unexpected happened. A Bombay runner arrived with dispatches from the
Admiralty, sent overland, recalling the whole of Admiral Watson’s
squadron to England at once. “It was,” as Dr. Ives describes, “a terrible
blow.” But the Admiral proved equal to the situation. He held an informal
consultation in his cabin with his second in command, Rear-Admiral
Pocock, and Flag-Captain Speke. Taking all responsibility on himself, the
Admiral decided to postpone his departure until after the expedition to
Bengal had been successfully carried through. An emergency had arisen,
he wrote in his reply to England, which the Admiralty could not have
foreseen, which imperatively required the continued presence of the
squadron on the station. Then Admiral Watson went ashore to communicate
his dispatches to the Governor in Council. His opening intimation that
the men-of-war had been recalled created, in the words of Dr. Ives,
“blank consternation.” It would mean, as the Council formally resolved,
“the total ruin of the Company’s affairs in the Indies.” They expressed
themselves as helpless without the Navy, and were overwhelmingly
grateful when they learned that the Admiral had decided, on his own
responsibility, to disobey his orders.
At the last moment, though, there was further delay; it was over a
question of military etiquette. Who should command the expedition—Colonel
Adlercron, a King’s officer, or Lieutenant-Colonel Clive, a Company’s
officer, who had local rank as colonel? There was further wrangling over
this matter, and valuable time was lost, until it was finally settled
that the supreme command of both sea and land forces should be vested
in Vice-Admiral Watson as senior commissioned officer in the East, with
Clive in charge of the troops—both King’s and Company’s.
The expedition finally set sail on the 16th of October, two months and
ten days after the news of the Black Hole first reached Madras. It
comprised five men-of-war—the _Kent_, _Cumberland_, _Tyger_, _Salisbury_,
_Bridgewater_, and the _Blaze_, a fireship; three Company’s Indiamen, and
two country ships. All the ships carried soldiers and army stores.
Vice-Admiral Charles Watson, the Commander-in-Chief in the East Indies,
was a capable and zealous leader. He was a naval officer of the very best
type, and in addition, it was admitted on all hands, a noble-hearted,
considerate English gentleman. He had been very seriously ill while on
the way out from England—so ill indeed that, on learning soon after his
first arrival at Bombay that there was a possibility of the expected
war with the French not breaking out for some time, he had applied to
go home again at once on sick leave. When he reached Madras he learnt
officially that war was imminent, and he wrote off at once cancelling
his application. If that were so there was no going home now for Admiral
Watson. Ill as he was, he would stay out to fight the French once more.
It was characteristic of the man—of the captain of the _Dragon_ in
1743—who, as the Navy of those days well remembered, when detached by
Admiral Mathews from off Toulon, as a special favour to a smart officer,
to cruise off Cadiz just when the treasure galleons from the Spanish Main
were expected to arrive, with additional instructions to go on afterwards
to Lisbon and carry the merchants’ treasure thence to England—the most
lucrative employment a naval man could possibly look for—deliberately, on
hearing at Gibraltar that a battle was likely to take place off Toulon,
turned his back on a sum of prize-money that would have made him wealthy
for life, saying, “He thought his ship would be wanted with the fleet.”
The old heroic spirit of a captain who had been specially mentioned in
dispatches for gallantry in every battle that he fought in—by Mathews off
Toulon, and in 1747 by both Anson and Hawke—overcame the bodily weakness
of an invalid.
It took six weeks to reach Balasore Roads, a distance of only seven
hundred miles on a direct course. Owing to the delay at Madras they had,
as the phrase went, “lost the passage.” With the south-west monsoon,
which held from May to the middle of September, it took ordinarily from
ten days to a fortnight to sail from Madras to Calcutta. Now they had
the north-east monsoon to face—head winds all the way. It was not until
the first week of December that the leading ships of the squadron were
able to reach Balasore. They had sailed, with the wind, according to
the flagship’s log, at west-north-west. Next day the wind shifted to
north-east, dead against them. The strong current in the Bay of Bengal,
which at that time of year sets down the Coromandel coast at one to five
knots an hour, swept the squadron down until they came within sight of
Point San Pedro, in Ceylon, thirteen leagues east of Trincomalee. On some
days there were dead calms, when they barely made from three to five
miles’ progress in twenty-four hours. Between the 28th of October and
the 5th of November only six leagues’ advance was made altogether. Rough
weather set in, during which the _Salisbury_ sprang a dangerous leak,
and the whole squadron had to shorten sail and stand by for a whole day
until the leak had been found and stopped. Finally, a storm scattered the
squadron far and wide. The _Kent_ and _Tyger_, the two leading ships,
arrived at Balasore Roads on the 3rd of December by themselves. The
rest of the squadron were at that time miles astern, trying to weather
Palmyras Point. Two of the ships, indeed, never got to Balasore at all;
they had to bear away until they drifted right round Ceylon and anchored
at Bombay.
At Balasore Admiral Watson got fresh news about what had been happening
in Bengal. He now heard, for the first time, details of the taking of
Fort William and of the grim tragedy of the Black Hole. Two English
pilots who boarded the flagship told the story. The attack, said the
men, opened on June 15th, Tuesday, and after a vain attempt to hold
the gaol and Court House and a small redoubt in front of the city, the
garrison had been driven into the fort. There it was found they had
only ammunition for three days’ fighting. The women and children were
thereupon sent on board the ships in the river, lying off the Maidan,
and in the confusion that followed their departure, Governor Drake and
most of the leading civilians—according to the pilots—deserted their
posts, and stole off on board ship to join the women, after which they
induced the skippers to weigh anchor and drop down the river, leaving the
garrison cut off and without means of escape. These under Mr. Holwell,
a member of the Council, had fought on gallantly, keeping the enemy
off until the afternoon of Sunday the 20th, when, being at their last
cartridge, they beat a parley. While they were talking from the walls,
the enemy by treachery got possession of one of the fort gates (that in
the rear), rushed the guard, and compelled the garrison to surrender
at discretion. That night the prisoners, a hundred and seventy-five
in number, were crammed all together into the Black Hole, whence next
morning only sixteen were left alive. Of the sixteen, Mr. Holwell and
Mr. Burdett, a writer, with two others, had been heavily ironed and sent
to the Nawab’s camp. Such was the tale told to Admiral Watson.
The refugees at Fulta, added the pilots, were in a deplorable state;
fever-stricken and short of food; in terror of their lives; living, some
in tents on shore, some on board the ships in the river. The Nawab, it
was reported, had withdrawn to Moorshedabad, but his general, Manikchand,
was at Calcutta with nearly four thousand men. He was busy throwing up
batteries at various points along the river bank to bar any approach by
ships.
Admiral Watson, on hearing that, made up his mind to try and get up the
Hooghly to Fulta with the _Kent_ at once, without waiting for the rest of
the squadron or the troops.
The pilots, however, made objection to carrying the flagship into the
river. It was impossible, they said, to get so big a ship over the
Braces, the belt of shoals across the mouth of the Hooghly on the
Balasore side, with the tides as they were. They doubted, indeed, if it
could be done at all, even at spring tides. On the usual “crossing track”
over the Western Brace, the deepest channel, they said, was only three
fathoms. But Admiral Watson had made up his mind to try. On the pilots
finally declining to assist in taking the flagship into the river Captain
Speke, the captain of the _Kent_, volunteered to make the attempt. He
had been up the Hooghly once before, and he could, he believed, find a
channel deep enough to carry the _Kent_ over the Braces. The _Tyger_ was
to remain behind to bring on the rest of the squadron on their arrival.
The flagship set out, after a week’s further detention at Balasore owing
to strong north easterly winds, her boats towing her. Captain Speke
navigated the ship, and with such success that a channel was found
through the Western Brace that gave four fathoms of water at half-tide.
It proved sufficient to float the ship over safely. On the 12th of
December, they were at anchor off Kedgeree (Khichri), sixty-seven miles
from Fort William by water. After this the wind changed to westerly and
the _Kent_ was able to work up the estuary under sail.
Fulta was reached on the 15th, and the rescue of the fugitives from
Calcutta effected. Major Kilpatrick and his men were found there, and the
_Kingfisher_. The flagship herself had on board two hundred and fifty
men of the 39th Foot under Captain Eyre Coote, afterwards the celebrated
General Sir Eyre Coote. There was also a detachment of Sepoys, who had
arrived two days before by the _Protector_, a Bombay cruiser, which had
touched at Madras just after the squadron left there, and had since got
ahead of them. At Fulta Governor Drake, the ex-Governor of Calcutta, came
on board to see the Admiral.
The _Tyger_ reached Fulta on the 16th, and the _Salisbury_ and the rest
of the men-of-war and the Indiamen with the troops on board, between
then and the 26th. The _Cumberland_ and the _Marlborough_ Indiaman were
still missing.
The tides, meanwhile, were too low to allow any of the ships to cross the
sand-bar above Fulta and proceed further up the Hooghly until after the
27th.
Admiral Watson used the interval to send a letter to Suraj-u-daulah. He
wrote courteously, but firmly, demanding the immediate restoration of
Calcutta and compensation for property looted and destroyed. The letter
was sent off on the 18th of December, but no reply came. None had arrived
ten days later, when the forward movement up the river began. The _Kent_,
_Tyger_, _Salisbury_, _Bridgewater_, and _Kingfisher_ comprised the ships
told off for the recovery of Calcutta. They carried up with them eight
hundred soldiers and twelve hundred Sepoys—all that were available in the
absence of the detachments on board the belated ships.
The first fight took place at Baj-Baj, or Budge-Budge, as the name was
spelled by the English, where a fort on the right bank of the Hooghly
threatened to bar their passage. Owing to the narrow and tortuous channel
the ships could only move up in line ahead. They sailed with the _Tyger_
leading, and the flagship next. The Nawab’s troops were reported to be in
force at Budge-Budge, which mounted eighteen 24-pounders, and was built
with bastions and curtains and a wet ditch.
Clive and his Sepoys were put ashore at Mayapore, ten miles below
Budge-Budge, to act against Manikchand, whose army had taken post in the
neighbourhood of the fort. Manikchand’s men, though, made only a poor
stand, and fell back, their position being turned by the steady advance
of the _Tyger_ and _Kent_.
The ships anchored that night, and proceeded next morning, the enemy on
shore at the same time falling back before them on Budge-Budge.
Between seven and eight o’clock, as the _Tyger_ and _Kent_ rounded into
the reach in front of the fort, the Nawab’s gunners opened a brisk
cannonade.
The two ships took no notice, beyond firing a few guns to cover their
approach and shroud themselves in smoke, until they had come abreast of
the ramparts. Then, at three minutes past eight by the _Kent’s_ log, both
ships let go anchor, and as the _Kent_ ran up the red flag at the fore,
the first broadside thundered out. The battle lasted for an hour and a
half before the nearest ships astern, the _Salisbury_ and _Bridgewater_
could join in. About the same time Clive’s Sepoys got again into action
with Manikchand’s troops on the further side of Budge-Budge. Captain
Coote and men of the 39th Foot on board the _Kent_ were now landed to
reinforce Clive, while the navy dealt with the fort, the key of the
position. The Nawab’s gunners for their part fought their pieces bravely,
and the tough chunam and brick of the walls of Budge-Budge stood four
hours more hard battering. By half-past one, however, the breastwork
rampart facing the river had been almost smashed down all along its
length, and the guns there all either dismounted or disabled.
The Nawab’s troops on shore had by this time begun to draw off, and
the action slackened down to a casual musketry fire here and there.
The fort, however, still held out, and a sharp fusillade came from its
walls. Apparently the garrison were looking for Manikchand’s return to
their relief. Admiral Watson on that sent for Clive, and a Council of
War was held on board the _Kent_. It was decided to storm Budge-Budge at
daybreak next morning. Clive’s soldiers were given the afternoon to rest
after their work of the past twenty-four hours. To assist in the storming
a naval battalion, made up of an officer, two midshipmen, and forty
men from each of the men-of-war, was landed, with two of the _Kent’s_
9-pounders which were to batter in the main gate.
As things turned out there was no need of the storming party. That
evening, while the troops were bivouacking before the fort, a sailor from
the _Kent_ took Budge-Budge all by himself. The story is best told in the
words of Dr. Ives, our correspondent on the spot:
“All was now quiet in the camp,” he begins, “and we on board the
ships, which lay at their anchors but a small distance from the shore,
had entertained thoughts of making use of this interval to refresh
ourselves with an hour or two of sleep, but suddenly a loud and universal
acclamation was heard from the shore, and soon afterwards an account was
brought to the Admiral that the place had been taken by storm.”
Great was the astonishment on board at the news, and “great joy” as Dr.
Ives relates, “the more so as it was quite unexpected.” Then, as it would
seem, when they heard what had actually taken place, everybody affected
to be scandalized rather than pleased. “When the particular circumstances
that ushered in this success were related,” continues the worthy surgeon
of the _Kent_, “our exultation was greatly abated, because we found that
the rules so indispensably necessary in all military exploits had been
disregarded in the present instance, and therefore could not help looking
upon the person who had the principal hand in this victory rather as an
object of chastisement than of applause.”
This, to resume with the Doctor, is how Budge-Budge fell:
“During the tranquil state of the camp, one Strahan, a common sailor,
belonging to the _Kent_, having been just served with grog (arrack mixed
with water), had his spirits too much elated to think of taking any rest:
he therefore strayed by himself towards the fort, and imperceptibly
got under the walls. Being advanced thus far without interruption, he
took it into his head to scale it at a breach that had been made by the
cannon of the ships, and having luckily gotten upon the bastion, he
there discovered several Moors[6] sitting upon the platform, at whom
he flourished his cutlass and fired his pistol, and then, after giving
three loud huzzas, cried out—“The place is mine.” The Moorish soldiers
immediately attacked him, and he defended himself with incomparable
resolution, but in the rencounter had the misfortune to have the blade
of his cutlass cut in two, about a foot from the hilt. This mischance,
however, did not happen until he was near being supported by two or
three other sailors who had accidentally straggled to the same part of
the fort on which the other had mounted. They, hearing Strahan’s huzzas,
immediately scaled the breach likewise, and echoing the triumphant
sound roused the whole army, who, taking the alarm, presently fell on
pell-mell, without orders and without discipline, following the example
of the sailors.”
Completely taken by surprise and scared out of their wits the garrison
bolted _en masse_, and Budge-Budge was ours. It was found to mount in all
eighteen guns, mostly 24-pounders—the average size of a siege piece of
the day—and to have a well stocked magazine.
Neither the Admiral’s official dispatch nor the flagship’s log, as it
happens, make any mention whatever of Strahan or his exploit. Admiral
Watson says: “At half-past eight the body of the fort was on fire, and
immediately after news was received that the Place was taken, but the few
people in it had all escaped.” The flagship’s log is briefer still. It
simply notes: “At forty-five minutes past eight Captain Bridge came on
board with an account of our being in possession of the Fort.”
Next morning, according to the etiquette of the time, the British
flag was hoisted on the ramparts of the fort and a seventeen-gun
salute to Admiral Watson, as commander-in-chief of the expedition, was
ceremoniously fired.
That being done, Strahan was brought before the Admiral by the
master-at-arms to explain matters. Admiral Watson, we are told, “thought
it necessary to show himself displeased with a measure in which the want
of all discipline so notoriously appeared. He therefore angrily accosted
this brave fellow with: ‘Strahan, what is this you have been doing?’
The untutored hero, after having made his bow, scratched his head and,
with one hand twirling his hat, replied: ‘Why, to be sure, sir, it was
I who took the fort, but I hope there was no harm in it.’ The Admiral
with difficulty suppressed a smile excited by the simplicity of the
answer, and the language and the manner which he used in recounting the
several particulars of his mad exploit. Admiral Watson then expatiated on
the fatal consequences that might have attended his irregular conduct,
and with a severe rebuke dismissed him, but not without dropping some
hints that at a proper opportunity he would certainly be punished for
his temerity. Strahan, amazed to find himself blamed for an action that
he thought deserved praise and for which he expected to have received
applause, in passing from the Admiral’s cabin muttered, ‘If I’m flogged
for this here action, I’ll never take another fort by myself as long as I
live!’”
Some of the _Kent’s_ officers, as we are told, afterwards interceded with
the Admiral for Strahan. They were prompted, according to Dr. Ives, by
Admiral Watson himself, who made that the excuse for openly pardoning
the man. The Admiral, it would seem, was also desirous of promoting
Strahan to boatswain’s mate, with the idea of advancing him later on to
full boatswain; but unfortunately Strahan was too fond of his grog. His
irregular ways in other respects were against him, and nothing could
be done to reclaim him. His own highest ambition, as Strahan himself
afterwards declared, was to get a cook’s berth on board a first rate.
Whether he ever got one history has not recorded. All that is known
of him for certain is that twenty years afterwards he was alive and a
Greenwich Hospital pensioner.
The troops were re-embarked on the evening of the 30th, all except the
Sepoys, who were ordered to keep advancing along the river bank. Then
next morning the squadron moved forward again, keeping the English
soldiers on board. On the 31st the whole day was spent in laboriously
working up the river, a difficult and intricate piece of navigation,
owing to cross currents and dangerous shoals.
New Year’s Day promised to be interesting, for they had Tanna just ahead
of them, where there was a fort on one side of the river and a battery on
the other. A stiff fight was looked for here, the position being a good
one to make a stand at. But news of what had happened at Budge-Budge had
gone in advance of them. As the _Tyger_ and _Kent_ drew near the works
the garrisons on both sides suddenly abandoned their guns and bolted.
Not a shot was fired. The boats of the squadron were promptly sent
ashore, and the fort and battery taken possession of. Forty pieces of
cannon in all, many of them heavy guns, were found mounted and all well
supplied with ammunition. In the afternoon the boats were again called
away and dispatched up the river, manned and armed. It was reported that
the enemy had had some half dozen native vessels prepared as fireships,
and were waiting with them a little higher up, all ready to float down
with the ebb of the tide that night on the squadron at its anchorage. The
fireships were boarded and destroyed without serious opposition being
offered.
Calcutta was in sight next morning. The squadron now comprised the
_Tyger_, _Kent_, _Bridgewater_, and _Kingfisher_. The _Salisbury_ had
been left behind at Tanna to demolish the fortifications there and
prevent their being re-occupied. Admiral Watson had also with him an
extra vessel, the _Thunder_, a bomb-vessel, one of the country-ships
found at Fulta and converted there for emergency purposes, in case
bombardment might be needed to drive the enemy out of Fort William.
As before the attack on Budge-Budge, Clive and the Company’s European
troops were put ashore early. They were to move on the place overland
while the ships attacked along the waterside.
Firing began at a quarter to ten from some batteries recently thrown up
a little below Fort William, but, cowed by the experiences of their
comrades at Budge-Budge, as the _Tyger_ and _Kent_ closed on them the
gunners in the outlying batteries cleared out and made off. Fort William
itself was within range at ten o’clock, and twenty minutes later the
_Tyger_ and _Kent_ let go anchor abreast of the ramparts and opened fire.
The fort replied briskly, and kept up a hot fire for an hour and fifty
minutes. Then suddenly the garrison, numbering some five hundred men
ceased firing and deserted their guns, streaming off to the rear out of
the fort. Clive’s soldiers on shore were beginning to work round on the
further side, and fearful at the idea of their retreat being cut off,
the garrison gave way and fled in confusion. With the recapture of Fort
William the main object of the expedition had been achieved. On board the
squadron the casualties from first to last had been nine seamen and three
soldiers killed and twenty-six seamen and five soldiers wounded.
Admiral Watson landed a party of seamen and the men of the 39th Foot
serving on board the squadron, all in charge of Captain Richard King
(afterwards Sir Richard), of the Royal Navy, a volunteer on board the
_Kent_, who took formal possession of Fort William in the King’s name.
Later in the day Clive took over the charge of the place until the next
morning, when he formally delivered the keys of Fort William over to the
Admiral, who in turn formally handed them to Governor Drake. The ceremony
of officially declaring war against the Nawab was at the same time
ceremoniously performed, Governor Drake proclaiming war in the name of
the Honourable East India Company, after Admiral Watson had declared it
in the name of His Majesty King George. Upwards of ninety guns were found
in Fort William and a large store of ammunition.