"Officers in command of regiments are requested to meet the
Commander-in-chief at ten o'clock this evening.
"_December 6_, 1867."
Such was the order placed in Major Hughes's hands a few days after the
desperate attack on the out-picket had been so gallantly repulsed. The
loss of the regiment had been severe; but the men were in high spirits,
and ready for everything, being proud both of themselves and of their
commanding officer, whom the old soldiers of the corps had known as a
youngster, and had learned to trust and to love.
Sir Colin Campbell, as he entered the tent which was to serve as the
council-room, held out his hand, advancing to meet him as he did so. "I
congratulate you, sir, on the gallant behaviour of your regiment. Your
name will appear in General Orders to-morrow with an appointment as
lieutenant-colonel of your corps, pending her Majesty's approbation."
The tell-tale blood flushed his cheek as he grasped the hand held out to
him, and one and another of the men who stood around him added their
congratulations to those of the rough but true-hearted old soldier.
There stood Brigadier Hope Grant talking eagerly to the officer
commanding Hodgson's Horse, but who found time for a cordial shake of
the hand; Captain Middleton, who, with his field battery, had ever been
among the foremost; Brigadier Greathead; Captain Peel, of the gallant
Naval Brigade; Captain Remington, of the Horse Artillery; the Commanding
Officers of the Cavalry; of the 4th, 5th, and 6th Infantry Brigades, and
of the Royal Engineers, all men trained in a school of actual warfare;
and it was with difficulty Hughes could suppress his emotion, as one
after another advanced and shook his right hand, congratulating him on a
firmness and steadiness which had perhaps saved the little force, but,
at all events, kept open the communications with Allahabad.
"Oh, that Isabel could have been here!" he thought. But Isabel was
away, and far better that it was so, for stern work was yet to be done.
"Be seated, gentlemen," said Sir Colin, motioning with his hand. A
momentary bustle ensued and then a dead silence, broken only by the boom
of an occasional gun from the town.
"I dare say you have wondered not a little," said the fine old soldier,
"why I have remained so long inactive. My object has been to
disembarrass my force from the incubus of non-combatants. The want of
foresight of the enemy in leaving us the bridge of boats permitted the
attempt to be made. The true British pluck and gallantry of the 150th
Regiment has enabled me to carry it out completely."
All eyes turned towards Hughes, who again blushed with pleasure.
"I intend, gentlemen, to strike our tents at sunrise to-morrow, and
attack the enemy."
Sir Colin paused, and a general murmur of pleasure and gratification ran
round the table, as he continued, with a smile on his war-worn
countenance,--
"Ay, ay; you have all been grumbling at me in your hearts, but we'll
make up for lost time. My attack will be on the enemy's right, and if
we can drive that from its position, the day will be ours.
"Here are the instructions for the Cavalry and Horse Artillery, who will
act together. Brigadier Greathead, here are yours. You will call in
the out-pickets of the 150th, and direct that regiment to join your
brigade, holding the centre of our line. You hear me, Colonel Hughes,"
said the veteran, as he turned to the officers he addressed, those named
rising and each receiving his written instructions.
"Officers commanding Infantry Brigades, you will parade your regiments
in contiguous columns in rear, and under cover of the cavalry barracks
half an hour before sunrise, according to seniority. And now,
gentlemen, good night, for I have much to do," continued Sir Colin.
"The enemy muster twenty-five thousand men, with all the guns of the
Gwalior Contingent. We can count only about four thousand and
thirty-two guns."
"And quite enough, too," exclaimed the gallant Peel, replying to his
chief, utterly against all military etiquette. "We'll have more before
we pipe to supper to-morrow night. I say, Hughes, you can answer for
how my fellows do their work? Eh!"
There was a general laugh, a few hearty shakes of the hand, as the
officers of the force crowded round their beloved leader, and the
council of war broke up.
"Let General Wyndham have this order, Ogilvie," were the last words
Hughes heard, as he took his way into the night. "It will tell him to
open the heaviest fire he can from his entrenched camp before sunrise."
Some one touched him on the shoulder. It was General Greathead.
"Are you well enough to take command of your regiment?" asked the
General, pointing to the left arm, which was in a sling.
"I would not relinquish the honour for any reward the world could give
me," was the reply.
"Very well, Colonel Hughes, then good night. We shall meet at sunrise,
and a memorable day it will be. Good night!" and shaking hands
heartily, as men do under such circumstances, the two separated, taking
their way to their respective commands, challenged at every few paces by
the watchful sentries, the boom of an occasional gun from the town
breaking the stillness of the night.
Morning dawned bright and beautiful, with that freshness in the air so
well known to all who have inhabited hot countries. The guns in the
town and entrenchments were for once silent, as the domes and minarets
of Cawnpore flashed back the first rays of the rising sun. The river
rolled its sacred waters lazily along, and the trees in the compounds,
and on its banks, hardly moved in the breeze. The Ganges canal alone
separated the out-pickets of the two forces, the ring of an occasional
shot breaking the calm stillness of the morning.
Behind the Cavalry Barracks, and close to the Allahabad road, corps
after corps formed up. There were Hope's and Inglis's brigades.
Shoulder to shoulder stood the men of those two splendid regiments, the
42nd and 93rd Highlanders, and there, too, laughing, joking, and putting
all notions of discipline at utter defiance, were the gallant tars of
the Naval Brigade.
Sir Colin Campbell seemed in high spirits, as regiment after regiment
marched past, and took up the position assigned it, the whole movement
being concealed from the enemy by the large buildings called the Dragoon
Barracks.
"How well the 2nd and 3rd battalions of the Rifles look, Biddulph," he
said to the quartermaster-general, who stood by his side. "Captain
Wheatcroft, let Wyndham know that his guns should open."
Saluting with his sword, the dragoon officer dashed away, and in a few
minutes the calm silence of the morning was broken by the loud boom of a
single gun, quickly replied to from the town, and followed by one after
another, until the whole of Wyndham's artillery was hotly engaged, and
the firing on both sides the heaviest during the siege. Seated on his
horse, watch in hand, Sir Colin calmly listened to the deafening uproar.
"Captain Remington," said he, at last, beckoning to his side an officer
commanding a troop of horse artillery, "take the cavalry and with your
guns cross the canal higher up, threatening the enemy's rear. I think,
Biddulph, the fire from the entrenchments slackens, let the infantry
deploy into line."
All was now bustle and excitement as the orders to deploy were given,
and the various brigades were put into motion, the bugles of the Sikh
Infantry sounding merrily on the breeze, as the gallant fellows spread
over the plain in skirmishing order.
"The 53rd Regiment to support skirmishers," shouted Captain Dalzell of
the 93rd, and the regiment indicated moved off at the double.
To the light lay Brigadier Greathead's brigade, consisting of the 8th
and the 150th Regiments, and the 2nd Punjaub Infantry.
The whole line was now in motion, the enemy having been completely
deceived, the heavy firing from the entrenchments causing them to expect
an attack on their centre, which lay fully prepared right in front of
Greathead's regiments. So silently and so skilfully had the movement
been conducted, under shelter of the great buildings of the Dragoon
Barracks, that the whole force was hurled on their right flank, before
they knew anything about it.
"There go Walpole's and Smith's guns," said the chief, as a heavy firing
was heard among the brick-fields and kilns under the city walls; "let
the whole line advance, I long to hear the scream of my brave
Highlanders."
Over the canal bridge poured regiment after regiment. Brigade after
brigade appearing in great confusion for a moment, and the next
re-forming their ranks, as regularly as though on parade. The long line
of the enemy's force lay before them, as pouring in volley upon volley,
the skirmishers being driven in, the British line struggled forward.
Colonel Biddulph was shot down. The gallant Dalzell, of the 93rd
Highlanders, was lying on the ground dead; he fell as he was leading his
regiment to the charge. Captain Wheatcroft, of the 6th Dragoons, Hardy
of the Royal Artillery, were moistening the plain with their hearts'
blood. Sir Colin Campbell himself was wounded, and eight of the staff
around him were more or less hurt. The Naval Brigade working their
twenty-four pounder, as though it were a plaything, had been dreadfully
cut up, but still above the roar of the guns, and the pattering of the
musketry, came the shout, "Forward!" not a man thought of retreat.
"Brigadier Greathead is hard pressed, Sir Colin," said a mounted
officer, dashing up.
"I can't spare a man, Major Robertson," replied the chief. "Tell him to
look to himself."
"Captain Heale, this for Sir Hope Grant; tell General Mansfield I want
him."
While the battle was thus hotly contested on the left, Brigadier
Greathead's little force found itself opposed to the enemy's centre.
Walpole's guns, it is true, were steadily clearing the brick-fields,
driving the enemy before them, but the Punjaub Infantry had already lost
ninety-five men, and the 150th were severely cut up.
"Within five minutes of receiving this you will charge the enemy's
centre, such are the chief's orders," exclaimed a staff officer,
galloping up, and handing over a small pencilled note.
The thing seemed impossible, and the Brigadier, amid the roar of the
battle, for a moment doubted his ears. The next, the word of command
was given, and pouring a shattering volley into the enemy's line, the
little brigade dashed on with the bayonet.
Precisely at the same moment, on the left, Sir Colin heard the scream of
his Highlanders, the whole British force dashing forward at the charge.
It was a splendid sight, as emerging from the heavy smoke cloud, the
long line of bayonets glittering in the sun, with one mighty shout for
vengeance, the English force buried itself in the heavy opposing masses
of the murderers of Cawnpore.
"Forward--remember Cawnpore," shouted Hughes, as at the head of his men
he dashed on, leaving a long line of dead and dying in his rear.
Utterly astonished at the attack, the mutineers of the Gwalior
Contingent gave way, then came the ringing cheer of the 8th Regiment, as
the men dashed onward with the bayonet, and the enemy fairly doubled up,
turned and fled.
At this moment, and just when the first runaways carried dismay into the
ranks of the still resolute right wing, the Highland scream was heard as
the little army moved forward, and emerging from the smoke, hurled
itself in one glittering line on the mutineers, who broke at once.
"General Mansfield," shouted Sir Colin, as he rode on through the
enemy's camp, among whose white tents the Highlanders and the men of the
32nd Regiment were bayoneting right and left.
"General Mansfield, take Greathead's brigade, and storm the enemy's left
at Subadar's Camp."
"Colonel Hughes, let your bugles sound the recall, and fall into line at
once," cried General Mansfield, as he rode up in obedience to the order.
The men of different regiments were now fairly mixed, and a motley corps
was hastily got together. There were the uniforms of the 23rd, 64th,
the 90th Regiments, with the 150th, and some dismounted troopers of the
9th Lancers.
"You will take the command, Colonel Hughes," said General Mansfield, as
they moved hastily forward against the enemy's left, "one volley only,
and then the bayonet. Steady men, you will have enough to do soon."
The enemy's fire now reached them, and man after man dropped as the line
moved forward. A withering volley was poured in, and then came the
irresistible charge of the British soldier, and the next moment the
150th were among the tents, and the whole Gwalior Contingent in full
flight.
Gun after gun was spiked; the English Artillery playing upon the masses
of retreating and disorganised mutineers. Grape and canister being
poured into their broken masses at two hundred paces distant, while the
Lancers and Dragoons rode them down, sabring right and left.
Sir Colin himself led the pursuit, and for fourteen miles along the
banks of the river the carnage continued, until tired out and unable to
do more, the bugles and trumpets sounded a halt, and men and horses
bivouacked on the ground, not an enemy in sight.
The whole of the rebel stores, ammunition, and a great part of the guns
were taken, but the loss on the side of the English was heavy.
The 150th counted over one hundred men in killed and wounded, and the
93rd Highlanders alone had ninety-three killed and one hundred and eight
wounded.
"It was a splendid sight, Curtis," said Hughes, as he sat on a spiked
gun, while a hospital dresser who had happened to be passing was looking
to a bullet wound in his right leg. "It was indeed a splendid sight
when the cavalry debouched from yonder grove, and with Sir Colin at
their head, dashed into the retreating pandies. I shall never forget
the day."
"Where's Harris? I have not seen him for the last two hours."
"Poor fellow, he is lying among the tents at Subadar's Tank, shot
through the heart. He fell close to me at our first charge."
The two were silent, for the mad excitement of the fray was passing
away, and the cost had now to be counted. They were seated at the
junction of the Calpee and Cawnpore roads, masses of men of different
regiments, and peletons of cavalry and artillery were moving across the
plain in every direction, the animals fagged and weary, the men
exultant, and bandying rough jokes.
Their horses covered with sweat and dust, their arms and accoutrements
jingling as they rode, a group of officers came along. It was Sir
Colin, General Mansfield, and Brigadier Greathead, with their staffs.
Reining in his horse, Sir Colin spoke.
"Colonel Hughes, you will parade the 150th to-morrow afternoon. I have
a word to say to them."
Steadying himself, with his right hand leaning on the gun-carriage, his
left being useless, his leg half swathed up in its bloody bandages, and
the hospital dresser kneeling at his feet, his forage-cap lost, and the
heavy masses of black hair hanging over a forehead smeared with blood,
Colonel Hughes saluted, and the General and his staff rode on.
"I wonder what he wants with us," said Curtis. "We shan't be able to
turn out very well."
Events in India had justified fully the confidence reposed in her sons
by England. The retreating rebels were pursued the following day, and
the column, under Sir Hope Grant, came up with and at once attacked them
at a place called Serai Ghat, took fifteen guns, and a vast quantity of
ammunition, then pushing on to Bithoor, carried Nana Sahib's palace, and
captured all his treasure. It was one of the closing scenes of the
Indian mutiny.
"Steady, men, steady," said Colonel Hughes, as leaning heavily on his
sword, he stood in the centre of his regiment formed up in square, just
where the Calpee and Cawnpore roads join.
"There comes the General and his staff--150th, attention!"
The rattle of the muskets as the men came to attention was heard. "Fix
bayonets--shoulder arms," were the words of command which followed as a
mounted aide, at the gallop, left the group who were advancing across
the plain, their plumes dancing in the breeze, and the sun glinting from
their accoutrements.
"Order arms, and keep the men at attention only," were the directions
given and obeyed. "Have you the muster roll of your losses?" asked the
aide.
"A heavy casualty list, Colonel Hughes," said Sir Colin, as, with the
paper in his hand, he rode into the centre of the square. "Three
officers, and one hundred and four rank and file. 150th Regiment, I am
proud of you!" said the stern old soldier, raising his plumed hat as he
spoke. "Twice have you done good service to the whole force under my
command. At the race stand, your determined gallantry saved our
communications being cut off; to your splendid charge, we owe our first
success yesterday. Men of the 150th, I repeat I am proud to have had
you under my command. This I give as a token of the admiration of the
whole force under my orders, and you it is who have won it for your
commanding officer. As he spoke, the old soldier stooped, and himself
attached the Victoria Cross, the first ever won in India, to Colonel
Hughes's breast. For you, my men, the glorious word `Cawnpore' shall in
future be borne on your regimental colours."
"Colonel Hughes, dismiss your regiment."
Three hearty cheers for Sir Colin were given, as the regiment broke its
ranks, and the general and his staff rode away, winding in and out,
among the fatigue parties, busy burying the dead.
The Gwalior Contingent melted away. British supremacy again reigned in
India, and regiment after regiment was poured into the country, now
rapidly being pacified.
Three months had hardly elapsed, when the 150th Regiment was marching
for Calcutta, under orders for embarkation for England.
The sun was shining brightly on the ocean, and the houses of Cape Town.
Isabel sat at her window looking across the sea, watching the white
sails of a large ship, which with a pyramid of canvas, rising over a
dark hull, was standing right for the anchorage. It was her favourite
spot, and much of her time had been spent at that window, looking over
the sea. Many a vessel had she watched, driving through the waves,
while she speculated on the hopes and fears which attached themselves to
those whose home lay within the dark hulls. Some had been coming from
Europe, bound for far-away lands; others returning, but all bearing,
doubtless, their living cargoes, and their freights of happiness and of
misery.
The successes of the British army had been known, but no news had
arrived in the colony for some time, and so Isabel looked musingly over
the sea, and the stately ship came on letting fly her royals, and next
the topgallant sails were handed, her topsails settled down on the caps,
her lower sails hung in the brails, and soon a heavy splash was heard,
as the anchor dropped into the water, and a crowd of shore boats
surrounded the ship.
There was nothing in the scene that she had not watched daily, and now
she remained at her window, sunk in reverie. A gentle breeze was
blowing, the sun was shining brightly, and her book had dropped from her
hand. Suddenly her ear caught a quick step on the stairs, which sent
the red blood mantling under the clear olive skin, the fluttering heart
beat wildly, and the net-work of blue veins seemed filled to bursting.
Isabel rose, her hands clasped together, her eyes fixed on the door. It
opened, and, with a cry of happiness, the next moment she found herself
clasped in her husband's arms.
Sobbing with delight, Isabel raised her head, and her eye caught the
glitter of that cross, the noblest decoration the world can give.
"Where, oh, where did you win that, Enrico mio?" she asked, pushing the
clustering hair from her eyes, and resting her two hands on her
husband's shoulder.
"On the battle-field of Cawnpore," replied the soldier, "from the hand
of the bravest of the brave."
Isabel's head sunk on the speaker's breast, resting on the cross given
only for deeds of high daring and devoted courage, and she sobbed
heavily, not from sorrow but joy.
A knock came to the door. Encircling Isabel's waist with his arm,
Hughes bid the new comer enter, and Major Curtis stepped into the room.
"Captain Edmonds wants to know--" he said hastily, and then stopped
abruptly.
"Allow me to present you, Curtis, to my Kaffir bride," said Colonel
Hughes, laughing.
That night Isabel was on board the "Larkins" hired transport, surrounded
by her husband's men, and his comrades, tried and proved trusty on many
an occasion, and when the morning sun tipped the ocean waves with its
rising beams, the gallant ship, with every sail set, and a leading wind,
could just be made out from land, as she steered her course straight for
the white chalk cliffs of England.
The End.