Although called an island, Seringam is in fact a long narrow tongue of
land, running between the two branches of the river Kavari. In some
places these arms are but a few hundred yards apart, and the island
can therefore be defended against an attack along the land. But the
retreat of the French by this line was equally difficult, as we held
the narrowest part of the neck, two miles from Koiladi.
Upon the south, our forces at Trichinopoli faced the French across the
river. Upon the other side of the Kolrun, as the northern arm of the
Kavari is called, the French could cross the river and make their
retreat, if necessary, in any direction. The two principal roads,
however, led from Paichandah, a strong fortified position on the bank
of the river, facing the temple of Seringam.
Clive saw that a force crossing the river, and taking up its position
on the north, would entirely cut off Law's army in the island; would
intercept any reinforcements sent by Dupleix to its rescue; and might
compel the surrender of the whole French army. The attempt would, of
course, be a dangerous one. The French force was considerably stronger
than the English, and were the latter divided into two portions,
entirely cut off from each other, the central point between them being
occupied by the French, the latter would have an opportunity of
throwing his whole force upon one after the other.
This danger would have been so great that, had the French been
commanded by an able and active officer, the attempt would never have
been made. Law, however, had shown amply that he had neither energy
nor intelligence, and Major Lawrence therefore accepted Clive's
proposal.
But to be successful, it was necessary that both portions of the
English force should be well commanded. Major Lawrence felt confident
in his own capacity to withstand Law upon the southern bank, and in
case of necessity he could fall back under the guns of Trichinopoli.
He felt sure that he could, with equal certainty, confide the command
of the other party to Captain Clive. There was, however, the
difficulty that he was the junior captain present; and that already
great jealousy had been excited, among his seniors, by the rank which
he occupied in the councils of Lawrence.
Fortunately, the difficulty was settled by the native allies. Major
Lawrence laid his plans before Muhammud Ali and his allies, whose
cooperation and assistance were absolutely necessary. These, after
hearing the proposal, agreed to give their assistance, but only upon
the condition that Clive should be placed in command of the
expeditionary party. They had already seen the paralysing effects of
the incapacity of some English officers. Clive's defence of Arcot, and
the victories of Arni and Kavaripak, had excited their intense
admiration, and caused them to place unbounded confidence in him.
Therefore they said:
"If Captain Clive commands, we will go--unless he commands, we do
not."
Major Lawrence was glad that the pressure thus placed upon him enabled
him, without incurring a charge of favouritism, to place the command
in the hands of the officer upon whom he most relied.
On the night of the 6th of April Clive set out; with a force composed
of four hundred English, seven hundred Sepoys, three thousand Mahratta
cavalry, a thousand Tanjore cavalry, six light guns and two heavy
ones. Descending the river, he crossed the island at a point three
miles to the east of Law's camping ground, and marched to Samieaveram,
a town nine miles north of the island, and commanding the roads from
the north and east.
The movement was just made in time. Dupleix, utterly disgusted with
Law, had resolved to displace him. D'Auteuil, the only officer he had
of sufficient high rank to take his place, had not, when previously
employed, betrayed any great energy or capacity. It appeared,
nevertheless, that he was at any rate superior to Law. On the 10th of
April, therefore, he despatched D'Auteuil, with a hundred and twenty
French, and five hundred Sepoys, with four guns and a large convoy, to
Seringam, where he was to take the command. When he arrived within
fifteen miles of Samieaveram, he learned that Clive had possession of
that village, and he determined upon a circuitous route, by which he
might avoid him. He therefore sent a messenger to Law, to acquaint him
with his plans, in order that he might aid him by making a diversion.
Clive, in the meantime, had been at work. On the day after his arrival
at Samieaveram, he attacked and captured the temple of Mansurpet,
halfway between the village and the island. The temple was lofty, and
stood on rising ground, and commanded a range of the country for many
miles round.
On its top, Clive established a signal station. Upon the following day
he carried the mud fort of Lalgudi, which was situated on the north
bank of the river, two miles to the east of Paichandah, which now
remained Law's only place of exit from the island.
D'Auteuil, after sending word to Law of his intentions, marched from
Utatua, where he was lying, by a road to the west which would enable
him to move round Samieaveram to Paichandah. Clive captured one of the
messengers, and set off with his force to intercept him. D'Auteuil,
however, received information by his spies of Clive's movement, and
not wishing to fight a battle in the open, with a superior force, fell
back to Utatua, while Clive returned to Samieaveram.
Law, too, had received news of Clive's movement. Here was a chance of
retrieving the misfortunes of the campaign. Paichandah being still in
his hands, he could sally out with his whole force and that of Chunda
Sahib, seize Samieaveram in Clive's absence, and extend his hand to
D'Auteuil, or fall upon Clive's rear. Instead of this, he repeated the
mistake he had made before Trichinopoli; and, instead of marching out
with his whole force, he sent only eighty Europeans, of whom forty
were deserters from the English army, and seven hundred Sepoys.
The English returned from their march against D'Auteuil. The greater
portion of the troops were housed in two temples, a quarter of a mile
apart, known as the Large and Small Pagoda. Clive, with several of his
officers, was in a caravansary close to the Small Pagoda.
Charlie's company were on guard, and after paying a visit to the
sentries, and seeing that all were on the alert, he returned to the
caravansary. The day had been a long one, and the march under the heat
of the sun very fatiguing. There was therefore but little
conversation, and Charlie, finding, on his return from visiting the
sentries, that his leader and the other officers had already wrapped
themselves in their cloaks and lain down to rest, imitated their
example.
Half an hour later, the French column arrived at Samieaveram. The
officer in command was a daring and determined man. Before reaching
the place, he had heard that the English had returned; and, finding
that he had been forestalled, he might well have returned to Law. He
determined, however, to attempt to surprise the camp. He placed his
deserters in front, and when the column, arriving near the Sepoy
sentinel, was challenged, the officer in command of the deserters, an
Irishman, stepped forward, and said that he had been sent by Major
Lawrence to the support of Captain Clive. As the other English-speaking
soldiers now came up, the sentry and native officer with him were
completely deceived, and the latter sent a soldier to guide the column
to the English quarter of the camp.
Without interruption, the column marched on through lines of sleeping
Sepoys and Mahrattas until they reached the heart of the village. Here
they were again challenged. They replied with a volley of musketry
into the caravansary, and another into the pagoda. Then they rushed
into the pagoda, bayoneting all they found there.
Charlie, who had just dropped off to sleep, sprang to his feet, as did
the other officers. While, confused by the noise and suddenness of the
attack, others scarcely understood what was happening, Clive's clear
head and ready judgment grasped the situation at once.
"Gentlemen," he said calmly, "there is no firing going on in the
direction of the Great Pagoda. Follow me there at once."
Snatching up their arms, the officers followed him at a run. The whole
village was a scene of wild confusion. The firing round the pagoda and
caravansary were continuous. The Mahratta horsemen were climbing into
their saddles, and riding away out into the plain; the Sepoys were
running hither and thither.
At the pagoda he found the soldiers turning out under arms, and Clive,
ordering his officers to do their best to rally the native troops in
good order against the enemy, at once moved forward towards the
caravansary, with two hundred English troops. On arriving there, he
found a large body of Sepoys firing away at random. Believing them to
be his own men, for the French and English Sepoys were alike dressed
in white, he halted the English a few yards from them, and rushed
among them, upbraiding them for their panic, striking them, and
ordering them instantly to cease firing, and to form in order.
One of the Sepoy officers recognized Clive to be an Englishman, struck
at him, and wounded him with his sword. Clive, still believing him to
be one of his own men, was furious at what he considered an act of
insolent insubordination; and, seizing him, dragged him across to the
Small Pagoda to hand him over, as he supposed, to the guard there. To
his astonishment he found six Frenchmen at the gate, and these at once
summoned him to surrender.
Great as was his surprise, he did not for a moment lose coolness, and
at once told them that he had come to beg them to lay down their arms,
that they were surrounded by his whole army, and that, unless they
surrendered, his troops would give no quarter. So impressed were the
Frenchmen with the firmness of the speaker that three of them at once
surrendered, while the other three ran into the temple to inform their
commander.
Clive took the three men who had surrendered, and returned to the
English troops he had left near the caravansary. The French Sepoys had
discovered that the English were enemies, and had moved quietly off.
Confusion still reigned. Clive did not imagine, for a moment, that so
daring an assault could have been made on his camp by a small body of
enemies, and expected every moment an attack by Law's whole force. The
commander of the French, in the pagoda, was disturbed by the news
brought in by the three men from the gate, and despatched eight of his
most intelligent men to ascertain exactly what was going on.
These, however, fell into the hands of the English; and the officer of
the party, not knowing that the Small Pagoda was in the hands of the
French, handed them over to a sergeant, and told him to take a party
and escort his eight prisoners, and the three Captain Clive had
captured, to that pagoda for confinement there.
Upon arrival at the gate the Frenchmen at once joined their comrades,
and these latter were also so bewildered at the affair, that they
allowed the English sergeant and his guard to march off again,
unmolested.
By this time, owing to the absence of all resistance elsewhere, Clive
had learnt that the whole of the party who had entered the camp were
in the Lesser Pagoda; and, as he was still expecting, momentarily, to
be attacked by Law's main army, he determined to rid himself of this
enemy in his midst. The pagoda was very strong, and only two men could
enter abreast. Clive led his men to the attack, but so well did the
French defend themselves that, after losing an officer and fifteen
men, Clive determined to wait till morning.
The French officer, knowing that he was surrounded, and beyond the
reach of all assistance, resolved upon cutting a way through, and at
daylight his men sallied out from the temple. So fierce, however, was
the fire with which the English received him, that twelve of his men
were instantly killed, and the rest ran back into the temple.
Clive, hoping that their commander would now surrender without further
effusion of blood, advanced to the gateway and entered the porch to
offer terms. He was himself so faint, from the loss of blood from his
wounds, that he could not stand alone, but leaned against a wall,
supported by two sergeants. The officer commanding the deserters came
out to parley, but, after heaping abuse upon Clive, levelled his
musket and discharged it at him. He missed Clive, but killed the two
sergeants who were supporting him.
The French officer in command, indignant at this conduct, rushed
forward at once to disavow it; and stated that he had determined to
defend the post to the last, solely for the sake of the deserters, but
that the conduct of their officer had released him from that
obligation, and he now therefore surrendered at once.
The instant day broke, and Clive saw that Law was not, as he expected,
at hand, he despatched the Mahratta horse in pursuit of the French
Sepoys. These were overtaken and cut to pieces, and not one man, of
the force which Law had despatched against Clive returned to the
island.
The English loss was heavy. The greater portion of the occupants of
the Small Pagoda were bayoneted by the French, when they entered; and,
as fifteen others were killed in the attack, it is probable that at
least one-fourth of the English force under Clive were killed.
Clive's own escapes were extraordinary. In addition to those of being
killed by the French Sepoys, among whom he ran by mistake, and of
death at the hands of the treacherous deserter, he had one almost as
close, when the French fired their volley into the caravansary. A box
at his feet was shattered, and a servant who slept close to him was
killed.
Some days passed, after this attack, without any fresh movement on
either side. Major Lawrence then determined to drive back D'Auteuil.
He did not despatch Clive against him, as this would involve the risk
that Law might again march out to surprise Samieaveram. He therefore
directed Clive to remain at that place and watch the island, while he
sent a force of a hundred and fifty English, four hundred Sepoys, five
hundred Mahrattas, with four guns, to attack D'Auteuil; from his own
force, under Captain Dalton. This officer, in the advance, marched his
troops near Samieaveram; and, making as much show with them as he
could, impressed D'Auteuil with the idea that the force was that of
Clive.
Accordingly, he broke up his camp at Utatua in the night, abandoned
his stores, and retreated hastily upon Valconda. Dalton then marched
to Samieaveram, and placed his force at Clive's disposal; and, to
prevent any disputes arising as to precedence and rank, offered
himself to serve under him as a volunteer.
Not only D'Auteuil, but Law, was deceived by Dalton's march. From the
lofty towers of Seringam he saw the force marching towards Utatua,
believed that Clive with his whole force had left Samieaveram, and did
now what he should have before done--crossed the river with all his
troops.
Clive's lookout on the temple of Mansurpet perceived what was going
on, and signalled the news to Clive, who at once set out with his
whole force; and, before Law was prepared to issue out from
Paichandah, Clive was within a mile of that place. Law might still
have fought with a fair chance of success, as he was far stronger than
his enemy, but he was again the victim of indecision and want of
energy, and, covered by Paichandah, he fell back across the river
again.
On the 15th of May Clive captured Paichandah, and then determined to
give a final blow to D'Auteuil's force; which had, he learned, again
set out to endeavour to relieve Law. He marched to Utatua to intercept
him.
D'Auteuil, hearing of his coming, instantly fell back again to
Valconda. The native chief of this town, however, seeing that the
affairs of the French were desperate; and willing, like all his
countrymen, to make his peace with the strongest, had already accepted
bribes from the English; and upon D'Auteuil's return, closed the gates
and refused to admit him. Clive soon arrived, and D'Auteuil, caught
between two fires, surrendered with his whole force.
Had Law been a man of energy, he had yet a chance of escape. He had
still seven or eight hundred French troops with him, two thousand
Sepoys, and four thousand of Chunda Sahib's troops. He might, then,
have easily crossed the Kavari at night and fallen upon Lawrence,
whose force there now was greatly inferior to his own. Chunda Sahib,
in vain, begged him to do so. His hesitation continued until, three
days after the surrender of D'Auteuil, a battering train reached
Lawrence; whereupon Law at once surrendered, his chief stipulation
being that the life of Chunda Sahib should be spared.
This promise was not kept. The unfortunate prince had preferred to
surrender to the Rajah of Tanjore, who had several times intrigued
secretly with him, rather than to Muhammud Ali or the English, whom he
regarded as his implacable enemies. Had he placed himself in our
hands, his life would have been safe. He was murdered, by the
treacherous rajah, within twenty-four hours of his surrender.
With the fall of Seringam terminated the contest for the supremacy of
the Carnatic, between the English and French, fighting respectively on
behalf of their puppets, Muhammud Ali and Chunda Sahib. This stage of
the struggle was not a final one; but both by its circumstances, and
by the prestige which we acquired in the eyes of the natives, it gave
us a moral ascendency which, even when our fortunes were afterwards at
their worst, was never lost again.
Muhammud Ali had, himself, gained but little in the struggle. He was,
indeed, nominally ruler of the Carnatic, but he had to rely for his
position solely on the support of the English bayonets. Indeed, the
promises, of which he had been obliged to be lavish to his native
allies, to keep them faithful to his cause, when that cause seemed all
but lost, now came upon him to trouble him; and so precarious was his
position, that he was obliged to ask the English to leave two hundred
English troops, and fifteen hundred of their Sepoys, to protect the
place against Murari Reo, and the Rajahs of Mysore and Tanjore.
The fatigues of the expedition had been great and, when the force
reached the seacoast, Major Lawrence was forced to retire to Fort
Saint David to recover his health; while Clive, whose health had now
greatly broken down, betook himself to Madras; which had, when the
danger of invasion by the French was at an end, become the
headquarters of the government of the presidency.
There were, however, two French strongholds dangerously near to
Madras, Covelong and Chengalpatt. Two hundred recruits had just
arrived from England, and five hundred natives had been enlisted as
Sepoys. Mr. Saunders begged Clive to take the command of these, and
reduce the two fortresses. He took with him two twenty-four pounders,
and four officers, of whom two were Charlie Marryat and Peters; to
both of whom Clive was much attached, owing to their courage,
readiness, and good humour.
Covelong was first attacked. It mounted thirty guns, and was
garrisoned by fifty French, and three hundred Sepoys.
"I don't like the look o' things, Mr. Charles," Tim Kelly said.
"There's nothing but boys altogether, white and black. Does it stand
to reason that a lot of gossoons, who haven't learnt the goose step,
and haven't as much as a shred of faith, ayther in themselves or their
officers, are fit to fight the French?"
"Oh, I don't know, Tim," Charlie said. "Boys are just as plucky as
men, in their way, and are ready to do all sorts of foolhardy things,
which men would hesitate to attempt."
"And that is so, Mr. Charles, when they've only other boys to dale
with; but as they're growing up, they take some time before they're
quite sure they're a match for men. That's what it is, yer honor, I
tell ye, and you will see it, soon."
Tim's predictions were speedily verified. The very morning after they
arrived before the fort, the garrison made a sally, fell upon the
troops, and killed one of their officers.
The whole of the new levies took to their heels, and fled away from
the fight. Clive, with his three officers, threw himself among them
and, for some time, in vain attempted to turn the tide. It was not,
indeed, until several had been cut down that the rout was arrested,
and they were brought back to their duty.
A day or two later a shot, striking a rock, killed or wounded fourteen
men; and excited such a panic, that it was some time before the rest
would venture near the front.
The enemy, with a considerable force, marched from Chengalpatt to
relieve the place. Clive left half his force to continue the siege,
and with the rest marched out and offered battle to the relieving
force. Daring and confidence, as usual, prevailed. Had the enemy
attacked, there is little doubt they would have put Clive's raw levies
to flight. They were, however, cowed by his attitude of defiance, and
retreated hastily.
The governor of Covelong at once lost heart and surrendered the place;
which he might have maintained, for months, against the force before
it; and on the fourth day of the siege, capitulated.
A few hours afterwards the enemy from Chengalpatt, ignorant of the
fall of the fort, again advanced; and Clive met them with his whole
force. Taken by surprise, they suffered heavily. Clive pursued them to
the gates of their fort, to which he at once laid siege.
Fortunately for the English, the commander of this place, like him of
Covelong, was cowardly and incapable. Had it not been so, the fort,
which was very strong, well provisioned, and well garrisoned, might
have held out for an indefinite time. As it was, it surrendered on the
fourth day, and Clive took possession on the 31st of August.
He returned to Madras, and there, a short time afterwards, married
Miss Maskelyne. Finding his health, however, continuing to
deteriorate, he sailed for Europe in February, 1753. It was but five
years since he had first taken up arms to defend Fort Saint David, an
unknown clerk, without prospects and without fortune, utterly
discontented and disheartened.
Madras was in the hands of the French. Everywhere their policy was
triumphant, and the soil surrounded by the walls of Saint David's,
alone, remained to the English in Southern India. In the five years
which had elapsed, all had changed. The English were masters of the
Carnatic. The French were broken and discredited. The English were
regarded by the natives throughout the country as the coming power;
and of this great change, no slight portion was due to the energy and
genius of Clive, himself.