Chapter 15

One to tenLean raw-boned rascals, who could e’er supposeThey had such courage and audacity.Shakespeare.

DESCRIPTION OF AFGHAN WARFARE.

As I have said, the Afghans really seemed to despise death, so long as they could reach us. They have been known to lay hold of the rifle, with the bayonet right through them, and kill their opponent, so that both fell together. On one occasion an entire company of the 101st Fusiliers was cut to pieces, and died to a man; but it was found that a number of these noble fellows had first driven their bayonets through their Afghan opponents and both lay locked in death. On another occasion two companies of the Ghoorkas were sent at (as far as we could see) about 150 fanatic Afghans. These brave little fellows threw in one volley, then dashed at the enemy with their favourite weapon; but instead of 150, some 800 or 900 Afghans rushed out of their hiding-places, and, in less time than it takesme to write it, exterminated the two companies, but not before they had laid low more than double their number of Afghans. No mercy was shown by these infuriated Hill tribes. The remainder of the Ghoorkas regiments obtained permission to go and avenge their comrades; and at them they went, this time backed up by the 101st Fusiliers, who assisted them by throwing in one volley, and that deadly weapon, the knife, did the rest. In marching over the field, about an hour afterwards, the sights that met one’s eyes in all directions were sickening. There lay the ghastly fruits of “war to the knife.” No wounded; but men of both nations lying clasped in each other’s arms, sleeping the sleep of death.

I would suggest that those who are so anxious for war should lead the way at an affair such as I have just described; they would then think well before they set men at each other in deadly conflict; or, in other words, let those that make the quarrels march in the forefront of the battle.

But we taught the lawless Afghans how to respect our flag. This had been a short, but a sharp lesson to them, for unprovoked wholesale murder. I must here explain that these neighbours of ours had come down from their hills to the plains, and destroyed whole villages, walking off with the cattle, and all that they could lay their hands upon. Not a man, woman, or child, did they leave alive to tell the tale. The whole country for miles was laid in utter ruin, for no other crime than that the people were British subjects. So, as the reader will admit, we were almost compelled to draw the sword in this instance; for parleying with such lawless gentlemen would have been looked upon as weakness, and would have had no more effect upon them than water upon a duck’s back. But, as usual, the force that was at first sent against the enemy wasfar too small. It consisted of two regiments of European Infantry (the 71st Highlanders and 101st Fusiliers), seven or eight Native Infantry regiments, and one of Cavalry, with three batteries of Artillery. It was here proved that it is bad policy to despise your enemies, for this little force could barely hold their own. It could hardly be said that they were masters of the ground they slept upon. They had, as it were, to “hold on by the skin of their teeth,” in the midst of a host, until reinforcements reached them. Hence our hurried march to their assistance. In this instance again we proved that the bayonet is the queen of weapons, for not all the countless hordes of fanatics could withstand a determined rush of some 10,000 men, backed up by others; for we had ultimately a force of some 25,000 men, with whom we struck terror into at least 150,000 of these sons of the Himalayas.

THE END OF THE WAR.

Well, it was now all over; they had paid the penalty for unprovoked murder, and were submissive at our feet. Although the sword—the victorious British sword—had been uplifted, our people remembered mercy, and that had more effect upon these hardy mountaineers than the mere sight of piles of their dead comrades all around them had produced. We remained for a few days, and then marched on to our frontiers. The Natives all around suddenly became wonderfully civil, and all kinds of supplies were brought into our camp; for they had found out that the Sahib Logs were indeed lords and masters, and that civility was cheaper than rope. This short but sharp lesson had such an effect upon them, that one regiment of old women could have kept them in check for years afterwards. We remained for two months on the frontiers, untilall was quiet, then broke up camp, and marched to our respective stations. The Fusiliers remained at Ferozepore until the end of 1866, when we marched on to Saugor (central India). It looked a beautiful place, but, alas! many a fine fellow who marched into that lovely vale, in all the pride of manhood, never marched out of it again.

REFLECTIONS.

All went on well until the summer of 1869, when we were attacked by cholera, and our poor fellows died like rotten sheep. In fourteen days we lost 149 men, 11 women, and 27 children. I here lost six dear little ones, and my wife was pronounced dead by one of the doctors; but, thank God, even doctors make wonderful mistakes sometimes. It proved so in her case, for she is with me yet, and has made me more than one “nice little present” since. During that trying ordeal we proved the faithfulness of the natives, for, although death was raging amongst us, they stood by us manfully; and a number of them clung so close to our poor fellows, in rubbing them, that they caught the terrible malady, and died rather than forsake their masters. I say now, after nineteen years in the midst of the burning plains of India, treat the native with kindness, be firm with him, but let him see that you are determined to give him justice, and I’ll be bound that you will find him a good, kind, loving, obedient creature, and a loyal subject. Thousands, yea tens of thousands, of the natives can speak our language as well as we can, and see plainly that they have justice, that the rich cannot oppress the poor, and that under our flag they are safe from all oppression. The highest positions are attainable by all, if they will only qualify themselves for them. Our equal laws have bound them to us in love, and if our Government required 500,000 more men we could have them in less than a month. They will tell you plainly if you will lead they will follow. There are nobetter troops in the world than the Ghoorkas, Sikhs, and Beloochees; all they require is leaders. But give me old England, with a crust, in preference to India, with all its luxuries, although I had my health remarkably well all the time I was there. I had, however, a very strong objection to the hot winds, the sand-storms, the flying bugs (and those that could not fly), the mosquitoes, and to a slow bake, for in summer the thermometer would often show 125° Fah., and the air would be so sultry that one could hardly breathe without being fanned. But I must be honest. A number of our men wreck their constitutions with heavy drinking and then complain of the climate, which certainly is very trying. After all, give me “home, sweet home.”

MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE PEOPLE.

Before I leave the subject I feel I ought to say something about the manners and customs of the people of India. A high-caste Brahmin, be he rich or poor, is venerated by all other castes of Hindoos. The country was ruled by them until we took possession of it; and, although our proud old flag now waves from Calcutta to Afghanistan, we do not interfere in any way with their religious observances, so long as they obey our laws and respect life and property. One of the most important events in civilised society is the selection of suitable partners in life; in happy England it is seldom a third party has any participation in the matter, but throughout India it is quite a different affair. A native, whether Hindoo or Mussulman, rich or poor, old or young, is allowed to have as many wives as he thinks fit or can support. The mode of selecting their wives and the marriage ceremony are very curious. Mr. Kalo, we will say, is a merchant or poor man (Ryot). He has a son (say ten years old). His neighbour’s or friend’s pet wife of the same caste is in an interesting condition, and the two fathers privately arrange for the children’s marriage. The priest or priests of the same caste aresent for, and the boy, decked with jewellery, is betrothed to the forthcoming progeny, provided it should turn out to be of the opposite sex. A grand supper of currie and rice is then given to all friends and relatives, washed down with any amount of bhang. The boy is seated by the side of the happy (?) mother-in-law elect, the priests being masters of the ceremonies. Months roll on, and the happy day approaches. The little stranger is ushered into this world of trouble. Should it prove to be a girl, the priests are again sent for, and the betrothal is repeated, in presence of friends and relatives, a grand supper of course being given, and the portion falling to the lot of the innocent babe is then set apart. At seven years of age, providing both are alive, another ceremony takes place, when they are legally married, and, if of the upper class, the bride is decked with as much jewellery as she can fairly stand under; if of the middle or lower class, the ornaments are generally of silver, beautifully wrought; but the happy pair continue to reside with their respective parents until the bride is from ten to twelve years of age. In the meantime the boy may have been married a dozen times to young ladies whose betrothed husbands had died, and who would be regarded by Hindoo or Mussulman law as widows. The happy day, however, at last approaches. The young bride and bridegroom again meet, but this time at their mutual shrine or musjid. The young couple are here united by the priests. A banquet is then given, at which they are well sprinkled with rice, bhang being freely distributed. The bride is then driven off to the bridegroom’s mansion (or hut, as the case may be), and next morning is ushered into the harem, decked with jewellery and precious stones, and from this time is looked upon as its head. She now bids farewell to the outer world, being considered the husband’s pet wife, and is withdrawn from the gaze even of her ownrelatives. We in happy England on meeting with friends or relatives are accustomed, after our first greetings, to inquire after the wives and children; but in India it is the greatest insult you can offer a man, whatever his station, to mention his wife. The furthest you may go, according to Indian etiquette, is to ask whether the family is well. Many in the upper classes have some hundreds of wives, to all of whom they are legally married; and in both the upper and lower classes, in many instances, the husband does not know the names of some of his wives, as they continue to retain their own after marriage.

TAKING THE CENSUS.

During the taking of the census in India, in 1871, I was Garrison Sergeant-Major of Allahabad, and had some eight or ten Native male servants, all of whom were married, but I had never troubled myself about the number of wives or children they had, so long as they performed their duties in my service. Schedules were issued to all officers and non-commissioned officers detached (employed on the staff). I gave directions to my head Sirdar-bearer to parade the whole of my Native establishment, male or female, old or young, at a certain time in the verandah, opposite my door. The time arrived. All the men and children were duly paraded, but not a woman put in her appearance. I enquired where the wives were, and was told that they were in the house. I informed them that I must see them. They all looked at each other in blank despair. I gave them to understand that it was a Government order and that it must be obeyed. One man stated that I might kill him if I liked, but I should not see his wives. I had to be very firm with them, assuring them that I would not lay a finger on them, but that there was the order and it must and should be obeyed,even if I had to force my way into their harems. My wife came to my assistance, and, with a little coaxing from her, we succeeded in unearthing some forty “dear creatures” encased in chudders (or sheets) perforated about the face. They all sat down in families. I then commenced to take from the husbands their names and ages. On inquiring of the men the names and ages of their respective wives, I found they knew neither the one nor the other in many cases, and had to enquire of their spouses. Some of the dark ladies seemed to enjoy the joke, which they expressed in titters of laughter, but were only too glad when they were told they might go to their homes.

SERVANTS AND CASTE.

A gentleman in India is compelled to keep at least eight or ten servants, their salaries ranging from four rupees (8/-) to ten rupees (£1) per month; for the man who cooks your food will not put it on the table for you, or look after the table in any way; the man who brings you clean water won’t take away the dirty; the one who sweeps your house will not clean your dog; the one that grooms your horse will not drive you; and the one that looks after your clothing and cash will do nothing else. The gardener will look after the garden, but should he come across anything dead, he will not touch it. The female servants will attend to the mistress and children in dressing them or walking out with them, but will not wash them or do any manual work. The dhoby (washerman) will wash and get up your clothing, but will do nothing else. Such is caste.

THE STEPS TAKEN TO PREVENT ANOTHER MUTINY.

Some of my readers would perhaps like to know what steps our Government has taken to guard againstanother revolt, as it is necessary that we must have a Native army. Previous to the outbreak, implicit confidence was placed in our Sepoys. Nearly all our forts were held by them. All treasure was in their keeping. They held large tracts of country, without a single company of Europeans near them. They were brigaded together, both horse, foot, and artillery, and not a troop, nor a single gun, manned by Europeans, was near to “contaminate” these much-pampered gents. Our vast magazines were in their custody. Things had come to such a state, that they would only do just as they liked. They had no one to overlook them, and consequently could hatch up just whatever they liked. They commenced to look upon themselves as lords and masters. Now just mark the difference in their relative position:—

1. All forts are manned by Europeans; not a Native company lives in any fort of any note.

2. All treasures, and military stores of all descriptions, are kept under the watchful eyes of European soldiers.

3. Not a station of any importance, from Calcutta to Peshawur, but there are Native troops, with a full proportion of Europeans to see fair play.

4. There is not a gun on the whole plain of India manned by Natives—all are manned by Europeans. The only Native gunners we have are those who man the mountain train batteries—small guns carried on mules.

5. All ammunition for Infantry is kept in charge of Europeans. The Natives are allowed three rounds per man.

6. No Native, high or low, rich or poor, is allowed to carry arms except he holds a license—not even a stick with a piece of iron attached to it.

7. All Native Regiments, both Horse and Foot, have Native Christians serving in their ranks; most of the band and drummers are Native Christians, and awatchful eye is kept upon them, although perhaps many of them do not think so. The native officers are now a very intelligent body of men. They are promoted by merit, and some of them are very clever fellows; whilst the old school were a lot of doting old men—it would break their caste to look at them.

Again, the eurasions (half-castes) are now in such numbers all over the country that it would be a matter almost of impossibility for a conspiracy to be got up without their knowing it. The pure native hates them. Some of them are almost as black as one’s boot, and yet they ape the European. A native would spit in their faces but for the strong arm of the law. They will tell you that “God made black man, and God made white man, but,”—with a contemptible sneer—“Sahib, who made them?”

So, if ever we have another outbreak, we shall know it is coming, and then, too, we must remember it will not now take our troops five months to reach the shores of India. We have a native army at this time, all told, of nearly 500,000 men, that would go to any part of the globe with us; and some of these fine mornings I dare prophecy Mr. Russia will find out to his cost that we have a really loyal native army, and led by some of the best blood this silver-coasted isle of ours can produce. We have nothing to fear, even from crafty Russia, although she boasts of two million bayonets. I say again our resources of good loyal resolute men even in the Punjaub alone, are inexhaustible, for our equal laws since the Mutiny have gained the high esteem of countless millions, that would, if we required it, follow us to any part of the globe. I do not wish to foster a bellicose spirit, but Russia must not come one yard further or she will have to confront in deadly conflict millions of a free, happy, and contented empire, determined to uphold at all costs our glorious old standard.

Before we close our notes upon India, we will just glance at the final transfer of the great East India Company of merchant adventurers trading in the East Indies. They had but small beginnings: they were nothing but a trading company; but gradually they kept advancing, grasping here a slice and there a slice, until 1757. The terrible tragedy of the Black Hole at Calcutta aroused to the highest pitch all the energies of the sons of Britain; and a Clive, with but a handful of men, dashed at their vast hordes on the plains of Plassey, scattered them in all directions, captured all their guns, dictated his own terms of peace, and laid the foundation of the British Empire in the East. This gigantic Company had extended our rule from Cape Comorin to the Himalayas, and from Bramapootra to the Bay of Combay; but by mismanagement this vast appendage had been shaken to its foundations: oceans of blood had been spilt, and India had had enough of slaughter. At length the happy day arrived (1st November, 1858) when the important announcement was made that the East India Company had ceased to exist, and that some two hundred and fifty millions of people were in future to be governed by Her Most Gracious Majesty Queen Victoria. This was truly a happy day throughout the length and breadth of this vast dependency. The Proclamation by the Queen in Council to the princes, chiefs and peoples of India was announced simultaneously at Calcutta, Bombay, Madras, Allahabad, Lahore, and throughout all the stations of India. Amidst the roar of cannon and triumphal martial music, our gracious Queen was proclaimed actual and supreme ruler of India. At the same time and places it was announced in her name that the claims of retributive justice had ceased, and the hand of mercy, with a Christian spirit, was held out for all crimes short of absolute and merciless murders of defenceless men, women and children, in accordance with the laws of God andman, that murderers shall die; but to all others forgiveness was freely offered. Thousands were frantic with joy, and called aloud for God to bless the Queen. We would here note a remarkable instance of the mutability of human grandeur. At Cawnpore (1st November, 1858), while the proclamation was being read, the ex-King of Delhi was brought into that station on his way to Calcutta, under a strong guard. The thunder of the guns, the triumphant strains of the bands, with the glitter and display all around—such a scene at such a station as Cawnpore was emphatically suggestive of the word “retribution.” The following is a fair sample of the spirit that pervaded nearly all classes throughout India. The papers were full of speeches from educated native gentlemen. One ran as follows:—“Gentlemen, I see around me many of higher rank, and better able to express the sentiments of our countrymen than I am; but as you have done me the honour to call upon me on this important occasion, I have much pleasure in stating that my intercourse in life has been much with Englishmen, and I know so much of the vast resources, the great power and the great goodness of the English people, that I do not think myself altogether incompetent to offer an opinion. If I had power and influence I would proclaim throughout the length and breadth of the land that never were the natives more grievously mistaken than they have been in adopting the notion palmed upon them by designing and wicked men, that their religion was at stake. That notion has been at the root of the late rebellion. The mass of the people do not understand the English character: they do not understand the generosity, the benevolence of the governing power, the even-handed justice with which that power is willing and anxious always to do that which is right between man and man, without a reference whatever as to whether the man belongs to the governing or to the governed class. If all this wereknown, where would be rebellion in the land? Certainly there never would have been such an outbreak as that which recently shook the foundations of this empire. The only remedy is education. Nothing has distressed me more, among the acts of the late Government, than the positive prohibition against incurring any expense on the score of education. Lord William Bentinck—a name which must ever be remembered with reverence—once said in this city: That for all the evils, all the oppressions, all the grievances under which India labours, the first remedy was education, the second remedy was education, and the third remedy was education. But, gentlemen, to come to the point, I have read the proclamation of Her Majesty with great pleasure, with awakened feelings, with tears of joy when I came to the last paragraph.[21]A nobler production it has never been my lot to have met with. The most just, the broadest principles are therein set forth: humanity, mercy, justice, breathe through every line, and we ought all to welcome it with the highest hope and the liveliest gratitude. Depend upon it, when our Sovereign tells us, ‘In your prosperity is our strength, in your contentment our security, and in your gratitude our best reward,’ the future of India is full of encouragement and hope for her children. What could have been nobler or more beautiful, what could have better dignified even the tongue of a queen than language such as that? Let us kneel down before her with every feeling of loyalty: let us welcome the new reign with the warmest sentiment ofgratitude and the deepest feeling of devotion. ‘God bless our Queen.’” Since then, millions of money have been spent to improve this vast country, on roads, bridges, irrigation, canals, railroads; and last, but not least, education has not been forgotten. Every village has its school, but the creeds are respected, and in a few short years almost every tongue will call upon God to bless the British. They have now equality of laws: the same firm hand of justice that guides the European, guides, guards, and protects the poor, the widow and the fatherless. The teeming millions are governed in a Christian spirit, and are united to us in love and gratitude. “Unity is strength.” We are not of those who wish to foster a bellicose spirit, but to live in peace with all mankind. But we would point out to our readers that British India is quite capable of defending herself against all comers, having an inexhaustible supply of men, and requiring only arms and good leaders, both of which are at our command. Our vast magazines throughout the country are well supplied with arms; and as for leaders, we have thousands who would not turn their backs upon the proudest and haughtiest sons of Adam’s race, standing sentry, as it were, upon the gates of India.[22]We have nothing to fear, even from the craftiest of our enemies. Within three months, our Government could, if required, put three hundred thousand, four hundred thousand, or a million of men into the field, as well drilled as most of our crack regiments. The Indian Government have, for years past, had a splendid system of putting men or passing men into the Reserves: and each one of the Native regiments could, say within seven days, be brought up to a strength of ten thousand men, well drilled and well armed. The Reserves are being continually drilled at least one month per annum; they have all a life pension to look forward to: it is small,’tis true—two annas (threepence) per diem; but that amount will keep a native and his family from starving. It is more to him than one shilling is here. Then you must remember he is not an old man: he has not reached the mature age of thirty years. Again, in accordance with the proclamation issued in 1858, we do not interfere in any way by force with their creed or caste, every man being permitted to worship God after the dictates of his own conscience. We have not the slightest hesitation in affirming that if the Lion in India was aroused, we could, within three months, put into the field such an army as would astonish the civilized world—most of them well drilled men, thousands of them not at all to be despised: Ghoorkas, Sikhs, Beloochees, and Afridis, with good leaders that would face Old Nick himself: they would die to a man, but never yield. We conquered them after a lot of hard fighting, as they had no unity. Now they all, united heart and hand, acknowledge one flag and one Empress. It cannot be denied, although crafty Russia holds out the olive branch of peace, that she means to have the whole of India if we will only allow her. Mark it well, reader: the advances of Russia, like those of a tiger, have ever been wary, crouching, and cowardly, until the moment arrives for pouncing upon her prey. They often disarm all apprehension of evil by pretensions to peace and friendliness; but so sure as she attacks India, she will find a “Tartar” in the Briton, backed up by tens, yea, hundreds of thousands of men that are second to none. She will find an united India, with its teeming millions, ready to uphold that flag which proclaims liberty to the slave, the conscience, the press: that protects with a strong arm all law-abiding subjects, whether of European or Asiatic origin. We have not the slightest hesitation in saying, that no European Power could withstand us in India. They must come by land or confront our fleet. A small army, say one hundred thousand, would be rolledup in no time: and a huge army, say of the strength that Napoleon invaded Russia with in 1812, would melt away from the ray of an Indian sun, faster than Napoleon’s vast host did from frost. Rest content, reader, we have nothing to fear. India is able to defend herself so long as her sons are guided by the sons of Albion. Imbecile or traitorous must be that Government which slumbers while Russia is approaching its borders: while that grasping Power is approaching close to its frontiers, and with which, ere long, it will have to measure its strength and grapple with its huge battalions. But we see no fear, knowing the stamp, the indomitable pluck of hundreds of thousands of those who will stand by our old flag. In the end, the old Bear will have to retire from the Lion’s grasp. But we must not be caught napping: our motto must be, “Fear God and keep your powder dry,” and as true Britons we need fear no one else. No one from the Viceroy downwards dare to interfere with the natives. So long as they obey the laws, the strong arm of the law will protect them; the rich cannot oppress them, whilst the poor have the gospel preached to them. They have an open Bible in their own language; they can sit under their own vine and fig-tree, and none dare make them afraid. This is what our forefathers fought so desperately for, and handed down to us. There are now thousands throughout the vast plain and hills of peaceful India that know the joyful sound. Hundreds, yea, thousands whose forefathers worshipped the sun, the moon, the stars, the cow, the bull, the monkey, the peacock, and hundreds of other gods, now worship the only true and living God, through the Great Mediator, the Man Christ Jesus. Again, my readers must remember that thousands of Natives from Calcutta to Peshawur are well educated, fit to go into any society: they know as much about this densely populated God-defended isle as we do, and as much about Russia and its despoticlaws, with Siberia and the knout, as we do. They have made the laws of different European nations their study: they know well our vast strength, that we are an undefeated race; that India is but a portion of the great empire that acknowledges London as its capital, and our beloved Queen as their Empress. They know well that the highest positions in the State are attainable by all that will qualify themselves, and yet retain, if they wish, their own religious beliefs. We have now Native judges sitting on our benches to administer justice, to all that seek its protection or that break the law. I hope my readers will be able to see that India is content, is happy and is safe. She will in the future stand or advance, shoulder to shoulder, with the sons of Albion, and side by side with the wild boys of the Green Isle; and any that should try to wrench it from us, will find a hard nut to crack in a hornet’s nest.

LETTERS FROM INDIA.

The following are a few of my letters from India from 1857 to 1876. I trust that they will prove of more than passing interest. Some of them will be found amusing, whilst others will be found heart-rending, and will sink deep into more than one parent’s heart, and set them thinking, “Where is my boy to-night?” Many of them were written under great difficulty, not with the thermometer below freezing point, but in the midst of heat that was almost enough to give one a slow bake, with the thermometer indicating in the sun 140° of heat, and in the shade 120°, with the sweat rolling off one like rain: in some stations with the hot winds, 30° can be added. But I felt it my duty and a privilege to write as often as I could to those that are near and dear to me. The following are all that can be found:—

Kurrachee, 28th Nov., 1857.My Dear Parents,Thank God, we have landed safe and sound once more onterra firma, after a long and tedious sail across the ocean. We had what is called a splendid voyage until we got near the Cape of Good Hope, when a storm that threatened our entire destruction overtook us. It was truly awful, with the appalling claps of thunder (the loudest I have ever heard), and the flashes of lightning were dreadful; while a heavy sea broke completely over us, carrying all before it. I was on watch on deck. It was about three o’clock a.m. on the 19th of October. Half the watch were ordered below and the hatches fastened down, when, with a crash, down came the foremast. The shrieks of the women and children below were piteous, while the cries of the poor fellows gone overboard with the fallen mast were dreadful. The watch, I am happy to say, were calm and did all they could to help the sailors; but alas! the poor fellows that had gone overboard, we could not save. The sea was rolling mountains high, and no boat could live one minute in it. It was as dark as the grave, save when the flashes of lightning revealed our misery. Then another terrible sea caught us, dashed us on our beam-ends, swept away all our boats, with the bulwarks on the port side, and the two remaining masts were snapped asunder as if they had been twigs. To all human appearance the Head-quarters of the Royal Fusiliers (about 350 strong) were doomed to a watery grave, when the good ship (the “Owen Glandore”) righted herself. We looked in a terrible plight. A portion of the mainmast was left, with the mainsail all in ribbons. Seventeen poor fellows were washed overboard to meet a watery grave. Ropes were thrown to them, but it was all in vain. The captain was an old salt veteran of some fifty years; and with his trumpet gave his orders as calmly as possible. All was right with such a man, in life or in death. The sea was now breaking completely over us, and we had to hold on the best way we could. About five a.m. she gave a terrible dive, as we thought; it was a huge wave passing completely over us. The timbers of the noble ship cracked, and she shook from stem to stern; the captain, lashed to the poop, still calm. I think I see that manly face uplifted, as he exclaimed with a loud voice: “Thank God! she still floats.” He then shouted to our Colonel Aldsworth, “If the mainsail goes, all is lost; you are in greater danger now than ever you were in front of Sebastopol.” We (the watch) could but look at that calm face, but not a word was uttered. Death was all around us, but as true Britons it was no use murmuring; all was quiet, all were calm. We were truly, dear parents, looking death in the face, for there were no back-doors. But just then, when skill had done its best, and when to all human appearance we were about to be launched into eternity, to meet a watery grave, a still inaudible voice said: “Peace be still.” The wind ceased, and the storm was all over; but the sea was still rolling heavily, and we were but a helpless tub in the midst of the raging billows of the fathomless ocean. Gradually, however, the ocean became a heavy swell, and in a few hours as calm as a fish-pond.We had had a most miraculous escape, and our brave old captain requested the colonel to have prayers at once, and thank Him fervently who said to the raging billows: “Peace be still.” All hands were at once set to work, and all who could use a needle were set to sail-making. Jurymasts were brought up out of the hold, and in a few days, without putting into port, we began to look quite smart again, and went on our way rejoicing, to help to revenge our murdered countrymen, women and children. The captain complimented our colonel upon having such a cool body of men. We find this country in a terrible state, but I see no fear but what we shall be a match for them before it is over. I have not time to say more at present; will drop a few lines, if possible, next mail, and give you all the news I can. I am happy to say I am quite well, and we must make the best of a bad job. It will not do to give in at trifles. We are to have an execution parade this afternoon; there are twelve of these beauties to be blown from the mouth of the cannon. We have had one such parade before. ’Tis a horrible sight—legs, arms, and all parts of the body flying about, and coming to mother earth with a thud. The sight is so sickening that I do not care to dwell upon it. Give my respects to all old friends, andBelieve me,My dear Parents,Your affectionate Son,T. GOWING,Sergeant Royal Fusiliers.

Kurrachee, 28th Nov., 1857.

My Dear Parents,

Thank God, we have landed safe and sound once more onterra firma, after a long and tedious sail across the ocean. We had what is called a splendid voyage until we got near the Cape of Good Hope, when a storm that threatened our entire destruction overtook us. It was truly awful, with the appalling claps of thunder (the loudest I have ever heard), and the flashes of lightning were dreadful; while a heavy sea broke completely over us, carrying all before it. I was on watch on deck. It was about three o’clock a.m. on the 19th of October. Half the watch were ordered below and the hatches fastened down, when, with a crash, down came the foremast. The shrieks of the women and children below were piteous, while the cries of the poor fellows gone overboard with the fallen mast were dreadful. The watch, I am happy to say, were calm and did all they could to help the sailors; but alas! the poor fellows that had gone overboard, we could not save. The sea was rolling mountains high, and no boat could live one minute in it. It was as dark as the grave, save when the flashes of lightning revealed our misery. Then another terrible sea caught us, dashed us on our beam-ends, swept away all our boats, with the bulwarks on the port side, and the two remaining masts were snapped asunder as if they had been twigs. To all human appearance the Head-quarters of the Royal Fusiliers (about 350 strong) were doomed to a watery grave, when the good ship (the “Owen Glandore”) righted herself. We looked in a terrible plight. A portion of the mainmast was left, with the mainsail all in ribbons. Seventeen poor fellows were washed overboard to meet a watery grave. Ropes were thrown to them, but it was all in vain. The captain was an old salt veteran of some fifty years; and with his trumpet gave his orders as calmly as possible. All was right with such a man, in life or in death. The sea was now breaking completely over us, and we had to hold on the best way we could. About five a.m. she gave a terrible dive, as we thought; it was a huge wave passing completely over us. The timbers of the noble ship cracked, and she shook from stem to stern; the captain, lashed to the poop, still calm. I think I see that manly face uplifted, as he exclaimed with a loud voice: “Thank God! she still floats.” He then shouted to our Colonel Aldsworth, “If the mainsail goes, all is lost; you are in greater danger now than ever you were in front of Sebastopol.” We (the watch) could but look at that calm face, but not a word was uttered. Death was all around us, but as true Britons it was no use murmuring; all was quiet, all were calm. We were truly, dear parents, looking death in the face, for there were no back-doors. But just then, when skill had done its best, and when to all human appearance we were about to be launched into eternity, to meet a watery grave, a still inaudible voice said: “Peace be still.” The wind ceased, and the storm was all over; but the sea was still rolling heavily, and we were but a helpless tub in the midst of the raging billows of the fathomless ocean. Gradually, however, the ocean became a heavy swell, and in a few hours as calm as a fish-pond.We had had a most miraculous escape, and our brave old captain requested the colonel to have prayers at once, and thank Him fervently who said to the raging billows: “Peace be still.” All hands were at once set to work, and all who could use a needle were set to sail-making. Jurymasts were brought up out of the hold, and in a few days, without putting into port, we began to look quite smart again, and went on our way rejoicing, to help to revenge our murdered countrymen, women and children. The captain complimented our colonel upon having such a cool body of men. We find this country in a terrible state, but I see no fear but what we shall be a match for them before it is over. I have not time to say more at present; will drop a few lines, if possible, next mail, and give you all the news I can. I am happy to say I am quite well, and we must make the best of a bad job. It will not do to give in at trifles. We are to have an execution parade this afternoon; there are twelve of these beauties to be blown from the mouth of the cannon. We have had one such parade before. ’Tis a horrible sight—legs, arms, and all parts of the body flying about, and coming to mother earth with a thud. The sight is so sickening that I do not care to dwell upon it. Give my respects to all old friends, and

Believe me,My dear Parents,Your affectionate Son,T. GOWING,Sergeant Royal Fusiliers.

Kurrachee, East India, 4th Dec., 1857.My Dear Dear Parents,Once more, a line from what some people call a glorious land, but to give it its proper name just now, it is a hell upon earth. The fiend-like deeds that are being perpetrated daily out here are beyond description, and should these brutes get the better of our troops, every European here will have to die a terrible death, and we shall have to commence with another “Plassy.” But I see no fear. Mark me, we shall beat these murderers of women and children, but it will not do to stop to count them. Thousands of men who fought and conquered at the Alma, Balaclava, Inkermann, and twice stormed the bloody parapets of the Redan, are not men to be easily subdued. I see our Government has put the right man into the right place as our commander and leader. Sir Colin Campbell is not a man likely to be “taken short,” but is a regular go-ahead, fire-eating old cock. He is, moreover, no novice, has been trained in a rough school under Wellington, Gough, and Napier. It was he that put the finishing touch on the Russians at the Alma and commanded the thin red line at Balaclava, thus nobly sustaining the prestige of the flag that has waved triumphant out here since Plassey (1757), and which may now with safety be entrusted to his keeping. We had no idea when we left Portsmouth that we were bound for such a hell-hole as this, or I do not think we should have broughtour women and children with us. I find we are to move up country shortly; we are waiting for reinforcements; the women and children and all extra baggage to be left behind. That looks like business. Our Government is not going to play with these gents; and, as true Britons, if we are to die, we shall meet death sword in hand. Our men are roused to a pitch almost of frantic madness to get at the cowardly brutes. Cawnpore and Jensie will be wiped out with a terrible retribution. Britons have the feelings of humanity, but one’s blood runs cold to read and to hear daily of the dastard base deeds (of the rebels), to poor defenceless women and children, for no other crime than that they have white faces. I dare prophecy that the enemy will find out we are the true offspring of their conquerors at Plassey, Seringapatam, Ferozeshah, Moodkee, Sobraon, Goojerat, and scores of other fields where they have had to bow in humble submission to our all-conquering thin red line. As for myself, I see no fear. I shall not die till my time comes, and the same powerful Hand that has protected me thus far, is able to do it out here. Our line—the ever-memorable thin victorious line—is already advancing, and it will not halt until our proud old flag is again waved in supremacy over all the fortresses, cities, and fertile plains of India, and these cringing brutes begging for mercy (what they are now strangers to). I will, if I am spared, take notes, and write as often as I can. You must try and keep your spirits up. I am as happy as a bug in a rug. I never go half-way to meet troubles, and I believe the best way to get over all difficulties in this world is to face them. I have a few pounds that I have no use for; please accept them as a mark of love from your wild boy. Poor mother will find a use for them. I enclose a draft on Gurney’s Bank. We have a number of Norwich men in the Fusiliers, most of them fine-looking men; they joined us as volunteers from other regiments just before we left home.It is now the depth of winter, but we find it quite warm enough during the day. I intend to adhere strictly to temperance, hot or cold. I could stand the cold in the Crimea without drink stronger than coffee; and as we crossed the equator twice on our voyage out here, I think I know a little already of what excessive heat is, and I did without it then. Our doctors all agree that the temperate man out here has the best of it. He is more prepared to resist the different diseases that prevail among Europeans, such as fevers, rheumatism, disorder of the liver, and even cholera; that I can testily from my experience in Turkey and the Crimea. I find the inhabitants out here are a mixed up lot, but if one can once master the Hindoostanee language, he can make himself understood all over the vast plains, from Calcutta to Peshawur. As soon as things are a little bit quiet, I shall go in for Hindoostanee. Tell poor mother to keep her pecker up. I do not believe this “row” out here will last long, as troops are landing in all directions; and if they could not subdue a handful of men that were in the country when it started last May, what may they expect now that the Crimean veterans are thrown into the scale against them. It will be a war of extermination. I do not think our men will wait to quarter the foe; if we can onlyclose with them, it will be one deadly thrust with that never-failing weapon, the bayonet, and all debts will be paid: retribution must eventually overtake such bloodthirsty wretches. But I must bring this to a close. Give my kind regards to all old friends, trusting this will find you as it leaves me, in the enjoyment of that priceless blessing, good health.And believe me,My dear Patents, as ever,Your affectionate Son,T. GOWING,Sergeant Royal Fusiliers.P.S.—I find our old friends of the Light Division the 2nd Rifles, the 23rd Fusiliers, the 88th Connaught Rangers, the 90th and 97th have already had a “shy” at the foe, and thus helped to revenge poor defenceless creatures. Our turn will come yet; it will then be “the d——l take the hindermost.” Please address as above; it will follow me if I am above the soil. Keep your spirits up, mother dear.T. G.

Kurrachee, East India, 4th Dec., 1857.

My Dear Dear Parents,

Once more, a line from what some people call a glorious land, but to give it its proper name just now, it is a hell upon earth. The fiend-like deeds that are being perpetrated daily out here are beyond description, and should these brutes get the better of our troops, every European here will have to die a terrible death, and we shall have to commence with another “Plassy.” But I see no fear. Mark me, we shall beat these murderers of women and children, but it will not do to stop to count them. Thousands of men who fought and conquered at the Alma, Balaclava, Inkermann, and twice stormed the bloody parapets of the Redan, are not men to be easily subdued. I see our Government has put the right man into the right place as our commander and leader. Sir Colin Campbell is not a man likely to be “taken short,” but is a regular go-ahead, fire-eating old cock. He is, moreover, no novice, has been trained in a rough school under Wellington, Gough, and Napier. It was he that put the finishing touch on the Russians at the Alma and commanded the thin red line at Balaclava, thus nobly sustaining the prestige of the flag that has waved triumphant out here since Plassey (1757), and which may now with safety be entrusted to his keeping. We had no idea when we left Portsmouth that we were bound for such a hell-hole as this, or I do not think we should have broughtour women and children with us. I find we are to move up country shortly; we are waiting for reinforcements; the women and children and all extra baggage to be left behind. That looks like business. Our Government is not going to play with these gents; and, as true Britons, if we are to die, we shall meet death sword in hand. Our men are roused to a pitch almost of frantic madness to get at the cowardly brutes. Cawnpore and Jensie will be wiped out with a terrible retribution. Britons have the feelings of humanity, but one’s blood runs cold to read and to hear daily of the dastard base deeds (of the rebels), to poor defenceless women and children, for no other crime than that they have white faces. I dare prophecy that the enemy will find out we are the true offspring of their conquerors at Plassey, Seringapatam, Ferozeshah, Moodkee, Sobraon, Goojerat, and scores of other fields where they have had to bow in humble submission to our all-conquering thin red line. As for myself, I see no fear. I shall not die till my time comes, and the same powerful Hand that has protected me thus far, is able to do it out here. Our line—the ever-memorable thin victorious line—is already advancing, and it will not halt until our proud old flag is again waved in supremacy over all the fortresses, cities, and fertile plains of India, and these cringing brutes begging for mercy (what they are now strangers to). I will, if I am spared, take notes, and write as often as I can. You must try and keep your spirits up. I am as happy as a bug in a rug. I never go half-way to meet troubles, and I believe the best way to get over all difficulties in this world is to face them. I have a few pounds that I have no use for; please accept them as a mark of love from your wild boy. Poor mother will find a use for them. I enclose a draft on Gurney’s Bank. We have a number of Norwich men in the Fusiliers, most of them fine-looking men; they joined us as volunteers from other regiments just before we left home.

It is now the depth of winter, but we find it quite warm enough during the day. I intend to adhere strictly to temperance, hot or cold. I could stand the cold in the Crimea without drink stronger than coffee; and as we crossed the equator twice on our voyage out here, I think I know a little already of what excessive heat is, and I did without it then. Our doctors all agree that the temperate man out here has the best of it. He is more prepared to resist the different diseases that prevail among Europeans, such as fevers, rheumatism, disorder of the liver, and even cholera; that I can testily from my experience in Turkey and the Crimea. I find the inhabitants out here are a mixed up lot, but if one can once master the Hindoostanee language, he can make himself understood all over the vast plains, from Calcutta to Peshawur. As soon as things are a little bit quiet, I shall go in for Hindoostanee. Tell poor mother to keep her pecker up. I do not believe this “row” out here will last long, as troops are landing in all directions; and if they could not subdue a handful of men that were in the country when it started last May, what may they expect now that the Crimean veterans are thrown into the scale against them. It will be a war of extermination. I do not think our men will wait to quarter the foe; if we can onlyclose with them, it will be one deadly thrust with that never-failing weapon, the bayonet, and all debts will be paid: retribution must eventually overtake such bloodthirsty wretches. But I must bring this to a close. Give my kind regards to all old friends, trusting this will find you as it leaves me, in the enjoyment of that priceless blessing, good health.

And believe me,My dear Patents, as ever,Your affectionate Son,T. GOWING,Sergeant Royal Fusiliers.

P.S.—I find our old friends of the Light Division the 2nd Rifles, the 23rd Fusiliers, the 88th Connaught Rangers, the 90th and 97th have already had a “shy” at the foe, and thus helped to revenge poor defenceless creatures. Our turn will come yet; it will then be “the d——l take the hindermost.” Please address as above; it will follow me if I am above the soil. Keep your spirits up, mother dear.

T. G.

Camp, Meean-Meer (Punjaub),5th April, 1858.My Dear and ever Dear Parents,From my former letters from Kurrachee and Mooltan, and by the newspapers, you will see how near the verge of ruin this large appendage to our empire has been brought; in fact, it has been shaken to its foundations, by (what shall I say), mismanagement. And these much puffed-up Sepoys (native soldiers) have been spoilt; and, depending upon their strength and our weakness (for kindness has evidently been looked upon as weakness), they have risen up to crush us. The determined stands that our handful of men have made on the heights around Delhi and other places where the honour of our glorious old flag has been at stake, has been sublime, and rendered them worthy to rank beside the heroes of Albuera, Salamanca, Vittoria, Waterloo, Alma, Inkermann, the Nile, and Trafalgar; and whilst Old England, side by side the brave sons of Ireland, can produce such men to stand beside and guard her flag, she has nothing to fear; and the Sepoys out here will find, I dare prophecy, before twelve months have rolled over, that we are the true descendants of these conquerors. If they could not subdue a mere handful of men, what may they expect now that the veterans of Alma and Inkermann are thrown into the scale against them. A terrible day of vengeance has dawned; the sword of justice will be plunged into the hearts of the murderers of defenceless women and children. The lion in the Briton is roused, the blood of the innocent cry for vengeance. But remember, it’s only the native army that has risen against us; the inhabitants generally are on the side of law and order. And, I will be bound, our troops will take tea with the traitors before we have done with them, and bring them on their knees begging for mercy (to which they are strangers). Now for alittle news. In my letter from Kurrachee I told you that we expected to re-embark and go round to Calcutta; but instead of that, our Government, with the reinforcements that were arriving almost daily, were determined to grapple with the mutineers, North, East, West, and South, at the same time; so strong reinforcements have been pushed on into the Punjaub to strike its war-like inhabitants with awe. And the Royal Fusiliers—second to none—about 1300 bayonets; the 94th, 1200 strong; the 7th Dragoon Guards (or Black Horse), about 800 sabres, and three batteries of Horse and Field Artillery, with 24 guns, moved up country. The natives received us in every camp with joy and gladness. It was very pleasant when we left Kurrachee in December last; we had a march of about 120 miles to the banks of the river Indus—it’s a noble stream. We found the road or track very sandy—we sank near to our ankles in sand at every stride—which made it hard work to get along. But the honour of our flag was at stake, and I think I may say, without egotism, that it was safe in our hands. We had native guides to take us across the desert, as in many places there was no trace of road. The inhabitants brought all sorts of eatables in the way of fish, vegetables, eggs, fowls, and fruit into our camp. The accounts that appear in the country papers daily are enough to make one’s blood boil. The murdering, bloodthirsty villains will all meet their doom yet. I told you a little of how we treated them in Kurrachee and Mooltan, and should we ever cross the path of these murdering traitors, I will be bound to say that our fellows will give it them right and left.We found flat-bottom boats awaiting us on the Indus, and at once marched on board. Each steamer had a flat-bottomed boat to tow up; with each pair they could stow away about 400 men, with kits and arms. As soon as all were on board, off we started. Our destination, as far as we then knew, was Mooltan. We found we had to face a very strong current, with a native at the head of the boat constantly sounding. It was very amusing to hear him shouting continually, from morning till night: “No bottom, no bottom.” “Stop her; back her.” “Teen put” (3 feet). “Chay put” (6 feet). “No bottom.” “Sanadoo put” (2½ feet). “Stop her!” Often we would stick fast on a sand-bank, when all the crew, and perhaps some 50 of our men, would jump into the water and shove her back. At other times we would have to land half our men at a time, with long ropes to pull the steamer and flat along, or we should have lost ground. Sometimes it was rough work, with so many creeks to cross up to our middles, and sometimes our necks, in mud and water. The first to cross would be a native boatman to make the rope fast; then it did not matter much how deep it was. You would be astonished how quickly our men got over. We have a very witty Irishman in my Company, and he often kept us all alive. One morning, as we were about to get over one of these nice creeks, he shouted out: “Here go, boys, for ould Ireland’s home and glory,” as he dashed into it. As you know, I do not drink, and so our witty friend often gets my go of rum. We found the river abounded with gigantic amphibious reptiles—crocodiles. We had a little sport daily, shootingthem; also huge snakes in abundance. So it was not safe even in the creeks to have a bathe. We lost one man overboard; the poor fellow was snapped up by a crocodile before a boat could reach him. We lost another man by the bite of a snake; both these men had gone through the whole of the Crimean campaign. In due course we arrived safely at Mooltan—1300 miles from Kurrachee. Here we remained for a few days and had a good look at the citadel from whence the valuable Koh-i-noor—worth about £2,000,000 sterling—was taken by Lord Gough, and presented to Her Most Gracious Majesty in 1848. We then pushed on here by bullock carts through a vast desert, the road all the way being strewn with straw. We had to take turns at riding, one company being sent on daily until we had all left Mooltan. We had five days of this sort of travelling.On the evening of the fifth day our first company—about 130 strong—marched in here. The 81st were delighted to see us. They were very weak, having suffered heavily last year with cholera. They had been holding on by the skin of their teeth, for there are about 4000 mutineers here, and the 81st were only about 300 strong at headquarters, having two strong detachments out. Those of our men who were with the leading companies, came out to meet us with all sorts of news. We all landed here safely by the end of February, except sick, lame, and lazy, and women and children who were left behind at Kurrachee, as we expected to take the field. Our men were almost mad with rage when the order came in for us to remain at Meean Meer; the old Fusiliers wanted to measure their strength with these bloodthirsty wretches at Lucknow. But we found, after sending out two or three strong detachments, that we had a handful here, prisoners being brought in daily from the surrounding country, tried, and executed at once. The execution parades are ghastly sights to witness, but the horrible, fiend-like deeds that they have perpetrated leave but little room in our hearts for pity. We execute, more or less, every day. The blowing away from the mouth of the cannon is a sickening sight, and I do not care to dwell upon it. Since we came here I have been appointed drill-sergeant of the regiment. It carries one shilling per diem extra; but I am at it from 4 a.m. until 7 p.m., but rest during the day time. You, I think, will notice the date of this. I know poor mother will remember it. I am just 24 years in this troublesome world. I enclose a small draft for poor mother’s acceptance; it is the first three months’ extra pay, and a little with it to make it up to a “fiver.” Mind, this is for mother’s use, and no one else is to interfere with it. If we are ordered into the field I will drop a line if possible, but not a little newspaper. I see no fear; I shall not die till my time comes; I do not believe the man is born yet that is to shoot me, or surely I never should have escaped so often as I did in the Crimea. When I look back to the fields of the Alma, the two Inkermanns, the night of the 22nd of March, the 7th and 18th of June (1855), the dash at the rifle pits, and no end of other combats, including the storming of Sebastopol, I cannot but think that I am being spared by an All-wise God for some special purpose; that, to all appearance, He has built a hedge around aboutme, and has permitted the deadly weapons to go thus far and no farther, to show me in days to come the finger of His love. Again, dear parents, look over my letter wherein I describe that terrible 19th of October, off the Cape of Good Hope, when to all human appearance the ship “Owen Glandore” was lost, and all on board consigned to a watery grave. You note that we lost all our boats, masts and sail, and were nothing but a helpless tub floating with a freight of 390 human beings, expecting every moment to be launched into eternity. But just as our gallant captain said all was lost, an inaudible voice said: “Peace be still,” when the wind ceased, and all, except 17 men that had been washed overboard, were saved. I find by the country papers that summary punishment is being fast dealt out to these wretches all over the country, and that they will not face our men, the dreaded “Feringhees,” as they call us, unless behind strong positions, and that they are receiving daily some very awkward lessons and have already found that our reign in India is not all over.These little Ghoorkas are the inhabitants of the Nepaul Hills, and just at present they are worth their weight in gold to us. I should think, from what I have read and heard of them, that there are no better soldiers in the world, if well led; and the Sikhs that gave us so much trouble in 1845-6 and 1848-9, are not far behind them. We have a regiment of the latter here with us; they are fine-looking men, not at all to be despised. I went, by permission, through the Mutineers’ camp a few days ago. I was astonished to find that a number of them could speak English—mind, they are all of them disarmed. We found some of them very talkative, asking all sorts of questions about the Russians, when they found we had been fighting them. I asked one venerable looking officer, with his breast covered with honours, what he thought about the Mutiny. His answer was that it was brought about by bad, wicked men who had eaten the Government salt; that there were good and bad in every regiment, and that the bad men had roused them all. I asked him if he, as an old officer, thought our Government would have given in if we had been beaten at Delhi? “No, never” was his reply. He stated that he had served us faithfully for upwards of 40 years, that he had fought many a hard-fought field against the Sikhs, and would never forsake us; they might kill him if they liked, but he would be faithful to the end. This old veteran could say no more, and with the big tears rolling down his furrowed cheeks, he left us with a “Salam, salam, sahibs.” We found others looked at us with contempt, but they were silent. The 16th Grenadiers are one of the disarmed regiments here. I think I never looked upon such a body of men; they may well be called Grenadiers. I am not a waster, and I had to look up into the face of every man I came near. Some rose to salute us, while others sat contemptuously looking at us. I find they have the reputation of being the best fighting regiment in the East India Company. Some of them cursed the cavalry and said it was all their fault they were disgraced as they were; and that they would go to Lucknow and fight to the death for us, if the Lord Sahib would let them. But I must bring this to a close, or I couldkeep it up for a week. You ask me if you may publish my letters. Please yourself; I state nothing but facts. I hope this will find you all as it leaves me, in the enjoyment of the best of blessings, good health, and believe me, as ever,Your affectionate Son,T. GOWING,Drill-Sergeant Royal Fusiliers.P.S.—A long letter costs no more to send than a short one, and one feels a pleasure in writing to those we love, but cannot see. Keep up your spirits, mother.T. G.

Camp, Meean-Meer (Punjaub),5th April, 1858.

My Dear and ever Dear Parents,

From my former letters from Kurrachee and Mooltan, and by the newspapers, you will see how near the verge of ruin this large appendage to our empire has been brought; in fact, it has been shaken to its foundations, by (what shall I say), mismanagement. And these much puffed-up Sepoys (native soldiers) have been spoilt; and, depending upon their strength and our weakness (for kindness has evidently been looked upon as weakness), they have risen up to crush us. The determined stands that our handful of men have made on the heights around Delhi and other places where the honour of our glorious old flag has been at stake, has been sublime, and rendered them worthy to rank beside the heroes of Albuera, Salamanca, Vittoria, Waterloo, Alma, Inkermann, the Nile, and Trafalgar; and whilst Old England, side by side the brave sons of Ireland, can produce such men to stand beside and guard her flag, she has nothing to fear; and the Sepoys out here will find, I dare prophecy, before twelve months have rolled over, that we are the true descendants of these conquerors. If they could not subdue a mere handful of men, what may they expect now that the veterans of Alma and Inkermann are thrown into the scale against them. A terrible day of vengeance has dawned; the sword of justice will be plunged into the hearts of the murderers of defenceless women and children. The lion in the Briton is roused, the blood of the innocent cry for vengeance. But remember, it’s only the native army that has risen against us; the inhabitants generally are on the side of law and order. And, I will be bound, our troops will take tea with the traitors before we have done with them, and bring them on their knees begging for mercy (to which they are strangers). Now for alittle news. In my letter from Kurrachee I told you that we expected to re-embark and go round to Calcutta; but instead of that, our Government, with the reinforcements that were arriving almost daily, were determined to grapple with the mutineers, North, East, West, and South, at the same time; so strong reinforcements have been pushed on into the Punjaub to strike its war-like inhabitants with awe. And the Royal Fusiliers—second to none—about 1300 bayonets; the 94th, 1200 strong; the 7th Dragoon Guards (or Black Horse), about 800 sabres, and three batteries of Horse and Field Artillery, with 24 guns, moved up country. The natives received us in every camp with joy and gladness. It was very pleasant when we left Kurrachee in December last; we had a march of about 120 miles to the banks of the river Indus—it’s a noble stream. We found the road or track very sandy—we sank near to our ankles in sand at every stride—which made it hard work to get along. But the honour of our flag was at stake, and I think I may say, without egotism, that it was safe in our hands. We had native guides to take us across the desert, as in many places there was no trace of road. The inhabitants brought all sorts of eatables in the way of fish, vegetables, eggs, fowls, and fruit into our camp. The accounts that appear in the country papers daily are enough to make one’s blood boil. The murdering, bloodthirsty villains will all meet their doom yet. I told you a little of how we treated them in Kurrachee and Mooltan, and should we ever cross the path of these murdering traitors, I will be bound to say that our fellows will give it them right and left.

We found flat-bottom boats awaiting us on the Indus, and at once marched on board. Each steamer had a flat-bottomed boat to tow up; with each pair they could stow away about 400 men, with kits and arms. As soon as all were on board, off we started. Our destination, as far as we then knew, was Mooltan. We found we had to face a very strong current, with a native at the head of the boat constantly sounding. It was very amusing to hear him shouting continually, from morning till night: “No bottom, no bottom.” “Stop her; back her.” “Teen put” (3 feet). “Chay put” (6 feet). “No bottom.” “Sanadoo put” (2½ feet). “Stop her!” Often we would stick fast on a sand-bank, when all the crew, and perhaps some 50 of our men, would jump into the water and shove her back. At other times we would have to land half our men at a time, with long ropes to pull the steamer and flat along, or we should have lost ground. Sometimes it was rough work, with so many creeks to cross up to our middles, and sometimes our necks, in mud and water. The first to cross would be a native boatman to make the rope fast; then it did not matter much how deep it was. You would be astonished how quickly our men got over. We have a very witty Irishman in my Company, and he often kept us all alive. One morning, as we were about to get over one of these nice creeks, he shouted out: “Here go, boys, for ould Ireland’s home and glory,” as he dashed into it. As you know, I do not drink, and so our witty friend often gets my go of rum. We found the river abounded with gigantic amphibious reptiles—crocodiles. We had a little sport daily, shootingthem; also huge snakes in abundance. So it was not safe even in the creeks to have a bathe. We lost one man overboard; the poor fellow was snapped up by a crocodile before a boat could reach him. We lost another man by the bite of a snake; both these men had gone through the whole of the Crimean campaign. In due course we arrived safely at Mooltan—1300 miles from Kurrachee. Here we remained for a few days and had a good look at the citadel from whence the valuable Koh-i-noor—worth about £2,000,000 sterling—was taken by Lord Gough, and presented to Her Most Gracious Majesty in 1848. We then pushed on here by bullock carts through a vast desert, the road all the way being strewn with straw. We had to take turns at riding, one company being sent on daily until we had all left Mooltan. We had five days of this sort of travelling.

On the evening of the fifth day our first company—about 130 strong—marched in here. The 81st were delighted to see us. They were very weak, having suffered heavily last year with cholera. They had been holding on by the skin of their teeth, for there are about 4000 mutineers here, and the 81st were only about 300 strong at headquarters, having two strong detachments out. Those of our men who were with the leading companies, came out to meet us with all sorts of news. We all landed here safely by the end of February, except sick, lame, and lazy, and women and children who were left behind at Kurrachee, as we expected to take the field. Our men were almost mad with rage when the order came in for us to remain at Meean Meer; the old Fusiliers wanted to measure their strength with these bloodthirsty wretches at Lucknow. But we found, after sending out two or three strong detachments, that we had a handful here, prisoners being brought in daily from the surrounding country, tried, and executed at once. The execution parades are ghastly sights to witness, but the horrible, fiend-like deeds that they have perpetrated leave but little room in our hearts for pity. We execute, more or less, every day. The blowing away from the mouth of the cannon is a sickening sight, and I do not care to dwell upon it. Since we came here I have been appointed drill-sergeant of the regiment. It carries one shilling per diem extra; but I am at it from 4 a.m. until 7 p.m., but rest during the day time. You, I think, will notice the date of this. I know poor mother will remember it. I am just 24 years in this troublesome world. I enclose a small draft for poor mother’s acceptance; it is the first three months’ extra pay, and a little with it to make it up to a “fiver.” Mind, this is for mother’s use, and no one else is to interfere with it. If we are ordered into the field I will drop a line if possible, but not a little newspaper. I see no fear; I shall not die till my time comes; I do not believe the man is born yet that is to shoot me, or surely I never should have escaped so often as I did in the Crimea. When I look back to the fields of the Alma, the two Inkermanns, the night of the 22nd of March, the 7th and 18th of June (1855), the dash at the rifle pits, and no end of other combats, including the storming of Sebastopol, I cannot but think that I am being spared by an All-wise God for some special purpose; that, to all appearance, He has built a hedge around aboutme, and has permitted the deadly weapons to go thus far and no farther, to show me in days to come the finger of His love. Again, dear parents, look over my letter wherein I describe that terrible 19th of October, off the Cape of Good Hope, when to all human appearance the ship “Owen Glandore” was lost, and all on board consigned to a watery grave. You note that we lost all our boats, masts and sail, and were nothing but a helpless tub floating with a freight of 390 human beings, expecting every moment to be launched into eternity. But just as our gallant captain said all was lost, an inaudible voice said: “Peace be still,” when the wind ceased, and all, except 17 men that had been washed overboard, were saved. I find by the country papers that summary punishment is being fast dealt out to these wretches all over the country, and that they will not face our men, the dreaded “Feringhees,” as they call us, unless behind strong positions, and that they are receiving daily some very awkward lessons and have already found that our reign in India is not all over.

These little Ghoorkas are the inhabitants of the Nepaul Hills, and just at present they are worth their weight in gold to us. I should think, from what I have read and heard of them, that there are no better soldiers in the world, if well led; and the Sikhs that gave us so much trouble in 1845-6 and 1848-9, are not far behind them. We have a regiment of the latter here with us; they are fine-looking men, not at all to be despised. I went, by permission, through the Mutineers’ camp a few days ago. I was astonished to find that a number of them could speak English—mind, they are all of them disarmed. We found some of them very talkative, asking all sorts of questions about the Russians, when they found we had been fighting them. I asked one venerable looking officer, with his breast covered with honours, what he thought about the Mutiny. His answer was that it was brought about by bad, wicked men who had eaten the Government salt; that there were good and bad in every regiment, and that the bad men had roused them all. I asked him if he, as an old officer, thought our Government would have given in if we had been beaten at Delhi? “No, never” was his reply. He stated that he had served us faithfully for upwards of 40 years, that he had fought many a hard-fought field against the Sikhs, and would never forsake us; they might kill him if they liked, but he would be faithful to the end. This old veteran could say no more, and with the big tears rolling down his furrowed cheeks, he left us with a “Salam, salam, sahibs.” We found others looked at us with contempt, but they were silent. The 16th Grenadiers are one of the disarmed regiments here. I think I never looked upon such a body of men; they may well be called Grenadiers. I am not a waster, and I had to look up into the face of every man I came near. Some rose to salute us, while others sat contemptuously looking at us. I find they have the reputation of being the best fighting regiment in the East India Company. Some of them cursed the cavalry and said it was all their fault they were disgraced as they were; and that they would go to Lucknow and fight to the death for us, if the Lord Sahib would let them. But I must bring this to a close, or I couldkeep it up for a week. You ask me if you may publish my letters. Please yourself; I state nothing but facts. I hope this will find you all as it leaves me, in the enjoyment of the best of blessings, good health, and believe me, as ever,

Your affectionate Son,T. GOWING,Drill-Sergeant Royal Fusiliers.

P.S.—A long letter costs no more to send than a short one, and one feels a pleasure in writing to those we love, but cannot see. Keep up your spirits, mother.

T. G.

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