Anonymous

Reign of Victoria (continued).

March of the British on Delhi—Battles on the Hindon—Wilson joins Barnard—Hodson reconnoitres Delhi—Battle of Badlee Serai—Behold Delhi!—The Guides arrive—Outbreak at Jallandhar—Johnstone and Ricketts—The Delhi Force in Position—The Enemy assume the Offensive—A "Mistake of Orders"—Destruction of a Battery—A Three Days' Battle—An Unfulfilled Prophecy—Reinforcements arrive—Lord Canning's Inaction—Lord Elphinstone's Discretion—Troops from Madras and Persia—Benares is saved—So is Allahabad—Cawnpore—Nana Sahib and Azimoolah—The Europeans in the Entrenchment—The Mutiny—The Sepoys start for Delhi—Nana Sahib brings them back—Sufferings of the Garrison—Valour of the Defence—The Well—The Hospital catches Fire—Incidents of the Siege—Moore's Sortie—Nana Sahib's Letter—The Massacre at the Ghaut—Central India—Lawrence fortifies the Residency at Lucknow—An ineffectual Sortie—The Defences contracted—The Death of Lawrence.

IT is necessary to return to Delhi again, to bring the British force well up before its walls, and show the Punjab authorities once more in action. We left the troops under Sir Henry Barnard advancing slowly towards Delhi. Among them were the 60th Native Infantry; but instead of disarming them, he placed Colonel Thomas Seaton at their head, and sent them to Rhotuck, in the vain hope that they would escape the contagion. Of course in due time they mutinied, but did not kill their officers; and we may dismiss them here with the remark that the Sepoys swelled the rebel army, and the officers joined the British. Thanks to the journey made by the gallant Hodson, of Hodson's Horse, the Meerut force were under orders to march on Bhagput, where there was a bridge over the Jumna. They were to reach this place and cross on the 1st of June. Accordingly, on the 27th of May, Colonel Archdale Wilson collected his little brigade. It consisted of half a battalion of the 60th Rifles, two batteries, and two squadrons of the Carabineers, with a few native sappers and troopers. The King of Delhi had got wind of this movement, and he sent out a body of mutineers to meet the column. Wilson's force encamped on the 30th on the Hindon, a feeder of the Jumna, crossed by an iron bridge at Ghazeeoodeen Nugger. The rebel force took up a position on their own side of the river. The warning of their proximity given by the outposts was followed by the fire of their cannon. Two heavy round shot were flung into the camp, wounding two bearers. In a moment the force was under arms. A company of the Rifles took possession of the bridge. Major Tombs, with four guns and a troop of dragoons, dashed along the river and took the enemy in flank, while two 18-pounders, posted in front, soon shook the nerves of the rebel gunners over the river. Then, seeing their fire growing unsteady, the Rifles on the bridge were reinforced, and, led by Colonel John Jones, they charged and captured five rebel guns. Thus in a short time the mutineers were worsted in the first pitched battle. They hurried away so fast that pursuit was impossible, and were so cowed that the very Goojurs despoiled their stragglers of arms and accoutrements. We lost one killed and thirty-one wounded. But fresh forces came out from Delhi to retrieve their lost military honour. Our advance was now over the bridge in a burnt village. The enemy, who came up on Whitsunday, the 31st of May, posted themselves on a ridge, with a village on their left. The fight began by a fire from their heavy guns, which were rapidly answered, by Tombs and Light, with 9- and 18-pounders. For two hours the contest was one of artillery, during which the Carabineers were drawn up in the open ground to protect our guns. Then the Rifles charged upon the village occupied by the enemy, and forced them out. The Sepoys, in this fight, kept as far as possible out of musketry range and would not allow our soldiers a chance of coming to close quarters. As we moved on, although we were hundreds and they thousands, they fell back, and when we crowned the ridge the discomfited army was seen in the distance hurrying along the Delhi road. Our loss was six killed in battle, three by sunstroke and twelve were wounded. After this fight, Wilson's force halted four days, during which 100 Rifles and the Sirmour battalion of Ghoorkas, under Major Reid, came up from Meerut—a welcome addition to the brigade.

Marching towards the Jumna on the 4th of June, they crossed it on the 6th by the bridge of boats at Bhagput, which Hodson had taken care should be in order. On the 7th they joined the main body under Barnard, which had arrived at Alipore. The force now numbered 2,400 infantry, 600 horsemen, and twenty-two field guns. The siege train from Philour, with 100 European artillerymen, strengthened the little army, and all was ready for grappling with the enemy. Very early on the 7th Hodson rode out, accompanied by a dozen native troopers. He went up to the very parade ground before Delhi, scaring away the rebel vedettes and reconnoitring the place so well that it was on his information the general based his plans. The infantry were divided into two brigades; one, consisting of the 75th and the 1st Bengal Fusiliers, under Colonel Showers; the second, consisting of the 60th Rifles, the 2nd Bengal Fusiliers, and the Ghoorkas, under Brigadier Graves. With each brigade went some horse and guns; the remaining horse formed a cavalry brigade under Colonel Hope Grant, with two troops of horse artillery. These soldiers had come down from Umballa and Meerut, under a blazing sun of the Indian June with the wind blowing, when it blew, in a current of "liquid fire." Cholera had stricken down officers and men. The soldiers were fretful from impatience to fight. Few armies have ever marched to battle animated by so fiery a spirit of revenge.

Before daylight on the 8th of June the army began its forward movement. The Sepoys had taken a post of vantage a few miles north of Delhi. They formed across the Great Road at the serai of Badlee. A serai is a square walled enclosure, having a tower at each angle, one door, and a flat roof. It contains many small chambers for the use of travellers, and is loopholed all round. Thus, it is really a strong post. Badlee Serai lay a little to the west of the Great Road. Around it was the Sepoy camp; and in front, on a hillock commanding the road, they had made a sandbag battery for four heavy guns and an 8-inch howitzer for grape. On both sides of the road the ground is swampy, having pools here and there. The left flank of the Sepoys was covered by the Delhi canal, which ran parallel to the road, and was crossed by bridges not far from each other. This was the position which Hodson had looked at the day before. The plan of attack was simple. Sir Henry Barnard, with the main body, was to assail the front from the Great Road; while Hope Grant turned the left flank with three squadrons of the 9th Lancers, under Colonel Yule, fifty Jheend Horse, under Hodson, or 350 lances, and ten horse-artillery guns, under Tombs, Turner, and Bishop. This little force moved out of camp first, and crossed the canal near Alipore, with the intention of recrossing it in rear of the Sepoys, thus cutting them off from Delhi. The main column, 1,900 infantry, 170 horse, and fourteen guns, marched later, but still in the dusk before dawn. A march of five miles brought them within sight of the Sepoy camps, where the lights were still burning. As our troops were moving down the road the enemy opened fire, and our guns coming rapidly into action, the battle began. The left brigade, under Graves, was still in the rear, when the 75th and the 1st Fusiliers deployed to the right of the road, and soon felt the weight of the heavy shot from the sandbag battery, which our light guns could not silence. Time was precious, but men were more so, and it would never do to play at long bowls with the mutineers. Grant's horsemen were not in sight, but the left brigade were hurrying up, when Sir Henry Barnard ordered the 75th to carry the battery. The men eagerly obeyed. Moving on steadily over rough and watery ground, they were exposed to a fire so heavy that in a few minutes nearly a hundred fell. But without a halt they pressed on, and bringing down the bayonet to the charge, surged into the battery. The 1st Fusiliers had supported the 75th, and soon joined them, when the two regiments dashed at the serai and stormed it. The left brigade had now come up. Grant's cavalry, delayed by watercourses which obstructed the progress of the guns, debouched on the left rear of the rebels, and these scattering and fleeing, left our troops masters of their camp and the greater part of their guns.

The enemy had fled, but not yet into Delhi. They had halted on the ridge overlooking that city, and here seemed disposed to make a stand. Sir Henry Barnard, with one brigade and guns, moved to the left, upon the cantonment lines, while Brigadier Wilson with the remainder took the road to the Subzee Mundi, a suburb of Delhi, while Reid's Ghoorkas extended between the two. The march of the main body had to be performed under fire, which, as the troops were filing over a canal bridge, proved very galling. But they went on with a will, and emerging from the old lines, near the Flagstaff Tower, opened fire and instantly silenced the enemy's guns. The 60th and the 2nd Fusiliers, charging, took the guns, and sweeping along the ridge, arrived at a building at the right extremity, called the Hindoo Rao's house, and destined to be famous in the siege. Here the whole force rallied, Wilson having cleared the Subzee Mundi and captured a gun. All this time the Sepoys in Delhi cannonaded the British from the walls. It was now noon, and the troops withdrew behind the ridge to the camp, after posting pickets at the Hindoo Rao's house, and in the Flagstaff Tower. Thirteen guns had been captured; our loss was fifty-one killed and 152 wounded; among the former was Colonel Chester, Adjutant-General. The loss of the enemy is supposed to have been about 400 killed and wounded. So far, a good beginning had been made; but instead of rushing into Delhi with the enemy, here was the little force obliged to sit down and begin a siege destined to last three months.

HODSON RECONNOITRING BEFORE DELHI. (See p. 204.)

At length, then, behold Delhi. There lay the prize which might have been seized by a bold march from Meerut, on the night of the 10th of May, under an Edwardes or a Nicholson, but which now, swarming with the soldiers of sixteen or eighteen corps of our own training, having in its arsenal and magazine a practically inexhaustible supply of guns and ammunition, defied the gallant few who, after a month's delay, once more looked down upon the handsome walls and beautiful buildings. And trooping along from all points were mutineers hastening to rally round the Great Mogul, and dispute for empire with the pale faces.

Early on the morning of the 9th there was a scene in camp well worth recording, because, in many respects, it illustrates forcibly the transition from the old to the new. There came into the camp squadrons of swarthy horsemen and dusky foot. An officer was out riding; suddenly horse and foot closed upon him, surrounding him, shouting, and "behaving like frantic creatures." They seized his bridle, his dress, his hands, his feet; they threw themselves before his horse, and wept for joy, hailing him in their own tongue as "Great in Battle." The officer was Hodson, the warriors were the horse and foot of the Guide Corps, which had started just three weeks before, from Hotee Murdan, beyond the Indus, 580 miles away. These real soldiers had crossed the Punjab and the Cis-Sutlej States in twenty-one days, doing thirty miles a day, and halting only three days, and then by order. Three hours after they entered the camp the Sepoys showed fight, and the Guides were at once to the front, engaging the enemy hand to hand, and coming out with one officer, Quentin Battye, mortally, and every other officer more or less, wounded. Such was the first exploit of the force which had been raised through the prescience of Sir Henry Lawrence.

While the British, the Ghoorkas, and the Guides were establishing themselves before Delhi, a fresh mutiny in the Punjab threatened for a moment the safety of the Great Road to Lahore. The Sepoys broke out at Jhallandhar. The reader will remember that here were the 36th and 61st Native Infantry and the 6th Cavalry; that it was from this station the troops went out who secured Philour; and that here incipient mutiny, on the 12th of May, had been checked by menace and precaution. Brigadier Johnstone succeeded Colonel Hartley on the 17th of May, and from that time the effects of a feebler hand are discernible. The brigadier humoured the Sepoys, listened to the prayers of their colonels, who here, as elsewhere, were infatuated, and, on the plea of conciliation, gave in to their demands. He was exhorted to disarm Sepoys who could not be expected to resist the contagious example of their brothers, neither could he resist the reproaches and appeals of their officers. He had an ample European force. Captain Rothney halted his famous 4th Sikhs, and Charles Nicholson brought in the 2nd Punjab Cavalry, to aid in the disarming. The brigadier could not make up his mind; and these could stay no longer. At length, when it was too late, Brigadier Johnstone determined to do what he should have done before: too late, for the Sepoys took the initiative, rose on the 7th of June, led, as usual, by the Moslem cavalry, fired the station and shot some of their officers. They called on the native gunners to join, but these replied with grapeshot and would have given more such effective replies had not the brigadier stopped them. All was soon confusion. The Europeans were not allowed to act. The mutineers had it all their own way. For an hour and a half they burnt, plundered, and murdered, and then marched off, unpursued. About 200 remained staunch to their officers; and one whole company, kept in order by a subahdar, preserved the treasury, containing £10,000. The rest decamped, part going towards Loodiana, part taking the hill road, and striking the Sutlej higher up. The former got safely off, the latter met with unexpected resistance, being intercepted by Mr. Ricketts with a small force of Sikhs. And where was the European force from Jhallandhar? In camp near Philour, within hearing of the sound of Ricketts' solitary gun, yet forbidden to move by the brigadier, who thought them too fatigued! Had half the force marched up the river, and opened only on those mutineers who had not crossed, how different would have been the result! As it was, the mutineers were able to enter Loodiana, open the gaol, burn the church and the mission houses, try ineffectually to destroy the powder in the fort, and then fly in a panic across country towards Delhi. Had they moved down the Great Road they would have swept everything before them. A few days later Mr. Ricketts, having the passing aid of Coke's Punjabees, disarmed the town, seized and punished the ringleaders in the late riots and inflicted a heavy fine on the community. Sir John Lawrence also felt the necessity of securing Umritsir, and thither he sent Nicholson with the movable column; while at the other extremity of the Punjab, Crawford Chamberlain, acting on Sir John's orders, very deftly disarmed the native infantry and cavalry at Mooltan by the aid of two Punjab regiments and a European battery.

While these blows were parried in their rear, the army before Delhi had made good its position. It was strong and defensible. To the north of Delhi, some two miles, there is a sandstone ridge running nearly parallel to the course of the Jumna—that is, north-north-east. The slope from the city walls is gradual, but somewhat broken. The plateau on the summit is tolerably flat, and along the whole course of the ridge, but well in rear—that is, north of it,—lay the lines of the camp. The ridge, in fact, may be roughly described as the right bank of the Jumna, to which it approaches at its northern, and from which it recedes at its southern, end. This was the position of the besieging army. Its left rested on the ridge near the river; its centre was behind the Flagstaff Tower; its right at the butt end of the ridge, where the ground fell rapidly towards the Subzee Mundi and Kishengunge, suburbs of Delhi, facing its western walls and set in gardens and groves. At this end the ridge was crowned by a house formerly belonging to a Mahratta chief, and called the Hindoo Rao's house; and here we quickly established a battery, and made a strong post to defend that side. The Grand Trunk Road to Loodiana and Lahore, going from the Cashmere Gate, ascended the ridge, and crossed it to the east of the Flagstaff Tower, and a good road ran along the interior of the ridge parallel to it, thus tying together the position. From this ridge, but especially from Rao's house, Delhi was visible, standing up bold and distinct in the clear air, with its stout red walls and bastions, and white buildings embowered in trees. Between the ridge and the city the ground was rugged, and dotted all over with houses, mosques, tombs, and ruins, rising up among clumps of trees. Such was the base of our attack; for on the south, the whole of the country, as far as Agra, was in the hands of the enemy; the river protected the eastern face, and we had no choice but to assail the north.

As soon as the force settled down on the ridge, the enemy commenced a series of attacks which may be described as incessant. This was policy, for it harassed the besiegers, and kept the Sepoys in good heart, although they were invariably beaten. The first of these was on the 9th of June. They issued from the Lahore Gate on the west, covered by a cannonade from the Moree bastion, at the north-western angle, and, moving on the right flank of the position, strove to storm the ridge. But in vain. The Guides, coming up to support the Rifles and Ghoorkas, charged so vigorously that the Sepoys were driven up to the very walls with great loss. On the 10th and the 11th the mutineers sent up fresh men to turn and carry the right, and paid heavily for their temerity. The heavy guns were now in battery on a knoll forming part of the garden of the Hindoo Rao's house, but their fire was not sufficient to silence, barely to cope with, that of the enemy from his bastions. Our officers began to respect the rebel artillerymen, whose guns were so accurately laid that some could only account for it by supposing that there were European deserters in their ranks. On the 12th the enemy, tired of trying the right, fell unexpectedly on the left. There, in front and due east of the Flagstaff Tower, stood the house and grounds of Sir T. Metcalfe, just where the fertile soil ends and the sands of the Jumna begin. Here the mutineers had established a garrison and a battery; and from this, on the morning of the 12th, they pushed out a large force, which by stealthy movements approached within musket-shot of the Flagstaff Tower, without being detected. There were a few of the 75th and two guns in position. The Sepoys turned its flank and, pressing vigorously forward, gained the ridge and even crossed it. For a moment the whole of that side was in extreme peril; but the 75th soon rallied, and the guns began to play. Then supports came up—1st Fusiliers, Guides, Rifles. A steady charge was made, and the enemy, cut up and bayoneted, rolled down the hill. The charge became eager. The pursued went fast, but the pursuers were almost as speedy; and seeing the opportunity, chased the men into and out of Metcalfe's house, and up to the walls of Delhi. Thus won, this advanced post was held and made the most of, completely barring the way to any force directed on our left, and placing us so far nearer Delhi. This sharp onset had no sooner been repulsed than the enemy showed himself on the right. It was a clumsy attempt at a combined attack on both flanks. Issuing from the Subzee Mundi, on our right rear, the Sepoys made a fruitless effort to mount the hill. The Ghoorkas and Rifles on picket, and part of the 1st Fusiliers, met them, drove them back, and chased them out of the enclosures, killing a goodly number. No quarter was given. The loss inflicted on them in these fights was estimated at 400 killed.

On the 11th five young officers, Hodson, Wilberforce, Greathed, Chesney, and Maunsell, were directed to sit in council, and draw up a plan showing how they would take Delhi out of hand. Their plan was simple enough. They proposed that all the infantry available, some 1,800 men, should move at midnight down to the walls, blow in two gates with powder bags and, storming in, surprise and capture the place. The general took the plan, considered it, adopted it, and issued his orders. The thing was to be done on the night of the 12th, on the heels of the repulse inflicted that day. The young men were sanguine of success, and eager to try—none more so than Hodson. Part of the troops marched; they reached their stations, then halted and reconnoitred: all was still; but the remainder did not arrive; instead of the remainder, came an order to retire. Brigadier Graves refused to believe that the general intended to leave the camp in charge of native troops and horsemen; and in place of sending his infantry, went himself to remonstrate with Sir Henry Barnard. The brigadier admitted readily that the city could be taken, but doubted whether it could be held. Sir Henry hesitated, time was lost, and so he gave way. The conduct of the brigadier is described both by Hodson and Norman as a "mistake of orders." This mistake was bitterly censured at the time, but we cannot help agreeing with those who are thankful for the delay, since even success would have saved no one from massacre, and would have sent a horde of armed ruffians pouring down the unprotected south road; whereas for three months Delhi served as a rallying-place and the Sepoys were kept together.

Unsuspicious of the danger hanging over them, the enemy were still full of fight, and encounters, more or less sharp, continued every day. The front and flanks of the position were now more strongly secured, as it was plain that Delhi could not be taken until large reinforcements of infantry, more guns, and especially more gunners, arrived. Major Reid held the Hindoo Rao's house with his Ghoorkas, commanding Kishengunge and protecting the batteries. Major Tombs had charge of a post to the right rear, over against the Subzee Mundi. The whole front was strengthened by entrenchments, and Hodson kept both eyes on the rear. But they were not content to stand still and repel attacks. Few though they were, they could show their teeth on occasions. On the 17th the enemy, under cover of a very severe cannonade, threw a large force on to a hill near the Eedgah, a walled enclosure, and there began to work on a battery, which, when finished, would enfilade the position on the ridge. Sir Henry Barnard determined to stop this dangerous move; in the afternoon he formed two columns, one under Major Reid, the other under Major Tombs. Starting from our right flank, Reid pushed straight through Kishengunge, and emerged on the right of the new rebel battery, while Tombs, having made a detour, fell upon their left. The new battery was soon carried; the magazine blown up; the mutineers were hunted from garden to garden; the doors of four serais were destroyed, and one gun was carried off by the gallant Tombs. The enemy lost about 300 killed and wounded. Considering the nature of the country, our loss was trifling—three killed and twelve wounded.

The rebels, however, now received a large reinforcement. The brigade that had mutinied at Nusseerabad, in Scindia's country, on the 28th of May, entered Delhi on the 17th of June, and on the 19th were sent out to fight their old masters. Their tactics were new. They resolved to operate strategically, and cut us off from the Punjab. With this object they marched out with much ostentation at mid-day, filing bravely through the Lahore Gate, traversing Kishengunge, and disappearing from view to the westward. The movement had been, of course, observed by Reid and Tombs, and the whole force turned out, but they turned in again when the Sepoys vanished from view. But late in the afternoon news came in from the rear that the Sepoys had worked round, and were in position across the Great Road. This was serious. Colonel Hope Grant could only oppose them with seven troops of British cavalry and the Guides and twelve guns. Although the odds were so great against them—3,000 to about 350—Grant did not hesitate to attack. The guns, under Turner, Tombs, and Bishop, went rapidly into action. The cavalry, under Yule and Daly, of the Guides, charged with headlong gallantry as often as opportunities presented themselves. Right and left the mutineers were checked, by lance and sabre, and cannon, until night drew near. But the rebel infantry worked through the enclosures, and fired on our gunners, while their artillery, splendidly served, did considerable execution. Our cavalry and guns were obliged to fall back before the masses crowding in upon them on all sides, when 300 infantry from the camp reached the field. Yule had fallen dead; the Guides had brought off Daly wounded; two guns were in the hands of the Sepoys. At this moment our foot, Rifles and Fusiliers, went in with the bayonet, and in a few moments the tide of rebel success was arrested and the guns were won back. Night had fallen; the enemy retreated, covering himself with a random fire in the dark, and the action was over.

The next morning Colonel Hope Grant rode on to the field and found it abandoned; dead men and horses were lying about, and he brought in a deserted 9-pounder. Soon came a fresh alarm. The enemy brought up his guns—the famous Jellalabad battery, part of the "illustrious" garrison—and his round shot rolled through the camp. But his triumph was short. Sweeping down with every available bayonet, Brigadier Wilson closed with the rebels and swiftly drove them away. They hurried off, carrying away their guns, and, having had enough of strategy, returned by a roundabout march to Delhi. It was a critical moment in the history of the siege. We were triumphant, but our little force was diminished by 100 men killed and wounded. Precautions were now taken to guard the rear as effectually as the smallness of the force would permit. On the very day of the first attack, Captain M'Andrew, acting on a mere rumour of an attack, had drawn off the force guarding Bhagput Bridge over the Jumna, and Hodson was obliged to ride thither and restore this line of communication with Meerut. M'Andrew was censured for running away without even seeing an enemy.

On the 21st, the Jhallandhar Brigade augmented by the 3rd Native Infantry, picked up at Philour, entered Delhi. The rebels were now so numerous that they encamped outside the place, but out of our reach, and under their own guns. On the 23rd, 850 men, including Rothney's 4th Sikhs, arrived in the British camp. It was a timely succour. The 23rd of June was the anniversary of Plassey. For 100 years the British "raj" had endured. Now crazy, or wily, pundits brought to light a prediction that, on the 23rd of June, 1857, British rule would end. So the Delhi garrison moved out in great excitement to fulfil the prophecy. They paid for it, and dearly. Crowding into the Subzee Mundi, and bringing guns up to the Eedgah, they raked the right flank and skirmished up the slope with their infantry. These attacks were easily repulsed, but the artillery fire was very destructive; and Brigadier Showers begged Sir Henry Barnard to assume the offensive. He assented. The first attacks failed, with the loss of two officers and several men. Then the column was reinforced. The 4th Sikhs, and part of the 2nd Fusiliers, just in from a march of twenty-two miles, went gaily into action and, using the bayonet very freely, rapidly cleared the Subzee Mundi, killing great numbers of rebels, who had shut themselves up in a temple, and forcing the remainder to fly, galled by the fire of our batteries on the ridge. This action gave us the Subzee Mundi, which we occupied, connecting it by a breastwork with the ridge, thus securing the position on that side; but it cost us thirty-eight killed and 118 wounded to prove to the Sepoys that our "raj" had not yet come to an end.

THE PALACE, DELHI. (From a Photograph by Frith & Co., Reigate.)

Thus the position of the British before Delhi became gradually more extensive, stretching now from the Subzee Mundi to Metcalfe's house, and thus commanding both roads leading to our rear. Neville Chamberlain arrived to act as adjutant-general. Then came further reinforcements: half the 8th Foot, a hundred European artillerymen, and many score old Sikh gunners who had served at Sobraon, a battery, and the 2nd Punjab Cavalry, bringing up the force present to about 6,600 men of all arms. This was the force destined to hold on to that ridge, and two months afterwards, when aided by John Nicholson, to rush into Delhi. But now we must leave these heroes for a time, to track the bloody steps of mutiny on the Ganges and Jumna.

It cannot now be denied that at the outset of the mutiny the magnitude of the crisis was totally misapprehended at Calcutta. Lord Canning was new to India. He was a man of a powerful but a slow intellect. With time to think, he acted wisely. But on the first days of the mutiny the civil servants—the Grants, Beadons, Dorins, men of a stamp very different from the clear-sighted and determined statesmen of the Punjab—sadly misled him. They treated the mutiny in the army as a military squabble that would soon be quelled. The civil servants looked down on the military servants of the Company, and from the height of their conceit lived on in blessed ignorance of military affairs. To this we must trace the paltering way in which the Government dealt with the mutiny at the outset; and the severe rebuffs they administered to all—not of the Government—who offered either counsel or advice. It is true, the Governor-General had very few European troops under his hand—only the 53rd at Fort William, and the 84th at Barrackpore. But at an earlier, he ought to have done what he did at a later stage: he might have called in troops from Madras, Ceylon, Mauritius, and the Cape. On the 10th of May, before he knew of the outburst at Meerut, Sir John Lawrence had telegraphed his opinion to Calcutta that the whole regular army was ready to break out. And then he gave this large-minded counsel:—"Send for troops from Persia. Intercept the force now on its way to China, and bring it to Calcutta. Every European soldier will be required to save the country if the whole of the native troops turn against us. This is the opinion of all leading minds here"—in the Punjab. But at Calcutta, had the civilians been as quick-sighted as Lawrence, this advice would have been needless, for the course it recommended would have been adopted in March, or at least in April. After Meerut, it was too late to prevent, though not to cure. Lord Elphinstone, indeed, at Bombay, saw what was coming; and as soon as he knew that peace had been made with Persia—that is, in April—he pressed on General Outram the necessity of sending back to India the European troops at once. The Governor-General allowed him to act on his discretion, and Sir James, being discreet, complied with the urgent request of the Governor of Bombay. Yet General Havelock did not quit Mohamerah, at the head of the Persian Gulf, until the 15th, nor did he land at Bombay until the 29th of May, when he was astounded by the news that Delhi was in the hands of mutinous Sepoys. He at once set out for Calcutta by sea; but being wrecked off Ceylon, he did not reach Calcutta until the 17th of June. With him went from Madras Sir Patrick Grant, who, on the death of Anson, was appointed Commander-in-Chief. By this time the Bengal native army had practically "gone."

It was not until the middle of May that Lord Canning, getting some insight into the facts, sent to Ceylon, Mauritius, and Madras for troops, and despatched a steamer to lie in wait for the regiments bound to China, and ordered the late army of Persia to come to Calcutta. The first to arrive were the Madras Fusiliers, under Colonel Neill, a man swift to see and to strike, who did not understand the system of paltering with mutiny. The Madras Europeans arrived on the 23rd of May, and were at once, with the 84th, despatched towards the North-West.

While Neill was hastening onwards towards Benares, and Allahabad, and Cawnpore, the native regiments at these and other stations had thrilled to the shock of the news from Delhi and were prepared to imitate the example. There was one European regiment, the 10th Foot, and three native regiments, at Dinapore, near Patna, 130 miles from Benares; at Benares there were a Sikh regiment, and two Bengal regiments, and thirty European artillerymen; at Allahabad there were a few Sikhs under Braysher—a gallant soldier who had risen from the ranks—and the 6th Native Infantry. Benares, the sacred city, was the headquarters of Hindooism. Its population, numbered at 300,000, mainly Hindoos, was turbulent. Within its walls lived many dethroned princes, from Nepaul and Sattara, a branch of the Delhi family, and several Sikhs. Here, if anywhere, disaffection was certain to exist; and here were only thirty British soldiers and the civil servants. Among these civil servants was Mr. Frederick Gubbins, a very resolute man; and when news of the Meerut mutiny came, although he saw the peril, he determined to stand stiffly up against it and resist. On the 3rd of June the vanguard of the Madras Fusiliers arrived—sixty men—and the question of at once using them and the Sikhs to disarm the 37th Native Infantry was debated. News came that the 17th Native Infantry at Azimghur had just mutinied, and it was resolved on the 4th to disarm the regiment the next day. At this crisis Colonel Neill came in. He saw no good in delay. "As soon as the 37th hear of the mutiny at Azimghur," he said, "they will rise. Do it at once." Brigadier Ponsonby yielded. The troops were paraded; the Sikhs and irregular cavalry on the left, the artillery on the right, of the 37th. The latter at once mutinied, and began firing. Two or three officers fell. The artillery opened fire. By some mistake, never explained, the Sikhs fired on their officers and on the Fusiliers. Then the guns opened on them, and all was confusion. Brigadier Ponsonby fell from sunstroke. Neill took command, and with his handful of thirty gunners and Fusiliers, routed the rebels. The whole district around for many miles rose in revolt at once; but such was the stern energy of Neill, the occult and long-acquired influence of Gubbins, the devotion of men like Venables and Chapman, indigo planters, that not only was the city population held down, but in a very short time we regained our power here also. At this time gibbets were set up and, for many months, traitors and mutineers of every caste and rank were mercilessly hanged thereon.

The safety of Benares was important in a political point of view and it was guarded by thirty European artillerymen! The safety of Allahabad was essential in a military point of view and it did not contain a single European soldier! Its absolute masters were the 6th Native Infantry, a native battery, and part of the Ferozepore regiment of Sikhs. Yet what was Allahabad? It was not only a very strong fortress, commanding the confluence of the Ganges and Jumna; it was not only the point of passage over the Jumna into the Doab on one side, and thence to the north-west, and over the Ganges on the other into Oude and the valley of the Goomtee; it was the greatest arsenal in India—full of guns, stores, ammunition; our sole base of operations upwards towards Cawnpore and Lucknow. The 6th Native Infantry were quite ready to mutiny. Fortunately, Government in a moment of alarm—for it had its moments of alarm as well as its moments of confidence—ordered up from Chunar some sixty European artillerymen, all invalids, yet fit for garrison duty. These arrived on the 23rd of May, and entered the fort. They saved this invaluable post. The 6th had volunteered to march on Delhi, and Government was so delighted that on the 5th its commander, Colonel Simpson, was directed by telegraph to thank the regiment, and tell them the order would appear in the next Gazette. On that very day came news of the mutiny at Benares, and on the 6th of June, twenty-four hours after it had been thanked for loyalty, the 6th rose, and the men shot nearly every one of their officers. In the fort all was anxiety. The real nature of the contest raging in cantonments was not known until an officer, naked from a swim in the Jumna, ran in. Then, by the steadfastness and skill of Braysher, the Sikhs were induced to disarm the company of the 6th, and the fort was saved. But the rabble invested the fort! For five days this was permitted and not a gun allowed to be fired. Colonel Neill, with forty men, came up on the 11th from Benares. The bridge of boats was in the hands of the rebels, but he got a boat and crossed below it. Then, without resting, he organised a plan for recovering the bridge; and early next morning he executed it with vigour and promptitude. From that time he continued to regain the lost sway over the city. Neill became a name of terror all along the banks of the Ganges, and by his wise as well as severe measures he made it possible for Havelock to avenge Cawnpore.

Cawnpore is a large station. Seated on the right bank of the Ganges, it is midway between Lucknow and Calpee and Agra and Allahabad. Thus, it was one of the most important stations in the Doab of the Ganges and Jumna—a central point whence troops might move on an enemy or intercept one on four great lines. There were three regiments of native infantry, the 1st, 53rd, and 56th, and one regiment of native cavalry, in the station. There were about sixty European artillerymen and six guns. The commandant was Sir Hugh Wheeler, a soldier who had served under Lord Lake fifty-four years before, and who then and since had led Sepoys in battle in half a dozen great campaigns. There were at Cawnpore the wives and children of the men of the 32nd Foot; a number of ladies, wives of officers and civilians, and many merchants and traders and their families. Agitated by the earlier incidents of the mutiny, the natives were more deeply stirred by the outbreak at Meerut and Delhi, and General Wheeler felt that no trust could be placed in the men he commanded. But he was absolutely powerless. He had only sixty-one Europeans. He could not disarm the Cawnpore garrison. He could only wait and watch, and prepare some ark of refuge, however frail. Nor had he much time. News of the Delhi massacres arrived on the 14th of May. The troops gave no outward sign. A few days afterwards Mrs. Fraser entered the station. Her husband had been slain at Delhi, and she had travelled down 266 miles in safety. A native had undertaken to perform the journey, and he did. This lady was a real heroine, and in the dreadful days at hand, regardless of herself, she gave up everything to soothe and minister to the wounded.

On the 20th of May all communication with Delhi and Agra had ceased. Fires broke out in the native lines, and prophecies of evil were uttered. Sir Hugh Wheeler entrenched an old hospital—two brick buildings, one thatched, one roofed with stone. The entrenchment was so slight that a British horseman could have leaped in anywhere. In this enclosure the guns were placed, and the women and children were ordered to take up their quarters therein. Stores of food, but not sufficient, were laid up. Happily, ammunition was plentiful. There were nine guns in the work. Still there was no sign of mutiny. But, as the treasure was exposed, Sir Hugh and Mr. Hillersden requested the Nana Sahib of Bithoor to supply a guard. He complied, bringing down troops of his own, and taking up his quarters in the civil lines. Who was the Nana Sahib? He was the son of a Brahmin living near Bombay. His name was Seereek Dhoondoo Punt. Bajee Rao, the last Peishwa, having no issue of his own, adopted him; and when, for his treachery, Bajee Rao was dethroned, the Government granted him a pension, and sent him to live at Bithoor, on the Ganges, a few miles above Cawnpore. When he died, the Nana, by forging a will, obtained his enormous wealth; but Government refused to continue the pension allowed to the late Peishwa. That Nana Sahib never forgave, but he showed no sign of resentment. He lived a life of the lowest sensual indulgence in the splendid fort at Bithoor. He was on the most friendly terms with the British officers, frequently entertaining them at Bithoor, but accepting no hospitality in return. He had for prime minister, or chief agent, one Azimoolah, originally a waiter, then teacher in the Government schools at Cawnpore, then agent to Nana Sahib. Azimoolah was sent to London to pray the Board of Directors to grant the Nana his pension. He came in 1854, was a lion in society, much admired by the ladies, at one time nearly carrying off one to grace his harem. He returned to India by way of Constantinople, and was there in the depths of that dreary winter when our soldiers were holding the heights at so much cost.

After the 20th of May the Sepoys did not conceal their feelings. They held nightly meetings; the character of those meetings was known from spies. The 2nd Cavalry, especially, displayed hostility; and when Sir Hugh sought to remove the treasure, the Sepoys would not part with it, and it had to be left under the joint care of them and Nana Sahib. On the 21st, all the European residents, except one, Sir George Parker, cantonment magistrate, entered the entrenchment. The next day a company of the 32nd, under Captain Moore, arrived from Lucknow, lent by Sir Henry Lawrence. For a week there was dreadful suspense; then 160 men of the 84th Foot and Madras Fusiliers arrived, with the cheering news that more troops were on their way. On the 26th Sir Hugh thought he should soon be able to dispense with the 32nd men, and hold his own until troops came from Calcutta. But the mutinies at Benares and Allahabad put an end to the fulfilment of that hope. There is every reason to believe that at this time Nana Sahib was playing a double game, and that he found willing agents in the 2nd Cavalry. But up to the last moment the Sepoys affected loyalty, and actually gave up one man on a charge of spreading sedition. But the poison of mutiny had worked deeply into their hearts, and the day of disaster duly arrived.

Up to the 4th of June the officers had slept in the native lines. After that day Sir Hugh would not allow them to do so any more, and they found corners in the entrenchment. The signs of approaching mutiny were now plain. There were 210 soldiers of the artillery, the 32nd, the 84th, and the Madras Fusiliers, about a hundred officers, the same number of merchants and clerks, and forty drummers; giving a total of 450 fighting men, and nine guns. It has been well said that these could have fought their way out in any direction; but encumbered with 330 women and children, they could do nothing but remain and wait for succour. On the night of the 6th of June the 2nd Cavalry rose. Captain Thomson, one of the few survivors of the Cawnpore tragedy, thus describes the mutiny: "An hour or two after the flight of the cavalry, the 1st Native Infantry also bolted, leaving their officers untouched upon the parade ground. The 56th Native Infantry followed the next morning. The 53rd remained till, by some error of the general, they were fired into. I am at an utter loss to account for this proceeding. The men were peacefully occupied in their lines, cooking; no signs of mutiny had appeared amidst their ranks; they had refused all the solicitations of the deserters to accompany them, and seemed quite steadfast, when Ashe's battery opened upon them, by Sir Hugh Wheeler's command, and they were literally driven from us by 9-pounders. The only signal that had preceded this step was the calling into the entrenchments of the native officers of the regiment. The whole of them cast in their lot with us, besides 150 privates, most of them belonging to the Grenadier company. The detachment of the 53rd posted at the treasury held their ground against the rebels about four hours. We could hear their musketry in the distance, but were not allowed to attempt their relief. The faithful little band that had joined our desperate fortunes was ordered to occupy the military hospital, about 600 yards to the east of our position, and they held it for nine days, when, in consequence of its being set on fire, they were compelled to evacuate. They applied for admission to enter the entrenchments, but were told that we had not food sufficient to allow of an increase to our number. Major Hillersden gave them a few rupees each, together with a certificate of their fidelity."

The first impulse of the mutineers was to march on Delhi. There, they rightly judged, the struggle would be fought out. They had laden elephants with treasure, and carts with ammunition and plunder. They had marched forward on the road, when Nana Sahib beset them with offers of service, and incitements to destroy their white masters. For some time they resisted; but the temptations proved to be too seductive, and they enlisted, as it were, under the flag of one who dreamed of restoring the Mahratta empire. So the whole force turned back towards Cawnpore, and sat down before the entrenchment. To please his new followers, Nana Sahib hoisted two standards—the Moslem and the Hindoo flag. To gratify his troops, he directed the sack of the European houses, and even those of wealthy natives in Cawnpore. He took possession of the store of shot and shell; he mounted heavy guns. To give a colour of fairness to his conduct, he notified to Sir Hugh Wheeler by letter that he intended to attack him, and he followed up the threat by opening fire on the 8th of June.

The little garrison of Cawnpore, thus beleaguered, held out for twenty days, and even then yielded honourably to famine, not arms. Their sufferings during this time can neither be imagined nor described. The entrenchment was about 250 yards square. The mud wall had been made by digging a trench and throwing the earth outwards. Thus, about five feet cover was obtained; but where the spaces were left for the guns there was no cover at all. From the eastern side a little redan was made and armed, and at three other points there were small batteries. As muskets and ammunition abounded, five or six loaded muskets, with bayonets fixed, were placed near each man in the trenches, so as to ensure a rapid fire. In the centre of the entrenchment was a well. Near it were two buildings, each having only a single storey, and one only a stone roof. They were intended to accommodate a company of a hundred men. Within them were stowed more than three hundred women and children, and the sick. The heat was so fierce that it was often impossible to hold a musket barrel, and once or twice muskets exploded from heat alone. Think, then, what these women and children must have suffered, crowded together in those barracks. As soon as the place was beleaguered, men drew water at the risk of their lives, and from the beginning of the siege not a drop could be spared for purposes of cleanliness. With scanty clothing, meagre diet of flour and split peas; with water, often bought for its weight in silver from the men who drew it, and measured out in drops; with cannon thundering day and night, with shot and shell tearing through the buildings, with the sickness of hope deferred upon them, who can imagine the agonies of those weary hours? The men, all save one officer, went forth to fight, but the women could only watch and wait, and listen to the piteous cries of children, whose throats were parched, whose lips were baked with thirst. For the men there was the chance of a death-struggle, or death from shot or shell. Nothing but patience and longsuffering for the women. Some went mad; some sought death; but others behaved as angels may, with a courage, a fortitude, a forgetfulness of self, men may imitate but not excel.

This little enclosure was defended solely by the courage of the garrison. The Sepoys had seen how white men fight, how they dare danger in every shape, almost in sport, above all, how in battle they stand by each other with never-failing confidence. The prestige of the British soldier never stood him in better stead than in this Indian mutiny. Driven to bay here with such slender defences as we have described, it is a fact that the surrounding multitudes never once charged home. In a very few days the original force of mutineers was tripled. There came up men of the 6th from Allahabad, and men of various regiments from Oude, and hordes of scoundrels from all the country side, until there were 10,000 armed men raging round the little force. They had three mortars and ten guns firing night and day, in addition to the musketry of the Sepoys. The entrenchments were entirely commanded from two buildings, and all around there was plenty of cover; yet with all these numbers and advantages the cowards did not venture on a hand-to-hand fight. On the west of the fort was a series of unfinished barracks. They were connected with the entrenchment by a sort of covered way, made of carts; two or three of these were held by small detachments of fifteen or twenty men, one composed of railway engineers and platelayers. With nothing but musketry and this cover, these gallant fellows kept the enemy at bay, and inflicted on them great losses. On one occasion a host of Sepoys charged up with the seeming intention of getting in. The garrison of seventeen men killed eighteen assailants at pistol-shot range, and drove them away. On another, Captain Moore, the soul of the defence, resolved to try a new trick; he and Lieutenant Delafosse, suddenly leaped out, calling in a loud voice, "Number one to the front!" The skulking scoundrels, thinking a company was about to charge, rose from their cover like a flock of sparrows, and gave the defenders an opportunity of pouring in a deadly volley.

All this time the thermometer ranged from 128° to 138°. Tortured by this dreadful heat, grimed with dirt, devoured by myriads of flies, suffering agonies from thirst, enduring the severest pangs of hunger, exposed to death in every shape, our beleaguered countrymen and countrywomen still bore up against fate, with grim and steadfast determination. The Sepoys took every advantage; not a little child could stray out from the scanty shelter of shattered walls or holes in the trenches without drawing upon itself the fire of a hundred muskets. If any one went to the well, he was a mark for big guns and bullets; and at night the sound of the creaking wheels revealing the fact that men were drawing the water, called forth a hail of shot. Yet men went out and endured this fate by day and night, to draw water for the women and the wounded. "My friend, John M'Killop, of the Civil Service," writes Captain Thomson, "greatly distinguished himself here; he became, self-constituted, Captain of the Well. He jocosely said that he was no fighting man, but would make himself useful where he could, and accordingly he took this post; drawing for the supply of the women and the children as often as he could. It was less than a week after he had undertaken this self-denying service, when his numerous escapes were followed by a grape-shot wound in the groin, and speedy death. Disinterested even in death, his last words were an earnest entreaty that somebody would go and draw water for a lady to whom he had promised it."

Besides this well there was another near one of the unfinished barracks. "We drew no water there; it was our cemetery." Stealthily at night, the bodies of the dead were carried out, and thrown into this well; and in three weeks it was choked up with the remains of 250 persons! On the 13th of June a great misfortune befell the garrison. One of the buildings in the entrenchments was used as a hospital. It had a thatched roof. On the evening of the 13th a shell or "carcase" set this on fire, and the whole building was soon in a blaze. By the light of the flames the Sepoys poured in a heavy fire on the women and children running out, and on the men bearing off the wounded, some of whom perished there, while all the medicines and surgical instruments were destroyed! This moment of trial the enemy selected for an attack, hoping to find the garrison unprepared. They were deceived. Every man was on the alert. The mutineers were allowed to come close up, and then the guns opened with grape, and the infantry firing muskets, ready loaded, as fast as they could pick them up, drove off the yelling assailants, with great slaughter. At another time they approached, rolling before them bales of cotton, but these were speedily set on fire with shells, after which grape-shot soon thinned the ranks of the flying crew. These attacks were repeated in different ways, but always with the same result.

But a few details abridged from Captain Thomson's narrative of what he called the superficial horrors of the siege, will better enable the reader to conceive the agonies of those three weeks, than pages of general description. A group of soldiers' wives were sitting in the trenches. A shell fell among them, and killed and wounded seven. "Mrs. White, a private's wife, was walking with her husband, under cover, as they thought, of the wall, her twin children one in each arm, when a single bullet passed through her husband, killing him. It passed also through both her arms, breaking them, and close beside the breathless husband and father fell the widow and her babes; one of the latter being also severely wounded. I saw her afterwards in the main-guard, lying upon her back, with the two children, twins, laid one at each breast, while the mother's bosom refused not what her arms had no power to administer." An ayah, nursing a baby, lost both legs from a cannon shot, while the infant was uninjured. Mrs. Evans was killed by falling bricks brought down by a round shot. Mr. Hillersden, the collector, was talking to his wife, when he was cut in two by a round shot. Two days afterwards a mass of falling bricks killed his wife. Here are two other terrible pictures. In the unburnt, but not unbroken barrack, "Lieutenant G. R. Wheeler, son and aide-de-camp of the general, was sitting upon a sofa, fainting from a wound he had received in the trenches; his sister was fanning him, when a round shot entered the doorway, and left him a headless trunk. One sister at his feet, and father, mother, and another sister, in different parts of the same room, were witnesses of the appalling spectacle. Mr. Herberden, of the railway service, was handing one of the ladies some water, when a charge of grape entered the barrack, and a shot passed through both his hips, leaving an awful wound. He lay for a whole week upon his face, and was carried upon a mattress down to the boats, where he died. The fortitude he had shown in active service did not forsake him during his extraordinary sufferings, for not a murmur escaped his lips."

Enough of these horrors. It is a relief to turn from them to the recorded acts of daring, of which let this one suffice. As Sir Hugh Wheeler was too old to take an active share in a defence, which he, nevertheless, helped to sustain by his unconquerable spirit, Captain Moore, of the 32nd, was the real leader of the garrison. A genuine soldier, he conceived the idea of making a sortie by night, and spiking the Sepoy cannon. He was at the time suffering from a wound; yet, one night, he led out fifty men, spiked three guns near the church, killed several gunners, and spiked two 24-pounders at the mess-house, with the loss of one killed and four wounded. This illustrates the active valour of this garrison. It availed little, for fresh pieces were brought up the next day.

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

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

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

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

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

The next day, July 2nd, Sir Henry Lawrence was mortally wounded by a piece of shell, and died on the 4th. Shot and shell raining on the Residency, confusion all around, were the accompaniments of his last hours. He was not only an able man, but a good man, with a heart abounding in charity for all. Few men have left a brighter track on the dark stream of Indian history. Schools and asylums are as much his monuments as deeds of statecraft, and it may be that the Lawrence Asylum for European children, up in the hills of the North-West, will bear his name vividly to a posterity which will have only a faint idea of the early administration of the Punjab.