful, were therefore not for those who met
a shameful death and were denied or unable to obtain burial in the
orthodox manner.
Thus, it will be seen, the terrors of future shame and dishonour
resulted to both Hindoo and Mohammedan by the death we were about to
inflict on them; and it was for the awe inspired by the punishment that
the military authorities at this time thought proper to carry it out in
this unaccustomed manner.
_June 13_.--The morning of June 13 was fixed upon for the execution. A
gallows was erected on the plain to the north side of the fort, facing
the native bazaars, and at a distance of some 300 yards. On this two
sepoys were to be hanged, and at the same time their comrades in mutiny
were to be blown away from guns.
We paraded at daylight every man off duty, and, with the band playing,
marched to the place of execution, and drew up in line near the gallows
and opposite the native quarter.
Shortly after our arrival the European Light Field Battery, of six guns,
appeared on the scene, forming up on our left flank, and about twenty
yards in front of the Light Company.
The morning was close and sultry, not a cloud in the sky, and not a
breath of wind stirring; and I confess I felt sick with a suffocating
sense of horror when I reflected on the terrible sight I was about to
witness.
Soon the fourteen mutineers, under a strong escort of our men with fixed
bayonets, were seen moving from the fort. They advanced over the plain
at our rear, and drew up to the left front of, and at right angles to,
the battery of artillery.
I was standing at the extreme right of the line with the Grenadier
Company, and some distance from the guns; but I had provided myself with
a pair of strong glasses, and therefore saw all that followed clearly
and distinctly.
There was no unnecessary delay in the accomplishment of the tragedy. Two
of the wretched creatures were marched off to the gallows, and placed
with ropes round their necks on a raised platform under the beam.
The order was given for the guns to be loaded, and quick as thought the
European artillerymen placed a quarter charge of powder in each piece.
The guns were 9-pounders, the muzzles standing about 3 feet from the
ground.
During these awful preparations, I watched at intervals the faces of the
condemned men, but could detect no traces of fear or agitation in their
demeanour. The twelve stood two deep, six in front and six in the rear,
calm and undismayed, without uttering a word.
An officer came forward, and, by the Brigadier's order, read the
sentence of the court-martial, and at its conclusion the six men in
front, under escort, walked towards the battery.
There was a death-like silence over the scene at this time, and,
overcome with horror, my heart seemed almost to cease beating.
Arrived at the guns, the culprits were handed over to the artillerymen,
who, ready prepared with strong ropes in their hands, seized their
victims. Each of these, standing erect, was bound to a cannon and
tightly secured, with the small of the back covering the muzzle. And
then all at once the silence which reigned around was broken by the
oaths and yells of those about to die. These sounds were not uttered by
men afraid of death, for they showed the most stoical indifference,
but were the long-suppressed utterances of dying souls, who, in the
bitterness of their hearts, cursed those who had been instrumental
in condemning them to this shameful end. They one and all poured out
maledictions on our heads; and in their language, one most rich in
expletives, they exhausted the whole vocabulary.
Meanwhile the gunners stood with lighted port-fires, waiting for the
word of command to fire the guns and launch the sepoys into eternity.
These were still yelling and raining abuse, some even looking over their
shoulders and watching without emotion the port-fires, about to be
applied to the touch-holes, when the word "Fire!" sounded from the
officer in command, and part of the tragedy was at an end.
A thick cloud of smoke issued from the muzzles of the cannons, through
which were distinctly seen by several of us the black heads of the
victims, thrown many feet into the air.
While this tragic drama was enacting, the two sepoys to be hanged were
turned off the platform.
The artillerymen again loaded the guns, the six remaining prisoners,
cursing like their comrades, were bound to them, another discharge, and
then an execution, the like of which I hope never to see again, was
completed.
All this time a sickening, offensive smell pervaded the air, a stench
which only those who have been present at scenes such as these can
realize--the pungent odour of burnt human flesh.
The artillerymen had neglected putting up back-boards to their guns, so
that, horrible to relate, at each discharge the recoil threw back pieces
of burning flesh, bespattering the men and covering them with blood and
calcined remains.
A large concourse of natives from the bazaars and city had assembled in
front of the houses, facing the guns at a distance, as I said before, of
some 300 yards, to watch the execution. At the second discharge of the
cannon, and on looking before me, I noticed the ground torn up and earth
thrown a slight distance into the air more than 200 paces away. Almost
at the same time there was a commotion among the throng in front, some
running to and fro, while others ran off in the direction of the houses.
I called the attention of an officer who was standing by my side to this
strange and unaccountable phenomenon, and said, half joking: "Surely the
scattered limbs of the sepoys have not been carried so far?"
He agreed with me that such was impossible; but how to account for the
sight we had seen was quite beyond our comprehension.
The drama came to an end about six o'clock, and as is usual, even after
a funeral or a military execution, the band struck up an air, and we
marched back to barracks, hoping soon to drive from our minds the
recollection of the awful scenes we had witnessed.
Two or three hours after our return news arrived that one native had
been killed and two wounded among the crowd which had stood in our
front, spectators of the recent execution. How this happened has
never been explained. At this time a "cantonment guard" was mounted,
consisting of a company of European infantry, half a troop of the 10th
Light Cavalry, and four guns, and two of these guns loaded with grape
were kept ready during the night, the horses being harnessed, etc.
Half the cavalry also was held in readiness, saddled; in fact, every
precaution was taken to meet an attack.
As far as I can recollect, there were but two executions by blowing away
from guns on any large scale by us during the Mutiny; one of them that
at Ferozepore.
[Illustration: Plan of the Military Station at FEROZEPORE]
[Footnote 1: Brigadier-General Innes.]
[Footnote 2: Major Redmond.]
[Footnote 3: Colonel William Jones, C.B.]