THE NAVAL BRIGADE IN INDIA.
While a few of our sailors have forced their way into Mr. Desanges’
Gallery, and made good their title to the Cross of Valour, it must
be evident to the most casual spectator that the “blue jackets” have
not been so fortunate as the “red coats” in securing this reward of
gallantry. It would be unfair, however, to infer from this fact that our
sailors are inferior to our soldiers in courage; both belong to the same
race, and are animated by the same warlike spirit: but of late years
sailors have not had the same opportunity of displaying their valour
as in the days of Nelson, Jervis, and Duncan. Since the conclusion of
the great French war in 1815, we have not been brought into collision
with any of the great maritime powers. The battle of Navarino, where
the united fleets of three European nations combined to destroy the
naval power of Turkey, and to release Greece from the chains of slavery,
redounded but little to our credit; and Russia, during the late war,
afforded us few opportunities of gaining laurels by sea. It is true, that
during the Crimean war some of our sailors earned themselves a name to
live in the annals of fame; but it was not on that element peculiarly
their own that they acquired this honourable distinction. It was not at
sea, but on land, fighting side by side with our soldiers, that they
proved themselves the worthy successors of the men who conquered at
Trafalgar and swept our enemies from the ocean. If only a few obtained
the Victoria Cross, the reason was that comparatively few were permitted
to take any active part in the Russian war, and that no man can prove
himself to be a hero unless he has the chance of doing so.
Sailors have a natural taste for fighting, and they felt it very hard
during the siege of Sebastopol that the soldiers should have the largest
share. When any of them, by good conduct, became entitled to a holiday,
it was not an unusual request to be allowed to spend it ashore, “to have
a day’s shooting with them ’ere red coats.” They regarded such an event
with as much interest as the keenest sportsman does when he talks of the
1st of September and looks forward to its arrival, and their ambition was
equally great to make a good bag. It was the same during the suppression
of the Indian Mutiny: the sailors who composed the Naval Brigade, led by
the gallant young Peel, marched up the country with as much alacrity as
if they had landed merely to enjoy themselves.
When, about the middle of May, 1857, intelligence reached Calcutta of
the disasters at Meerut and Delhi, Lord Canning, the Governor-General,
telegraphed immediately for aid to Bombay, Ceylon, and Madras. He knew
that Lord Elgin and General Ashburnham were on their way to China, and
urged in the most pressing manner that some of the troops under their
command should be sent at once to Calcutta, to assist in suppressing
the mutiny. It was fortunate for our future interests in India that
Lord Elgin was generous enough to take upon himself the responsibility
of diverting to the shores of the Ganges part of those troops which
were intended to aid in the attack on Canton. About the middle of July,
while he was waiting at Hong-Kong for the arrival of reinforcements, he
received a despatch from Lord Canning, announcing that the revolt was
spreading on every side and asking for farther aid. Lord Elgin at once
started for Calcutta, taking with him a force of fifteen hundred seamen
and marines, most of whom belonged to the two war steamers, the _Pearl_
and the _Shannon_. These active, hardy men were organized into “Naval
Brigades,” and rendered the most important services under the command of
their gallant chief, Captain Peel.
This distinguished officer was a younger son of the late Sir Robert Peel,
and his brief but glorious career shed additional lustre on the name
he bore. He loved his profession for its own sake: he delighted in the
excitement of war; he was never more in his element than when he had
planted one of those immense guns he knew how to handle so skilfully
against the walls of Sebastopol and Lucknow, where he would continue to
work it amid a shower of shot and shell. Genius is only talent directed
into one particular channel, and the talent he inherited from his father
was devoted to the noble profession he had adopted. He had already
distinguished himself in the Crimea, and had accompanied Lord Elgin to
China in command of Her Majesty’s ship _Shannon_, when our sailors and
marines were organized into naval brigades. He was placed at the head of
the one which was intended to aid in the relief of Lucknow, and nobly
did he discharge the duties which then devolved upon him. His was that
daring but thoughtful courage that wins the confidence as well as the
admiration of all who witness it; the earnest force of character that
surmounts every difficulty and triumphs over every obstacle; the gentle,
kindly bearing, the courteous manner, which tells more upon our soldiers
and sailors than words of stern command; the influence which a noble
nature exercises on all around. It would be difficult to overestimate
the value of his services during the seven months he commanded the Naval
Brigade in the north-west provinces. We cannot trace his whole career; it
is sufficient for the present to remark, that he died at Cawnpore, on the
27th of April, 1858, of smallpox. He had been wounded in the thigh during
the last attack upon Lucknow, and was on his way to Calcutta when he
was attacked at Cawnpore by the dangerous malady to which he succumbed.
The recent annals of the British Navy can show no name which has better
claims to be remembered than that of William Peel, of whom it may be
truly said that he died too soon for his country but not for his own fame.
Lord Elgin arrived at Calcutta early in the month of August, 1857,
bringing with him two war steamers, the _Shannon_ and the _Pearl_, which
were placed at the disposal of the Indian Government. Peel, who had so
gallantly managed a naval battery in the Crimea during the siege of
Sebastopol, was commissioned to organize a naval brigade, and entered
on the task with his usual energy. Aided by the resources of the two
war steamers, he succeeded in forming a splendid naval brigade, the
most effective, perhaps, we have ever possessed, consisting of four
hundred able British seamen, and ten of those enormous 68-pounder guns
which such seamen can handle so skilfully. They started from Calcutta,
up the Hooghly and the Ganges; their progress was necessarily slow; the
half of August and the whole of September passed wearily away on this
most tedious voyage. The ardent spirit of the seamen would have chafed
and fretted beneath this compulsory delay, if they had been under the
command of a leader less esteemed and admired; as it was, his presence
and example told upon all. Week after week elapsed; the gallant band made
but slow progress against the stream; their ponderous guns rendered it
still slower. On the 30th of September, Peel reached Benares with 286 of
his brigade. Without waiting for the arrival of the rest, he hurried on
to Allahabad, which he reached on the 3rd of October, with 94 men; he
remained there four days when he was joined by the others, with their
enormous guns and stores of ammunition. These guns—the chief cause of
delay—were now found to be useless, as no means of transport could be
found for conveying them across the country, and they were abandoned at
Allahabad with regret. They had still their 24-pounders to trust to,
one of which was proudly named the _Shannon_, after the war steamer to
which she belonged. Urged by the authorities at Patna to afford them some
relief, Peel formed a small naval brigade, which was placed under the
command of Captain Sotheby, to be employed against the insurgents in the
neighbourhood.
The wearisome voyage up the Ganges was now concluded, and on the 4th of
October, soon after his arrival at Allahabad, Peel received the following
telegram from Sir Colin Campbell, then at Calcutta:—“In the course of
about a week there will be a continuous stream of troops, at the rate of
about ninety a day, passing on to Allahabad, which, I trust, will not
cease for the next three months.” Peel was now in his element, and the
Naval Brigade under his command found abundant employment in facilitating
the passage of troops and artillery from Allahabad to Cawnpore. Their
strength was increased by the arrival of 126 naval officers and seamen
under the command of Lieutenant Vaughan, who joined them on the 20th
of October. This reinforcement was composed of sailors of the merchant
service at Calcutta, who volunteered to join the brigade, and rejoiced
in the opportunity of serving under such a distinguished commander. On
the 23rd, four siege-train 24-pounders were on the way to Cawnpore,
under the charge of 100 men of the Naval Brigade; on the 27th, other
four 24-pounders and two 8-inch howitzers were despatched with an escort
of 170 seamen; and on the same day a large amount of ammunition was
forwarded. Peel infused something of his own energy into every seaman
under his command, and personally superintended every arrangement; so
that on the 28th of October he was ready to start for Cawnpore, and
was joined on the way by Colonel Powell, with the head-quarters of Her
Majesty’s 53rd Regiment. On the 31st they reached Shured, where they
received the alarming intelligence that the Dinapore mutineers had
crossed the Jumna with three guns, and were preparing either to attack
Futtehpore or to force their way into Oude. The soldiers and sailors
under the command of Powell and Peel did not exceed 700 men, while the
number of the enemy did not fall short of 4000; our men, moreover, were
encumbered with the charge of a large and valuable convoy of siege and
other stores, the loss of which at such a juncture would have been
irreparable; still it was of the last importance that something should be
done to arrest the progress of the rebels, and the two leaders, Powell
and Peel, resolved to offer them battle.
As a general rule, it is injudicious to allow sailors and soldiers to be
mixed together during an attack, and frequent disasters have resulted
from overlooking this fact; but on this occasion, from our inferiority
in numbers, we had no choice. On the evening of the 31st our men reached
the camping ground at Futtehpore, where they were joined by a small
detachment of the 93rd, or Sutherland Highlanders, who were also on
the way to Lucknow. The following morning a column, consisting of 500
soldiers and sailors, marched to Kudjna, a distance of twenty-four
miles, to attack the enemy. The latter had taken up a strong position,
with their right occupying a high embankment screened by a grove,
and their left extending on the other side of the road, which was
commanded by their artillery. Our column was divided into three parts:
one advanced to attack the enemy’s guns, while the other two supported
it on either side. Our soldiers and sailors rushed forward with their
usual impetuosity; but the rebels, having every advantage of position,
maintained their ground for two hours, and kept up so severe a fire of
musketry that many of our men, including Colonel Powell, who received a
musket-ball in the forehead, were killed. At this moment, Captain Peel,
on whom the command devolved, displayed such coolness and presence of
mind as proved that, though a sailor, he was fitted for the highest
military command. Perceiving that the enemy could not be dislodged
without incurring the loss of many lives, none of which could well be
spared, he changed the mode of attack by marching his men round the
upper end of the embankment, and their forces being thus divided, they
were driven from all their positions, leaving their camp equipage and
two of their tumbrils in our possession. If there had been a small body
of cavalry to follow up this success, the whole body of the enemy might
have been dispersed or destroyed; but no pursuit could be organized, as
our men had marched seventy-two miles in three days, and exhausted nature
could do no more. The column, after collecting the dead and wounded,
returned to Binkee, and after a little rest resumed their march to
Cawnpore. The enemy are supposed to have lost about one-fifth of their
number, and abandoned the idea of marching into Oude: that terrible
column of blue jackets and red coats had shown them what they might
expect when they dared to cross bayonets with the redoubtable Feringees.
We need not trace the advance of the Naval Brigade, which was now reduced
to 250 men, from Cawnpore to Lucknow: it is sufficient to remark, that
they and their gallant leader reached the Alum Bagh early in November,
and placed themselves under the command of Sir Colin Campbell. Our
readers will bear in mind that Lawrence maintained his position in the
Residency until his death, early in July; and that the command then
devolved upon Inglis, who continued the defence until September, when
he was relieved by Outram and Havelock. It was known that the small
garrison was hemmed in on every side by the rebels, and every effort was
made to relieve them; it was with this object in view that Sir Colin
Campbell had concentrated his forces around the city of Lucknow on the
14th of November. The name of this gallant veteran will ever be dear to
the people of England. The son of a Glasgow tradesman, he obtained his
commission while still a boy through the influence of an uncle, and had
served forty-nine years as an officer of the British army. Being unable
to purchase, he could not look for rapid promotion, but, like Havelock,
he had learned to labour and to wait. He had shed his blood freely in the
service of his country; his gallantry had been acknowledged in public
despatches; but many years elapsed before he obtained his company. In the
course of nearly half a century he had fought in almost every quarter of
the globe; he served in the Walcheren expedition; then in the Peninsular
war, including the battles and sieges of Vimiera, Corunna, Barossa,
Vittoria, San Sebastian, and Bidassoa; then in North America; then in
the West Indies; then in the first Chinese war; then in the second Sikh
war; and lastly, in the Crimea. When the news of General Anson’s death
reached England on the 11th of July, Sir Colin was offered the post
of Commander-in-Chief in India, which he at once accepted. When the
question was put to him, “When will you be ready to start?” his reply was
“To-morrow.” He kept his word: the next day he was on his way to India,
taking very little with him but the clothes on his back. Sir Charles
Napier was wont to say, that two towels and a piece of soap was ample
luggage for an officer serving in India: Sir Colin Campbell seems to have
held the same opinion. He travelled by the quickest route: by rail to
Folkestone, steam to Boulogne, rail to Marseilles, steam to Alexandria,
rail and other means to Suez, steam from Suez to Calcutta. How his
ardent spirit must have chafed during the many weeks he was detained
at Calcutta! But that time was not lost. He attended to the minutest
details; he remodelled the whole system of military machinery in India;
he arranged with the Governor-General the plan of the ensuing campaign.
He admired with all the unselfish admiration of a true soldier the heroic
resistance of the garrison at Lucknow; the struggles of Havelock’s little
army; the combined efforts of Havelock and Outram. At length, on the
28th of October, he left Calcutta, travelling like a common courier, and
caring nothing for the pomp and glitter of military rank. After several
narrow escapes by the way, he crossed the Ganges on the 9th of November,
and commenced his attack on Lucknow on the 14th, with a miscellaneous
force of 4000 men.
The gallant old chief had one guiding principle throughout the whole
Indian campaign—never to sacrifice the life of a British soldier
unnecessarily. He was resolved that Lucknow should be taken, but with
the least possible expenditure of human blood. Knowing that Havelock and
Outram had suffered severely in cutting their way through the town two
months before, he formed a plan of approach through the south-western
suburb, and trusted to his artillery and the Naval Brigade to batter down
the enemy’s defences step by step and day after day, so as to open up a
passage for his infantry with comparatively little loss. To this plan
he steadily adhered, and for several days there was a series of partial
sieges, each directed against one of the enemy’s strongholds. Our army
pushed its way slowly, but success was certain in the end. On the first
day he drove the enemy, after a running fight of two hours, from the Dil
Roosha Park, and then from the Martinière College, an institution for the
education of half-caste children, founded by Claude Martin, who came out
to India as a private soldier, and rose to the rank of major-general.
During these operations the heavy guns of the Naval Brigade served
to keep the enemy in check, and rendered important assistance. After
completing his preparations on the 15th, and exchanging signals with
Havelock and Outram, Sir Colin crossed the canal on the morning of the
16th, and advanced to the Secunder Bagh, a high-walled enclosure about a
hundred and twenty yards square, loopholed on every side, and strongly
garrisoned by the enemy, who fought with the greatest obstinacy. In vain
the guns of the Naval Brigade thundered against the walls; the noise grew
deafening; the ardour of our troops could no longer be restrained; two
companies of Highlanders, with fixed bayonets, reached a plateau, and
rushed forward till they were stopped by a dead wall. “In at the roof,
Highlanders!” shouted the old chief, whose blood was now up; “in through
the roof; tear off the tiles. Go on!”
They needed no second order; in a moment the plumed bonnets and tartan
kilts vanished through the tiles and broken bamboos, and the enemy,
driven from their position, retired with the loss of two guns.
At length the breach in the main building was declared practicable; the
hole was barely large enough for a single man to pass, but all were
impatient of further delay. The gallant old chief thought of Badajoz,
where he was the first to storm the breach, and would willingly now
have been the first to pass through the fiery opening if duty had
permitted; as it was, he uncovered his grey hairs, and waved the Sikhs
and Highlanders to the assault. Then followed a gallant race between
the mountaineers of India and of Scotland: a Sikh is the first to enter
and—to die. He is followed by a Highlander; a bullet passes through his
body, the plumed bonnet rolls from his head, and he sinks lifeless to the
ground. Another and another press forward and meet the same fate, but
their comrades step across their bodies and make good their entrance. The
gate was violently forced, and the whole body of Sikhs and Highlanders
poured into the Secunder Bagh, and then came the hour of retribution.
“Remember Cawnpore, boys! No quarter! Think of our women and children!
Mercy? no mercy for you!” Such were the cries that rose from our men as
the bayonet did its deadly work. No quarter was given, and many of the
enemy threw themselves into the flames which were now spreading through
the building. The massacre of Cawnpore was avenged at the Secunder Bagh;
two thousand of the enemy met their death within its walls.
The Naval Brigade, under the command of the gallant Peel, was then
ordered to the front, and advanced toward the Shah Nujeef—a domed mosque
with a garden, which had been strongly fortified by the enemy, with
the intention of arresting the progress of our army. The walls of the
garden had been loopholed on every side; the entrance was built up,
and the summit of the building crowned with a parapet. On the left was
a village held by the rebels; Brigadier Hope and Colonel Gordon drove
them from this position before the Naval Brigade opened fire on the
Shah Nujeef. Peel was aided by a field battery and some mortars, but
the enemy defended the post with the greatest obstinacy, and kept up
an incessant fire of musketry from the mosque and the loopholed walls
of the garden. It was on this occasion that three members of the Naval
Brigade displayed such conspicuous bravery as attracted the notice of the
Commander-in-Chief, and secured for them the distinction of the Cross of
Valour. The _Shannon_ 24-pounder, which bore the name of the war steamer
from which it had been taken, was entrusted to the charge of Lieutenant
Young and William Hall, A.B., who proved themselves worthy of the
confidence reposed in them. Though exposed to a heavy fire of musketry
and assailed by hand-grenades thrown from the walls, they led up their
heavy gun to within a few yards of the building, and opened fire on it
with as much coolness as if they had been alongside an enemy’s frigate
and fighting on their own element. It was, to borrow the words of Sir
Colin Campbell, “an action almost unexampled in war,” and excited the
admiration of all who witnessed it. For three hours a heavy cannonade
was kept up against the walls of the mosque, and our sailors would have
suffered more at the hands of the enemy if they had not been covered by
the withering fire of the Highlanders in the rear. Sailors always like to
mingle a little fun with fighting, and Lieutenant Nowell Salmon, of the
Naval Brigade, who was known as an unerring marksman, had recourse to an
ingenious expedient to arrest, or at least to weaken, the enemy’s fire.
Close by the walls of the mosque stood a lofty tree, whose spreading
branches overlooked the building, and offered a tempting cover to any one
who was venturous enough to climb it. Lieutenant Salmon perceived at a
glance all the advantages of such a position, where he could see without
being seen and shoot without being shot. Having obtained the necessary
leave, he mounted the tree in true sailor fashion, and, sheltered amid
its leafy recesses, took deliberate aim and picked off the enemy’s
sharpshooters when they ventured to show themselves in the mosque or
the garden. He was ably seconded by a private of the 93rd Highlanders,
who, standing below, received the discharged rifles, loaded them, and
handed them up again. We can conceive the surprise and consternation of
the rebels as they saw their ranks thinned and their comrades shot down
by an irresistible foe, and the enjoyment of the reckless sailor as he
witnessed the effect of his unerring fire. At length Sir Colin, impatient
of delay, gave orders to storm the place, which was done in the most
intrepid manner by the soldiers and sailors, who forced their way through
the garden and drove the rebels from the mosque. The gallantry of the
Naval Brigade at the capture of the Shah Nujeef was acknowledged in a
public despatch; Lieut. Young, William Hall, A.B., and Lieut. Salmon, who
was badly wounded, were decorated with the Victoria Cross; and Captain
Peel became Sir William Peel.
It would be foreign to our purpose to follow the army of rescue in all
their operations till they effected their entrance into the Residency,
or to describe the emotions of Campbell, Outram, and Havelock, as they
grasped one another’s hands and felt that their work was done. All the
three have now passed away; but they did noble service to their country,
and their names will not be speedily forgotten. The early struggles, the
patient discharge of duty in a subordinate position, the perseverance
and the final success of Campbell and Havelock, ought to be a lesson and
encouragement to the young men of England who have to tread the same path
and aspire to reach the same goal.
Wherever the Naval Brigade served during the Indian campaign, they
displayed the same coolness and courage as at the capture of the Shah
Nujeef. It was part of Sir Colin’s tactics to employ artillery as much
as possible so as to save his infantry, and whenever walls were to be
battered down he had only to summon Peel and his now famous brigade
to the front. Their gallant achievements in Oude must ever occupy
a prominent place in Indian history, and the name of Peel received
additional lustre from the brave young sailor who perished in his prime.
In the scarcity of regular troops, they occupied a middle position, and
did the work of soldiers and sailors with equal readiness: well-drilled
and accustomed to active movements, they were ready to march at a
moment’s notice, and moved their heavy guns with a rapidity and ease
hitherto unknown in field operations. They were favourites wherever
they came; their unfailing good-humour and almost boyish exuberance of
spirits were contagious, and spread to all who served by their side.
When the campaign was over and the mutiny suppressed their services
were not forgotten; the residents of Calcutta did honour to themselves
by honouring them with a public reception and a grand banquet. We can
conceive the hearty enjoyment of the blue jackets as they partook of
the delicacies which had been prepared for them, and listened to the
kind, graceful words in which Outram, their fellow-guest, told of
their services as witnessed by himself at Lucknow during the previous
winter. “Almost the first white faces I saw, when the lamented Havelock
and I rushed out of our prison to greet Sir Colin at the head of our
deliverers, were the hearty, jolly, smiling faces of some of you
_Shannon_ men, who were pounding away with two big guns at the palace;
and I then, for the first time in my life, had the opportunity of seeing
and admiring the coolness of British sailors under fire. There you
were, working in the open plains, without cover or screen, or rampart
of any kind, your guns within musket range of the enemy, as coolly as
if you were practising at the Woolwich target. And that it was a hot
fire that you were exposed to, was proved by three of the small staff
that accompanied us (Napier, young Havelock, and Sitwell) being knocked
over by musket balls in passing to the rear of those guns, consequently
further from the enemy than yourselves.”
Such words, spoken by the Bayard of India, must have been grateful to
the Naval Brigade after all their toils and privations. When the banquet
was over, they were dispersed among the different vessels to which they
belonged. Peel and his Naval Brigade have ceased to exist, but if England
should require their services other Peels and other brigades will spring
up to prove that our sailors have not degenerated—that they belong to the
same race and inherit the same qualities as those who in former times
secured for Britannia the empire of the waves, and the enjoyment of that
freedom which we still prize as our noblest birthright.
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