CHAPTER III

BEFORE DELHI

A situation had already been marked out for our encampment, and,

directed by an officer, we passed through the main portion of our

lines, and halted at the bottom of the ridge on the extreme left of our

position. Some time was occupied after the arrival of the baggage in

pitching our camp; but when all was concluded, Vicars and I started on

foot to take our first view of the imperial city.

We walked a short distance to the right, and along the foot of the

ridge, and then ascended, making our way to the celebrated Flagstaff

Tower. We mounted to the top: and shall I ever forget the sight which

met our gaze?

About a mile to our front, and stretching to right and left as far as

the eye could reach, appeared the high walls and the bastions of Delhi.

The intervening space below was covered with a thick forest of trees and

gardens, forming a dense mass of verdure, in the midst of which, and

peeping out here and there in picturesque confusion, were the white

walls and roofs of numerous buildings. Tall and graceful minarets,

Hindoo temples and Mohammedan mosques, symmetrical in shape and gorgeous

in colouring, appeared interspersed in endless numbers among the

densely-packed houses inside the city, their domes and spires shining

with a brilliant radiance, clear-cut against the sky. Above all, in the

far distance towered the Jama Masjid, or Great Mosque, its three huge

domes of pure white marble, with two high minarets, dwarfing into

insignificance the buildings by which it was surrounded--surely, the

noblest work of art ever built by man for the service of the Creator.

To the left could be seen the lofty castellated walls of the Palace of

the Emperors, the former seat of the Great Mogul--that palace in

which at that moment the degenerate descendant of Timour, and last

representative of his race, held his court, and in his pride of heart

fondly hoped that British rule was at an end.

Beyond rose the ancient fortress of Selimgarh, its walls, as well as

those of the palace on the north side, washed by the waters of the

Jumna. A long bridge of boats connected the fort with the opposite bank

of the river, here many hundred yards in width: and over this we could

see, with the aid of glasses, bodies of armed men moving.

It was by this bridge that most of the reinforcements and all the

supplies for the mutineers crossed over to the city. On the very day of

our arrival the mutinous Bareilly Brigade of infantry and artillery,

numbering over 3,000 men, marched across this bridge. Our advanced

picket at the Metcalfe House stables, close to the Jumna, heard

distinctly their bands playing "Cheer, boys, cheer!" the very same tune

with which we had celebrated our entrance into camp that morning.

Few cities in the world have passed through such vicissitudes as Delhi.

Tradition says it was the capital of an empire ages before the great

Macedonian invaded India, and its origin is lost in the mists of

antiquity. Traces there were in every direction, amid the interminable

cluster of ruins and mounds outside the present city, of cities still

more vast, the builders and inhabitants of which lived before the dawn

of history.

Delhi had been taken and sacked times out of number. Its riches were

beyond compare; and for hundreds of years it had been the prey, not only

of every conqueror who invaded India from the north-west, but also of

every race which, during the perpetual wars in Hindostan, happened for

the time to be predominant. Tartars, Turks, Afghans, Persians, Mahrattas

and Rajpoots, each in turn in succeeding ages had been masters of the

city. There had been indiscriminate massacres of the populace, the last

by Nadir Shah, the King of Persia in 1747, when 100,000 souls were put

to death by his order, and booty to a fabulous amount was carried away.

Still, notwithstanding the vicissitudes of fortune through which it had

passed, Delhi was, in 1857, one of the largest, most beautiful, and

certainly the richest city in Hindostan. We knew well that there was

wealth untold within the walls, and our hearts were cheered even at this

time when we thought of the prize-money which would fall to our share at

the capture of the rebellious city.

The walls surrounding Delhi were seven miles in circumference, flanked

at intervals by strong bastions, on which the enemy had mounted the

largest guns and mortars, procured from the arsenal. Munitions of war

they had in abundance--enough to last them, at the present rate of

firing, for nearly three years. Long we gazed, fascinated at the scene

before us. A dead silence had reigned for some time, when we were

awakened from our dreams by the whiz and hissing of a shell fired by the

enemy. It fell close below the tower and burst without doing any harm;

but some jets of smoke appeared on the bastions of the city, and shells

and round-shot fired at the ridge along the crest of which a small body

of our men was moving. The cannonade lasted for some time, our own guns

replying at intervals. We could plainly see the dark forms of the rebel

artillerymen, stripped to the waist, sponging and firing with great

rapidity, their shot being chiefly directed at the three other

buildings on the ridge--namely, the Observatory--the Mosque, as it was

called--and, on the extreme right, Hindoo Rao's house.

From the Flagstaff Tower the ridge trended in a southerly direction

towards those buildings, approaching gradually nearer and nearer to the

city, till at Hindoo Rao's house it was distant about 1,200 yards from

the walls.

To the rear of this ridge, and some distance below, so that all view of

Delhi was quite shut out from it, was the camp of the besieging army,

numbering at this period about 6,000 men. The tents were pitched at

regular intervals behind the ruined houses of the old cantonment, which,

at the outbreak on May 11, had been burnt and destroyed by the sepoys.

A canal which supplied us with water from the Jumna ran round the ridge

past the suburb of Kishenganj into the city, and was crossed by two

bridges, over which communication with the country to the north-west,

and leading to the Punjab, was kept open by the loyal Sikh chieftains

and their retainers.

Our position on the ridge extended about a mile and a half, the right

and left front flanks defended by outlying advanced pickets, which I

shall hereafter describe.

The city walls, as before recorded, were seven miles in circumference,

so that at this time, and, in fact, almost to the end of the siege, we,

with our small force, in a manner only commanded a small part of the

city. The bridge of boats remained to the last in the possession of the

enemy, and was quite out of range even from our advanced approaches,

while to the right and rear of the city the gates gave full ingress to

reinforcing bodies of insurgents from the south, whose entrance we were

unable to prevent.

Our investment, if such it could be called, was therefore only partial,

being confined to that portion of the city extending from the water

battery near Selimgarh Fort to the Ajmir Gate, which was just visible

from the extreme right of the ridge. This part was defended by, I think,

four bastions, named, respectively, the Water, Kashmir, Mori, and Burn.

Three gates besides the Lahore gave egress to the mutineers when making

sorties, the afterwards celebrated Kashmir Gate, the Kabul and the Ajmir

Gates.

The Hindoo Rao's house, on the right of the ridge where it sloped down

into the plain, was the key of our position, and was defended with great

bravery and unflinching tenacity throughout the whole siege by the

Sirmoor battalion of Goorkhas, and portions of the 60th Royal Rifles and

the Guide Corps. Incessant day and night attacks were here made by the

enemy, who knew that, were that position turned, our camp--in fact, our

very existence as a besieging force--would be imperilled.

But no assault, however strong and determined, made any impression on

the men of these gallant regiments, led by Major Reid, the officer

commanding the Sirmoor battalion. They lost in killed and wounded a

number far out of all proportion to that of any other corps before

Delhi, and must in truth be reckoned the heroes of the siege.

The Goorkhas are recruited in the mountain districts of the Himalayas,

in the kingdom of Nepal. They are short and squat in figure, never more

than five feet three inches in height, of dark complexion, with deep-set

eyes and high cheek-bones denoting their affinity to the Turanian race.

Good-humoured and of a cheerful disposition, they have always been great

favourites with the European soldiers, whose ways and peculiarities they

endeavour to imitate to a ludicrous extent. In battle, as I have often

seen them, they seem in their proper element, fierce and courageous,

shrinking from no danger. They carried, besides the musket, a short,

heavy, curved knife called a _kukri_, a formidable weapon of which the

sepoys were in deadly terror. As soldiers they are second to none,

amenable to discipline and docile, but very tigers when roused; they

fought with unflinching spirit during the Mutiny, freely giving up their

lives in the service of their European masters.

And now that I have endeavoured, for the purposes of this narrative, to

explain our position and that of the enemy, I shall proceed to recount,

as far as my recollection serves, the main incidents of the siege, and

more particularly those in which I personally took part.

The camp of my regiment was pitched, as I have said, on the extreme

left of the besieging force, on the rear slope of the ridge. We were

completely hidden from any view of the city, and but for the sound

of the firing close by, which seldom ceased day or night, might have

fancied ourselves far away from Delhi.

Cholera still carried off its victims from our midst, and the very night

of our arrival I performed the melancholy duty of reading the Burial

Service over five gallant fellows of the Grenadier Company who had died

that day from the fell disease.

The heat was insupportable, the thermometer under the shade of my tent

marking 112°F.; and to add to our misery there came upon us a plague

of flies, the like of which I verily believe had not been on the

earth since Moses in that manner brought down the wrath of God on the

Egyptians. They literally darkened the air, descending in myriads and

covering everything in our midst. Foul and loathsome they were, and we

knew that they owed their existence to, and fattened on, the putrid

corpses of dead men and animals which lay rotting and unburied in

every direction. The air was tainted with corruption, and the heat was

intense. Can it, then, be wondered that pestilence increased daily in

the camp, claiming its victims from every regiment, native as well as

European?

About this time many spies were captured and executed; in fact, so many

prisoners were taken by the pickets that it was ordered that for the

future, instead of being sent under escort to the camp for trial, they

should be summarily dealt with by the officers commanding pickets.

On the evening of July 2 I was sent, in command of fifty men, to relieve

the picket at a place called the "Cow House"; this was an outshed

belonging to Sir Theophilus Metcalfe's mansion, burnt by the rebels on

May 11, and midway between that building and the stables, at each of

which were stationed 150 men. At the beginning of the siege our left

advanced flank, on the side of the River Jumna, was exposed to constant

attacks by the enemy, and the three pickets mentioned above had been

since that time stationed at those places. Each communicated with the

other, the one to the right being on a mound near the ruins of the

house, and some 1,200 yards from the city, the cowshed situated midway

between this mound and the river, and, lastly, the stables close to the

banks, all partially hidden from view of the batteries on the walls by

gardens and thick clusters of trees.

I stationed my men at the sheds, and placed double rows of sentries to

my front along the edge of a deep _nallah_, or ravine.

Soon after this that gallant officer, Lieutenant Hodson (on whose memory

lately aspersions have been cast by an author who knows nothing of the

subject on which he has written), rode up to the picket and told me that

a sortie in force was expected that night, and that I was to keep a

sharp lookout to prevent surprise.

Hodson, besides commanding a regiment of native Sikh cavalry of his own

raising, was head of the Intelligence Department. He covered himself

with glory during the siege, was untiring in his exertions and well-nigh

ubiquitous, riding incessantly round the pickets at night, and being

present at most of the engagements. He was a perfect Hindustani scholar,

and it was reported in camp, though with what truth I cannot say, that

he on several occasions entered Delhi in disguise during the siege

to gain information of the enemy's intentions. This may have been

exaggeration, but it is nevertheless certain that, through some source

or other, he made himself well acquainted with the doings and movements

of the mutineers.

Shortly after he left, the field-officer on duty appeared, who ordered

me, in case I should be attacked, to defend my post to the last

extremity, and in no case to fall back, adding that to my picket, and to

those on my right and left, the safety of the camp during the expected

sortie, together with the security of our left flank, was entrusted.

After darkness set in the enemy commenced a furious cannonade in the

direction of the three pickets, round shot whistling through the trees

and shells bursting around us. The din and roar were deafening, but

firing, as they did, at random, little damage was done. Nothing can be

grander than the sight of live shells cleaving the air on a dark night.

They seemed like so many brilliant meteors rushing through the heavens,

or like lightning-flashes during a storm, and this being my first

experience of the sort, no words can paint my awe and admiration.

We naturally expected an attack in force from the insurgents under cover

of the cannonade; but hours passed by in suspense and anxiety, and

none was attempted. The firing was continued all night--sleep being

impossible--and ceased only at daybreak, when the relief arrived, and I

marched the picket back to our camp.

_July 3_.--That day the monsoon--the Indian wet season--set in, and rain

descended in sheets of water for many hours.

In the afternoon it was reported that a large force of mutineers was

moving out of the city by the Kabul and Ajmir Gates into the suburbs

to the right front of our position, and the alarm sounded, most of the

troops in camp turning out and assembling on the road to the rear of

the canal. Here we were halted for some time, it being uncertain what

direction had been taken by the enemy.

At sunset two doolies, escorted by men of the 5th Punjab Cavalry, were

seen on the road coming towards us. They contained the bodies of a

European sergeant and a man of the Road Department, who had been

surprised and cut to pieces by some of the rebel cavalry. The escort

also reported that a body of insurgents numbering many thousand men had

been seen moving towards Alipore, one march in our rear, their object,

it was supposed, being to cut off supplies and intercept treasure.

It being too late to start in pursuit of the enemy, we were dismissed to

our quarters, being warned to hold ourselves in readiness to turn out at

a moment's notice.

_July 4_.--That night the sound of the enemy's guns to our rear was

heard in the camp, and soon after 2 a. m. we paraded, and joined a force

destined to overtake or cut off the mutineers on their return to Delhi.

The little army, consisting of 1,500 men, cavalry, artillery, and

infantry, marched at once towards Alipore. After we had proceeded three

miles, and just at daybreak, news was brought that the enemy, after

plundering the town, were retreating to the city laden with booty.

Major Coke, who was in command, then changed our direction to the left,

and we advanced for about two miles over swampy ground to a canal,

the cavalry being in front, then the infantry, the battery of Horse

Artillery bringing up the rear.

When near the canal, which was shaded on each side by trees, the Major

advanced to reconnoitre, and on his return, the order was given, "Guns

to the front!" The Horse Artillery galloped past us, and we then heard

that the enemy were in sight on the other side of the canal.

Crossing a bridge, and passing through trees and jungle, the whole force

debouched on an open plain, and formed in order of battle. The first

line consisted of the artillery, in the centre, flanked on each side by

the cavalry--cavalry--portions of the 9th Lancers, the Carabineers, and

that fine regiment, the Guide Corps. Coke's Corps of Punjabees and my

regiment formed the second line.

It was a pretty sight to see this miniature army advancing in perfect

order towards the enemy. The plain extended for a mile quite open and

without trees, bounded at that distance by a village, in which the

insurgent guns were posted. Clouds of horsemen, apparently without any

formation, hovered on each side of the village, and a large force of

infantry was standing in line somewhat in advance.

Our guns came into action at a distance of about 1,000 yards from the

village, and were soon answered by those of the enemy, their shot

striking unpleasantly close to our line, and ricochetting over our

heads. Still we advanced, hoping that the rebels would stand till we

came to close quarters. At 500 yards the fire from our artillery seemed

to prove too hot for them; and presently, to our infinite disgust, we

saw their infantry moving off to the left, followed shortly after by the

cavalry. Then their guns ceased firing, and were also quickly withdrawn.

The Carabineers and Guides were sent in pursuit, and cut up some

stragglers; but the insurgents stampeded at a great pace, and succeeded

in carrying off all their guns.

A few sepoys were found hiding in the village huts, and were killed by

our men, the Alipore plunder was recovered, besides some ammunition and

camp equipment, and, rather dissatisfied with the result of the action,

we moved slowly back across the plain.

The regiment was commanded on this occasion by our senior Captain, an

officer of some thirty-five years' service. He was, without exception,

the greatest oddity for a soldier that our army has ever seen. Five feet

two inches in height, with an enormous head, short, hunchback body, long

arms, and thin, shrivelled legs, his whole appearance reminded one

of Dickens' celebrated character Quilp, in the "Old Curiosity Shop."

Entering the service in the "good" old times, when there was no

examination by a medical man, he had, through some back-door influence,

obtained a commission in the army. All his service had been passed

abroad, exchanging from one regiment to another, for it would have been

utterly impossible for him to have retained his commission in England.

Marching, he was unable to keep step with the men, and on horseback he

presented the most ludicrous appearance, being quite unable to ride,

and looking more like a monkey than a human being. On our first advance

across the plain the little Captain was riding in our front, vainly

endeavouring to make his horse move faster, and striking him every now

and then on the flanks with his sword. I was on the right of the line,

and, together with the men, could not keep from laughing, when a friend

of mine--a tall officer of one of the native infantry regiments--rode to

my side and asked me who that was leading the regiment. I answered, "He

is our commanding officer."

The sun shone with intense heat on our march back across the plain, and

the European soldiers began to feel its effects, many being struck down

with apoplexy. About midday the infantry halted at the canal, the guns

and most of the cavalry returning to camp, as it was supposed there

would be no more work for them to do. We lay down in the welcome shade

of the trees on the bank, enjoying our breakfast, which had been brought

to us by our native servants, and, in company with an officer of the 9th

Lancers, I was discussing a bottle of ale, the sweetest draught I think

I have ever tasted. The arms were piled in our front, and at intervals

we watched, as they crossed the canal, a troop of elephants which had

been sent out to bring the sick and wounded into camp.

All at once, from our left front, and without any warning, shots came

whistling through the trees and jungle, and some men lying on the ground

were hit. The regiment at once fell in and changed front to the left,

moving in the direction from which the shots were coming.

Frightened at the sound of the firing, the elephants were seized with a

panic and made off across the canal. Trumpeting, with their trunks high

above their heads, they floundered through the water to the opposite

side, their drivers vainly attempting to stop their flight. We saw them

disappearing through the trees, and learnt afterwards that they never

stopped till close to their own quarters at the camp.

Meanwhile the shots came thick and fast, and we advanced in line till we

came to a comparatively open space, and in sight of the enemy--a large

body of infantry outnumbering us by four to one. They were at no great

distance from us, and a sharp musketry fire was kept up from both sides,

causing heavy losses.

Seeing that no object was to be gained with our small force by

encountering one so vastly superior, Major Coke deemed it prudent to

retire, and retreating firing, we crossed the bridge and lined the bank

on each side.

The enemy followed, their men forming opposite to us and keeping up a

steady fire at a distance of from 100 to 150 yards. I was on the right

of the line with the Grenadiers, when, half an hour later, I was

directed by the Adjutant to march my men to the left of the bridge

to reinforce the Light Company, who were being hard pressed by the

insurgents, some of whom were wading through the canal, with the evident

intention of turning our left flank. We crept along under the bank, and

were received with joy by our comrades, one of them, I well remember,

welcoming us in most forcible language, and intimating that they would

soon have been sent to--if we had not come.

The file-firing here was continuous, a perfect hail of bullets, and it

was dangerous to show one's head over the bank. Shouting and taunting

us, the rebels came up close to the opposite side, and were struck down

in numbers by our men, who rested their muskets on the bank and took

sure aim. Still, the contest was most unequal; the enemy were wading in

force through the water on our left, and the day would have gone hard

with us from their overwhelming numerical superiority, when, just at

this critical moment, the galloping of horses and the noise of wheels

was heard in our rear.

Six Horse Artillery guns, led by Major Tombs--one of the most gallant

officers in camp--came thundering along the road. They passed with

a cheer, crossed the bridge at full speed, wheeled to their left,

unlimbered as quick as lightning, and opened fire on the rebels. Taken

completely by surprise, these made no stand, and fled pell-mell towards

Delhi, leaving altogether 200 dead on the ground.

It was now nearly five o'clock, and we were distant four miles from

camp. Many of our men had died from apoplexy and sunstroke, their faces

turning quite black in a few minutes--a horrible sight. These, with the

killed and the sick and wounded, were placed on the backs of a fresh lot

of elephants, which had just arrived; and, scarcely able to drag one leg

after the other, we turned our faces towards the camp, reaching our own

quarters soon after sunset.

This was a terrible and trying day for all engaged, and more especially

for the European infantry. We had been under arms for seventeen hours,

most of the time exposed to the pitiless rays of an Indian sun, under

fire for a considerable period, and, with the exception of the slight

halt for breakfast, on our feet all the time.

When nearing camp we were met by the General, Sir Henry Barnard, who

addressed us with some kindly words, and little did we think that

that was the last occasion we should see the gallant old soldier. The

following morning he was attacked with cholera, and expired in the

afternoon, deeply regretted by the whole army.

No man could possibly have been placed in a more trying situation than

he who had just given up his life in the service of his country. Called

on to command an army to which was entrusted the safety of British

rule in India, the cares and anxiety of the task, together with his

unremitting attention to his duties and constant exposure to the sun,

made him peculiarly susceptible to the disease from which he died. He

had served with distinction in the Crimean campaign, and had only landed

in India to take command of a division in the April of this year.

_July 5_.--From July 5 to 8 nothing of note occurred. The enemy kept up,

as usual, a constant fire upon the ridge and outlying pickets; but no

attempt at a sortie was made.

I visited the Flagstaff Tower each day when off duty, seemingly never

tired of gazing at the glorious panorama spread out before me, and

watching the batteries delivering their unceasing fire.

With the exception of two 24-pound cannon taken from the enemy, for

which we had no shot, the heaviest guns on the ridge were 18-pounders

and a few small mortars. Having possession of the great arsenal, the

insurgents mounted on the bastions of Delhi 32-and 24-pounder guns and

13-inch mortars, their trained artillerymen acquitting themselves right

valiantly, and making excellent practice. They were almost to a

man killed at their guns during the siege, and towards the end the

difference in firing was fully perceptible, when the infantry filled

their places and worked the guns.

Having no round-shot for the two 24-pounders, we were reduced to firing

back on the city the shot of the same calibre hurled against us, and

a reward of half a rupee per shot was paid by the commissariat to any

camp-follower bringing in the missiles.

On one occasion I saw a party of native servants, carrying on their

heads cooked provisions for the men on picket, wend their way up the

slope from the camp. Two round-shot fired by the enemy struck the top

of the ridge and rolled down the declivity. Here was a prize worth

contending for, and the cooks, depositing the dishes on the ground, ran

in all haste to seize the treasures. I watched the race with interest,

and anticipated some fun, knowing that in their eagerness they would

forget that the shots had not had time to cool. Two men in advance of

the rest picked up the balls, and, uttering a cry, dropped them quickly,

rubbing and blowing their hands. The remainder stood patiently waiting,

and then, after a time, spent evidently in deliberation, two men placed

the shot on their heads, and all in a body moved off towards the

commissariat quarters to receive and divide the reward.

_July 7_.--On the morning of July 7, I accompanied a detachment of 150

men under command of a Captain to relieve the picket at the mound close

to the ruins of Sir Theophilus Metcalfe's house. This mansion, built by

the present baronet's father, was situated about 1,200 yards from the

walls of the city, and surrounded by trees and gardens. At the outbreak

of May 11, it had been plundered and burnt by the mutinous sepoys and

_badmashes_, who also in like manner had destroyed every house belonging

to the Europeans in the suburbs of Delhi and the adjoining cantonment.

Of the murders that then took place I shall have something to say

hereafter, when writing the history of a young school-fellow whose

sister was killed by the insurgents.

From our position on picket we could see a short distance in front, the

ground having been partially cleared of trees and undergrowth. A chain

of double sentries was posted, and the utmost vigilance observed. We

could hear the batteries opening on the ridge, while occasionally, as if

to harass the picket, a 13-inch shell would burst either in our front or

in our rear. The night passed quickly, and at daybreak, when visiting

the sentries, I heard distinctly the bugles of the rebels sounding the

reveille, succeeded by other familiar calls. It seemed strange to hear

our own bugle-calls sounded by men who were now our enemies; and not

only was this the case, but also the insurgents for some time wore the

scarlet uniform of the British soldiers, and invariably to the end of

the war gave the English words of command they had been taught in our

service.

We were relieved from picket on the morning of the 8th, and returned to

our camp, remaining quiet during the day. Executions by hanging took

place every day, but after the first horrible experience nothing would

induce me to be a spectator. The rain, which had begun on the 3rd,

continued almost without intermission, our camp becoming a quagmire, and

the muggy, moist atmosphere increasing the ravages of cholera amongst

our unfortunate soldiers.

_July 9_.--At sunrise on the 9th, a terrific cannonade woke us out of

our sleep; but, the main camp being some distance from the right of the

ridge, we for a long time heard no tidings of what was going on. At 8 a.

m. the bugles of the regiments on the right sounded the alarm, followed

at once by the "assembly."

Some 200 men of my regiment, all that remained off duty, paraded in

front of the tents, and received orders to march to the centre rear of

the camp, in rear of the quarters of the General in command. Here we

were joined by some companies of the 8th Regiment and a battalion of

Sikhs, and, continuing our march, we halted near the tents of Tombs'

battery of Horse Artillery.

Lying around and even among the tent-ropes were dead bodies of the

enemy's cavalry, and a little way beyond, close to the graveyard,

some men of the 75th were firing into the branches of the trees which

surrounded the enclosure. Every now and then the body of a rebel would

fall on the ground at their feet, the soldiers laughing and chatting

together, and making as much sport out of the novel business as though

they were shooting at birds in the branches of a tree.

How the native cavalry came there was at first inexplicable to us; but

we were informed afterwards that a body of irregular horsemen, dressed

in white, the same uniform as that worn by the 9th Irregulars on our

side, had, with the greatest daring, an hour before dashed across the

canal bridge and charged the picket of the Carabineers, making also for

the two guns of Tombs' battery. The former, mostly young soldiers, had

turned and fled, all save their officer and one sergeant, who nobly

stood their ground. Lieutenant Hills, who commanded the two guns on

picket, also alone charged the horsemen, cutting down one or two of the

sowars.

Meantime the guns were unlimbered, but before they had time to fire, the

enemy were upon them. Hills was struck down badly wounded, and was on

the point of being despatched by a sowar, when Major Tombs, hearing the

noise, rushed out of his tent, and seeing the plight his subaltern was

in, fired his revolver at thirty yards and killed the sowar.

The camp was now fairly alarmed; the guns of Olpherts' battery opened on

the enemy, and, some men of the 75th appearing on the scene, the rebels

were shot down in every direction, thirty-five being killed, and the

rest escaping by the bridge. A few climbed into the trees and were shot

down as I have said before.

This attack by the enemy's cavalry was a fitting prelude to the events

of the memorable sortie of that day.

At early morn, under cover of an unceasing cannonade from the city

batteries on to the right of our position, the insurgents in great force

and of all arms streamed out from the gates, making in the direction

of the suburb of Kishenganj, their evident intention being to turn our

right flank and make for our camp.

Seeing that the enemy were increasing in numbers, and coming on with

great determination, the alarm had sounded; and detachments from most of

the regiments, with Horse Artillery and a few cavalry under the command

of Brigadier-General Chamberlain, marched towards the right rear of the

camp, taking the road to the suburb of Kishenganj.

We crossed the canal at about 10 a. m., and, moving in column for some

little distance, came in sight of advanced bodies of the enemy, chiefly

infantry with cavalry and field artillery on each flank. We formed in

line, sending out skirmishers, the guns opened fire--the country here

being pretty open--and the action began.

Soon we drove back the rebels, who continued retreating in excellent

order, turning at intervals and discharging their muskets, while every

now and then their guns were faced about and unlimbered, and round-shot

and grape sent among our ranks. As we advanced, the vegetation became

thicker, and we were confronted at times by high hedges of prickly-pear

and cactus, growing so close together that it was impossible to make

our way through. This occasioned several détours, the sepoys lining the

hedges and firing at us through loopholes and openings, cursing the

_gore log_[1] and daring us to come on.

The rain, which had kept off during the morning, now descended in a

steady downpour, soaking through our thin cotton clothing, and in a few

minutes drenching us to the skin.

Passing the obstacles on each flank, the force again formed in as good

order as the inequalities of the ground would permit, and continued its

advance, all the time under a heavy fire of artillery and musketry. We

caught glimpses of the enemy retreating towards the Kishenganj Serai,

but the vegetation was so dense in the numerous gardens, and the view so

obstructed by stone walls and ruined buildings, that it was with great

difficulty that we made any progress, nor, having the advantage of so

much cover, did the enemy suffer much loss from our musketry fire.

Many of our men fell at this period of the fight; despising the enemy

and refusing to take cover, our soldiers would stand out exposed and

deliver their fire, offering a sure aim to the enemy's marksmen. It

was a continual rush from one point to another, halting and firing

at intervals, the rebels all the time slowly retreating. Our Horse

Artillery at this juncture could only act on occasions, the ground being

so broken that the guns were often brought to a standstill.

All this time the batteries on the ridge, which from their high position

could see what was going on, sent shells and round-shot at every

opportunity over our heads, dispersing the mutineers when grouped

together in any large number, and dealing death amongst them.

We saw them lying in heaps of twenty and thirty as we advanced, and the

fire was so hot and the practice so excellent that the enemy evacuated

the gardens and fled towards the suburb of Kishenganj.

Here the country was more open, so, re-forming our scattered line,

with skirmishers in advance, we drove the rebels before us, the Horse

Artillery playing on them in the open and bringing down scores.

Crossing the canal (which here barred our progress) by a bridge, we

entered into a wide lane to the left, the high bank of the canal being

on one side and the walls of a large caravanserai on the other.

The insurgents were posted at the far end of the lane, where it opened

out at the gate of the serai, and received us, as we advanced at the

double, with a rattling fire of musketry. Some climbed to the top of the

bank, while others fired down at us from the walls. It was a perfect

_feu d'enfer_, and the loss on our side became so heavy that a temporary

check was the result, and it was only with great trouble that the men

could be urged on.

Seeing a disposition to waver, Colonel W. Jones, the Brigadier under

Chamberlain, with great bravery placed himself in front on foot, and

called on the soldiers, now a confused mass of Sikhs, Goorkhas, and

Europeans, to charge and dislodge the enemy from the end of the lane.

He was answered with a ringing cheer, the men broke into a run, and,

without firing a shot, charged the sepoys, who waited till we were

within fifty yards, and then, as usual, turned and fled.

Some entered the caravanserai by the large gate, which they attempted

to shut; but we were too quick for them, and following close on their

heels, a hard fight began in the enclosure.

Others of the enemy ran onwards in the direction of the city, chased by

portions of our force, who pursued them a long distance, and after a

desperate resistance killed many who in their flight had taken refuge in

the serais and buildings.

The party I was with in the great caravanserai ranged the place like

demons, the English soldiers putting to death every sepoy they could

find. Their aspect was certainly inhuman--eyes flashing with passion and

revenge, faces wet and blackened from powder through biting cartridges;

it would have been useless to attempt to check them in their work of

slaughter.

Twenty or more of the insurgents, flying for life from their pitiless

foe, made for a small building standing in the centre of the serai. They

were followed by our men, who entered after them at the door. The house

had four windows, one on each side, about three feet from the ground,

and I ran to one and looked in.

The wretched fugitives had thrown down their arms and, crouching on the

floor with their backs to the wall, begged with out-stretched hands for

mercy, calling out in their language, "_Dohai! dohai!_" words I

well knew the meaning of, and which I had often heard under similar

circumstances. I knew, however, that no quarter would be given, and in a

short time every rebel lay in the agonies of death.

Most of the force, as I have related, had continued chasing the enemy,

so that for some time we were alone and few in number in the serai.

It was nearly five o'clock, and we thought that, as far as we were

concerned, the action was over.

It was not so, however. Shouts and yells were heard outside, and,

running to see, we found a fresh force of the mutineers assembled

outside the gates. There was nothing for it but to make a rush and fight

our way through; so with fixed bayonets we charged through them, meeting

soon afterwards the remainder of the force on its way back. Joining with

these, we drove the enemy again before us till we came within 700 yards

of the city walls, there losing sight of our foes. Their guns fired

into us, but the insurgent infantry seemed now to have had sufficient

fighting for one day, and not one man was to be seen.

Our work was accomplished, and the order was given to retire. Slowly we

wended our way back to camp, arriving there about sunset, having been

continuously under fire for nearly seven hours.

The losses on this day exceeded that of any since the siege began. Out

of our small force engaged, 221 men were killed and wounded. It was

computed that of the enemy more than 500 were killed, and probably twice

that number wounded, the dead bodies lying thick together at every

stage of our advance, but the wounded men in almost every instance were

carried off by their comrades.

The camp of our regiment on the extreme left of the line having become a

mere swamp and mud hole from the long-continued rain, and also being at

too great a distance from the main body of the army, we were directed to

change to a position close to the banks of the canal, near the General's

headquarters, and on the left of the 8th Regiment. The move was made, I

think, on July 11; and here we remained till the end of the siege.

At about this period, too, I was most agreeably surprised by a visit

from an old school-fellow named C---- d. He had entered the Bengal

Civil Service a few years before, and, at the breaking out of the

disturbances, was Assistant Collector at Goorgaon, seventeen miles from

Delhi. On the death of their mother in Ireland, an only sister, a

young girl of eighteen years of age, came out to India to take up her

residence with him. C---- d escorted his sister to Delhi on May 10, she

having received an invitation to stay with the chaplain and his wife,

who had quarters in the Palace. He returned to Goorgaon, little thinking

he would never see her again.

The next morning, on the arrival of the insurgent cavalry from Meerut,

and the subsequent mutiny of the native infantry regiments and artillery

in the cantonments, the massacre of the Europeans in Delhi began.

I forbear entering into all the details of this dreadful butchery;

suffice it to say that the chaplain, Mr. Jennings, his wife, Miss

C---- d, and nearly all the white people, both in the Palace and the

city, were murdered. The editor of the _Delhi Gazette_ and his family

were tortured to death by having their throats cut with pieces of broken

bottles, but there were conflicting accounts as to how the Jenningses

and Miss C---- d met their end. From what I gathered after the siege from

some Delhi natives, it was reported that the ladies were stripped naked

at the Palace, tied in that condition to the wheels of gun-carriages,

dragged up the "Chandni Chauk," or silver street of Delhi, and there, in

the presence of the King's sons, cut to pieces.

It was not till the following evening, May 12, that C---- d heard of the

Mutiny, and, fearing death from the populace of Goorgaon, who had also

risen in revolt, he disguised himself as best he could and rode off into

the country. After enduring great privations, and the danger of being

taken by predatory bands, he at last reached Meerut, and thence

accompanied the force to Delhi.

From what he hinted, I feel sure he had it on his mind that his sister,

before being murdered, was outraged by the rebels. However this may be,

my old school-fellow had become a changed being. All his passions were

aroused to their fullest extent, and he thought of nothing but revenge.

Armed with sword, revolver, and rifle, he had been present at almost

every engagement with the mutineers since leaving Meerut. He was known

to most of the regiments in camp, and would attach himself to one or

the other on the occasion of a fight, dealing death with his rifle

and giving no quarter. Caring nothing for his own life, so long as he

succeeded in glutting his vengeance on the murderers of his sister, he

exposed himself most recklessly throughout the siege, and never received

a wound.

On the day of the final assault I met him in one of the streets after we

had gained entrance into the city. He shook my hands, saying that he had

put to death all he had come across, not excepting women and children,

and from his excited manner and the appearance of his dress--which was

covered with blood-stains--I quite believe he told me the truth. One

would imagine he must have tired of slaughter during those six days'

fighting in the city, but it was not so. I dined with him at the Palace

the night Delhi was taken, when he told me he intended accompanying

a small force the next morning to attack a village close by. All my

remonstrances at this were of no avail; he vowed to me he would never

stay his hand while he had an opportunity of wreaking his vengeance.

Poor fellow! that was his last fight; advancing in front of the

soldiers, he met his death from a bullet in the heart when assaulting

the village.

There were other officers of the army in camp who had lost wives and

relations at Delhi and Meerut, and who behaved in the same manner as

C---- d. One in particular, whose wife I had known well, was an object of

pity to the whole camp. She was the first woman who was murdered during

the outrage at Meerut, and her death took place under circumstances of

such shocking barbarity that they cannot be recorded in these pages.

Truly these were fearful times, when Christian men and gallant soldiers,

maddened by the foul murder of those nearest and dearest to them,

steeled their hearts to pity and swore vengeance against the murderers.

And much the same feelings, though not to such an extent, pervaded the

breasts of all who were engaged in the suppression of the Mutiny. Every

soldier fighting in our ranks knew that a day of reckoning would come

for the atrocities which had been committed, and with unrelenting spirit

dedicated himself to the accomplishment of that purpose. Moreover, it

was on our part a fight for existence, a war of extermination, in which

no prisoners were taken and no mercy shown--in short, one of the most

cruel and vindictive wars that the world has seen.

From July 10 to 14 there was comparative quiet in the camp; the

cannonade continued on each side, but no sorties were made by the enemy.

_July 12_.--On the morning of the 12th I was detailed for picket duty at

the Sabzi Mandi Gardens, to the right front of Hindoo Rao's house, the

picket consisting of 100 men under the command of a Captain. Since

the opening of the siege this had been the scene of many sanguinary

encounters with the enemy, who put forth all their strength in

endeavours to drive in the picket, and so turn our right flank at Hindoo

Rao's house.

The view at first was almost completely closed in; but by the end of

July the unremitting labours of the Engineers had cleared away the

trees, walls, and buildings in front of the picket for some distance,

and the earth-works connecting it with the ridge at Hindoo Rao's house

were also completed.

I can remember no event of interest as occurring on July 12. Few shots

were fired at us, and on being relieved the next morning we returned to

camp, wondering at the unusual inactivity of the enemy.

_July 14_.--They were, however, only preparing for another sortie on a

grand scale, and on the morning of the 14th the bugles again sounded the

"alarm" and the "assembly." The insurgents poured out of the Kabul and

Lahore Gates in great numbers, making, as usual, for the Sabzi Mandi

Gardens and the right of the ridge. They kept up a constant fire of

musketry and field-artillery; and though our batteries swept their

masses with shell and round-shot, they still continued the attack,

pressing close to the pickets and Hindoo Rao's house.

[Illustration: THE SMALL PICKET, SABZI MANDI, FROM THE SOUTH-EAST.]

Shortly after midday a column of some 1,500 men was assembled to

dislodge and drive them back to the city. We took the road as on the

9th, and soon became engaged with the enemy in the Sabzi Mandi Gardens.

The struggle was long and fierce, a perpetual interchange of musketry

and artillery, our losses, especially in officers, being very severe.

The city batteries also sent grape and canister amongst us from their

large guns and howitzers, inflicting mortal wounds, even at the great

distance of 1,100 yards.

When driving the rebels before us past the suburb of Kishenganj,

Lieutenant Gabbett and I, in the confusion of the rush, became separated

from the few men of our regiment who were engaged on that day, and found

ourselves--we being the only officers present--with about fifty soldiers

of different corps. For more than half an hour we were completely

isolated from the main body, and were occupied in several little fights

on our own account. Advancing, we scarcely knew where, and in our

excitement fully engaged in chasing the foe, we all at once came most

unexpectedly on to a broad road, with open ground on each side. There,

to our front, and scarcely 500 yards distant, we saw a gate with

embattled towers, the high walls of the city, and a bastion. We were

soon descried by the enemy, who depressed their guns and fired at us

with grape, fortunately without hitting any of our party. We were in a

complete dilemma, under fire of the batteries, cut off from our force,

and liable at any moment to be surrounded; so, deeming discretion the

better part of valour, we turned about and ran with all speed to the

rear, coming upon a troop of Horse Artillery, which was halted amongst

some gardens.

Soon the main body of our force returned from the pursuit of the rebels,

whom they had driven to within 600 yards of the city wall; and joining

our own detachment, who had given us up as lost, we returned to camp

about sundown.

Again we had to lament the loss of many fine officers and soldiers.

Nearly 200 men had been killed and wounded--a sad diminution of our

little army, which, had it long continued, would have entirely decimated

the Delhi Field Force. The enemy, however, had suffered most severely,

their loss amounting to quite 1,000 men; and the next morning they were

seen for hours carting the dead bodies into the city. Unusual bravery

was shown by the rebels on this day: they stood fairly in the open, and

also attacked the pickets with great pertinacity, assaulting one called

the "Sammy House" for hours, and leaving eighty dead bodies in its

front, all killed by the infantry of the Guides, who most gallantly held

the picket against overwhelming numbers.

Cholera all this time raged in the force, and carried off its victims

daily, my own regiment and the 8th being the principal sufferers. It was

melancholy to enter the hospital, to see the agony and hear the groans

of the men, many of them with their dying breath lamenting the hard fate

which had stretched them on a sick-bed and prevented them from doing

their duty in the ranks against the enemy. Fever and ague, too, were

very prevalent, and hospital gangrene broke out, which attained such

virulence that many wounded died from its effects; while of amputations,

I believe not one recovered during the whole siege.

We were also in the midst of the Indian monsoon, the most unhealthy

season of the year, when rain descended in torrents almost every day, a

hot, muggy atmosphere increasing the sickness and adding to the eternal

plague of flies, a plague the most nauseating it has ever been my lot to

experience. When off duty, it was the custom of some of the officers

to pass the time fishing in the canal at our rear. Here, seated on

camp-stools brought out by our servants, we amused ourselves for hours,

holding lotteries as to who would catch the first fish, the prize being

a bottle of beer. To see us on these occasions, full of merriment, one

would scarcely have realized the fact that the men employed in this

peaceful occupation were part of an army engaged in almost continual

warfare, and fighting for very existence. Laughter and jokes filled

the air, and chaff reigned supreme; while ever and anon we were rudely

recalled to a sense of the dangers around us by the report of a shell

bursting over the ridge, or the presence of an orderly, who summoned one

of the party to proceed on picket or on some perilous duty at the front.

With regard to provisions, we were plentifully supplied with regular

meals, a sufficiency of good food and drinkables; our lot in this

respect was far more enjoyable than that of the usual run of

campaigners. A large flock of fat sheep accompanied us on the march down

from Ferozepore; and I shall never forget the agony of mind of one of

our gourmands when one day it was reported that the sheep had all been

carried off by the enemy when grazing in the rear of the canal. I had

also purchased 100 dozen of ale at Umballah for the use of the mess, and

this being noised abroad in the camp, we were visited by several thirsty

souls from other regiments, who, less fortunate than ourselves, had

neglected furnishing themselves with this tempting beverage. It was a

pleasure to us to minister to their wants, though I need hardly say that

the stock lasted but a short time, from the numerous calls made on it.

_July 17_.--General Reed, who had taken command of the army on the death

of Sir Henry Barnard, resigned his position on July 17 in consequence

of sickness and the infirmities of old age. He was succeeded by

General Wilson, of the Artillery, an officer who had already greatly

distinguished himself, and under whom the siege was eventually brought

to a successful conclusion.

_July 18_.--For three days after the last sortie the enemy were

singularly quiet, quarrelling amongst themselves, as it was reported,

and disputing as to what portion of their army was to lead the next

sortie. However, on July 18, they again made another attempt upon the

Sabzi Mandi and the ridge at Hindoo Rao's.

The force sent to dislodge them was under command of Colonel Jones, of

the 60th Rifles, who made his arrangements with singular judgment and

tact, and insisted on a regular formation being kept by the troops,

instead of the desultory style of action in vogue during previous

sorties. There was, however, some very hard fighting in the gardens and

serais, where we were received by a storm of bullets; but the men being

persuaded to keep well under cover, the losses were not very serious,

the casualties amounting in all to about ninety officers and men.[2] The

enemy, as usual, suffered severely, more especially from the fire of our

field-guns, which mowed them down when collected in groups of two and

three hundred together.

[Illustration: FROM THE SMALL PICKET, SABZI MANDI, LOOKING TOWARDS

KISHENGANJ.]

I was amused on this day, as well as on previous sorties, by seeing the

eagerness with which the soldiers, European, Sikh, and Goorkha, rifled

the bodies of the slain sepoys. These last had plundered the city

inhabitants of all they could find in money and jewels, and having no

place of safety (from the anarchy which prevailed in Delhi) in which to

deposit their loot, they one and all invariably carried their treasure

about with them, concealed in the kammerbund folds of muslin or linen

rolled round the waist. On the fall of a mutineer, a rush would be made

by the men to secure the coveted loot, a race taking place sometimes

between a European and one of our native soldiers as to who should

first reach the body. The kammerbund was quickly torn off and the money

snatched up, a wrangle often ensuing among the men as to the division of

the booty. In this manner many soldiers succeeded, to my knowledge,

in securing large sums of money; one in particular, a Grenadier of my

regiment, after killing a sepoy, rifled the body, and, returning in

great glee to where I was standing, showed me twenty gold mohurs,

worth £32 sterling. It was a most reprehensible practice, but almost

impossible entirely to prevent, for in the loose order of fighting

which generally prevailed, the men did not break from their ranks to

accomplish their purpose, but often, in isolated groups of two and

three, were separated at times a short distance from the rest of the

combatants.

The General, we heard, was loud in his praise of the manner in which

Colonel Jones conducted the operations on this day; after the action

also, he withdrew his men in perfect order, allowing no straggling--a

great contrast to our former usual style when returning to camp after

the repulse of a sortie.

This was the last action of any consequence fought in the open at the

Sabzi Mandi Gardens. The ground in front of the picket was soon

after cleared, and during future attacks our men remained behind the

breastworks and entrenchments which had been thrown up, and by a steady

fire soon drove back any rebels who were foolhardy enough to come within

range.

It speaks well for the prowess of the mutineers, and proves that we had

no contemptible foe to deal with, that so many sorties and attacks were

made by them during the siege. They amounted in all to thirty-six--all

of these being regularly organized actions and assaults--besides

innumerable others on isolated pickets and advanced posts. They seldom

came to close quarters with our men, and then only when surprised; but

nothing could exceed their persistent courage in fighting almost every

day, and, though beaten on every occasion with frightful loss, returning

over and over again to renew the combat.

_July 19_.--The succeeding days from July 19 to 23 were days of quiet,

with the exception of the usual artillery duel. We took our turn at

picket duty with the other regiments, one day at the Metcalfe house and

stables, and on another at the Sabzi Mandi.

_July 23_.--On the morning of the 23rd the insurgents, for the first

time since the previous month, made a sortie on our left, emerging from

the Kashmir Gate with infantry and field-guns. With the latter they

occupied Ludlow Castle, a ruined house midway between the Flagstaff

Tower and the Kashmir Gate. Then they opened fire on the left of the

ridge, and moving about continually amongst the trees and buildings,

were well sheltered from our batteries, which were unable to make good

practice. The rebels also showed at the Metcalfe picket, attacking at

the same time with their infantry; and becoming emboldened by receiving

no opposition from us, the greater part of their force advanced nearer

and nearer to the ridge, till they were seen distinctly from the Mosque

battery.

To punish their temerity, a force of all arms was sent out from camp

under Brigadier Showers, with the intention of attacking their right

flank. We moved up a deep gorge, and coming on them by surprise, forced

them to remove their guns, which quickly limbered up and made for the

city. There was a great deal of skirmishing in the gardens and ruined

houses before the infantry followed the example of their comrades; but

the fight was not nearly so severe as during the sorties on the right,

nor did the enemy suffer any very great loss. On our side, we had in all

fifty officers and men killed and wounded.[3]

Again for some days the enemy made no movement, and the weather also

holding up for a time, some sport was inaugurated in the camp. The men

might be seen amusing themselves at various games, while the officers

actually got up an impromptu horse-race.

This, however, was not to last long, and on July 31 we were again on the

alert from the report that several thousands of rebels, with thirteen

guns and mortars, were making for the open country to the right rear of

our camp.

A force under Major Coke was sent out to watch their movements, and also

to convoy a large store of treasure and ammunition coming down to us

from the Punjab. The convoy arrived safe on the morning of August 1, and

the rain falling heavily on that day, making the ground impassable for

guns, the insurgent force, which had moved to our rear, broke up their

camp and retired towards Delhi.

The 1st of August was the anniversary of a great Mohammedan festival

called the "Bakra Id," and for some time there had been rumours of a

grand sortie in honour of the event.

Morning and afternoon passed, and we began to think the enemy had given

up their purpose, when about sunset firing began at the right pickets.

The mutineers returning from our rear had met an equal number, which

had sallied from the city, at the suburb of Kishenganj, and the forces,

joining together, moved forward and attacked the whole right of the

ridge and the pickets in that quarter.

Loudly the bugles sounded the alarm all over the camp, and in a very

short time every available man was mustered, and the troops were hurried

forward to reinforce the breastworks at Hindoo Rao's house and on each

side.

There had been only one actual night-attack since the beginning of the

siege, and that took place to the rear; it therefore naturally occurred

to the officers in command that this assault by the enemy with such vast

numbers would require all our efforts to prevent being turned, thus

imperilling the safety of the camp.

The action had commenced in earnest when we arrived on the ridge, and

the brave defenders of Hindoo Rao's house were holding their own against

enormous odds. Masses of infantry with field-guns swarmed in our front,

yelling and shouting like demons while keeping up a steady fire.

Darkness came on--a lovely night, calm and clear without a cloud in the

sky. The batteries on both sides kept up a terrific cannonade; and our

men, effectually concealed behind the earth-works, poured incessant

volleys of musketry into the enemy. The roar and din exceeded anything I

had ever heard before, and formed one continuous roll, while all around

the air was illumined by a thousand bright flashes of fire, exposing

to our view the movements of the rebels. They had also thrown up

breastworks at no great distance to our front, from behind which they

sallied at intervals, returning, however, quickly under cover when our

fire became too hot for them. And in this manner, without a moment's

intermission, the combat continued all night long, with no advantage to

the assailants, and with few casualties on our side.[4]

_August 2_.--Morning broke without any cessation in the firing; and it

was not till ten o'clock that the rebels, seeing how futile were all

efforts, began to retire. Some few still kept up the firing; but at

2 p. m. all was quiet, and our sadly harassed soldiers were enabled to

obtain some rest after seventeen hours' fighting. Nothing could have

surpassed the steadiness of the men and the cool manner in which they

met the attacks of the enemy, remaining well under cover, and only

showing themselves when the rebels came close up. Our casualties during

those long hours only amounted to fifty killed and wounded, thus proving

the judgment of the General in ordering the men to remain behind the

earthworks, and not to advance in pursuit unless absolutely necessary.

Two hundred dead bodies were counted in front of the entrenchments, and

doubtless during the darkness many more were carried off by the enemy.

After the severe lesson they had received the rebels remained inactive

for some days, very few shots even being fired from the walls. We learnt

that the late grand attack had been made by the Neemuch and part of the

Gwalior and Kotah insurgents who had mutinied at those places not long

before. This accounted for the stubbornness of the assault, it being the

custom, when reinforcements arrived, to send them out at once to try

their mettle with the besiegers.

The fruits of General Wilson's accession to the command of the army,

and the stringent orders issued by him for the maintenance of order and

discipline both in camp and on picket became more and more apparent

every day. All duties were now regulated and carried out with the utmost

precision; each regiment knew its allotted place in case of a sortie,

and the officers on picket had to furnish reports during their term of

duty, thereby making them more attentive to the discipline and care of

their men. In the matter of uniform, also, a great and desirable change

was made. Many corps had become quite regardless of appearance, entirely

discarding all pretensions to uniformity, and adopting the most

nondescript dress. One in particular, a most gallant regiment of

Europeans which had served almost from the beginning of the siege,

was known by the sobriquet of the "Dirty Shirts," from their habit of

fighting in their shirts with sleeves turned up, without jacket or coat,

and their nether extremities clad in soiled blue dungaree trousers.

The army in general wore a cotton dress, dyed with _khaki rang_, or dust

colour, which at a distance could with difficulty be seen, and was far

preferable to white or to the scarlet of the British uniform. The enemy,

on the contrary, appeared entirely in white, having soon discarded the

dress of their former masters; and it was a pretty sight to see them

turning out of the gates on the occasion of a sortie, their arms

glittering, pennons flying, and their whole appearance presenting a gay

contrast to the dull, dingy dress of their foes.

_August 5_.--On August 5 an attempt was made by our Engineers to blow up

the bridge of boats across the Jumna, and some of us went to the top of

the Flagstaff Tower to see the result.

Two rafts filled with barrels of powder and with a slow match in each

were sent down the river, starting from a point nearly a mile up the

stream. We saw them descending, carried down slowly by the flood, one

blowing up half a mile from the bridge. The other continued its course,

and was descried by some mutineers on the opposite bank, who sent off

men to the raft on _massaks_ (inflated sheep-skins). It was a perilous

deed for the men, but without any delay they made their way to the raft,

put out the fuse, and towed the engine of destruction to shore. A most

ignominious failure, and the attempt was never repeated, the bridge

remaining intact to the last.

_August 6_.--At 7 a. m. on August 6 the alarm again sounded, and we

remained accoutred in camp for some hours, but were not called to the

front on that day. A large party of the enemy's cavalry--more, it must

be supposed, in a spirit of bravado than anything else--charged up the

road towards the Flagstaff Tower, waving their swords and shouting,

"Din! din!" A battery was brought to bear on them, and this, with a

volley or two of musketry, soon sent them to the right about, galloping

off and disappearing amongst the trees, after leaving some dead on the

ground.

The enemy's infantry also harassed the pickets on the right flank,

causing some casualties, and their artillery fire was kept up all day,

the guns in the new Kishenganj battery almost enfilading the right of

our position. No efforts on our part could silence the fire from this

place, and it remained intact, a constant source of annoyance, to the

end of the siege.

The numerous cavalry of the enemy might have caused us a vast amount

of trouble had they been properly led, or behaved even as well as the

infantry and artillery. But there seemed to be little dash or spirit

amongst them, and though they made a brave show, emerging from the gates

in company with the rest of their forces, waving swords and brandishing

spears, they took care to keep at a respectful distance from our fire,

their only exploit, as far as I can remember, being that on July 9, when

100 horsemen charged into the rear of our camp.

From the 8th to the 11th there were constant attacks on all the pickets,

and the artillery fire on both sides was almost unceasing. The enemy

brought out some guns by the Kashmir Gate and shelled the Metcalfe

pickets, their skirmishers advancing close to our defences with shouts,

and harassing the men day and night, though with small loss on our side.

They also made the approach to the pickets for relief so perilous that

at early morn of the 12th a large force, under Brigadier Showers, was

detailed to drive the rebels into the city. My regiment furnished twenty

men, under an officer,[5] on this occasion.

_August 12_.--We attacked them at dawn, taking them completely by

surprise, and capturing all their guns, four in number. The 1st

Fusiliers and Coke's Rifles behaved most gallantly, and bore the

brunt of the fight, losing half the number of those killed and

wounded--namely, 110. The enemy's casualties amounted to upwards of 300,

and they left many wounded on the ground, who were shot and bayoneted

without mercy. This signal chastisement had the effect of cowing them

for a time, and the pickets on the left were unmolested for the future,

save by occasional shots from the city batteries.

_August 14_.--August 14 was quiet, the enemy giving us a respite and

scarcely firing a gun, though they must have known of the welcome

reinforcements we had received that morning. These consisted of nearly

3,000 men, of which number more than 1,100 were Europeans.

This force, under command of General Nicholson, comprised the 52nd

Regiment, our left wing from Ferozepore, some Mooltani Horse, 1,200

Sikhs and Punjabees, and a battery of European artillery. The

reinforcements brought up the Delhi Field Force to more than 8,000

effectives, while of sick and wounded we had the frightful number of

nearly 2,000 in camp, many more having been sent away to Umballah.

But what added most to our strength was the presence amongst us of the

hero John Nicholson, he who has been since designated as the "foremost

man in India." Young in years, he had already done good service in the

Punjab wars, and was noted not only for his striking military talent,

but also for the aptitude he displayed in bringing into subjection and

ruling with a firm hand the lawless tribes on our North-West Frontier.

Many stories are told of his prowess and skill, and he ingratiated

himself so strongly amongst a certain race that he received his

apotheosis at their hands, and years afterwards was, and perhaps to this

day is, worshipped by these rude mountaineers under the title of "Nikul

Seyn." Spare in form, but of great stature, his whole appearance and

mien stamped him as a "king of men." Calm and self-confident, full of

resource and daring, no difficulties could daunt him; he was a born

soldier, the idol of the men, the pride of the whole army. His

indomitable spirit seemed at once to infuse fresh vigour into the force,

and from the time of his arrival to the day of the assault Nicholson's

name was in everyone's mouth, and each soldier knew that vigorous

measures would be taken to insure ultimate success.

We were freed from attack for some days, and the only event of

importance was a raid made by the enemy's horsemen in the direction of

Rohtak. They were followed by that great irregular leader Hodson, who

succeeded, with small loss, in cutting up some thirty of their number,

his own newly-raised regiment and the Guide Cavalry behaving admirably.

_August 19_.--On August 19 a noteworthy incident occurred at the Sabzi

Mandi picket. A woman dressed in the native costume, and attended by an

Afghan, walked up to the sentries at that post, and on approaching the

men, threw herself on her knees, thanking God in English that she was

under the protection of British soldiers. The honest fellows were

greatly taken aback, and wondered who this could be dressed in native

costume, speaking to them in their own language. She was brought before

the officer commanding the picket, when it transpired that she was a

Eurasian named Seeson, the wife of a European road sergeant. During the

outbreak on May 11 at Delhi her children had been slain before her eyes

and she herself badly wounded, escaping, however, from the murderers

in a most providential manner, and finding shelter in the house of a

friendly native, who had succoured her ever since. By the aid of the

Afghan, and disguised as an _ayah_, or nurse, she had passed through

the gates of the city that morning, eventually finding her way to the

picket. We had one lady in camp, the wife of an officer of native

infantry, and to her kindly charge the poor creature was consigned,

living to the end of the siege in Mrs. Tytler's tent, and being an

object of curiosity as well as of pity to the whole force.

The enemy, lately, had caused great annoyance by firing at the ridge

32-pound rockets, a large store of which they had found in the magazine,

and as they were unused to discharging these dangerous missiles, the

rockets at first, by their rebound, inflicted more damage on the rebels

than on us; but, gaining experience through long practice, they every

evening and during part of the night fired them at the ridge, one or two

falling right amongst the tents in camp.[6]

A battery also was erected about this time on the opposite bank of the

Jumna, at a distance of some 2,000 yards from the Metcalfe pickets, and

this was served so well that not only were the outposts in considerable

danger from the fire, but the camp of one of our native regiments on the

extreme left, and below the Flagstaff Tower, was shifted in consequence

of the enemy's shells falling in their midst.

It will thus be seen that the rebels put forth their whole strength and

used every means at their disposal to harass and annoy us. Like a swarm

of hornets, they attacked us in every direction, first in one quarter

and then in another; but no effort of theirs affected in the smallest

degree the bulldog grip of the British army on the rebellious city.

Reports were rife that the King had sent to propose terms to the

General, and that the answer was a cannonade directed on the walls by

all our batteries; also that their ammunition was falling short; but

these, with other silly rumours, were merely the gossip of the camp, and

were not credited by the bulk of the army.

_August_ 24.--Again, a very large body of mutineers, numbering, it was

said, 9,000 men, with thirteen guns, left the city on August 24. They

were seen from the ridge for hours trooping out of the Lahore and Ajmir

Gates, and proceeding far to our right rear. Their intention, no doubt,

was to cut off the large siege-train and munitions of war on their way

down to us from the arsenal at Ferozepore.

_August_ 25.--A force was at once detailed, under command of the gallant

Nicholson, to intercept the enemy and, if possible, to bring them to

battle. Long before daylight on the morning of August 25 we paraded,

cavalry, infantry, and three batteries of Horse Artillery, or eighteen

guns, numbering in all nearly 2,500 men.

At six o'clock the march began, and leaving the Grand Trunk road a short

distance from the rear of our camp, we made across country to a town

named Nanglooi, distant six miles. The men were in high spirits

notwithstanding the difficulties we had to encounter in traversing a

route wellnigh impassable from the recent rains, and ankle-deep in mud.

Two broad swamps also had to be crossed, the soldiers wading waist-high

in the water, and carrying their ammunition-pouches on their heads.

Three hours and more were passed before we arrived at the village, and

here information reached the General that the enemy were posted twelve

miles distant, at a place named Najafgarh.

The march was at once resumed, and, floundering in the mud, the

artillery horses especially with great labour dragging the guns through

the morass which extended nearly all the way, we arrived at about four

o'clock on the banks of a canal in full view of the enemy's position.

This had been chosen with great judgment, and presented a formidable

appearance, stretching about a mile and a half from the canal bridge on

the extreme right to a large serai on the left in the town of Najafgarh.

Nine guns were posted between the bridge and the serai, with four more

in the latter building, all protected by entrenchments with parapets and

embrasures.

The troops crossed the canal by a ford, and formed up in line of battle

on the opposite side, facing the town of Najafgarh, and about 900 yards

from the serai, the infantry in two lines, ourselves and the 1st Bengal

Fusiliers in front, with artillery and cavalry on each flank.

When we were halted, Nicholson came to the front and, addressing the

regiments of European infantry, spoke a few soul-stirring words, calling

on us to reserve our fire till close to the enemy's batteries, and then

to charge with fixed bayonets. He was answered with a cheer, and the

lines advanced across the plain steady and unbroken, as though on

parade.

The enemy had opened fire, and were answered by our guns, the infantry

marching with sloped arms at the quick step till within 100 yards, when

we delivered a volley. Then the war-cry of the British soldiers was

heard, and the two regiments came to the charge, and ran at the double

towards the serai.

Lieutenant Gabbett of my regiment was the first man to reach the

entrenchment, and, passing through an embrasure, received a bayonet

thrust in the left breast, which stretched him on the ground. The men

followed, clearing everything before them, capturing the four guns in

the serai, bayoneting the rebels and firing at those who had taken to

flight at our approach. Then, changing front, the whole force swept

along the entrenchment to the bridge, making a clean sweep of the enemy,

who turned and fled, leaving the remaining nine guns in our hands.

Our Horse Artillery, under Major Tombs--never better served than in this

action--mowed down the fugitives in hundreds, and continued following

and firing on them till darkness set in. The cavalry also--a squadron of

the gallant 9th Lancers, with the Guides and Punjabees--did their share

of work, while the European infantry were nobly supported by the corps

of Punjab Rifles, who cleared the town of the sepoys.

The battle had lasted a very short time, and after dark we bivouacked on

the wet ground in the pouring rain, completely exhausted from our long

march and subsequent fighting, and faint from want of food, none of

which passed our lips for more than sixteen hours.

[Illustration: NOTE.--MAJOR RAINBY COMMANDED THE 61ST REGIMENT IN THIS

ENGAGEMENT.]

[From Lord Roberts' "Forty-one Years in India." By kind permission.]

Still, the day's work was not over. A village to the rear was found to

be occupied by the enemy, and the Punjab Rifles were ordered to take

it. They met with a most obstinate resistance, their young commander,

Lumsden, being killed. The General then sent part of my regiment to

dislodge the rebels, but we met with only partial success, and had one

officer, named Elkington, mortally wounded, the enemy evacuating the

place during the night.

We passed the night of the 25th in the greatest discomfort. Hungry and

wet through, we lay on the ground, snatching sleep at intervals. Poor

Gabbett died of internal haemorrhage soon after he received his wound,

and his death deprived the regiment of one of its best and bravest

officers, and me of a true friend. He had shared my tent on the march

down and during the whole campaign, a cheery, good-hearted fellow, and

one who had earned the respect of officers and the love of his men. The

General was particularly struck with his bravery, and with feeling heart

wrote a letter to Gabbett's mother, saying he would have recommended her

son for the Victoria Cross had he survived the action.

Young Elkington also received his death-wound at the night-attack on the

village. He was quite a stripling, being only eighteen years old, and

had joined the regiment but a few months before. His was one of those

strange cases of a presentiment of death, many of which have been well

authenticated in our army. On looking over his effects, it was found

that he had written letters to his nearest relations on the night before

marching to Najafgarh; and he had also carefully made up small parcels

of his valuables and trinkets, with directions on them to whom they were

to be delivered in case of his being killed next day. It was noticed,

too, that he was unusually quiet and reserved, never speaking a word

to anyone on the march, though when the action began he behaved like a

gallant soldier, giving up his young life in the service of his country.

_August_ 26.--On the morning of August 26 we marched back to camp,

arriving there before sundown, and were played in by the bands of the

two regiments, while many soldiers, native as well as European, lined

the road and gave us a hearty cheer.

Our casualties at the action of Najafgarh amounted to twenty-five

officers and men killed and seventy wounded. The enemy left great

numbers of dead in the entrenchments and on the plain, their loss being

computed at 500 killed and wounded; but this, I fancy, is much below

the mark, for our artillery fire was very destructive, and the cavalry

committed great havoc amongst the host of fugitives. The battle of the

25th was the most brilliant and decisive since that of Badli-ki-Serai on

June 8. All the guns, thirteen in number, were captured, and the enemy's

camp, ammunition, stores, camels and bullocks were taken. Would that

we had met the insurgents oftener in the open in this manner! But the

rascals were too wary, and had too great a dread of our troops to face

them in a pitched encounter.

During the absence of Nicholson's small force the enemy had attacked all

the pickets, and kept up a heavy cannonade from the walls, causing us a

loss of thirty-five men. It was their impression that the camp had been

left almost bare and defenceless by the withdrawal of so large a force;

but they were quickly undeceived, and were met at each point of assault

by a galling fire from our men.

For many nights after August 26 our right pickets were constantly

harassed by the rebels, who also shelled Hindoo Rao's house from the

city and Kishenganj batteries. Our sappers, too, found it not only

difficult, but dangerous, to work in the advanced trenches below the

ridge, being always met by a murderous musketry from the enemy's

sharpshooters, who fired down behind breastworks. It was resolved,

therefore, on August 30, to drive them out from their cover, and on

two or more occasions this was performed by the Goorkhas and the 60th

Rifles, who, as usual, fighting together and supporting each other, took

the breastworks in gallant style. Our Engineers were then enabled

to continue their operations in the trenches preparatory to making

approaches towards the city walls, and constructing the batteries for

the siege-train, now daily expected.

The Flagstaff Tower, as I have already mentioned in a former part of my

narrative, was the chief rendezvous of officers when not on duty. About

this time I went to the top of the tower in company with one of my

regiment, when an amusing incident occurred.

We were watching the batteries playing on each side, when a tall Afghan,

armed to the teeth, appeared at the top of the steps, and was about to

set foot on the enclosed space under the flagstaff. A sentry was always

stationed there, and on this occasion it happened to be a sturdy little

Goorkha, one of the Kumaon battalion. On the approach of the Afghan he

immediately came to the charge, and warned him that none but European

officers were allowed on the top of the tower. The Afghan laughed,

and then, looking with contempt at the diminutive sentry, a dwarf in

comparison with himself, he attempted to push aside the bayonet. Losing

all patience, the Goorkha at this threw down his musket, and drawing his

_kukri_, the favourite weapon of his race, he rushed at the Afghan with

up-lifted blade. This was too much for our valiant hero, who quickly

turned tail, and disappeared down the circular staircase, the Goorkha

following him at a short distance. On his return he picked up the

musket, and seeing us laughing, the frown on his face turned into the

most ludicrous expression of good-humour I had ever seen, and he burst

out into a fit of laughter which lasted some minutes. He told us that he

and the other Goorkhas of his regiment thought nothing of the bravery of

the Afghan soldiers, some 100 of whom were on our side at Delhi; and he

spoke truly.

These men, all cavalry, superbly mounted, dressed in chain armour, and

carrying arms of every description, had been sent down ostensibly as a

reinforcement to us by their Ameer, Dost Mohammed Khan of Kabul, but

really as spies to watch our movements, and report the state of affairs

to their chief. They made a great display about the camp, but I never

heard of their meeting the enemy in action during their stay before

Delhi.

The last two days of August we had several men killed and wounded in the

force, and one of our officers, who shared my tent after poor Gabbett's

death, received a severe contusion from the bursting of a shell.

Nearly three months had now elapsed since the Siege of Delhi began. We

were, to all appearance, no nearer to the desired end, and had scarcely

gained one foot of ground nearer to the walls of the city. Moreover,

there was alarm in the Punjab owing to a reported disaffection among the

Sikh population, who, it is said, were beginning openly to assert that

the British army was unable to take Delhi. To check this feeling, the

Chief Commissioner had urged General Wilson to lose no time in making

preparations for the assault of the city; and thus our expectations beat

high at the near approach of the powerful siege-train on its way down

from Ferozepore, though we knew there were still before us trials and

dangers to which our former experiences would be as nothing.

The weather had now somewhat cleared, but the heat was overpowering,

averaging 98° in the shade of my tent every day. Cholera, too, raged as

before, the principal sufferers being ourselves, and the 8th and 52nd

Regiments. To cheer the soldiers, the bands played in camp of an

evening, while some officers and men engaged in sport of various kinds;

but the angel of Death was hovering over my poor regiment, and few of

us had the heart to join in pastime while our comrades lay stricken and

dying of disease in hospital.

_September 1_.--A portion of my corps was on duty at the Metcalfe

stable picket on September 1, when a lamentable loss was experienced,

unparalleled in the annals of the siege. The enemy's battery across the

river had never ceased shelling these pickets, though up to this day it

had not caused much damage to the defenders.

Shortly after sunrise the men were assembled outside, receiving their

grog, which was served out to them every morning at an early hour. Some

100 men and officers, beside Sikhs and native attendants, were grouped

around, when a loud hissing sound was heard, and a shrapnel shell, fired

from the enemy's battery at the long range of 2,000 yards, exploded a

few feet in front.

The bullets scattered around, and the scene which followed it is almost

impossible for me to depict. Many threw themselves flat on the ground,

falling one on top of the other, while groans and cries were heard. One

soldier fell mortally wounded by my side, and on looking around to

count up our losses, we found that two of my regiment had been killed

outright, besides six others severely wounded. Two Sikhs and a _bhisti_,

or water-carrier, also met their death, and two doolie-bearers were

wounded--thirteen men in all.

One very stout old officer was in the act of having his morning bath

when the shell exploded, the _bhisti_ standing at his side and pouring

over him, when squatted on a tent-mallet, his _massuck_ of water.

He rolled over and over on the ground, presenting such a ludicrous

appearance in his wet, nude state, and covered with earth, that,

notwithstanding the awful surroundings of the scene, I and others could

not forbear laughing. The shot had been quite a chance one, but it

proved how deadly was the effect of a shrapnel shell exploding, as this

had done, only a few feet in front of a large body of men.

_September 2 and 3_.--The batteries continued exchanging shots during

September 2 and 3, but there were no attacks of any consequence on the

pickets, and we had on those days only three men wounded on the right of

our position.

On the morning of the 4th the long-looked-for siege-train reached camp.

It consisted of twenty-four heavy guns and mortars, and a plentiful

supply of ammunition and stores. Reinforcements also reached us,

amounting to about 400 European infantry and the Belooch battalion, the

last a most savage-looking lot of men, who, however, did good service,

and fought well. Besides these, a party of Sikh horsemen, in the service

of the Rajah of Jhind--a noble-looking man, who, with his retainers,

had kept open our communications with the Punjab during the whole

siege--joined the army, begging as a favour that they might join in the

dangers of the coming assault on the city.

_September 7_.--September 7 also saw the arrival of Wilde's regiment of

Punjabis, 700 strong, followed the same day by the Kashmir contingent

of 2,200 men and four guns, sent to our assistance by the ruler of that

country.

I was sitting in my tent with the bandmaster of my regiment, a German

named Sauer, when we were saluted with the sound of distant music, the

most discordant I have ever heard. The bandmaster jumped up from his

seat, exclaiming: "Mein Gott! vat is dat? No regiment in camp can play

such vile music," and closing his ears immediately, rushed out of the

tent.

The Kashmir troops were marching into camp, accompanied by General

Wilson and his staff, who had gone out to meet them, their bands playing

some English air, drums beating, and colours flying. There was no fault

to be found in the appearance of the soldiers, who were mostly Sikhs and

hill men of good physique; but their ludicrous style of marching, the

strange outlandish uniform of the men, and the shrill discord of their

bands, created great amusement among the assembled Europeans, who had

never seen such a travesty on soldiers before. They encamped on our

right flank; but were not employed on active service till the day of

assault, on September 14.

On the arrival of the siege-train, no time was lost in making approaches

and parallels, and erecting batteries for the bombardment of Delhi. The

trench-work had already been begun, and what with covering and working

parties, both of European and native soldiers, and the usual picket

duties, the greater part of the army was continually employed in this

arduous work every night and a portion of each day. Nothing could

surpass the zeal and willing aptitude of the men, who laboured

unceasingly digging trenches and filling sand-bags, all the time, and

more especially at night, exposed to a galling fire of musketry and

shells.

The Engineers, under their able leaders, were unremitting in their

duties; and the young officers of that corps covered themselves with

glory both in these preliminary operations and at the actual assault.

No. 1 Battery, to our right front, consisting of ten heavy guns and

mortars, was traced, on the evening of September 7, about 700 yards from

the Mori bastion. No. 2, to the left front, near Ludlow Castle, and

only 600 yards from the walls, was completed on the 10th, and contained

nineteen pieces of artillery.

No. 4, for ten heavy mortars, and near No. 2, at the Koodsia Bagh, was

completed in front of the Kashmir bastion also on that day. And, lastly,

No. 3, on the extreme left, with six guns at the short distance of 180

yards from the Water bastion, was unmasked behind the Custom-House,

which was blown up after the completion of the battery.

Thus, in four days and nights, after incredible exertions on the part of

the working parties, forty-five heavy guns and mortars were in position,

strongly entrenched, and ready to silence the fire from the enemy's

bastions and to make breaches in the walls for the assaulting columns.

The rebels during all this time plied the covering and working parties

with shot and shell, bringing out field-guns, which enfiladed the Ludlow

Castle and Koodsia Bagh batteries, and keeping up a sharp musketry fire

from an advanced trench they had dug in front of the walls. At the two

latter places, where the men of my regiment were employed, the fire was

very galling at times, the guns from the distant Selimgarh Fort, Water,

and Kashmir bastions all concentrating their shots at those batteries

whilst in process of erection.

The nights, fortunately, were clear, and we had plenty of light to

assist us in our work; the men were cheerful and active, never resting

for a moment in their labours, and receiving in the Field Force orders

the praise of the General in command.

We wondered how it was that the enemy allowed us to occupy the advanced

positions at Ludlow Castle and the Koodsia Bagh without even so much

as a struggle; but it was accounted for by the supposition that they

imagined our attack would be made from the right of our position, where

all the great conflicts had taken place. There they were in strength,

and it was our weakest point; whereas, on the side near the Jumna, we

were protected from being turned by having the river on our flank,

better cover for operations, and, moreover, batteries to silence which

were less powerful and more difficult of concentration than those

which faced us on our right from the city walls and from the suburb of

Kishenganj.

[Footnote 1: White people.]

[Footnote 2: Lieutenant Pattoun was wounded in the ankle on this

occasion, and a sergeant of the 61st was shot through the head.]

[Footnote 3: Colonel Seton, 35th Native Infantry, was wounded in the

stomach in this affair.]

[Footnote 4: One man of the 61st Regiment was killed by a round-shot,

which in its course also knocked over some sandbags which sent

Lieutenant Hutton flying about seven feet.]

[Footnote 5: Lieutenant Yonge.]

[Footnote 6: On August 7 they blew up one of their own powder factories,

and with it a number of workmen.]