Escape of the servants—Mr. Gurdon comes for me—Away from
shelter and one’s life in one’s hands—Over the hedge and across
the river—Lie in the ditch for shelter from shot—Fired on at
Burri Bazaar.
The bustle and confusion outside were great. The Sepoys were being
mustered into marching order, but around them on all sides people were
rushing about, knocking each other over in their eagerness to make good
their escape. These were chiefly servants, Bunnias,[17] and the many
followers who accumulate wherever a regiment goes.
I stood for some time watching them tearing away, until a sudden fear
took hold of me that I had been forgotten and left behind. I was
meditating going myself, but on second thoughts I remembered I had
promised the officers to remain where I was, and they had said they would
come for me; and just at that moment one of them came and told me that we
were to make a move.
Out in the open, away from the shelter of the house, with one’s life in
one’s hands, as it were, my senses nearly left me. The noise was awful,
for besides the bursting of the shells, the firing was heavier than it
had been before. I had not gone six yards from the house when a shell
exploded almost at my feet, knocking off some branches of a big tree
close by, and wounding me very slightly in the arm. I jumped behind the
tree, in the vain hope that its broad trunk might save me from further
injury, and there I remained for some seconds. The scurrying of those
going towards the river awoke me to my senses again, and off I went, too,
forgetting to look for my companion, from whom I had managed to get
separated.
It was no easy matter to get on to the Cachar road from the back of the
Residency, as there were many obstacles in the way. The inner garden was
separated from the outer compound by a tall hedge, composed of thorns and
sharp twigs. I had superintended the erection of this hedge myself. We
had kept a great many cows, and they were always making their way into
the flower-garden and destroying the rose-bushes. Nothing seemed to keep
them out until we made this thorn hedge, and that, as I remarked to my
husband when I took him to see it first, ‘was calculated to keep an army
of men out if it came to the point.’
Fortunately, by the time I arrived at this hedge it had become much
broken down, the result of the energy of those who had already gone
through it. I found a convenient hole, and got through with comparatively
little damage to my raiment; but my hands received a good many
scratches, and my poor stockings were dreadfully torn. However, on I
went, perfectly insensible as to who were travelling with me. The next
obstacle was a mud wall, low enough on our side, but with a six-foot
drop on the other. I found myself sitting on the top of this, wondering
how I was going to make the descent of the other side, when someone gave
me a gentle push, as a sort of warning that I was stopping the traffic,
and I slid gracefully down on the other side into the arms of a friendly
Bunnia, who also helped me down the river bank, which was very slippery
and muddy. I fell two or three times, doing considerable damage to my
already dirty dress; but I got to the water’s edge at last, and made a
valiant effort to cross the river.
Fortunately for us, it was March, and not April or May; for had these
events taken place later in the year, I do not know how we should have
crossed that river. But as it was the end of the cold weather, and the
rains had not commenced, the stream was low and easily waded. I did not
know how deep it was, for we had never crossed it riding, as we generally
did Manipuri rivers. We had often thought of doing so, but the banks were
so steep and slippery that my husband said it would do the horses no good
to clamber down them, and then we might find the river too deep to ford.
So with this delightful uncertainty about things, I made my first plunge,
and stepped into the water, which was dreadfully cold. I had got into
the middle of the stream, when I was overtaken by the doctor, who seemed
rather astonished at finding me there alone. However, I explained to him
that I had been too frightened to remain at the house when I saw so many
people running away, and had managed fairly well up to that time, but I
did not like the river.
He was certainly a good Samaritan on this occasion, for he carried me
the rest of the way through the water, and was just about to land me
high and dry on the bank, when his foot slipped in the mud, and down we
went. We soon picked ourselves up, however, and scrambled out, and then I
found that the heel had come off my shoe in the water. I was covered with
mud and shivering with cold, for my skirts were dripping with water and
very heavy. But there was no time to be lost, and I climbed up the bank
and crossed the road, on the other side of which was a deep ditch, into
which I retreated and lay down, for firing was going on, and I did not
know from which side it came, whether from our men, who had all caught
me up by this time, or the Manipuris. Whenever I heard shots afterwards
I used to be alarmed, for I never could tell when our men were firing,
and always feared the worst, unless I was actually in the midst of the
Sepoys, and could see them shooting with my own eyes.
We waited in the ditch some time, until all the Sepoys had crossed
the river, and then we started off again to find the way to Cachar. We
went some way in the opposite direction at first, and had to come back
again; but at length we turned down on to the right road, and commenced
the march in real earnest. It was a moonlight night, which enabled us
to see quite plainly. Had it been dark, our difficulties would have
been increased tenfold. We could not march fast, for the wounded had to
be brought along with us, and the number of Kahars carrying them was
limited. What they must have endured no one can imagine, being jolted
along for so many hours together without any food or rest. I knew every
inch of the road we were travelling, as I had ridden down and up it so
often in my journeys to and from Cachar, and I was able to give the
others the benefit of my knowledge.
We marched along in silence for some miles. At a place called Burri
Bazaar we were fired on, but we were not followed from the palace, as
we had fully expected. Whether they did not know we had escaped, or
whether they thought discretion the better part of valour, and preferred
remaining behind the shelter of their stone walls, to following after
us with hostile intent, I cannot say. But it was fortunate for us that
they gave us the start, and let us get some distance away before they
attempted to pursue us.