In the garb of old Gaul, with the fire of old Rome,From the heath-covered mountains of Scotia we come;Our loud-sounding pipe breathes the true martial strain,And our hearts still the old Scottish valour retain.
In the garb of old Gaul, with the fire of old Rome,From the heath-covered mountains of Scotia we come;Our loud-sounding pipe breathes the true martial strain,And our hearts still the old Scottish valour retain.
We rested at the Alumbâgh on the 26th of November, but early on the 27th we understood something had gone wrong in our rear, because, as usual with Sir Colin when he contemplated a forced march, we were served out with three days' rations and double ammunition,—sixty rounds in our pouches and sixty in our haversacks; and by two o'clock in the afternoon the whole of the women and children, all the sick and wounded, in every conceivable kind of conveyance, were in full retreat towards Cawnpore. General Outram's Division being made up to four thousand men was left in the Alumbâgh to hold the enemy in check, and to show them that Lucknow was not abandoned, while three thousand fighting men, to guard over two thousand women and children, sick and wounded, commenced their march southwards. So far as I can remember the Third and Fifth Punjâb Infantry formed the infantry of the advance-guard; the Ninth Lancers and Horse Artillery supplied the flanking parties; while the rear guard, being the post of honour, was given to the Ninety-Third, a troop of the Ninth Lancers and Bourchier's light field-battery, No. 17 of the Honourable East India Company's artillery. We started from the Alumbâgh late in the afternoon, and reached Bunnee Bridge, seventeen miles from Lucknow, about 11P.M.Here the regiment halted till daylight on the morning of the 28th of November, but the advance-guard with the women and children, sick and wounded, had been moving since 2A.M.
As already mentioned, all the subaltern officers inmy company were wounded, and I was told off, with a guard of about twenty men, to see all the baggage-carts across Bunnee Bridge and on their way to Cawnpore. While I was on this duty an amusing incident happened. A commissariat cart, a common country hackery, loaded with biscuits, got upset, and its wheel broke just as we were moving it on to the road. The only person near it belonging to the Commissariat Department was a youngbâboonamed Hera Lâll Chatterjee, a boy of about seventeen or eighteen years of age, who defended his charge as long as he could, but he was soon put on one side, the biscuits-bags were ripped open, and the men commenced filling their haversacks from them. Just at this time, an escort of the Ninth Lancers, with some staff-officers, rode up from the rear. It was the Commander-in-Chief and his staff. Hera Lâll seeing him rushed up and called out: "O my Lord, you are my father and my mother! what shall I tell you! These wild Highlanders will not hear me, but are stealing commissariat biscuits like fine fun." Sir Colin pulled up, and asked thebâbooif there was no officer present; to which Hera Lâll replied, "No officer, sir, only one corporal, and he tell me, 'Shut up, or I'll shoot you, same like rebel mutineer!'" Hearing this I stepped out of the crowd and saluting Sir Colin, told him that all the officers of my company were wounded except Captain Dawson, who was in front; that I and a party of men had been left to see the last of the carts on to the road; that this cart had broken down, and as there was no other means of carrying the biscuits, the menhad filled their haversacks with them rather than leave them on the ground. On hearing that, Hera Lâll again came to the front with clasped hands, saying: "O my Lord, if one cart of biscuits short, Major Fitzgerald not listen to me, but will order thirty lashes with provost-marshal's cat! What can a poorbâboodo with such wild Highlanders?" Sir Colin replied: "Yes,bâboo, I know these Highlanders are very wild fellows when hungry; let them have the biscuits;" and turning to one of the staff, he directed him to give a voucher to thebâboothat a cart loaded with biscuits had broken down and the contents had been divided among the rear-guard by order of the Commander-in-Chief. Sir Colin then turned to us and said: "Men, I give you the biscuits; divide them with your comrades in front; but you must promise me should a cart loaded with rum break down, you will not interfere with it." We all replied: "No, no, Sir Colin, if rum breaks down we'll not touch it." "All right," said Sir Colin, "remember I trust you," and looking round he said, "I know every one of you," and rode on. We very soon found room for the biscuits, until we got up to the rest of the company, when we honestly shared them. I may add thatbâbooHera Lâll Chatterjee is still living, and is the only native employé I know who served through the second relief of Lucknow. He now holds the post of cashier in the offices of Messrs. McNeill and Co., of Clive Ghât Street, Calcutta, which doubtless he finds more congenial employment than defending commissariat stores from hungry wild Highlanders, with the prospect of the provost-marshal'scat as the only reward for doing his best to defend his charge.
About five miles farther on a general halt was made for a short rest and for all stragglers to come up. Sir Colin himself, being still with the column, ordered the Ninety-Third to form up, and, calling the officers to the front, he made the first announcement to the regiment that General Wyndham had been attacked by the Nânâ Sâhib and the Gwalior Contingent in Cawnpore; that his force had been obliged to retire within the fort at the head of the bridge of boats, and that we must reach Cawnpore that night, because, if the bridge of boats should be captured before we got there, we would be cut off in Oude with fifty thousand of our enemies in our rear, a well-equipped army of forty thousand men, with a powerful train of artillery numbering over forty siege guns, in our front, and with all the women and children, sick and wounded, to guard. "So, Ninety-Third," said the grand old Chief, "I don't ask you to undertake this forced march, in your present tired condition, without good reason. You must reach Cawnpore to-night at all costs." And, as usual, when he took the men into his confidence, he was answered from the ranks, "All right, Sir Colin, we'll do it." To which he replied, "Very well, Ninety-Third, remember I depend on you." And he and his staff and escort rode on.
By this time we could plainly hear the guns of the Gwalior Contingent bombarding General Wyndham's position in Cawnpore; and although terribly footsore and tired, not having had our clothes off, nor a changeof socks, since the 10th of the month (now eighteen days) we trudged on our weary march, every mile making the roar of the guns in front more audible. I may remark here that there is nothing to rouse tired soldiers like a good cannonade in front; it is the best tonic out! Even the youngest soldier who has once been under fire, and can distinguish the sound of a shotted gun from blank, pricks up his ears at the sound and steps out with a firmer tread and a more erect bearing.
I shall never forget the misery of that march! However, we reached the sands on the banks of the Ganges, on the Oude side of the river opposite Cawnpore, just as the sun was setting, having covered the forty-seven miles under thirty hours. Of course the great hardship of the march was caused by our worn-out state after eighteen days' continual duty, without a change of clothes or our accoutrements off. And when we got in sight of Cawnpore, the first thing we saw was the enemy on the opposite side of the river from us, making bonfires of our spare kits and baggage which had been left at Cawnpore when we advanced for the relief of Lucknow! Tired as we were, we assisted to drag Peel's heavy guns into position on the banks of the river, whence the Blue-jackets opened fire on the left flank of the enemy, the bonfires of our spare baggage being a fine mark for them.
Just as the Nânâ Sâhib had got his first gun to bear on the bridge of boats, that gun was struck on the side by one of Peel's 24-pounders and upset, and an 8-inch shell from one of his howitzers bursting in themidst of a crowd of them, we could see them bolting helter-skelter. This put a stop to their game for the night, and we lay down and rested on the sands till daybreak next morning, the 29th of November.
I must mention here an experience of my own which I always recall to mind when I read some of the insane ravings of the Anti-Opium Society against the use of that drug. I was so completely tired out by that terrible march that after I had lain down for about half an hour I positively could not stand up, I was so stiff and worn out. Having been on duty as orderly corporal before leaving the Alumbâgh, I had been much longer on my feet than the rest of the men; in fact, I was tired out before we started on our march on the afternoon of the 27th, and now, after having covered forty-seven miles under thirty hours, my condition can be better imagined than described. After I became cold, I grew so stiff that I positively could not use my legs. Now Captain Dawson had a native servant, an old man named Hyder Khân, who had been an officers' servant all his life, and had been through many campaigns. I had made a friend of old Hyder before we left Chinsurah, and he did not forget me. Having ridden the greater part of the march on the camel carrying his master's baggage, Hyder was comparatively fresh when he got into camp, and about the time our canteen-sergeant got up and was calling for orderly-corporals to draw grog for the men, old Hyder came looking for me, and when he saw my tired state, he said, in his camp English: "Corporalsâhib, youGod-damn tired; don't drink grog. Old Hyder give you something damn much better than grog for tired mans." With that he went away, but shortly after returned, and gave me a small pill, which he told me was opium, and about half a pint of hot tea, which he had prepared for himself and his master. I swallowed the pill and drank the tea, andin less than ten minutesI felt myself so much refreshed as to be able to get up and draw the grog for the men of the company and to serve it out to them while the colour-sergeant called the roll. I then lay down, rolled up in my sepoy officer's quilt, which I had carried from the Shâh Nujeef, and had a sound refreshing sleep till next morning, and then got up so much restored that, except for the sores on my feet from broken blisters, I could have undertaken another forty-mile march. I always recall this experience when I read many of the ignorant arguments of the Anti-Opium Society, who would, if they had the power, compel the Government to deprive every hard-workedcoolieof the only solace in his life of toil. I am certainly not an opium-eater, and the abuse of opium may be injurious, as is the abuse of anything; but I am so convinced in my own mind of the beneficial effects of the temperate use of the drug, that if I were the general of an army after a forced march like that of the retreat from Lucknow to the relief of Cawnpore, I would make the Medical Department give every man a pill of opium and half a pint of hot tea, instead of rum or liquor of any sort! I hate drunkenness as much as anybody, but I have no sympathywith what I may call the intemperate temperance of most of our teetotallers and the Anti-Opium Society. My experience has been as great and as varied as that of most Europeans in India, and that experience has led me to the conviction that the members of the Anti-Opium Society are either culpably ignorant of facts, or dishonest in the way they represent what they wish others to believe to be facts. Most of the assertions made about the Government connection with opium being a hindrance to mission-work and the spread of Christianity, are gross exaggerations not borne out by experience, and the opium slave and the opium den, as depicted in much of the literature on this subject, have no existence except in the distorted imagination of the writers. But I shall have some more observations to make on this score elsewhere, and some evidence to bring forward in support of them.[28]
Early on the morning of the 29th of November the Ninety-Third crossed the bridge of boats, and it was well that Sir Colin had returned so promptly from Lucknow to the relief of Cawnpore, for General Wyndham's troops were not only beaten and cowed,—they were utterly demoralised.
When the Commander-in-Chief left Cawnpore for Lucknow, General Wyndham, known as the "Hero of the Redan," was left in command at Cawnpore with instructions to strengthen his position by every means, and to detain all detachments arriving from Calcutta after the 10th of November, because it was known thatthe Gwalior Contingent were in great force somewhere across the Jumna, and there was every probability that they would either attack Cawnpore, or cross into Oude to fall on the rear of the Commander-in-Chief's force to prevent the relief of Lucknow. But strict orders were given to General Wyndham that he wason no accountto move out of Cawnpore, should the Gwalior Contingent advance on his position, but to act on the defensive, and to hold his entrenchments and guard the bridge of boats at all hazards. By that time the entrenchment or mud fort at the Cawnpore end of the bridge, where the Government Harness and Saddlery Factory now stands, had become a place of considerable strength under the able direction of Captain Mowbray Thomson, one of the four survivors of General Wheeler's force. Captain Thomson had over four thousandcooliesdaily employed on the defences from daybreak till dark, and he was a most energetic officer himself, so that by the time we passed through Cawnpore for the relief of Lucknow this position had become quite a strong fortification, especially when compared with the miserable apology for an entrenchment so gallantly defended by General Wheeler's small force and won from him by such black treachery. When we advanced for the relief of Lucknow, all our spare baggage, five hundred new tents, and a great quantity of clothing for the troops coming down from Delhi, were shut up in Cawnpore, with a large quantity of spare ammunition, harness, and saddlery; in brief, property to the value of overfivelakhsof rupees was left stored in the church and in the houses which were still standing near the church between the town and the river, a short distance from the house in which the women and children were murdered. All this property, as already mentioned, fell into the hands of the Gwalior Contingent, and we returned just in time to see them making bonfires of what they could not use. Colonel Sir Robert Napier (afterwards Lord Napier of Magdala) lost all the records of his long service, and many valuable engineering papers which could never be replaced. As for us of the Ninety-Third, we lost all our spare kits, and were now without a chance of a change of underclothing or socks. Let all who may read this consider what it meant to us, who had not changed our clothes from the 10th of the month, and how, on the morning of the 29th, the sight of the enemy making bonfires of our kits, just as we were within reach of them, could hardly have been soothing to contemplate.
But to return to General Wyndham's force. By the 26th of November it numbered two thousand four hundred men, according to Colonel Adye'sDefence of Cawnpore; and when he heard of the advance of the Nânâ Sâhib at the head of the Gwalior Contingent, Wyndham considered himself strong enough to disobey the orders of the Commander-in-Chief, and moved out of his entrenchment to give them battle, encountering their advance guard at Pândoo Nuddee about seven miles from Cawnpore. He at once attacked and droveit back through a village in its rear; but behind the village he found himself confronted by an army of over forty thousand men, twenty-five thousand of them being the famous Gwalior Contingent, the best disciplined troops in India, which had never been beaten and considered themselves invincible, and which, in addition to a siege train of thirty heavy guns, 24 and 32-pounders, had a well-appointed and well-drilled field-artillery. General Wyndham now saw his mistake, and gave the order for retreat. His small force retired in good order, and encamped on the plain outside Cawnpore on the Bithoor road for the night, to find itself outflanked and almost surrounded by Tântia Topee and his Mahrattas on the morning of the 27th; and at the end of five hours' fighting a general retreat into the fort had again to be ordered.
The retiring force was overwhelmed by a murderous cannonade, and, being largely composed of young soldiers, a panic ensued. The men got out of hand, and fled for the fort with a loss of over three hundred,—mostly killed, because the wounded who fell into the hands of the enemy were cut to pieces,—and several guns. The Rev. Mr. Moore, Church of England Chaplain with General Wyndham's force, gave a very sad picture of the panic in which the men fled for the fort, and his description was borne out by what I saw myself when we passed through the fort on the morning of the 29th. Mr. Moore said: "The men got quite out of hand and fled pell-mell for the fort. An old Sikhsirdârat the gate tried to stop them, and to form them up in some order, and when they pushed him aside and rushed past him, he lifted up his hands and said, 'You are not the brothers of the men who beat the Khâlsa army and conquered the Punjâb!'" Mr. Moore went on to say that, "The old Sikh followed the flying men through the Fort Gate, and patting some of them on the back said, 'Don't run, don't be afraid, there is nothing to hurt you!'" The fact is the men were mostly young soldiers, belonging to many different regiments, simply battalions of detachments. They were crushed by the heavy and well-served artillery of the enemy, and if the truth must be told, they had no confidence in their commander, who was a brave soldier, but no general; so when the men were once seized with panic, there was no stopping them. The only regiment, or rather part of a regiment, for they only numbered fourteen officers of all ranks and a hundred and sixty men, which behaved well, was the old Sixty-Fourth, and two companies of the Thirty-Fourth and Eighty-Second, making up a weak battalion of barely three hundred. This was led by brave old Brigadier Wilson, who held them in hand until he brought them forward to cover the retreat, which he did with a loss of seven officers killed and two wounded, eighteen men of the Sixty-Fourth killed and twenty-five wounded, with equally heavy proportions killed and wounded from the companies of the Thirty-Fourth and Eighty-Second. Brigadier Wilson first had his horse shot, and was then himself killed, while urging the men to maintain the honour of the regiment. Thecommand then devolved on Major Stirling, one of the Sixty-Fourth, who was cut down in the act of spiking one of the enemy's guns, and Captain M'Crea of the same regiment was also cut down just as he had spiked his fourth gun. This charge, and these individual acts of bravery, retarded the advance of the enemy till some sort of order had been re-established inside the fort. The Sixty-Fourth were then driven back, and obliged to leave their dead.
This then was the state of matters when we reached Cawnpore from Lucknow. The whole of our spare baggage was captured: the city of Cawnpore and the whole of the river-side up to the house where the Nânâ had slaughtered the women and children were in the hands of the enemy; but they had not yet injured the bridge of boats, nor crossed the canal, and the road to Allahabad still remained open.
We marched through the fort, and took up ground near where the jute mill of Messrs. Beer Brothers and Co. and Joe Lee's hotel now stand. We crossed the bridge without any loss except one officer, who was slightly wounded by being struck on the shin by a spent bullet from a charge of grape. He was a long slender youth of about sixteen or seventeen years of age, whom the men had named "Jack Straw." He was knocked down just as we cleared the bridge of boats, among the blood of some camp-followers who had been killed by the bursting of a shell just in front of us. Sergeant Paton, of my company, picked him up, and put him into an emptydoolywhich was passing.
During the day a piquet of one sergeant, one corporal, and about twenty men, under command of Lieutenant Stirling, who was afterwards killed on the 5th of December, was sent out to bring in the body of Brigadier Wilson, and a man named Doran, of the Sixty-Fourth, who had gone up to Lucknow in the Volunteer Cavalry, and had there done good service and returned with our force, volunteered to go out with them to identify the brigadier's body, because there were many more killed near the same place, and their corpses having been stripped, they could not be identified by their uniform, and it would have been impossible to have brought in all without serious loss. The party reached the brigadier's body without apparently attracting the attention of the enemy; but just as two men, Rule of my regiment and Patrick Doran, were lifting it into thedoolythey were seen, and the enemy opened fire on them. A bullet struck Doran and went right through his body from side to side, without touching any of the vital organs, just as he was bending down to lift the brigadier—a most extraordinary wound! If the bullet had deviated a hair's-breadth to either side, the wound must have been mortal, but Doran was able to walk back to the fort, and lived for many years after taking his discharge from the regiment.
During the time that this piquet was engaged the Blue-jackets of Peel's Brigade and our heavy artillery had taken up positions in front of the fort, and showed the gunners of the Gwalior Contingent that they were no longer confronted by raw inexperienced troops. Bythe afternoon of the 29th of November, the whole of the women and children and sick and wounded from Lucknow had crossed the Ganges, and encamped behind the Ninety-Third on the Allahabad road, and here I will leave them and close this chapter.
[27]Native cavalry troopers.
[27]Native cavalry troopers.
[28]See Appendix D.
[28]See Appendix D.
So far as I now remember, the 30th of November, 1857, passed without any movement on the part of the enemy, and the Commander-in-Chief, in his letter describing the state of affairs to the Governor-General, said, "I am obliged to submit to the hostile occupation of Cawnpore until the actual despatch of all my incumbrances towards Allahabad is effected." As stated in the last chapter, when our tents came up our camp was pitched (as near as I can now make out from the altered state of Cawnpore), about the spot where Joe Lee's hotel and the jute mill of Messrs. Beer Brothers and Co. now stand. St. Andrew's day and evening passed without molestation, except that strong piquets lined the canal and guarded our left and rear from surprise, and the men in camp slept accoutred, ready to turn out at the least alarm. But during the night, or early on the morning of the 1st of December, the enemy had quietly advanced some guns, unseen by our piquets, right up to the Cawnpore side of the canal, andsuddenly opened fire on the Ninety-Third just as we were falling in for muster-parade, sending round-shot and shell right through our tents. One shrapnel shell burst right in the centre of Captain Cornwall's company severely wounding the captain, Colour-Sergeant M'Intyre, and five men, but not killing any one.
Captain Cornwall was the oldest officer in the regiment, even an older soldier than Colonel Leith-Hay who had then commanded it for over three years, and for long he had been named by the men "Old Daddy Cornwall." He was poor, and had been unable to purchase promotion, and in consequence was still a captain with over thirty-five years' service. The bursting of the shell right over his head stunned the old gentleman, and a bullet from it went through his shoulder breaking his collar-bone and cutting a deep furrow down his back. The old man was rather stout and very short-sighted; the shock of the fall stunned him for some time, and before he regained his senses Dr. Munro had cut the bullet out of his back and bandaged up his wound as well as possible. Daddy came to himself just as the men were lifting him into adooly. Seeing Dr. Munro standing by with the bullet in his hand, about to present it to him as a memento of Cawnpore, Daddy gasped out, "Munro, is my wound dangerous?" "No, Cornwall," was the answer, "not if you don't excite yourself into a fever; you will get over it all right." The next question put was, "Is the road clear to Allahabad?" To which Munro replied that it was, and that he hoped to have all the sick and woundedsent down country within a day or two. "Then by ——" said Daddy, with considerable emphasis, "I'm off." The poor old fellow had through long disappointment become like our soldiers in Flanders,—he sometimes swore; but considering how promotion had passed over him, that was perhaps excusable. All this occupied far less time than it takes to write it, and I may as well here finish the history of Daddy Cornwall before I leave him. He went home in the same vessel as a rich widow, whom he married on arrival in Dublin, his native place, the corporation of which presented him with a valuable sword and the freedom of the city. The death of Brigadier-General Hope in the following April gave Captain Cornwall his majority without purchase, and he returned to India in the end of 1859 to command the regiment for about nine months, retiring from the army in 1860, when we lay at Rawul Pindee.
But I must return to my story. Being shelled out of our tents, the regiment was advanced to the side of the canal under cover of the mud walls of what had formerly been the sepoy lines, in which we took shelter from the fire of the enemy. Later in the day Colonel Ewart lost his left arm by a round-shot striking him on the elbow just as he had dismounted from his charger on his return from visiting the piquets on the left and rear of our position, he being the field-officer for the day. This caused universal regret in the regiment, Ewart being the most popular officer in it.
By the evening of the 3rd of December the whole of the women and children, and as many of thewounded as could bear to be moved, were on their way to Allahabad; and during the 4th and 5th reinforcements reached Cawnpore from England, among them our old comrades of the Forty-Second whom we had left at Dover in May. We were right glad to see them, on the morning of the 5th December, marching in with bagpipes playing, which was the first intimation we had of another Highland regiment being near us. These reinforcements raised the force under Sir Colin Campbell to five thousand infantry, six hundred cavalry, and thirty-five guns.
Early on the morning of the 6th of December we struck our tents, which were loaded on elephants, and marched to a place of safety behind the fort on the river bank, whilst we formed up in rear of the unroofed barracks—the Forty-Second, Fifty-Third, Ninety-Third, and Fourth Punjâb Infantry, with Peel's Brigade and several batteries of artillery, among them Colonel Bourchier's light field-battery (No. 17 of the old Company's European artillery), a most daring lot of fellows, the Ninth Lancers, and one squadron of Hodson's Horse under command of Lieutenant Gough,[29]a worthy pupil of a famous master. This detachment of Hodson's Horse had come down with Sir Hope Grant from Delhi, and served at the final relief of Lucknow and the retreat to the succour of Cawnpore. The headquarters of the regiment under its famous commander had been left with Brigadier Showers.
As this force was formed up in columns, maskedfrom the view of the enemy by the barracks on the plain of Cawnpore, the Commander-in-Chief rode up, and told us that he had just got a telegram informing him of the safe arrival of the women and children, sick and wounded, at Allahabad, and that now we were to give battle to the famous Gwalior Contingent, consisting of twenty-five thousand well-disciplined troops, with about ten thousand of the Nânâ Sâhib's Mahrattas and all thebudmâshesof Cawnpore, Calpee, and Gwalior, under command of the Nânâ in person, who had proclaimed himself Peishwa and Chief of the Mahratta power, with Tântia Topee, Bâlâ Sâhib (the Nânâ's brother), and Râja Koor Sing, the Râjpoot Chief of Judgdespore, as divisional commanders, and with all the native officers of the Gwalior Contingent as brigade and regimental commanders. Sir Colin also warned us that there was a large quantity of rum in the enemy's camp, which we must carefully avoid, because it was reported to have been drugged. "But, Ninety-Third," he continued, "I trust you. The supernumerary rank will see that no man breaks the ranks, and I have ordered the rum to be destroyed as soon as the camp is taken."
The Chief then rode on to the other regiments and as soon as he had addressed a short speech to each, a signal was sent up from Peel's rocket battery, and General Wyndham opened the ball on his side with every gun at his disposal, attacking the enemy's left between the city and the river. Sir Colin himself led the advance, the Fifty-Third and Fourth Punjâb Infantry in skirmishing order, with the Ninety-Thirdin line, the cavalry on our left, and Peel's guns and the horse-artillery at intervals, with the Forty-Second in the second line for our support.
Directly we emerged from the shelter of the buildings which had masked our formation, the piquets fell back, the skirmishers advanced at the double, and the enemy opened a tremendous cannonade on us with round-shot, shell, and grape. But, nothing daunted, our skirmishers soon lined the canal, and our line advanced, with the pipers playing and the colours in front of the centre company, without the least wavering,—except now and then opening out to let through the round-shot which were falling in front, and rebounding along the hard ground-determined to show the Gwalior Contingent that they had different men to meet from those whom they had encountered under Wyndham a week before. By the time we reached the canal, Peel's Blue-jackets were calling out—"Damn these cow horses," meaning the gun-bullocks, "they're too slow! Come, you Ninety-Third, give us a hand with the drag-ropes as you did at Lucknow!" We were then well under the range of the enemy's guns, and the excitement was at its height. A company of the Ninety-Third slung their rifles, and dashed to the assistance of the Blue-jackets. The bullocks were cast adrift, and the native drivers were not slow in going to the rear. The drag-ropes were manned, and the 24-pounders wheeled abreast of the first line of skirmishers just as if they had been light field-pieces.
When we reached the bank the infantry paused for a moment to see if the canal could be forded or if we should have to cross by the bridge over which the light field-battery were passing at the gallop, and unlimbering and opening fire, as soon as they cleared the head of the bridge, to protect our advance. At this juncture the enemy opened on us with grape and canister shot, but they fired high and did us but little damage. As the peculiarwhish(a sound when once heard never to be forgotten) of the grape was going over our heads, the Blue-jackets gave a ringing cheer for the "Red, white, and blue!" While the Ninety-Third, led off by Sergeant Daniel White, struck upThe Battle of the Alma, a song composed in the Crimea by Corporal John Brown of the Grenadier Guards, and often sung round the camp-fires in front of Sebastopol. I here give the words, not for their literary merit, but to show the spirit of the men who could thus sing going into action in the teeth of the fire of thirty well-served, although not very correctly-aimed guns, to encounter a force of more than ten to one. Just as the Blue-jackets gave their hurrah for the "Red, white, and blue," Dan White struck up the song, and the whole line, including the skirmishers of the Fifty-Third and the sailors, joined in the stirring patriotic tune, which is a first-rate quick march:
Come, all you gallant British heartsWho love the Red and Blue,[30]Come, drink a health to those brave ladsWho made the Russians rue.Fill up your glass and let it pass,Three cheers, and one cheer more,For the fourteenth of September,Eighteen hundred and fifty-four.We sailed from Kalimita Bay,And soon we made the coast,Determined we would do our bestIn spite of brag and boast.We sprang to land upon the strand,And slept on Russian shore,On the fourteenth of September,Eighteen hundred and fifty-four.We marched along until we cameUpon the Alma's banks,We halted just beneath their gunsTo breathe and close our ranks."Advance!" we heard, and at the wordRight through the brook we bore,On the twentieth of September,Eighteen hundred and fifty-four.We scrambled through the clustering vines,Then came the battle's brunt;Our officers, they cheered us on,Our colours waved in front;And fighting well full many fell,Alas! to rise no more,On the twentieth of September,Eighteen hundred and fifty-four.The French were on the right that day,And flanked the Russian line,While full upon their left they sawThe British bayonets shine.With hearty cheers we stunned their ears,Amidst the cannon's roar,On the twentieth of September,Eighteen hundred and fifty-four.A picnic party MenschikoffHad asked to see the fun;The ladies came at twelve o'clockTo see the battle won.They found the day too hot to stay,The Prince felt rather sore,On the twentieth of September,Eighteen hundred and fifty-four.For when he called his carriage up,The French came up likewise;And so he took French leave at onceAnd left to them the prize.The Chasseurs took his pocket-book,They even sacked his store,On the twentieth of September,Eighteen hundred and fifty-four.A letter to Old Nick they found,And this was what it said:"To meet their bravest men, my liege,Your soldiers do not dread;But devils they, not mortal men,"The Russian General swore,"That drove us off the Alma's heightsIn September, fifty-four."Long life to Royal Cambridge,To Peel and Camperdown,And all the gallant British TarsWho shared the great renown,Who stunned Russian ears with British cheers,Amidst the cannon's roar,On the twentieth of September,Eighteen hundred and fifty-four.Here's a health to noble Raglan,To Campbell and to Brown,And all the gallant FrenchmenWho shared that day's renown.Whilst we displayed the black cockade,They the tricolour bore;The Russian crew wore gray and blueIn September, fifty-four.Come, let us drink a toast to-night,Our glasses take in hand,And all around this festive boardIn solemn silence stand.Before we part let each true heartDrink once to those no more,Who fought their last fight on Alma's heightIn September, fifty-four!
Come, all you gallant British heartsWho love the Red and Blue,[30]Come, drink a health to those brave ladsWho made the Russians rue.Fill up your glass and let it pass,Three cheers, and one cheer more,For the fourteenth of September,Eighteen hundred and fifty-four.
We sailed from Kalimita Bay,And soon we made the coast,Determined we would do our bestIn spite of brag and boast.We sprang to land upon the strand,And slept on Russian shore,On the fourteenth of September,Eighteen hundred and fifty-four.
We marched along until we cameUpon the Alma's banks,We halted just beneath their gunsTo breathe and close our ranks."Advance!" we heard, and at the wordRight through the brook we bore,On the twentieth of September,Eighteen hundred and fifty-four.
We scrambled through the clustering vines,Then came the battle's brunt;Our officers, they cheered us on,Our colours waved in front;And fighting well full many fell,Alas! to rise no more,On the twentieth of September,Eighteen hundred and fifty-four.
The French were on the right that day,And flanked the Russian line,While full upon their left they sawThe British bayonets shine.With hearty cheers we stunned their ears,Amidst the cannon's roar,On the twentieth of September,Eighteen hundred and fifty-four.
A picnic party MenschikoffHad asked to see the fun;The ladies came at twelve o'clockTo see the battle won.They found the day too hot to stay,The Prince felt rather sore,On the twentieth of September,Eighteen hundred and fifty-four.
For when he called his carriage up,The French came up likewise;And so he took French leave at onceAnd left to them the prize.The Chasseurs took his pocket-book,They even sacked his store,On the twentieth of September,Eighteen hundred and fifty-four.
A letter to Old Nick they found,And this was what it said:"To meet their bravest men, my liege,Your soldiers do not dread;But devils they, not mortal men,"The Russian General swore,"That drove us off the Alma's heightsIn September, fifty-four."
Long life to Royal Cambridge,To Peel and Camperdown,And all the gallant British TarsWho shared the great renown,Who stunned Russian ears with British cheers,Amidst the cannon's roar,On the twentieth of September,Eighteen hundred and fifty-four.
Here's a health to noble Raglan,To Campbell and to Brown,And all the gallant FrenchmenWho shared that day's renown.Whilst we displayed the black cockade,They the tricolour bore;The Russian crew wore gray and blueIn September, fifty-four.
Come, let us drink a toast to-night,Our glasses take in hand,And all around this festive boardIn solemn silence stand.Before we part let each true heartDrink once to those no more,Who fought their last fight on Alma's heightIn September, fifty-four!
Around our bivouac fires that night asThe Battle of the Almawas sung again, Daniel White told us that when the Blue-jackets commenced cheering under the hail of grape-shot, he remembered that the Scots Greys and Ninety-Second Highlanders had charged at Waterloo singingBruce's Address at Bannockburn, "Scots wha hae," and trying to think of something equally appropriate in which Peel's Brigade might join, he could not at the moment recall anything better than the old Crimean song aforesaid.
After clearing the canal and re-forming our ranks, we came under shelter of a range of brick kilns behind which stood the camp of the enemy, and behind the camp their infantry were drawn up in columns, not deployed in line. The rum against which Sir Colin had warned us was in front of the camp, casks standing on end with the heads knocked out for convenience; and there is no doubt but the enemy expected the Europeans would break their ranks when they saw the rum, and had formed up their columns to fall on us in the eventof such a contingency. But the Ninety-Third marched right on past the rum barrels, and the supernumerary rank soon upset the casks, leaving the contents to soak into the dry ground.
As soon as we cleared the camp, our line of infantry was halted. Up to that time, except the skirmishers, we had not fired a shot, and we could not understand the reason of the halt till we saw the Ninth Lancers and the detachment of Hodson's Horse galloping round some fields of tall sugar-cane on the left, masking the light field-battery. When the enemy saw the tips of the lances (they evidently did not see the guns) they quickly formed squares of brigades. They were armed with the old musket, "Brown Bess," and did not open fire till the cavalry were within about three hundred yards. Just as they commenced to fire, we could hear Sir Hope Grant, in a voice as loud as a trumpet, give the command to the cavalry, "Squadrons, outwards!" while Bourchier gave the order to his gunners, "Action, front!" The cavalry wheeled as if they had been at a review on the Calcutta parade-ground; the guns, having previously been charged with grape, were swung round, unlimbered as quick as lightning within about two hundred and fifty yards of the squares, and round after round of grape was poured into the enemy with murderous effect, every charge going right through, leaving a lane of dead from four to five yards wide. By this time our line was advanced close up behind the battery, and we could see the mounted officers of the enemy, as soon as they caught sight of the guns, dash out of the squaresand fly like lightning across the plain. Directly the squares were broken, our cavalry charged, while the infantry advanced at the double with the bayonet. The battle was won, and the famous Gwalior Contingent was a flying rabble, although the struggle was protracted in a series of hand-to-hand fights all over the plain, no quarter being given. Peel's guns were wheeled up, as already mentioned, as if they had been 6-pounders, and the left wing of the enemy taken in rear and their retreat on the Calpee road cut off. What escaped of their right wing fled along this road. The cavalry and horse-artillery led by Sir Colin Campbell in person, the whole of the Fifty-Third, the Fourth Punjâb Infantry, and two companies of the Ninety-Third, pursued the flying mass for fourteen miles. The rebels, being cut down by hundreds wherever they attempted to rally for a stand, at length threw away their arms and accoutrements to expedite their flight, for none were spared,—"neither the sick man in his weakness, nor the strong man in his strength," to quote the words of Colonel Alison. The evening closed with the total rout of the enemy, and the capture of his camp, the whole of his ordnance-park, containing a large quantity of ammunition and thirty-two guns of sizes, siege-train, and field-artillery, with a loss of only ninety-nine killed and wounded on our side.
As night fell, large bodies of the left wing of the enemy were seen retreating from the city between our piquets and the Ganges, but we were too weary and too few in number to intercept them, and they retired alongthe Bithoor road. About midnight the force which had followed the enemy along the Calpee road returned, bringing in a large number of ammunition-waggons and baggage-carts, the bullocks driven by our men, and those not engaged in driving sitting on the waggons or carts, too tired and footsore to walk. We rested hungry and exhausted, but a man of my company, named Bill Summers, captured a little pack-bullock loaded with two bales of stuff which turned out to be fine soft woollen socks of Loodiana manufacture, sufficient to give every man in the company three pairs,—a real godsend for us, since at that moment there was nothing we stood more in need of than socks; and as no commissariat had come up from the rear, we slaughtered the bullock and cut it into steaks, which we broiled on the tips of our ramrods around the bivouac fires. Thus we passed the night of the 6th of December, 1857.
Early on the morning of the 7th a force was sent into the city of Cawnpore, and patrolled it from end to end, east, west, north, and south. Not only did we meet no enemy, but many of the townspeople brought out food and water to our men, appearing very glad to see us.
During the afternoon our tents came up from the rear, and were pitched by the side of the Grand Trunk road, and the Forty-Second being put on duty that night, we of the Fifty-Third and Ninety-Third were allowed to take our accoutrements off for the first night's sleep without them since the 10th ofNovember—seven and twenty days! Our spare kits having all vanished with the enemy, as told in the last chapter, our quarter-master collected from the captured baggage all the underclothing and socks he could lay hands on. Thanks to Bill Summers and the little pack-bullock, my company got a change of socks; but there was more work before us before we got a bath or a change of shirts.
About noon on the 8th the Commander-in-Chief, accompanied by Sir Hope Grant and Brigadier Adrian Hope, had our brigade turned out, and as soon as Sir Colin rode in among us we knew there was work to be done. He called the officers to the front, and addressing them in the hearing of the men, told them that the Nânâ Sâhib had passed through Bithoor with a large number of men and seventeen guns, and that we must all prepare for another forced march to overtake him and capture these guns before he could either reach Futtehghur or cross into Oude with them. After stating that the camp would be struck as soon as we had got our dinners, the Commander-in-Chief and Sir Hope Grant held a short but animated conversation, which I have always thought was a prearranged matter between them for our encouragement. In the full hearing of the men, Sir Hope Grant turned to the Commander-in-Chief, and said, in rather a loud tone: "I'm afraid, your Excellency, this march will prove a wild-goose chase, because the infantry, in their present tired state, will never be able to keep up with the cavalry." On this, Sir Colin turned round in hissaddle, and looking straight at us, replied in a tone equally loud, so as to be heard by all the men: "I tell you, General Grant, you are wrong. You don't know these men; these Highlanders will march your cavalry blind." And turning to the men, as if expecting to be corroborated by them, he was answered by over a dozen voices, "Ay, ay, Sir Colin, we'll show them what we can do!"
As soon as dinner was over we struck tents, loaded them on the elephants, and by two o'clock P.M. were on the march along the Grand Trunk road. By sunset we had covered fifteen miles from Cawnpore. Here we halted, lit fires, cooked tea, served out grog, and after a rest of three hours, to feed and water the horses as much as to rest the men, we were off again. By fiveA.M.on the 9th of December we had reached the thirtieth mile from the place where we started, and the scouts brought word to the general that we were ahead of the flying enemy. We then turned off the road to our right in the direction of the Ganges, and by eight o'clock came in sight of the enemy at Seraighât, a ferry twenty-five miles above Cawnpore, preparing to embark the guns of which we were in pursuit.
Our cavalry and horse-artillery at once galloped to the front through ploughed fields, and opened fire on the boats. The enemy returned the fire, and some Mahratta cavalry made a dash at the guns, but their charge was met by the Ninth Lancers and the detachment of Hodson's Horse, and a number of them cut down. Seeing the infantry advancing in line, theenemy broke and fled for the boats, leaving all their fifteen guns, a large number of ordnance waggons loaded with ammunition, and a hundred carts filled with their baggage and the plunder of Cawnpore. Our horse-artillery and infantry advanced right up to the banks of the river and kept up a hot fire on the retreating boats, swamping a great number of them. The Nânâ Sâhib was among this lot; but the spies reported that his boat was the first to put off, and he gained the Oude side in safety, though some thousands of his Mahratta rebels must have been drowned or killed. This was some return we felt for his treachery at Suttee Chowrahghâtsix months before. It was now our turn to be peppering the flying boats! There were a number of women and children left by the routed rebels among their baggage-carts; they evidently expected to be killed, but were escorted to a village in our rear, and left there. We showed them that we had come to war with men—not to butcher women! By the afternoon we had dragged the whole of the captured guns back from the river, and our tents coming up under the rear-guard, we encamped for the night, glad enough to get a rest.
On the morning of the 10th our quarter-master divided among us a lot of shirts and underclothing, mostly what the enemy had captured at Cawnpore, a great part of which we had now recovered; and we were allowed to go by wings to undress and have a bath in the sacred Ganges, and to change our underclothing, which we very much needed to do. Thecondition of our flannel shirts is best left undescribed, while our bodies round our waists, where held tight by our belts, were eaten to raw flesh. We sent our shirts afloat on the sacred waters of Mother Gunga, glad to be rid of them, and that night we slept in comfort. Even now, thirty-five years after, the recollection of the state of my own flannel when I took it off makes me shiver. This is not a pleasant subject, but I am writing these reminiscences for the information of our soldiers of to-day, and merely stating facts, to let them understand something of what the soldiers of the Mutiny had to go through.
Up to this time, the columns of the British had been mostly acting, as it were, on the defensive; but from the date of the defeat of the Gwalior Contingent, our star was in the ascendant, and the attitude of the country people showed that they understood which was the winning side. Provisions, such as butter, milk, eggs, and fruit, were brought into our camp by the villagers for sale the next morning, sparingly at first, but as soon as the people found that they were well received and honestly paid for their supplies, they came in by scores, and from that time there was no scarcity of provisions in our bazaars.
We halted at Seraighâtfor the 11th and 12th December, and on the 13th marched back in triumph to Bithoor with our captured guns. The reason of our return to Bithoor was because spies had reported that the Nânâ Sâhib had concealed a large amount of treasure in a well there near the palace of theex-Peishwa of Poona. Rupees to the amount of thirtylakhs[31]were recovered, which had been packed in ammunition-boxes and sunk in a well; also a very large amount of gold and silver plate and other valuables, among other articles a silver howdah which had been the state howdah of the ex-Peishwa. Besides the rupees, the plate and other valuables recovered were said to be worth more than a million sterling, and it was circulated in the force that each private soldier would receive over a thousand rupees in prize-money. But we never got apie![32]All we did get was hard work. The well was large. Four strong frames were erected on the top of it by the sappers, and large leathern buckets with strong iron frames, with ropes attached, were brought from Cawnpore; then a squad of twenty-five men was put on to each rope, and relieved every three hours, two buckets keeping the water down and two drawing up treasure. Thus we worked day and night from the 15th to the 26th of December, the Forty-Second, Fifty-Third, and Ninety-Third supplying the working-parties for pulling, and the Bengal Sappers furnishing the men to work in the well; these last, having to stand in the water all the time, were relieved every hour. It was no light work to keep the water down, so as to allow the sappers to sling the boxes containing the rupees, and to lift three million rupees, or thirtylakhs, out from a deep well required considerable labour. But themen, believing that the whole would be divided as prize-money, worked with a will. A paternal Government, however, ignored our general's assurance on this head, on the plea that we had merely recovered the treasure carried off by the Nânâ from Cawnpore. The plate and jewellery belonging to the ex-Peishwa were also claimed by the Government as State property, and the troops got—nothing! We had even to pay from our own pockets for the replacement of our kits which were taken by the Gwalior Contingent when they captured Wyndham's camp.
About this timeThe Illustrated London Newsreached India with a picture purporting to be that of the Nânâ Sâhib. I forget the date of the number which contained this picture; but I first saw it in Bithoor some time between the 15th and 25th December 1857. I will now give the history of that picture, and show how Ajoodia Pershâd, commonly known as Jotee Pershâd, the commissariat contractor, came to figure as the Nânâ Sâhib in the pages ofThe Illustrated London News. It is a well-known fact that there is no authentic portrait of the Nânâ in existence; it is even asserted that he was never painted by any artist, and photography had not extended to Upper India before 1857. I believe this is the first time that the history of the picture published as that of the Nânâ Sâhib byThe Illustrated London Newshas been given. I learnt the facts which I am about to relate some years after the Mutiny, under a promise of secrecy so long as my informant, the late John Lang,barrister-at-law and editor and proprietor ofThe Mofussilite, should be alive. As both he and Ajoodia Pershâd have been many years dead, I commit no breach of confidence in now telling the story. The picture purporting to be that of the Nânâ having been published in 1857, it rightly forms a reminiscence of the Mutiny, although much of the following tale occurred several years earlier; but to make the history of the picture complete, the facts which led to it must be noticed.
There are but few Europeans now in India who remember the scandal connected with the trial of Ajoodia Pershâd, the commissariat contractor, for payment for the supplies and carriage of the army throughout the second Sikh war. When it came to a final settlement of his accounts with the Commissariat Department, Ajoodia Pershâd claimed three and a halfcroresof rupees (equal to three and a half millions sterling), in excess of what the auditor would pass as justly due to him; and the Commissariat Department, backed by the Government of India, not only repudiated the claim, but put Ajoodia Pershâd on his trial for falsification of accounts and attempting to defraud the Government. There being no high courts in those days, nor trial by jury, corrupt or otherwise, for natives in the Upper Provinces, an order of the Governor-General in Council was passed for the trial of Ajoodia Pershâd by special commission, with the judge-advocate-general as prosecutor. The trial was ordered to be held at Meerut, and thecommission assembled there, commencing its sittings in the Artillery mess-house during the cold weather of 1851-52. There were no barristers or pleaders in India in those days—at least in the Mofussil, and but few in the presidency towns; but Ajoodia Pershâd, being a very wealthy man, sent an agent to England, and engaged the services of Mr. John Lang, barrister-at-law, to come out and defend him. John Lang left England in May, 1851, and came out round the Cape in one of Green's celebrated liners, theNile, and he reached Meerut about December, when the trial commenced.
Everything went swimmingly with the prosecution till Mr. Lang began his cross-examination of the witnesses, he having reserved his privilege till he heard the whole case for the prosecution. Directly the cross-examination commenced, the weakness of the Government case became apparent. I need not now recall how the commissary-general, the deputy commissary-general, and their assistants were made to contradict each other, and to contradict themselves out of their own mouths. Mr. Lang, who appeared in court every day in his wig and gown, soon became a noted character in Meerut, and the night before he was to sum up the case for the defence, some officers in the Artillery mess asked him his opinion of the members of the commission. Not being a teetotaller, Mr. Lang may have been at the time somewhat under the influence of "John Exshaw," who was the ruling spirit in those days, and he replied thatthe whole batch, president and members, including the judge-advocate-general, were a parcel of "d—dsoors."[33]Immediately several officers present offered to lay a bet of a thousand rupees with Mr. Lang that he was not game to tell them so to their faces in open court the following day. Lang accepted the bet, the stakes were deposited, and an umpire appointed to decide who should pocket the money. When the court re-assembled next morning, the excitement was intense. Mr. Lang opened his address by pulling the evidence for the prosecution to shreds, and warming to his work, he went at it somewhat as follows—I can only give the purport:—"Gentlemen of the commission forming this court, I now place the dead carcass of this shameful case before you in all its naked deformity, and the more we stir it up the more it stinks! The only stink in my long experience that I can compare it to is the experience gained in the saloon of theNileon my passage out to India the day after a pig was slaughtered. We had a pig's cheek at the head of the table [indicating the president of the commission]; we had a roast leg of pork on the right [pointing to another member]; we had a boiled leg, also pork, on the left [indicating a third member]"; and so on he went till he had apportioned out the whole carcass of the supposed pig amongst the members of the commission. Then, turning to the judge-advocate-general, who was a little man dressed in an elaborately frilled shirt, and his assistant, who was tall and thin,pointing to each in turn, Mr. Lang proceeded,—"And for side-dishes we had chitterlings on one side, and sausages on the other. In brief, the whole saloon smelt of nothing but pork: and so it is, gentlemen, with this case. It is the Government of India who has ordered this trial. It is for the interest of that Government that my client should be convicted; therefore every member on this commission is a servant of Government. The officers representing the prosecution are servants of Government, and every witness for the prosecution is also a servant of Government. In brief, the whole case against my client is nothing but pork, and a disgrace to the Government of India, and to the Honourable East India Company, who have sanctioned this trial, and who put every obstacle in my way to prevent my coming out to defend my client. I repeat my assertion that the case is a disgrace to the Honourable Company and the Government of India, and to every servant of that Government who has had any finger in the manufacture of this pork-pie." And so Mr. Lang continued, showing how Ajoodia Pershâd had come forward to the assistance of the State in its hour of need, by supplying carriage for the materials of the army and rations for the troops, and so forth, till the judge-advocate-general declared that he felt ashamed to be connected with the case. The result was that Ajoodia Pershâd was acquitted on all counts, and decreed to be entitled to his claims in full, and the umpire decided that Mr. Lang had won the bet of a thousand rupees.
But my readers may ask—What has all this to do with the portrait of the Nânâ Sâhib? I am just coming to that. After his honourable acquittal, Ajoodia Pershâd was so grateful to Mr. Lang that he presented him with an honorarium of threelakhsof rupees, equal in those days to over £30,000, in addition to the fees on his brief; and Mr. Lang happening to say that he would very much like to have a portrait of his generous client, Ajoodia Pershâd presented him with one painted by a famous native artist of those days, and the portrait was enshrined in a jewelled frame worth another twenty-five thousand rupees. To the day of his death Mr. Lang used to carry this portrait with him wherever he went. When the Mutiny broke out he was in London, and the artists ofThe Illustrated London Newswere calling on every old Indian of position known to be in England, to try and get a portrait of the Nânâ. One of them was informed that Mr. Lang possessed a picture of an Indian prince—then, as now, all Indians were princes to the British public—which might be that of the arch-assassin of Cawnpore. The artist lost no time in calling on Mr. Lang to see the picture, and when he saw it he declared it was just the thing he wanted. Mr. Lang protested, pointing out that the picture no more resembled the Nânâ of Bithoor than it did her Gracious Majesty the Queen of England; that neither the dress nor the position of the person represented in the picture could pass in India for a Mahratta chief. The artist declared he did not care for people in India:he required the picture for the people of England. So he carried it off to the engraver, and in the next issue ofThe Illustrated London Newsthe picture of Ajoodia Pershâd, the commissariat contractor, appeared as that of the Nânâ Sâhib. When those in India who had known the Nânâ saw it, they declared it had no resemblance to him whatever, and those who had seen Ajoodia Pershâd declared that the Nânâ was very like Ajoodia Pershâd. But no one could understand how the Nânâ could ever have allowed himself to be painted in the dress of a Mârwâree banker. To the day of his death John Lang was in mortal fear lest Ajoodia Pershâd should ever come to hear how his picture had been allowed to figure as that of the arch-assassin of the Indian Mutiny.
So much for the Nânâ's picture. By Christmas Day, 1857, we had recovered all the gold and silver plate of the ex-Peishwa and the thirtylakhsof treasure from the well in Bithoor, and on the morning of the 27th we marched for the recapture of Futtehghur, which was held by a strong force under the Nawâb of Furruckabad. But I must leave the re-occupation of Futtehghur for another chapter.
NOTE