PRIVATE HENRY WARD, V.C., 78TH HIGHLANDERS.
It is a remarkable fact that Private Henry Ward and Sir H. M. Havelock,
Bart., the officer whose life he saved, have both been decorated with the
Cross of Valour. The career of Havelock, the avenger of Cawnpore, the
deliverer of Lucknow, is matter of history; but the important services
and distinguished bravery of his son, who owes his life to Private Ward,
ought to be recorded for the admiration and imitation of all who wish to
deserve well of their country. He was born at Chinsurah, in the Bengal
Presidency, in the year 1830; his father, then a lieutenant in the
13th Regiment, had formed the acquaintance of the Baptist missionaries
at Serampore, and was married on the 9th of February, 1829, to Hannah
Shepherd, the youngest daughter of the Rev. Dr. Marshman, a distinguished
member of that body. Henry Marshman Havelock was the first fruit of
this marriage, and had to share from his earliest infancy in all the
vicissitudes and dangers of a soldier’s child in India. While still an
infant under twelve months of age, he had to accompany his parents on a
voyage up the Ganges and was seized with a sudden attack of illness. On
this occasion his father exhibited the same calm courage and presence of
mind which he afterwards displayed on many a battle-field. “To render
the case more disheartening,” he wrote, “we were entirely destitute of
the only remedies which we believed likely to be effectual. We had no
calomel, and no lancet, and no skilful hand to use it; and the young
sufferer grew worse every hour. The danger seemed imminent, and our
distress was not trifling. I therefore determined myself to try my skill
as an operator, and with a very indifferent substitute for a lancet,
and, I fear, not a very steady hand, succeeded in giving relief to my
first patient. I should think this a very tedious story to write to one
who did _not_ know how the human heart, even the heart of one who has
passed through many scenes of suffering and danger, attaches itself to
these little ones in their years of helplessness. My clumsy attempts were
certainly blessed beyond our hope, for the little sufferer soon became
calmer and calmer, and his fever sensibly diminished.” We record this
incident, because it proves that tenderness of heart is not incompatible
with the sternest courage: the two qualities may, and often do co-exist.
It is unnecessary to dwell on the education or boyhood of young
Havelock: from the earliest period he had expressed a desire to adopt
his father’s profession, though, judging from his subordinate rank in
the army, he had little reason to expect rapid promotion. He obtained
his commission in 1847, and at the commencement of the Indian Mutiny
held the rank of lieutenant in the 10th Regiment. When his father
received the command of the moveable column which was to be formed at
Allahabad, and to consist of the 64th Regiment and 78th Highlanders,
he was appointed Deputy-Assistant Adjutant-General of this force, and
accompanied them in their advance to Cawnpore. He had already held the
appointment of adjutant in his own regiment, and acted for a time as
aide-de-camp to his father on this his first campaign. He was present
at the battle of Futtehpore, where his gallantry attracted the notice
and excited the admiration of his father, who, in the original draft
of the despatch he had written, thus alludes to his services:—“I shall
incur risk of suspected partiality when I further record that the
boldness, and activity, and quick perception of Lieutenant Havelock,
10th Foot, my son, and aide-de-camp, on this his first action on shore,
inspired me with the hope that he will do his country good service long
after I am in the grave.” No one can read these words without emotion,
or fail to sympathize with the father of such a son and yet such was
the tenderness of Havelock’s conscience, the almost morbid dread that
paternal partiality might have led him to exaggerate the merits of his
aide-de-camp, that the passage was omitted in the revised copy of the
despatch. We question whether there be many officers in the service who
would exhibit the same reticence, or practise the same self-denial under
similar circumstances; but Havelock was one of a thousand. Though he had
the Spartan self-denial to omit his son’s name in his published despatch,
he speaks of “the boy H.” in admiring terms in his private letters, and
circumstances soon occurred which led him to believe it to be his duty to
recommend him for the distinction of the Victoria Cross.
A brief statement of these circumstances may not be out of place. On
the 16th of July, 1857, Havelock was close upon Cawnpore, and after
allowing his exhausted troops a few hours’ rest in a mango grove, until
the fierce heat of the mid-day sun had abated, prepared for action. Nana
Sahib, having completed his work of butchery in the town, had marched
forth with his army, and taken up a strong position at Atherwas, the
point where the road leading to the cantonment branches out from the main
trunk-road to Cawnpore. He there commanded five villages, with numerous
intrenchments, armed with seven guns; his infantry was stationed in the
rear. Havelock perceived at once that the guns could not be silenced, or
the intrenchments carried without sacrificing many valuable lives, and
with his small army he had none to spare. He therefore quietly wheeled
his force round to the left of the enemy’s position, behind a screen of
clumps of mango. When the rebels detected this manœuvre, they endeavoured
to strengthen their left flank by bringing up their cavalry, and opening
fire in that direction with all their artillery. Then followed a series
of operations which proved, in the most striking manner, the superiority
of the British infantry to the recreant foe opposed to them; though
inferior in numbers, and exhausted by their long march, they advanced
under a heavy fire with as much coolness as if they had been on parade;
and when the word was given, “Charge,” they rushed forward with a ringing
cheer, and drove the enemy before them at the point of the bayonet.
Four villages were thus taken in rapid succession, and seven guns fell
into our hands. As a last effort the enemy planted a 24-pounder on the
cantonment road, by which our men had to advance, and inflicted severe
loss on the gallant little band. Our artillery cattle were so exhausted
with heat and fatigue, that the guns could not be dragged forward to
silence the 24-pounder, and the enemy, encouraged by their temporary
success, began to rally with the evident intention of renewing the
engagement. The moment was critical: all depended upon the capture of the
enemy’s gun. This task was assigned to the 64th Regiment, who advanced
along the road amid a shower of grape, under the command of Major
Stirling. An officer commanding a regiment ought always to be mounted,
especially in action: he is thus a conspicuous object to his men, and
his presence inspires them with fresh courage. Unfortunately, Major
Stirling’s horse had been wounded by the bursting of a shell, and he was
obliged to lead on his men on foot. It does not appear that there was any
hesitation or irresolution on the part of the 64th, anything, in short,
to justify another officer in attempting to supersede the one already in
command; on the contrary, their conduct throughout the day was rewarded
with the highest praise in a public despatch. While they were in the act
of advancing, young Havelock, perceiving no officer at their head, and
knowing how much depended on the capture of the gun, yielded to an almost
irresistible impulse by riding forward, and placing himself at the head
of the regiment. Gallantly he advanced in front of them, amid a storm of
grape, cheering them on by his voice and example, till he rode his horse
to the very mouth of the cannon which had arrested our progress. It was
seized by the 64th, and the enemy losing all heart fell back on Cawnpore,
where they blew up the magazine, and then went on to Bithoor.
General Havelock, who had witnessed the gallantry of his son, resolved
to recommend him for the Victoria Cross. We have already seen how on
a previous occasion he had omitted his name from a public despatch
lest he should be suspected of partiality: this circumstance, perhaps,
rendered him more anxious to do justice to him now. There was no reason
in the world why he should be debarred from this honour if he had fairly
earned it, because his father happened to be the officer in command. It
appears, however, that he himself wished the affair to be overlooked. It
is not for us to specify the motive by which he was actuated: it may have
been a tender regard for his father’s character of impartiality, or an
apprehension of the storm of hostility which the bestowal of this honour
would excite, or the consciousness that he was not justly entitled to it.
Be this as it may, the fact is certain that he persuaded his father to
suppress the telegram which he had prepared for the Commander-in-Chief.
He was more anxious that his own merits should be overlooked than that
his father’s good name should be impugned: he was willing to wait.
On the return of the troops to Cawnpore after the battle of Bithoor,
General Havelock having occasion to recommend another officer for the
Victoria Cross, no longer felt himself justified in overlooking the claim
of his own son. “I also recommend for the same decoration Lieutenant
Havelock, 10th Foot. In the combat at Cawnpore he was my aide-de-camp.
The 64th Regiment had been much under artillery fire, from which it had
suffered severely. The whole of the infantry were lying down in line,
when perceiving that the enemy had brought out their last reserved gun—a
24-pounder—and were rallying around it, I called up the regiment to rise
and advance. Without any other word from me, Lieutenant Havelock placed
himself on his horse in front of the centre of the 64th, opposite the
muzzle of the gun. Major Stirling, commanding the regiment, was in front,
dismounted; but the lieutenant continued to move steadily on in front of
the regiment, at a foot pace, on his horse. The gun discharged shot till
the troops were within a short distance, when they fired grape. In went
the corps, led by the lieutenant, who steadily steered on to the gun’s
muzzle, until it was mastered by a rush of the 64th.”
It is worthy of remark, that this recommendation was concealed from his
son, and only communicated to him after his father’s death by Lieutenant
Hargood, General Havelock’s aide-de-camp. This circumstance is to be
regretted on many grounds: if the telegram had been submitted to young
Havelock before it was forwarded to the Commander-in-Chief, we are
certain, from our personal knowledge of his character, that he would have
so modified certain expressions it contains as to have avoided wounding
the tender sensibilities of those who felt aggrieved by them. Without
doing any injustice to himself he might have done more justice to Major
Stirling, and the officers of the 64th; but the responsibility rests
not with him but with his father, who, before the storm excited by the
publication of this telegram had burst forth, had already gone the way of
all living, and was indifferent to popular praise or blame. The Cross of
Valour was awarded to Lieutenant Havelock in March, 1858, and on reading
it in the _Gazette_, the officers of the 64th Regiment, considering that
they had just cause of complaint against both father and son, addressed
a letter of expostulation to Sir Colin Campbell, the Commander-in-Chief
in India. There is no reason to believe that the gallant old chief was
actuated by any personal feeling in the matter, but he felt it to be his
duty to forward the letter of expostulation to His Royal Highness the
Duke of Cambridge, accompanying it with certain strictures implying grave
censure on father and son.
Men who have spent so many years in the service as Lord Clyde are
naturally opposed to innovations. There is a certain period in life
when we all become conservative in principle. Old men, since the days
of Homer, have ever been prone to exalt the past at the expense of the
present; and Lord Clyde was no exception to this rule. He regarded the
Victoria Cross with the same distrust with which he regarded every
other innovation. In his own hot youth he had exhibited the most daring
courage at Badajoz, and elsewhere, when there was no Victoria Cross to
be earned; and he held that courage, like virtue, was its own reward.
Devotion to duty, without regard to after consequences, was the principle
by which he himself was guided during his long career; the soldier who
was animated by a sense of duty required no outward stimulus. The promise
or expectation of some badge of distinction as a reward for heroism or
gallantry in the field was sufficient, in his opinion, to incite young
officers ambitious of honour and reckless of their own lives to rush into
rash enterprises without consulting their superiors. Discipline, or, in
other words, subjection to lawful authority, he esteemed the highest
ornament in every young soldier; no heroic action could atone for any
violation of this primary duty.
It is not necessary here to expose the fallacy of such reasoning. Our
soldiers were quite as brave when there was no Victoria Cross at all as
they are at the present moment: that Cross was intended not to _create_,
but to _reward_ valour. The British soldier requires no outward stimulus,
no promised reward, to incite him to do his duty: a true hero will prove
himself to be a hero, because it is his nature to be so, and he cannot
help it. Nelson never thought of ribbons or peerages when he was fighting
our battles at sea; his only ambition was to conquer or to die. The
soldier or sailor who distinguishes himself in action never dreams of
reward: he is a hero, and he does heroic deeds almost without knowing it.
Of all the men who wear the Victoria Cross upon their breasts, there is
not one, we believe, who ever thought of that badge of distinction at the
moment he earned it. It was innate heroism or tender humanity that placed
him at the head of the forlorn hope, or led him to risk his own life to
rescue a wounded comrade. The man who would do such deeds from such a
purely mercenary motive as the love of applause, would be unworthy of
the name of soldier; his selfishness would be even more remarkable than
his courage. The Queen’s own Cross was not intended to encourage such
selfishness, or to reward such courage; nor has it ever done so. Many of
those who wear it were surprised at its being awarded to them, so humble
was their estimate of the value of the deeds by which they obtained it;
no one ever performed those deeds for the purpose of being awarded the
Victoria Cross. It is the expression of our national admiration for deeds
which demand some public recognition, and cannot be adequately rewarded
in any other way.
These remarks have been elicited by the strictures with which Sir Colin
Campbell accompanied the letter of expostulation from the officers of
the 64th Regiment, which he forwarded to His Royal Highness the Duke
of Cambridge. In that letter they complained, with much appearance
of reason, that their own honour and that of the regiment had been
compromised by an officer of the staff usurping the place of Major
Stirling, the officer in command, when there was nothing to justify him
in doing so. Major Stirling was at the head of his regiment, and the
64th were discharging the duty assigned to them. If he was not mounted,
there was a sufficient reason for this: his horse had been wounded by the
bursting of a shell, and was unable to carry him. If the regiment had
betrayed any irresolution, or hesitated to advance, the occasion might
have justified young Havelock’s interference; but they positively denied
that such was the case, and requested that some steps might be taken to
vindicate their honour, which had been impugned by awarding the Victoria
Cross to one whose conduct was more deserving of censure than of praise.
It is difficult to take a cool, dispassionate view of this affair; our
sympathies are naturally with the young lieutenant, but we must endeavour
to be just. No one can find fault with the officers of the 64th for
writing such a letter: to a soldier reputation is everything; and the
fair fame of a regiment, like that of a woman, if once lost can never be
regained. Every regiment in the service has its distinctive character,
as much as every soldier who belongs to it; it was clearly, therefore,
the duty of the officers of the 64th to protest against a measure which
reflected on them and the soldiers under their command. Their silence
would have been a tacit admission that there was ground for such
reflections; their protest was a natural appeal against them.
We have the sincerest respect for the memory of General Havelock: no one
can read his life, or trace his career, without being convinced that he
was a good man and a gallant soldier. This conviction, however, does
not imply that he was perfect, or exempt from those weaknesses to which
the very best men are subject. A father is always liable to the charge
of partiality when judging of the merits of his own son, and is often
blinded by paternal affection to the actual merits of the case. It would
be improper for him to form one of a jury while his son was being tried,
much more so to sit upon the bench as the presiding judge. This was the
position which General Havelock occupied on this occasion, and we must
not blame him too much if, in his anxious desire to do justice to his
son, he inadvertently failed to do justice to Major Stirling, and the
officers and men of the 64th Regiment. He acknowledges that Lieutenant
Havelock placed himself on his horse in front of the centre of the 64th,
and that he did so without any orders from him. He admits the fact: the
only question is, was he justified in doing so? If the regiment had been
repulsed, or had hesitated to carry out the orders they had received, any
officer of the staff would have been justified in taking the command,
and in leading them on to victory. It has never been attempted to be
shown that such was the case. The 64th were steadily advancing under
the command of Major Stirling, when Lieutenant Havelock, acting on the
impulse of the moment, rushed forward and placed himself at their head.
The general, in his telegram, contrasts the position occupied by Major
Stirling with that occupied by his son:—“Major Stirling, commanding the
regiment, was in front, dismounted; but the lieutenant continued to move
steadily on in front of the regiment, at a foot pace, on his horse.” It
is unfortunate that he should have omitted to state that Major Stirling
was dismounted because his horse had been wounded by the bursting of a
shell; there would thus have been no ground for the suspicion that he
was dismounted from choice, and not from necessity. It may be that the
general was ignorant of this fact; but he ought to have ascertained why
Major Stirling was dismounted before he mentioned it in a telegram, which
must, sooner or later, become public. The indignation of the officers and
men of the 64th was only natural, and Sir Colin Campbell truly expresses
their feeling when he says, “By such despatches as the one alluded to it
is made to appear to the world that a regiment would have proved wanting
in courage, except for an accidental circumstance; such a reflection is
most galling to British soldiers, indeed, is almost intolerable, and the
fact is remembered against it by all the other corps in Her Majesty’s
service. Soldiers feel such things most keenly. I would, therefore,
beg leave to dwell on the injustice sometimes done by general officers
when they give a public preference to those attached to them, over old
officers who are charged with the most difficult and responsible duties.”
No one will accuse Sir Colin of having ever been influenced by this
undue preference; his desire ever was to do justice to all, and he
saw no merit in any action which was not strictly connected with the
discharge of duty. He had no sympathy with impulsive acts of bravery,
because he considered them to be subversive of discipline, and often
injurious to others. At the battle of the Alma he threatened the 42nd
with a punishment which they all dreaded, if they left the ranks to
succour the wounded; at the relief of Lucknow he publicly reprimanded a
Highland officer, his personal friend, who had left his regiment to show
him a flag which he had just taken from the enemy. He was actuated by no
personal feeling, he was only expressing his own inward conviction when
he thus alluded to Lieutenant Havelock’s impulsive act. “This instance
is one of many in which, since the institution of the Victoria Cross,
advantage has been taken by young aides-de-camp and other staff-officers
to place themselves in prominent situations for the purpose of attracting
attention. To them life is of little value, as compared with the gain
of public honour; but they do not reflect, and the generals to whom
they belong do not reflect, on the cruel injustice thus done to gallant
officers, who, beside the excitement of the moment of action, have all
the responsibility attendant on this situation.”
Sir Colin’s judgment, in estimating the motives by which Lieutenant
Havelock was actuated in placing himself at the head of the 64th
Regiment, was evidently biassed by the prejudices he entertained against
the Victoria Cross. There is no reason to believe that the love of
public honour, or any such selfish feeling, induced that gallant officer
to expose his life; his own anxious desire that his conduct should be
overlooked proves the contrary. If his object had been to obtain the
Victoria Cross, he would certainly never have persuaded his father to
suppress the telegram in which he recommended him for that honour. His
father’s good fame was dearer to him than any honour which his country
could confer, and he knew that his father could not allude to him as he
had done without raising a storm of opposition. He wished, therefore,
that the matter should be overlooked and forgotten. He had acted on the
impulse of the moment; all depended on the steadiness with which the 64th
advanced; he saw them without a mounted leader, and, without stopping to
inquire the cause, he rushed forward and placed himself at their head.
When he discovered afterwards that Major Stirling’s horse was wounded,
and that he had supplanted that officer in the command of his regiment
while faithfully discharging his duty, he must have felt that he had
inadvertently treated him with injustice, and that the public recognition
of his conduct as desiring reward would increase the wrong. He owed
Major Stirling an apology for having usurped his place, but he had done
nothing to earn the Victoria Cross, which was never intended to be an
incentive to impulsive acts of undisciplined valour. It must have been
with feelings of surprise and regret that he read his father’s telegram,
which was not published in India till after his death, and learned that
the Victoria Cross had been awarded to him for this particular deed. In
the interval he had done other deeds of valour which fully merited this
honour, and excited the admiration of every British soldier in India; it
was unfortunate that the father, in his anxious desire to do justice to
the son, should not have waited a little longer.
The remonstrance on the part of the officers of the 64th Regiment was
only natural and just; it was their duty to vindicate their own honour
now that Major Stirling was no longer able to answer for himself and for
them. That unfortunate officer died soon after he was promoted to the
rank of lieutenant-colonel, on the special recommendation of General
Havelock, for the part he acted at the battle of Cawnpore. This fact is
sufficient to prove that he had not failed in his duty, and that there
was nothing in his conduct to justify another in usurping his place.
The general, also, bestowed the highest praise upon the regiment. In
his despatch, after the battle, he says: “Nor was the gallant 64th
behind; charging with equal bravery another village on the left, and
firing four volleys as they rapidly advanced up the rising ground, they
soon made the place their own, and captured its three guns.... But the
64th, led by Major Stirling and my aide-de-camp, who had placed himself
at their front, were not to be denied. Their rear showed the ground
strewed with wounded, but on they silently and steadily came; then, with
a cheer, charged and captured the unwieldy trophy of their valour.” In
the general order, which appeared on the morning after the battle, he
says: “64th, you have put to silence the jibes of your enemies throughout
India. Your fire was reserved till you saw the colour of your enemies’
moustaches—this gave us the victory.” It is unfortunate that the general
should have revived those jibes, by making it appear to the world that
the 64th would have failed in the hour of danger, had it not been that
his own son placed himself at their head.
These remarks, we trust, will not be misunderstood. We willingly acquit
the present Sir H. Havelock of all blame in the matter. He did not wish
to obtain the Victoria Cross for this particular act; it was, in a
measure, forced upon him without his knowledge or consent. But having
once obtained it, he was determined to show that none could be more
worthy to wear it. He acted as deputy-assistant adjutant-general to the
army which advanced under the command of his father and Sir J. Outram for
the relief of Lucknow, and greatly distinguished himself at the passage
of the Charbagh bridge, where the enemy offered an obstinate resistance
to our entrance. From this bridge to the Residency was a distance of
about two miles; and this interval was intersected by trenches, traversed
by palisades, and commanded by loopholed houses. Between eight and
nine o’clock on the morning of the 25th of September, 1857, the army
of rescue received the order to advance; as soon as the first brigade,
under the command of Sir J. Outram, had passed the advanced picket, they
were assailed by a heavy fire in front, and Captain Maude, R.A., pushed
bravely forward with the loss of one-third of his men. His coolness and
courage opened a passage for our army till they reached the Charbagh
bridge, which crosses the canal. This bridge was defended by six guns—one
of them a 24-pounder—which swept the passage and threatened destruction
to all who approached. Here the enemy had resolved to make their stand,
and no position could have been better chosen. The houses on either side
were loopholed and flat-roofed, each one forming a separate fortress,
from which the enemy could fire upon our men with comparative safety.
So severe was the enemy’s fire that our troops were obliged to halt
for a time, and to lie down wherever they could find shelter. Owing to
the narrowness of the road, only two of Maude’s guns could be brought
forward, and the men who worked them, being without cover, were killed or
wounded, so that they had to be replaced by volunteers from the infantry.
General Neile, who commanded the first brigade in the absence of Sir
James Outram, ordered the Madras Fusiliers to advance and to storm the
enemy’s battery. The words had scarcely passed the general’s lips when
young Arnold, of the Fusiliers, who was ever first when danger was to
be faced, dashed across the bridge followed by a few of his men. Two
mounted staff-officers, Colonel Tytler and Lieutenant Havelock, swept
across the bridge with this little band of heroes, who were assailed by
a storm of grape from the enemy’s battery. Arnold was shot through both
legs; Colonel Tytler’s horse was killed; few of the little band survived
that fatal fire. Lieutenant Havelock was the only one who appeared on the
bridge when the smoke cleared away; seated calmly on his horse, the mark
for a hundred bullets, he waved his sword in the air, and encouraged the
Fusiliers, by voice and gesture, to advance. Wherever an officer leads
the way the British soldier will not hesitate to follow; officers and
men dashed forward over the prostrate bodies of their comrades amidst
a storm of grape, seized the enemy’s guns, and bayoneted all who dared
to resist their onset. It would be difficult to overestimate the value
of Lieutenant Havelock’s gallant conduct on this occasion. He seemed to
bear a charmed life, and his gallant stand on the Charbagh bridge, when
all around him had fallen or been put _hors de combat_, ought never to
be forgotten. In the days of chivalry such a deed would have won him his
spurs; no one will attempt to deny that it fully entitled him to the
Victoria Cross. Sir James Outram, who came up in time to witness the rush
of the Fusiliers and the capture of the enemy’s battery, thus alludes
to his conduct in a letter addressed to his father: “Throughout the
tremendous fire of guns and musketry which the enemy directed across the
Charbagh bridge, Lieutenant Havelock, with the Madras Fusiliers, stormed
the bridge, took the guns, and cleared the streets sufficiently to allow
of the troops in the rear closing up. I cannot conceive a more daring
act than thus forcing the bridge; and the officers who led the Fusiliers
on that occasion, in my opinion, most richly deserve promotion. But
hazardous as was their position, they being on foot, and, therefore,
not readily distinguished from their men, risked little comparatively
with Lieutenant Havelock, the only officer on horseback, who cheered the
men on at their head, and became the target of the enemy’s musketry. I
shall feel truly delighted to learn that you accept my recommendation
of this brave officer, and I shall deeply regret having divested myself
of the command during the advance on Lucknow, if, from what I regard as
a morbidly sensitive delicacy, you withhold from Lieutenant Havelock,
because he is your relative, the reward to which, as a soldier, he has so
unmistakably established a first claim.”
General Havelock, being ignorant of the result of his first
recommendation, cordially adopted the suggestion of “one whose proved
gallantry and devotion to the service peculiarly fitted him to judge of
these qualities in another,” and recommended Captain Maude, R. A., and
Lieutenant Havelock for the Victoria Cross. Intermediately, before his
despatch could reach England, the Cross had been awarded to Lieutenant
Havelock for his services at the battle of Cawnpore, and no additional
honour was conferred upon him. In terms of the Royal Warrant of the 29th
of January, 1856, those who, after receiving the Cross, perform a second
act of distinguished bravery, may be rewarded with an additional clasp or
bar, and Sir James Outram was much disappointed that this reward was not
conferred upon Lieutenant Havelock. That he had fairly earned it at the
Charbagh bridge, cannot be denied even by those who dispute his claims
at the battle of Cawnpore; it is easy to conceive, but unnecessary to
specify, the reasons why it was withheld from him. It is sometimes good
for young soldiers “to learn to labour and to wait:” the son would have
lost nothing if this truth had been present to the father’s mind after
the action at Cawnpore.
We come now to the particular incident which afforded Private Henry Ward,
78th Highlanders, an opportunity of gaining that Cross which was also to
be worn by him whose life he saved. After cheering on the Fusiliers to
victory, Lieutenant Havelock received orders to look to the safety of
the convoy, as the baggage, the wounded, and the followers defiled over
the bridge. The heroic bravery of the 78th, who performed the convoy,
repelled every attack of the enemy, and, after a sanguinary struggle of
three hours, the last waggon crossed the bridge. Lieutenant Havelock
had just given orders for the Highlanders to be withdrawn, when he
was shot by a musket-ball through the left elbow joint, and fell down
insensible. No time was to be lost; he was raised from the ground, placed
in a doolie, and carried forward with the other wounded. In the chapter
on Dr. Home and the Victoria Cross we will tell how it fared with our
wounded on that fearful night, and the gallant Havelock would have been
butchered with those who fell into the hands of the enemy, if Henry Ward
had not stood by him as his guardian angel. When the convoy of litters
containing the wounded, guided by Mr. Thornhill, of the Civil Service,
who had mistaken the way, entered a large open square they were enveloped
in the enemy’s fire, and the escort, consulting their own safety, rushed
across, leaving the litters behind. A little band of heroes still stood
by the wounded, and braved that murderous fire; among these was Henry
Ward, who had charge of Lieutenant Havelock’s doolie. When the native
doolie bearers threw down their burdens and fled, Henry Ward encouraged
his to remain, and to press forward through that fearful fire. One
of his comrades, Private Pilkington, who belonged to the escort, was
wounded, and knowing the fate that awaited him if left behind, threw
himself into the doolie where Havelock lay. The bearers were about to
drop their double load and to make their escape, when Ward, who was too
generous to leave a comrade behind, compelled them to press on, and never
left the doolie till it reached the Residency. The wounded in the other
doolies were murdered by the enemy to the number of thirty or forty, and
Lieutenant Havelock’s escape is almost miraculous. He owes his life to
Henry Ward, who for this act of intrepid gallantry was rewarded with the
Victoria Cross.
Lieutenant Havelock succeeded his father in the baronetcy, and the
pension of 1000_l._ per annum which had been awarded to him by
Government. Before he left India, in 1859, he had attained the brevet
rank of lieutenant-colonel, and obtained his company in the 18th Royal
Irish. We have already mentioned that the Victoria Cross was conferred
upon him in March, 1858, and on his return to England it was affixed to
his breast by the hands of our gracious Sovereign, and the memory of the
father was thus honoured in the person of the son. Amid the honours and
acclamations which awaited his return, he did not forget the gallant
Highlander who saved his life. Henry Ward accompanied him to Aldershot,
where he was employed on the staff as his servant, but occupied rather
the place of a humble friend. Master and servant were both decorated with
the Victoria Cross, and bound together by closer ties than that relation
usually implies. Ward was proud of his master, and, we need scarcely
add, that his master was proud of Ward. A feeling of justice compels us
to mention that Henry Ward, though he has served his time in a Highland
regiment, is not a Highlander by birth; he is a native of Norfolk, but,
like many other Englishmen who have assumed the tartan, he has the
_esprit de corps_ quite as strong as if he were a genuine son of the Gael.
When, in 1863, the 2nd battalion of the 18th Royal Irish were ordered to
New Zealand, to aid in repressing the Maori rebellion, Lieutenant-Colonel
Sir H. M. Havelock proved his devotion to his country by at once
resigning his staff appointment, and hastening to rejoin his regiment.
If the rules of the service had permitted it, Henry Ward would have
accompanied him, and shared in the dangers of Maori warfare; as it was
he had to return to his regiment, the gallant 78th. The military career
of Lieutenant-Colonel Havelock in New Zealand has been as distinguished
as in India. Soon after his arrival he was appointed to the staff in
the Quarter Master General’s department, and continued to hold that
appointment till he left for England, in the beginning of 1865. In
February, 1864, he exhibited great gallantry during a skirmish with the
enemy at Mangapiko, in the Waikato; the rebels had attacked a party
of our men, who were imprudently bathing in the river, and would have
cut them off, if Lieutenant-Colonel Havelock had not hastily collected
a small band of imperial and colonial forces, and hurried to their
assistance. After a smart engagement the rebels were dispersed, and the
colonial officer, who co-operated with Lieutenant-Colonel Havelock, was
recommended for the Victoria Cross, though he occupied a subordinate
place, and acted a less distinguished part. His leader had already
obtained this honour, but we mention this circumstance to show that he
has earned it again and again. At the capture of the pa, at Orakau,
on the 1st of April, 1864, he exposed his life with a boldness almost
bordering on recklessness, and contributed much to the success of
the day by the promptitude with which he brought up the mortars from
Awamutu, when every other expedient had failed. A gallant soldier, a good
Christian, he is worthy of the name he bears and of the honours he has
received, while his conduct to Henry Ward proves that he can appreciate
bravery in others, and that he is not ungrateful to the man who saved his
life.
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