THE NAVAL BRIGADE AT WORK
In describing what I saw of the Mutiny I shall not be able to give a
very correct account of the places we went to, more especially as to
the names. I must be pardoned for mistakes. It is somewhat curious that
I do not retain in my memory many incidents of the campaign that might
prove interesting to read. I say curious, because I find I remember
matters of much more antiquated dates quite easily in comparison with
those which occurred between October 1857 and February 1859, during
the time I was up-country in India. Perhaps this is because of the
many varied scenes in a life so entirely novel; but there may be a
better reason. Between the ages of sixteen and nineteen a boy’s mind is
constantly on the change. He is growing out of boyhood into manhood;
he no longer sees things in a boyish light; yet he has had none of
the experience of a man; in fact, his state is one of transformation.
Certain things strike a boy’s fancy, and _vice versâ_; and so I give
what follows as the reflection of my best remembrance. In looking over
my letters, I find a great difference in the account I wrote of passing
events during those twenty months ashore.
To enable me to refresh my memory with more correctness of detail, I
applied to the blessed Board of Admiralty to allow me the use of the
official report of our proceedings in the _Pearl’s_ Naval Brigade;
but this was refused--on what grounds it is difficult to imagine.
Either it is the cursed system of red tape that pervades the length
and breadth of that building at Whitehall, or possibly some librarian
and his associates find the book-ladder too heavy to trouble with; but
there live the records of the doings of the _Pearl’s_ Naval Brigade in
India, possibly rotting on some musty shelf, and one who served his
country--to whom reference to these books would be of the greatest
service--has been denied the privilege of referring to them. I consider
that it ought to be deemed a right. The Admiralty has always been
(in my days, at any rate) one of the last places on earth to expect
assistance from. I am happy to say that I have never been under any
obligation to the Admiralty for the slightest help. My promotion was
by Order in Council, when the _Pearl’s_ Brigade were voted the thanks
of both Houses of Parliament; and whatever luck I may have had I owe
to no one at the Admiralty, but to chances that might accrue to any
officer during his career.
We now arrive at a date about the middle of November 1857. During the
rest of that month, and well into December, there is nothing particular
to relate. We moved from our camp only to send out a detachment when
any news came in of a party of rebels being in the vicinity. There
were occasional scrimmages, not worth recording. We were simply
stationed there as the Sarun field force to protect a district in the
neighbourhood of Sewan. The flower of the Sepoy army were well engaged
with Lord Clyde and General Franks in Oude. We ourselves were on the
borders of the Gorruckpore district, and, consequently, at that period,
had to deal only with the rebels, led by certain Rajahs and without
much organisation. From day to day we heard dreadful accounts from
up-country. Our forces were barely sufficient for defensive purposes,
and things generally looked black.
On the 19th of December Brigadier-General Rowcroft, in command, had
under him a force consisting of 260 men of the Naval Brigade, with 14
officers, two small regiments of Ghoorkas mustering about 1150 men, and
50 Sikhs, with the Naval Brigade battery of four guns, all 12-pounder
brass guns. General Rowcroft had taken command of this force about
a week before; and, owing to the bad news we received of the rebels
collecting from all directions, it was deemed necessary to entrench
our camp. We were far too small a force to take the field: so it was
decided to wait for reinforcements. It took very little time to throw
up earthworks and bastions and to make rifle pits for the outlying
pickets; though we had to work night and day to complete the job, as
native labour was not to be had for love or money, and camp-followers
in India are a lazy lot.
To overawe the natives, we made dummy guns, which with our battery guns
were always kept covered up, so as to make the enemy imagine that we
had plenty of artillery; but, I take it, they knew just as much about
our doings as we ourselves knew. The bazaars (as they were called), a
system of market that always sprang up whenever we remained long in one
encampment, were hotbeds of the spies and detrimental to the force; but
the camp-followers must have them--else had they been minus food.
In India in those days, for every white man you had at least three
natives following, either on the line of march or on their own account
as appendages to the force. A magistrate accompanied us, and goodness
knows how many baboos and native police and other paraphernalia of the
law.
When we were fighting, or on the brink of it, at least half of
the natives suddenly disappeared, or remained behind in their own
districts, and possibly turned rebels, if occasion required it. The
whole country was in a state of disorder. Villages were deserted, and
cattle grazing about _ad lib._ In fact, it was war with a vengeance and
no quarter.
It always struck me that we treated the natives with scant courtesy,
and at times very roughly. We looked on them as such inferior beings,
and bullied them far too much. I recollect seeing natives beaten and
kicked for very little provocation. If a kitmuggar or bearer (servant)
were lazy or disobliging, young officers took the law into their own
hands, either thrashing him or fining him so many days’ wages; and, as
a native only got a few pence to pull your punkah all night (to enable
you to sleep in comfort), it was poor pay. If by chance he dozed off,
the stillness of the air awoke you, and the poor devil was sure to get
a hiding for his neglect.
One of the earlier horrid sights I saw was when three Sepoy mutineers
were brought into camp to be blown away from a gun. Of course, this
sounds barbarous, as the sight is; but the death is no worse than
loosing off ten rifles into a man. We used to form our force up into
three sides of a square; a gun was loaded with half a charge of
powder; and the rebel was lashed to the muzzle. This was done for
effect, in the hope of overawing the natives; but those executed did
not seem to mind it, for their souls were supposed to be saved if they
were killed by white men: I saw them walk up to the gun as coolly
as possible. One could not help admiring the pluck of the wretched
creatures.
Alas, we had to do it. Also, in the early days of the Mutiny we had
constantly to hang the wretches. Once I was sent away to hang eight
rebels on one tree. Shooting them would have been more merciful. I
simply marched them off with a small guard of sailors to a tree a mile
or so from camp, where they were executed. If by chance captured rebels
happened to be natives of any note, we erected temporary gallows and
left them hanging for a day or two.
Not many days after we had thrown up our entrenchments, there was a
sudden apprehension of a night attack; but it came to nothing. The
outlying sentries in one place began firing; the pickets ran in; and
we stood to arms. At that time, and for many days, only half the force
were allowed to sleep at a time; those asleep kept their belts on, and
no one was allowed to go far from camp by day.
Being pent up in entrenchments for days together was weary work. We
longed for the enemy to attack us, feeling pretty sure that we should
give a good account of ourselves, and so enable the force to move on,
and change quarters.
Christmas Day 1857 passed off quietly. We had our Christmas dinner,
such as it was. I think I fared off a tough fowl I had shot a day or
two before in the “High Street” of some village. We used to go into
villages to buy poultry or kids: if the villagers refused to sell, we
shot the fowls and paid the market price.
Our first brush came off on the 26th. Soon after daylight information
was brought in by our spies that some four or five thousand rebels with
six guns were advancing to the attack. At about ten o’clock some native
mounted police brought in word that the enemy was about five miles off
on the high road. This we soon discovered for ourselves. Seeing clouds
of dust in the distance, we struck camp and formed up half a mile or so
to our front, with our poor little force of 1400 men and four guns. I
had by this time been appointed Aide-de-Camp to General Rowcroft, and
had got hold of a real good nag, besides my pony.
We awaited them some little time. Then, the enemy making no move, the
Brigadier ordered a general advance. To our surprise, we found them
partially entrenched near a huge tank (pond), and in a large grove of
trees, with a battery in position under cover on the high road. Natives
always think you must attack them in front. They cannot imagine that
that is about the last place a wise General would choose--particularly
if he had the slightest chance of doing double the damage by a change
of front or by a flank attack;--and so it happened here. No sooner
did we get within long range of their artillery than we changed
direction to their right; which seemed to nonplus them completely.
Our skirmishers got well up to them, and our guns, pouring in shells,
astonished the natives very much. This went on for about two hours. I
was sent galloping about, and was highly amused all the while at the
novelty of the thing. Our guns made splendid practice. I saw a Rajah
knocked clean off his elephant, and all the crowd around him bolting to
the rear.
By way of a divertisement, the natives tried to outflank us shortly
afterwards; but our shrapnel shell soon stopped that little game.
Shortly afterwards about three or four hundred horsemen, looking like
business, appeared to be advancing to charge our skirmishers. We had
divided our four guns to meet this flank attack, and I saw two shells
sent bang into these Sowars just as, apparently, they were collecting
to charge. It seemed to paralyse them. They turned and bolted.
Rowcroft now thought his time had come. A general advance was sounded,
and we went in straight at their position. This was enough for the
natives. They fled. When we got to their first position we found
tents standing, two guns deserted, some grain, and so forth. This was
all fired, and we rested the troops for ten minutes. There followed a
general chase, in which the natives had much the best of it, chiefly
along the high road. If we had had cavalry, we must have inflicted a
serious loss. As it was, we followed the main body for six miles, until
we came to a small river. They had destroyed the only bridge, and, as
the river was not fordable and our men were dead beat, we collected and
halted. We took from this river two more guns, which they had spiked
and left behind.
This was not a very worthy engagement. The fact is, the natives had no
leaders and no organisation in these particular districts. They relied
on their numbers to smother our force, to harass our communications,
and to make themselves obnoxious.
After the action we bivouacked for the night near the river mentioned,
emptied our haversacks, and lay down as best we might in the open,
sending back for our baggage, which arrived next day under escort of
the small force we had left in camp. The camp was pitched at a place
called Mejowlee, a small village a few miles off. Early next morning
part of our force was sent away, I accompanying it, to burn a rebel
village about three miles from our camp.
On arrival we gave the infirm and the sick an hour to clear out. The
villagers generally had bolted before we arrived, or, it was assumed,
had formed part of the little army that had attacked us on the 26th. It
was rather pitiable to see these people wandering out into the open,
some carried on charpoys, others limping along, with all the goods and
chattels they could collect in that short hour. I felt sorry for them;
but it was a regular “budmarsh” (rebel) village, and its destruction
was richly deserved. A very short time sufficed to burn it to the
ground; and, I must own, we all tried for a bit of loot before it
became a blaze.