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’sfancy, andvice 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 thePearl’sNaval 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 thePearl’sNaval 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 thePearl’sBrigade were voted the thanks of both Houses of Parliament; and whatever luck I mayhave 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 commandof 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 aboutad 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 acharge 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 weshould 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. Theycannot 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 theirfirst 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.