INCIDENTS OF THE CAMPAIGN
From this period--the end of December 1857 until the 10th of
February 1858--our work consisted in sending out detachments to
destroy villages and the houses of rebel Rajahs. On one occasion
a Sikh discovered 30,000 rupees (belonging to some Rajah) hidden
in the wall of a cow-house. Needless to say, this money was handed
over to the Government: much to our dissatisfaction, as we rather
anticipated having our respective shares doled out to us. Occasionally
our camping-ground was changed, so as to keep in touch with our
detachments; but otherwise there was no fighting during these six
weeks. Whatever rebels there were about did not collect.
Camp life was at that time pleasant enough. The days were pretty
warm; the nights actually cold. We amused ourselves shooting snipe
in the ghylls of the near neighbourhood, and very often came across
wild pea-fowl in the pea-fields or among the “growing crops.” The
difficulty lay in procuring shot. We improvised a system of melting
bullets: standing on a chair in our tent, we dropped molten lead
through small pierced pieces of tin into a bucket of cold water. The
shot were rather elongated; but they answered the purpose in a way
(anyhow as slugs), and we bagged many pea-fowl, also a few snipe, and
occasionally duck.
Another recreation was to go pig-sticking after the pariah dog with an
improvised spear--generally a long nail secured to a cane of bamboo.
We sallied out, a party of six or eight, on our ponies, and rode round
the outside of a village in quest of a good, strong-looking dog, which
we might find basking in the sun; and if it was not found outside the
village, we rode down the “High Street” in search. When found, he got
a good prick, and immediately started off, yelling. He was given a bit
of law, and off we skedaddled after him. Sometimes the dog would take
you clean across country to the next village, and once we had a rare
run of five miles. These dogs were more or less wild, and the hunt
sounds a bit cruel to relate. I fancy our feelings were hard in camp
life--especially during the Mutiny days.
The time had now arrived when we were ordered to the banks of the
Gogra river to collect boats to enable us to build a bridge for Jung
Bahadour’s army to cross over into Oude, in order to render assistance
to Lord Clyde’s army, then before Lucknow. Jung had 10,000 Ghoorkas
with him, and about twenty-four guns. Why he could not do his own work
himself I never discovered. I conclude that, he being an ally, the
authorities thought we ought to do his dirty work. We made four or
five marches to the banks of the river, took a small fort on the way,
and encamped near the bank. The Sepoys were collecting in force on the
opposite side; and Jung used to amuse himself by firing long shots at
them across the river, though they were well out of range. These 10,000
troops seemed quite a large army to us. I rode into their camp, and
dined with some English officers whom he had attached to his force.
Getting the boats up to build a bridge took some time, and, of course,
it was necessary to take possession of the opposite bank--a task which
our field force had to undertake. Accordingly, we were marched off
down the river to a spot where, with the assistance of a few boats and
temporary rafts, and aided by a steamer, we crossed, unknown to the
rebels. I fancy they were awaiting us near Fyzabad, little thinking we
could cross lower down. Jung and his army remained where they were,
with the exception of about 1000 Ghoorkas whom he sent with us, and
a few pieces of artillery. To get to this place of crossing, we had
to make a forced march of 32 miles. Much fatigued by our long march,
we rested until dark, when off we started in silence. Not a pipe was
allowed; the wheels of the gun-carriages were muffled; and strict
orders were given that no sound should be made.
Crossing the dry bed of a river at night is not an easy matter, and our
progress was slow in the extreme. Guns stuck in the sandbanks, and at
times the horses came to grief. It was so tedious, and I so done up,
that I slipped unconsciously off my pony’s back, and was sound asleep
on a sandbank for upwards of an hour. When I awoke my Chief had not
ridden on half a mile, and, as luck would have it, had never missed
me: when I rejoined him he made no remark. At about 9.30 that evening
a detailed force was sent on ahead to attack a stockade on a hill near
the spot where we were to arrive after crossing the river. This fort,
however, was found deserted, and was soon in a blaze.
[Illustration: Victor A. Montagu]
Once more we bivouacked, and got some rest, though not for long, as
at daylight we had to assist in getting our tents and baggage across,
which had now arrived on the other bank. This took a considerable part
of the morning, and beyond what I had in my holster (the remains of my
previous night’s feed) I had nothing to eat. About one o’clock that
afternoon, the baggage having arrived, and while we were preparing
to pitch our camp for at any rate twenty-four hours’ rest, our
outlying pickets gave the alarm and we instantly fell in, as about 50
of the enemy’s cavalry came down in our direction to reconnoitre.
Our force that day consisted of 260 Naval Brigade, with four guns, 1500
Ghoorkas, with seven guns, and about 60 Sikhs. After assembling, we
proceeded to march in the direction of our bridge of boats higher up. A
strong force of Sepoys and rebels had now come down to prevent us from
getting to our boats, and to cut us off. By 2.30, in a raging hot sun,
we had marched through the village of Phoolpore; and our little battle
of that name began directly afterwards.
It was the usual scene: first, a good blaze at each other with
artillery, skirmishers to the front. Then a general advance, the enemy
falling back and taking up a fresh position; there he stood until we
came up close, and then he bolted. There were a good many casualties
that day, and a tumbril or two of ours were blown up.
I witnessed a rather curious scene at the beginning of the action.
Elephants, as usual, dragged our spare ammunition for the guns and
men--as bullocks were slow and could not keep up--though directly we
came within manœuvring distance the elephants had to be sent to the
rear; and ammunition was placed in hackeries drawn by bullocks. On
that day, from accident or otherwise, the ammunition was not changed
soon enough, for a long shot from the rebel battery came bounding among
some of the elephants. It was the work of an instant. Up went their
trunks, off their trumpets, and away they fled as hard as they could to
the rear. It was an absurd sight. Nothing on earth could stop them: a
mahout told me he could hardly keep his seat.
We killed a good many mutineers that afternoon. We chased them till
near dark (6 P.M.); and, what with the forced march of the previous day
and the night crossing (to say nothing of having been under fire from 2
till 6 P.M.), our force was completely exhausted. Worn out with fatigue
and hunger, we were soon sound asleep. I pitied the poor chaps who had
to go out on picket after those thirty-six hours of incessant hard work.
Two or three of us that evening, while pitching our tents, suddenly
discovered in the dark a white mass lying near our tent pole. We had
just got the pole up when one of the party trod on this white mass,
which turned out to be an unfortunate wounded Sepoy, his leg broken,
either by a shot or by a piece of shell--and two parts dead, though,
poor wretch, he could call out for mercy and close his hands in token
of salaam. Well, all I can say is, we did what we could for him,
got the surgeon to dress him, and put some of our clean clothes on;
the doctor amputated his leg, the only chance of saving his life;
but by daylight he was gone. It was a sickening sight amid all the
circumstances of the case. He was very grateful, and showered blessings
on us as long as he could. Poor fellow: he must have thought, when
discovered, that he would have a hard fate. I feel sure that if the
case had been the other way up our man would not have escaped at their
hands: that was certain. I am afraid we all carried great hatred in our
compositions. The sole feeling was to sell one’s life dearly, if only
one had the chance of getting to close quarters. The way the men fought
was simply reckless. I have seen skirmishers go straight at the guns,
and bayonet all they could reach--unsupported, and perhaps not six men
close together.
One of our blue-jackets and Lord Charlie Scott, I believe, took a
gun between them, and there is no doubt that they won the Victoria
Cross. Somehow this event was never represented. On another occasion
a blue-jacket was seen wrestling with a mutineer. Both had lost their
muskets in the scrimmage. Eventually Jack got his man down with a fair
back heel. In an instant the nigger had his teeth through Jack’s arm,
the sailor pummelling away with the other. Then somebody called out,
“Stick him with your bayonet, man!” The sailor had forgotten that he
had this still on his belt. Soon it came into use, and all was over for
the rebel.
The forcing of the passage of the Gogra, accomplished by our force,
enabled the Nepaulese army to cross; and next day they were off
on their way to Lucknow. These troops, I suppose, could not be
compared with the Ghoorkas of this day: I do not think they had much
military system. Their chief weapon was the kookerie (a long-handled,
curved-blade knife), which they were supposed to throw with the utmost
precision a matter of fifty yards; and it was said that these knives
were thrown during a charge before coming to very close quarters.
For my part, I do not think I ever saw them used in this way: these
warriors preferred their muskets and bayonets. They were adepts,
however, at cutting off the head of a bullock with one stroke of the
kookerie: I saw this done on more than one occasion.
After Jung Bahadour left us we recrossed the Gogra, and were sent back
to defend the Gorruckpore district again: much to our disgust, as we
thought there was a chance of our going on to Lucknow.
I forgot to mention that Jung Bahadour held a sort of levee in his
camp to all our officers before he started, and, in a short speech,
thanked us for helping him across. He was a perfect blaze of precious
stones--diamonds and emeralds as large as a thimble--and must have been
worth a mass of money as he stood.
We now came in for some severe fighting, marching, and countermarching,
for weeks. The heat was becoming oppressive, with violent winds and
dust-storms; and the flies were abominable. I have known a leg of a
sheep or a goat half eaten by flies, if by any chance the tent was left
deserted for a few hours. The white ants were most obnoxious insects:
they would demolish a rug laid on the ground to such an extent that it
was utterly useless for any practical purpose afterwards.
On the 3rd of March, having arrived and encamped at a place called
Amorrah, our force was augmented by 250 of the Bengal Yeomanry Cavalry,
a perfect Godsend to us. These were indeed splendid troops. The
regiment--which, I believe, was raised at Calcutta--was commanded by
one Colonel Chapman. As far as I can recollect, two-thirds of the men
at least consisted of those who had lost their little all during the
beginning of the Mutiny. Some, indeed,--and these not few--had lost
near and dear relations, and, consequently, their only thought was of
vengeance for the dastardly atrocities and ruin brought upon them and
their poor families. They possessed, for the most part, nothing but
what they stood in: they were volunteers, and came only to fight and
to die, if such was to be their fate. They were beautifully horsed
and well armed: in fact, a splendid corps. Many of the troopers were
gentlemen in social life; all threw in their lot together; and their
discipline was superb. If they had a fault, it was recklessness: in
their charges nothing deterred them. I forget the actual engagement,
and where it was; but, just to see a bit of the fun and what they
would do, I followed them, after giving them the order from my Chief
to charge a certain position; and at a respectable distance I saw the
whole thing. After advancing at a trot, they found that a battery of
the rebels was playing into part of our position very warmly. Suddenly
they took ground to the right for a short distance, and, under cover
of trees, formed up at right angles to the battery. Then they advanced
at a canter, and, when within 100 yards or so of the battery, wheeled
suddenly to their right and charged straight at the guns in front. As
good luck would have it, the rebels fired their grape just too soon,
and caught only a few outside files as the squadrons wheeled for the
final charge.
It looked to me (200 yards or so away) as if they must have been
annihilated; but, thank God, they had lost only seventeen killed and
wounded and a few horses. It is needless to say that every gun was
taken, and the gunners were sabred to a man. It was as fine a bit of
dash as I ever saw in my life. It came off; but I suppose it was a wild
adventure--charging straight up to the face of a battery.
About 2.30 P.M. next day, after our arrival at Amorrah, the force
marched out some eight miles to attack the fort of Belwar, not far
from Fyzabad, and near the river. We had some scrimmaging in villages
before we got to this fort; for about two hours we battered it with our
artillery; and the skirmishers were potting away into the embrasures
200 yards distant, waiting the order to assault, if we made a breach.
The guns were now moved up to within grape-shot range; but, somehow,
we seemed to make no impression on these baked-mud bastions, which had
been erected by our own engineers for a Ghoorka Brigade that had been
there some time before, and, unfortunately, had not been demolished
before they left it. The Brigadier, not liking the task of storming it,
as it was nearly dark, ordered the force to retire under cover of the
night for two miles.
The fact is, we had got the worst of it. To be candid, they drove us
off. Next day the enemy were considerably reinforced: so much so, we
had to retire to our encampment at Amorrah and entrench ourselves
again. Luckily, we were not molested next day, the 4th; but on the
5th we had the most important fight of the whole campaign, and there
were considerable misgivings as to whether we could remain and fight
it out or should have to retire farther. The worst of it was that
our retrograde movement from the fort of Belwar had given the rebels
additional pluck. They thought they had us.