Calcutta page 3

The day after this occurrence a great misfortune befell the garrison. One of the buildings in the entrenchments was used as a hospital. It had a thatched roof. On the evening of the 13th a shell or "carcase" set this on fire, and the whole building was soon in a blaze. By the light of the flames the Sepoys poured in a heavy fire on the women and children running out, and the men bearing off the wounded, some of whom perished there, while all the medicines and surgical instruments were destroyed! This moment of trial the enemy selected for an attack, hoping to find the garrison unprepared. They were deceived. Every man was on the alert. The mutineers were allowed to come close up, and then the guns opened with grape, and the infantry firing muskets, ready loaded, as fast as they could pick them up, drove off the yelling assailants, with great slaughter. At another time they approached, soiling before them bales of cotton, but these were speedily set on fire with shells, after which grape-shot soon thinned the ranks of the flying crew. These attacks were repeated in different ways, but always with the same result.

But a few details abridged from Captain Thomson's narrative of what he called the superficial horrors of the siege, will better enable the reader to conceive the agonies of those three weeks, than pages of general description. A group of soldiers' wives were sitting in the trenches. A shell fell among them, and killed and wounded seven. "Mrs. White, a private's wife, was; walking with her husband, under cover, as they thought, of the wall, her twin children were one in each arm, when a single bullet passed through her husband, killing him. It passed also through both her arms, breaking them, and close beside the breathless husband and father fell the widow and her babes; one of the latter being also severely wounded. I saw her afterwards in the main-guard, lying upon her back, with the two children, twins, laid one at each breast, while the mother's bosom refused not what her arms had no power to administer."

An ayah, nursing a baby, lost both legs from a cannon shot, while the infant was uninjured. Mrs. Evans was killed in the barrack by falling bricks brought down by a round shot. Mr. Hillersden, the collector, was talking to his wife, when he was cut in two by a round shot. Two days after a mass of falling bricks killed, his wife. Here are two other terrible pictures. In the unburnt, but not unbroken barrack, "Lieutenant G. R. Wheeler, son and aide-de-camp of the general, was sitting upon a sofa, fainting from a wound he had received in the trenches; his sister was fanning him, when a round shot entered the doorway, and left him a headless trunk. One sister at his feet, and father, mother, and another sister, in different parts of the same room, were witnesses of the appalling spectacle. Mr. Herberden, of the railway service, was handing one of the ladies some water, when a charge of grape entered the barrack, and a shot passed through both his hips, leaving an awful wound. He lay for a whole week upon his face, and was carried upon a mattrass down to the boats, where he died. The fortitude he had shown in active service did not forsake him during his extraordinary sufferings, for not a murmur escaped his lips."

Enough of these horrors. It is a relief to turn from them to the recorded acts of daring, of which let these two suffice. As Sir Hugh Wheeler was too old to take an active share in a defence, which he, nevertheless, helped to sustain, by his unconquerable spirit, Captain Moore, of the 32nd, was the real leader of the garrison. A genuine soldier, he conceived the idea of making a sortie by night, and spiking the Sepoy cannon. He was at the time suffering from a wound; yet, one night, he led out fifty men, spiked three guns near the church, killed several gunners, and spiked two 24-pounders at the mess-house, with the loss of one killed and four wounded. This illustrates the active valour of this garrison. It availed little, for fresh pieces were brought up the next day. Pew acts of daring surpass this, which occured on the 21st of June, and which Captain Thomson relates of his friend, Lieutenant Delafosse: "A shot had entered the tumbril of a gun, blew it up, and ignited the wood work of the carriage, thus exposing the ammunition all around to destruction. The rebels having caught sight of the opportunity, directed their fire to this centre with redoubled fury; and how to extinguish the flames was a problem requiring no common skill to solve, when my friend, with the coolest self-possession imaginable, went to the burning gun, and lying down under the fiery mass, pulled away splinters of the wood, and scattered earth with both hands upon the flames. A couple of soldiers followed this courageous example with a bucket of water each, and with a degree of energy and science worthy of a London fireman, my comrades applied these also, until the danger was extinct. The character of this exploit will be better appreciated when I add that all the while six guns were playing their 18 and 24-pounders around the spot." Another incident deserves to be recorded: "A carcase [case of combustible stuff] fell on the top of a magazine; Jacobi, a coachmaker by trade, instantly clambered up and threw the missile over the wall of the entrenchment, an action the more to be valued, as he thought the object of his attention was a live shell." Such, were the men who held Cawnpore against fate.

Aware that aid was approaching, though slowly, Nana Sahib now had recourse to a devilish expedient in order to get the garrison in his power. He had in his power a Mrs. Greenway, one of a family who had paid to the Nana £30,000 as a ransom, yet who were all slain. This poor woman, half naked, and carrying an infant, he sent with a message to the entrenchment. It was addressed " To the subjects of her Most Gracious Majesty Queen Victoria," and it ran as follows: - " All those who are in no way connected with the acts of Lord Dalhousie, and are willing to lay down their arms, shall receive a safe passage to Allahabad." At first Sir Hugh Wheeler was utterly opposed to any dealing with Nana Sahib; but he finally agreed to treat. Accordingly a negotiation was begun, and rapidly concluded, Nana Sahib signing a treaty of capitulation, to the effect that the garrison should march out under arms, with sixty rounds of ammunition per man, and should be sent, with the women and children, in boats to Allahabad. No precautions were neglected by Sir Hugh or Captain Moore. Their sole error was in placing any trust in Nana Sahib.

On the 27th the woe-begone and tattered procession set out for the ghaut or landing place. The women and children went on elephants and in palanquins, the men, except the sick and wounded, walked. When they found the boats - but they were all a-ground on sandbanks - every one, men, women, and children, had to wade knee-deep to embark. Suddenly, at the signal to start, the native boatmen, firing the thatched roofs of the boats, leaped into the water, and rushed to the shore. Then, first a dropping fire of carbines, succeeded by volleys of musketry, and round shot from four 9-pounders, opened on the fugitives. The banks were lined, the neighbouring houses were filled with assassins. Soon the boats were in flames, the water was full of women and children, and on these the shot was poured. Only two boats got off, and one was instantly sunk by a round shot. The other, crowded with survivors, some of whom had swum to her side, began to float down the stream, when guns opened on her from the Oude side. Her rudder was shot away, the oars were gone, but the current bore her on, low stranding her on a shoal, now drifting her off, aided by the use of a spar or two of wood. All day long this boat was chased, and one by one her occupants became fewer. Some fell overboard, some sank wounded to the bottom of the boat. At night she stranded, and the Sepoys fired lighted arrows at her to set her on fire. The next morning they were beset again; a boat full of armed Sepoys came down and grounded near, when the British at once charged through the water and slew their pursuers. A hurricane of rain and wind followed, and once more the boat with its starving and bleeding freight was afloat; but it soon stuck again in shoal water. Here Captain Thomson, Lieutenant Delafosse, Sergeant Grady, and eleven privates landed by order to drive away the Sepoys while the boat was eased off. The boat and its occupants they never saw again. They easily forced back the enemy, but could not find the boat on their return, and so they were forced to retreat along the banks; pursued, they took refuge in a small temple, and held it against a host, until the enemy lighted brands at the door, and began to throw bags of gunpowder on them. The little band charged at once, and made for the river; seven out of thirteen reached it alive and plunged in; the number was quickly reduced to four. These swam on and on, six miles down stream, and, exhausting pursuit, went ashore. Here they found a protector in one whose name should be preserved - Diribijah Singh, of Moorar Mhow, in Oude. He saved their lives. At this time Thomson's clothing consisted of a flannel shirt; Delafosse wore a cloth round his waist; Murphy and Sullivan were naked. Every one except Delafosse was wounded. These were the sole survivors of the massacre at the Ghaut. About 130 of the women and children were taken out of the water and carried prisoners into Cawnpore. We shall hear of them again.

During this period mutiny had been making great progress elsewhere. Bombay had been saved by the energy of Lord Elphinstone and the prompt appearance of the 37th from the Mauritius, just as Madras had been quieted by the landing of a regiment from Ceylon. But in Central India not a station remained. The Europeans had been driven away from Indore, the residence of Holkar. At Mhow, near by, some officers were killed, but the others, with the women and children, took shelter in the fort. The Maharajah remained true, and they were saved. At Gwalior the contingent had mutinied, killing some officers, but the women and children got away to Agra; and Scindia, acting on the advice of his minister, Dinkur Rao, the ablest native in India, so managed the Contingent that they did not move until months afterwards. Mr. Colvin, at Agra, after paltering with mutiny, had been forced to disarm two regiments there on the 31st of May, and to prepare and occupy the fort; for the Kotah contingent mutinied, and there were no regular soldiers on whom dependence could be placed but the 3rd Europeans, a battery of artillery, thirty or forty volunteer horse, and the armed civilians. Such was the state of the country from the Himalayas to the Nerbudda, from the sand deserts of Bikaneer to the frontiers of Behar. Here and there, as at Saugor, Agra, Lucknow, there were little knots of beleaguered Britons, and all around them a raging sea of anarchy.

The reader will remember that the 8th of June was a day of disaster in the history of the Oude mutinies, and that from this day Lucknow alone remained in the hands of the British; and even this was held by a precarious tenure. Sir Henry Lawrence, seeing himself alone, and observing no signs of prompt support from any quarter, soon began to fortify the Residency. At first he contemplated the occupation of a larger position. He garrisoned and fortified the Muchee Bhowun, a strong fort commanding the iron bridge; and his military police held several parts of the town. At a later period he found how necessary it was that he should contract his lines, bring all his troops in from the cantonments, and make himself as strong as he could around the Residency. Before he came to that conclusion the work of preparation and provisioning went on with ardour under a burning sun. Day after day stores of fuel, food, forage, shot, shell, and powder were brought in. A large gateway, from the top of which the Residency enclosure was commanded, was blown down. Many lacs of rupees were buried, to save the trouble of guarding them. Spare clothing was brought in, and all the arms and ammunition that could be discovered. Upwards of 200 pieces of ordnance, many of large calibre, were found, and with great labour brought in. Neighbouring houses were cleared away or unroofed. Large bodies of coolies were kept at work upon the defences, which now began to assume shape and order and connection. The racket court was full of forage; the church was crammed with grain; the fuel, stacked in vast piles, formed a rampart in front of the Residency. The shot was piled. Immense quantities of powder were buried. Every day the volunteer cavalry were drilled, and the civilians, merchants, clerks, were organised, and posts were assigned them. The heat was almost insupportable. Cholera, small-pox, fever, broke out. Evil news came in day after day. Yet throughout all, the labours went on, and the improvised fortress grew up. Finally, the troops were withdrawn from the cantonments and placed in the Residency and Muchee Bhowun. All this time the courts had sat and business went on, malefactors, traitors, mutineers, were tried and executed, and order was maintained. Patrols went out on the road to Cawnpore and Fyzabad. The news of the massacres of the Futtehghur fugitives, and of the Cawnpore garrison, and of officers on all sides, came in; and Colonel Neill reported his arrival at Allahabad, and promised to move up as soon as he could. A price was set upon Nana Sahib - £10,000 were offered for him, dead or alive.

For three weeks the Oude mutineers had been gathering at Nawabgunge, on the Fyzabad road, about twenty- five miles from Lucknow. Sir Henry Lawrence thought it would be desirable to attack them when he heard they were marching on the city. Keeping his intention secret, he collected a force consisting of four European and six Oude guns and one 8-inch howitzer, the whole under Major Simons; thirty-six European and eighty Sikh horse; 300 of the 32nd Foot, and 220 Sepoys, the faithful few who had not mutinied. With these he marched, and his advance guard fell in with the enemy near Chinhut. They were in great strength, a complete army, having in the field cavalry, infantry, and artillery. The mutineers began the fray by a heavy fire of cannon, and then extending their wings, bore down on both flanks of the British. The volunteer cavalry charged boldly, but the Sikhs fled. The Oude gunners abandoned their pieces. The mutineers pressing on, turned our flank completely, and repulsed the 32nd in an attempt to drive them out of a village. The combat was now lost, and Sir Henry ordered a retreat. All fell back in confusion, leaving the howitzer behind. A body of horsemen tried to cut them off, but the volunteer cavalry, careless of odds, charged and routed them. Agonized with thirst, for the water-carriers had deserted, our little force fell back, turning and firing as often as they could covered by the gallant volunteer horse, and so reached the iron bridge, and filed over into the city. They had lost 200 men killed and wounded, of whom were 112 Europeans killed, and four guns. The pursuit was only checked by the fire of an 18-pounder from the redan, which commanded the iron bridge. The mutineers had brought into the field 5,000 infantry, 800 horse, and 160 gunners. As a sequel to this unhappy adventure, it maybe stated that the military police and the companies of Oude regiments in the city at once mutinied. The troops from Chinhut crossed the river lower down, and at once invested the Residency entrenchment. It was then found that the detachments in the Muchee Bhowun would be required to defend the Residency. But the enemy were in force between the two. No messenger could pass. In this crisis, at great risk, for the enemy kept up a heavy fire, four officers rigged a telegraph on the roof of the Residency, and thus sent orders that the Muchee Bhowun should be evacuated and blown up. That night the feat was achieved. The garrison had just reached the Residency, and were filing in, when a tremendous explosion shook the earth - 240 barrels of powder and 594,000 rounds of ammunition had destroyed the Muchee Bhowun.