CAPTAIN W. A. KERR, SOUTH MAHRATTA HORSE, AND THE VICTORIA CROSS.
On the evening of the 8th of July, 1857, a party of officers belonging
to different regiments in the Indian service were seated round the
mess-room table in the barracks of Sattara, in the Bombay Presidency.
An expression of anxiety was depicted on all their faces, and they
spoke in that hushed subdued tone which men usually assume in moments
of great peril. And they had reason to look anxious. The Indian Mutiny
had already broken out, and recent events showed that its limits were
not to be confined to the Bengal Presidency. The seeds of disaffection
had been sown among their own men, and they knew not at what hour they
might be called upon to meet them in open mutiny. The Orientals can
veil the most treacherous designs under the deepest secrecy, and every
officer felt, as it were, that he was carrying his life in his hands.
At any hour the men, outwardly so respectful and obedient, might enter
the very room where they sat and shoot them down at the mess-table. They
had done so in other cases, and what guarantee had these that their
lives were more secure? The inhabitants of Sattara were at no pains to
conceal their rebellious tendencies, and their men were only restrained
by that discipline which soldiers find it so difficult to shake off from
openly expressing their sympathies with them. In truth, the whole country
was in a state of slumbering rebellion, and no one could tell when the
embers of disaffection might burst forth into an open flame. They felt
as Prometheus might have felt if he had been bound to the sides of Mount
Etna, in hourly expectation of an eruption. Escape there was none. If it
came to the worst, they could meet their fate like brave men, and die
sword in hand.
One young officer, whose stalwart frame and slight accent betokened
his Northern origin, took a more hopeful view of the subject. This was
Lieutenant William Alexander Kerr, of the South Mahratta Horse, an
officer who had already secured the confidence and respect of the wild
troopers under his command. He expressed his conviction that, however
treacherous the other native troops might prove, he could always count
on the loyalty of the South Mahratta Horse, and if any emergency should
occur it would be seen that their courage was equal to their loyalty.
The words had scarcely passed his lips, when an orderly entered the room
and delivered a slip of paper to the officer in command. The door was
carefully closed to prevent the servants from hearing, for at that trying
period almost every native was suspected to be a rebel in disguise.
The paper was then read aloud. It proved to be a telegraphic message
from Kolapore, a town about seventy-five miles distant from Sattara.
Its contents were such as might well appal the bravest heart. The 27th
Regiment of Bombay Native Infantry had suddenly mutinied and murdered all
the officers on whom they could lay their hands. Those who escaped had
taken shelter in the Residency, where they were guarded by a troop of
the South Mahratta Horse and the Kolapore Light Infantry. The mutineers,
from carelessness or ignorance, had neglected to cut the telegraph
wires, and the beleaguered party had thus been enabled to communicate
with their countrymen at Sattara, to whom they made an urgent appeal for
assistance. Almost destitute of provisions, and surrounded by a merciless
foe thirsting for their blood, they could not hold out long, and if they
yielded their fate was certain. In this the hour of their need they
turned to their countrymen for assistance.
A momentary silence ensued. It was not that they were unwilling to incur
any risk in order to aid those whose case was so desperate; the only
question was whether they could trust their men in such an undertaking.
Kerr was not the man to unsay the words he had just spoken. He had
expressed the confidence he reposed in the loyalty and courage of his
men; he was now prepared to prove that that confidence was not misplaced.
His position as adjutant of the regiment afforded him the best
opportunities of becoming acquainted with the personal character of the
men. He was brought into daily contact with them; had to listen to all
their grievances; had to receive the complaints made against defaulters;
and, in minor cases, to decide the punishments to be awarded. Unswerving
firmness and impartial justice are the two qualities most requisite to
enable one to obtain a powerful hold on the Oriental mind, and these two
qualities Lieutenant Kerr possessed in the highest perfection. He knew
his men, and his men knew him; they could, therefore, trust one another
in the hour of danger. He at once volunteered to lead a party of the
South Mahratta Horse to the rescue; all the assistance that could be
spared was fifty men. Small as that number was for such an undertaking,
he did not hesitate to take the command. No time was consumed in needless
preparation; in half an hour he was in the saddle and on the road. We
use the expression “road” in a figurative sense; literally speaking,
there was no road at all, merely a rough path leading through the
cotton-fields, where the horses sank to the fetlocks, often to the knees,
in the mud. The distance to be travelled was only seventy-five miles: a
short distance to those accustomed to railways and steamers, but those
familiar with the roads in India will appreciate the difficulties which
Kerr and his gallant little party had to surmount. It was the middle
of the monsoon season; the rain descended in torrents; the country was
half flooded; the smallest streams were converted into dangerous rivers.
But the gallant band went on; swam their horses over three large and
two smaller rivers, besides seven nullahs, all swollen with the heavy
rains, and reached Kolapore within twenty-six hours. We have all heard
of Dick Turpin’s ride to York; but the rapid advance of Lieutenant Kerr
and his party, in such a country, and at such a season, was scarcely less
wonderful.
They did not arrive a moment too soon. The mutineers, elated by a
temporary success, were ready to offer them battle. They had already
encountered the Kolapore Light Infantry, and defeated them with
considerable loss. After this they had taken up their position in a
pagah, or fortified square with circular bastions, situated near the
town. This pagah was a place of considerable strength, and the attacking
party had no artillery to effect a breach in the walls. Recourse was had
to the rajah, who lent them a couple of old guns, which, on trial, were
found to be useless. Night was at hand, and Kerr knew well the danger
of delay; if he waited till morning, his men, worn out and discouraged,
might refuse to follow him. All his hopes of success depended on an
immediate attack; so he resolved at once to carry the place by storm.
His men had already witnessed his courage; he had headed the party
which occupied the brushwood outside the pagah; he had laid the guns at
thirty yards’ range from the western bastion under a heavy fire; he had
passed through all this unhurt. The Orientals, fatalists by creed and by
constitution, have the greatest faith in the luck that attends certain
leaders; they recognised in Kerr one of the favourites of Allah, and were
prepared to follow him wherever he chose to lead.
He did not give them long to wait. Causing the sowars to dismount from
their horses, he placed himself at their head and led them on to the
attack. On approaching the walls they found that the task they had
undertaken was one of no ordinary difficulty. The only entrance to the
place was by small doors of thick teak-wood, from five and a half to six
feet in height, which the mutineers had taken the precaution to block up
with large stones, so as to render them almost as solid as the walls.
If they had been provided with guns this obstacle might easily have
been removed; but, as the event proved, the two lent by the rajah were
evidently intended more for ornament than use.
But Kerr was not a man to be easily discouraged. His conduct proved the
truth of the good old adage, that “where there’s a will there’s a way.”
Among the dismounted sowars there was, fortunately, one who entered
readily into his plans, and volunteered to share with him the danger.
This was Gumpunt Row Deo Ker, a gallant trooper, worthy to be known
and admired by all who can appreciate valour in the field, though the
singularity of his name will, we fear, prevent it from ever becoming
familiar to our readers as a household word. Kerr and Gumpunt armed
themselves with crowbars and marched through the heavy fire of the enemy
till they reached one of the small doors. Both plied their instruments so
well that they soon made an aperture sufficiently wide to admit a man in
a stooping attitude. It seems almost miraculous that no hostile bullet
should have reached them while thus engaged, but they escaped unhurt.
The opening was made, but who would have the courage to be the first to
enter? To do so was almost certain death: the rebels were waiting and
watching to shoot down the first man who appeared inside the walls, and
yet there was not a moment’s hesitation. Kerr rushed through the opening,
followed by Gumpunt Row and others whose courage was inspired by the
example of their daring leader. As soon as he appeared within the pagah,
twenty of the mutineers took deliberate aim and fired a volley at him.
He had the presence of mind to retain his stooping position, and all
the bullets passed harmlessly over his head. He did not give them time
to reload, but rushed at them sword in hand. They fought with bayonets,
and kept their ground for a time, till several of them were killed and
wounded. Nothing could resist the impetuous onset of the stormers: the
rebels were driven back till they found refuge in a house which covered
the other entrance. It so happened that this house was loopholed, and the
rebels were thus enabled to continue their resistance. They fired heavy
volleys upon the attacking party as they advanced, and did everything
they could to make good their position; but it was all in vain. Kerr,
followed by his brave sowars, got round the flanks, set fire to the
building, and burnt the enemy out. The other mutineers retreated through
the door already alluded to, and began to barricade it. This spot now
became the central point of attack and defence; the mutineers quitted
the other bastions which they had been defending, and joined the party
who had formed the barricade. Knowing the fate that awaited them if they
yielded, they fought with all the fury of despair.
[Illustration: Captain William Alexander Kerr, South Mahratta Horse, at
Kolapoor.]
The great point was to effect an entrance. This could only be done by
removing the barricade. This was a task of no ordinary danger; whoever
undertook it had to count on concentrating on himself the whole fire of
the enemy. Here again Lieutenant Kerr boldly exposed his life to almost
certain destruction by rushing forward, crowbar in hand, and emulating
the vigour of the Black Knight in “Ivanhoe” in the ponderous blows he
struck. It seemed that day as if he bore a charmed life; the bullets of
the rebels whistled around him in every direction, but still he plied
his crowbar till the barricade began to yield. At length, as on the
former occasion, he made an opening wide enough to admit a person in a
stooping position. As soon as this was done he rushed through, followed
by his faithful attendant, Gumpunt Row, who was resolved to share his
leader’s fate. The rebels were waiting their approach, and no sooner
had they appeared within the walls than they were met by a volley, from
which they fortunately escaped unhurt. Without giving them time to reload
they rushed upon the mutineers, and a desperate hand-to-hand combat
ensued. The rebels were far superior in numbers, but that was their
only advantage. The storming party, animated by the example of their
gallant leader, already counted on victory. For a time the event seemed
doubtful; the enemy, driven to their last corner, offered an obstinate
resistance. A ball cut the chain of Lieutenant Kerr’s helmet, another hit
his sword-blade with such force that it turned the edge. The faithful
Gumpunt Row, though wounded in the foot, never quitted his master’s side;
at one moment, when his life was exposed to imminent danger, he shot the
assailant dead. Another mutineer rushed up and discharged his musket
so close to Lieutenant Kerr’s face that for an instant he was blinded
by the powder. It was only for a moment, and as soon as he recovered
his sight he ran his sword through the body of his adversary with such
force that it required a violent effort to withdraw it. While he was
struggling to do so, one of the enemy, watching his opportunity, rushed
up and struck him a violent blow with the butt-end of a musket. Such a
blow would have placed a less powerful man _hors de combat_; as it was,
Lieutenant Kerr staggered beneath it and almost lost his consciousness.
Another rebel, observing his helpless condition, ran forward to dispatch
him, but Gumpunt Row, watching over his master’s safety, was ready to
receive him. A bullet from his musket stretched him lifeless on the
ground. Lieutenant Kerr, instantly recovering himself, killed a second.
Assailants and defendants were now enveloped in such a cloud of smoke
that it was difficult to distinguish one another or to mark the various
incidents of the contest, which raged with the greatest fury. Lieutenant
Kerr, though severely wounded, pressed the advantage he had gained by
driving the enemy before him; he knew that all depended upon his example
and courage; if he had fallen or hesitated for a moment the sowars would
have retreated and the enemy escaped. As it was, they followed him
wherever he went, and showed by their conduct that the natives of India,
when properly led, are capable of the most heroic deeds.
The mutineers were pressed so hard that they at length gave way, and
took refuge in the inner keep. This building had been used as a temple,
and was a place of considerable strength. The rebels barricaded the door
and began to fire through an opening on the storming party. The latter
had consisted originally of seventeen sowars; of these only six or seven
continued to follow their gallant leader; all the rest had been killed
or disabled. Lieutenant Kerr advanced with this handful of men to attack
the rebels in their last refuge. On approaching the door, it was found
that the crowbars made no impression upon it, and that some other means
of forcing an entrance must be adopted. Lieutenant Kerr proved himself as
ingenious in resources as he was gallant in attack. Observing a quantity
of hay close at hand, he seized some of it and carried it to the door
of the temple. He was closely followed by Gumpunt Row, who set fire to
the hay. The door was gradually consumed, and the stormers, who during
this interval had been exposed to a heavy fire, rushed in. None of the
mutineers escaped; all of them were either captured or slain.
This brilliant affair, in which Lieutenant Kerr bore such a distinguished
part, was attended with the most important consequences: it checked the
rising spirit of revolt in the province where it occurred, and revived
the confidence of the officers in the native regiments under their
command.
The loss sustained by the storming party was very severe. Their leader
was seriously wounded. Of his seventeen followers eight were killed on
the spot, and four subsequently died of their wounds. Not one of them
escaped unhurt. If we take into account the obstinate resistance of the
enemy, the smallness of Kerr’s troop, and the heavy fire to which they
were exposed, the only ground for surprise is that any of them should
have escaped at all. It was impossible that such gallant conduct should
have passed unnoticed or unrewarded. The press of India was loud in
expressing the admiration which was felt by all, and Colonel Maugan, the
officer commanding at Kolapore, brought Lieutenant Kerr’s distinguished
conduct under the notice of the Adjutant-General of the Bombay army, in
the following terms:—
“Lieutenant William A. Kerr, of the Southern Mahratta Irregular Horse,
took a prominent share in the attack of the position, and at the moment
when the capture was of great public importance, he made a dash at the
gateway with some dismounted horsemen, and forced an entrance by breaking
down the gate. This attack was completely successful; and the defenders
(to the number of thirty-four, all armed with muskets and bayonets) were
either killed, wounded, or captured—a result which may with perfect
justice be attributed to Lieutenant Kerr’s dashing and devoted bravery. I
would therefore beg to be permitted to recommend Lieutenant Kerr for the
highly honourable distinction of the Victoria Cross.”
Our readers, after reading the above narrative of Lieutenant Kerr’s
exploits at Kolapore, will agree with us that he deserved this honourable
distinction, so dear to every soldier’s heart. Soon after these events
he returned to England, where he was invested with the Victoria Cross,
and afforded Mr. Desanges an opportunity of perpetuating the remembrance
of his gallantry. He has now returned to Bombay, and holds the rank of
captain in the South Mahratta Horse. If circumstances should ever arise
demanding such displays of valour, it will be found that his arm is as
strong and his heart as brave as when he stormed the pagah at Kolapore
and repressed the mutiny of the 27th Bombay Native Infantry.
[Illustration]