Pillage.—Military surveying.—Tippoo Saib.—His armour and mantle.—Tippoo’s treachery.—Seringapatam attacked by British and native troops, commanded by Major-General Baird.—Colonels Dunlop and Sherbrooke.—A shot breaks the chain of the draw-bridge.—Terrible carnage.—Tippoo Saib killed.—Seringapatam taken.—The storming of Ghuznee.—The forlorn hope.—The gate of the fortress blown in.—Colonel Dennie leads on the stormers.—The mistake.—A retreat sounded.—Brigadier Sale advances.—Desperate struggle.—The place taken.

“You have been told, boys, of a blockade, a bombardment, and a siege, and now you shall have a storming party, which is one of the most desperate of military undertakings. Pity it is that there should ever be occasion to resort to it, for pillage and plunder never yet made a good soldier, though they are thought of more than they ought to be. A soldier should never step out in disgrace, nor halt in the march of duty. If there be one thing more than another that I abhor, it is pillage and plunder.”

“Do the soldiers when they storm a place plunder, and do what they like?”

“It has been too common a thing in war, to promise the soldiers a few days’ pillage before they storm a place, to hearten them on; and they are not backward to profit by the opportunity. Some on these occasions act a brutal part; but there are men in the army whose hearts are unhardened by their profession, and whose generous dispositions move them more to clemency than cruelty. War has horrors enough, without adding to its evils by selfish and reckless cruelty and brutality. The soldier, whether he carries a musket, or wears epaulettes on his shoulders, who, fired with revenge and flushed with victory, stains his blade with the blood of a vanquished enemy, or ill-uses fear-struck and defenceless woman, is a ruffian, and not worthy to be called a man. He may think lightly of the curse of a dying husband or brother; he may turn into mirth the clasped hands and weeping eyes of injured innocence, but the artillery of Heaven will roar in his ears in an unlooked-for hour, and its thunders will be directed against his heart;—but I forget that you are waiting to hear of a storming party. I have been present at some, and have heard a description of many. I will tell you, first, of the storming of Seringapatam in India, in the year 1799, and then of the storming of Ghuznee, in Persia, a year or two ago.”

“Now, then, for the storming of Seringapatam.”

“I should have mentioned to you, that one part of the duty of a commander, especially when the seat of war is but imperfectly known, is to take care that military surveying is not neglected.”

“What do you mean by military surveying?”

“The art of military surveying, is to represent on paper the features of a country, that the operations of the service may be carried on with less difficulty, and more effect. If the commander of an army, or of a smaller force, is unacquainted with the country or neighbourhood in which he is, it will be necessary to reconnoitre it, for a knowledge of hills, woods, rivers, and brooks, as well as that of the force and position of the enemy. Military surveying is much the same as reconnoitering, only the latter is done rapidly with the naked eye, the former with instruments, and with greater care. But, I am forgetting the storming of Seringapatam.”

“We are quite ready to hear all about it.”

“In storming a place, in order to insure success, it is necessary to act scrupulously according to orders given; moving a minute before or after the proper time may endanger the whole enterprise. I will read you the Order under which the fifth regiment acted on the night of the 19th of January 1812, in the great breach, by the third division, at the storming of Ciudad Rodrigo.

“‘ORDER.

“‘The fifth regiment will attack the entrance of the ditch, at the junction of the counterscarpe with the main wall of the place. Major Sturgeon will show them the point of attack. They must issue from the right of the convent of Santa Cruz. They must have twelve axes, in order to cut down the gate by which the ditch is entered at the junction of the counterscarpe with the body of the place. The fifth regiment is likewise to have twelve scaling ladders, twenty-five feet long, and immediately on entering the ditch are to scale the fausse braye, in order to clear it of the enemy’s parties on their left, towards the principal breach. It will throw over any guns it may meet with, and will proceed along the fausse braye, where it will wait until Major-General Mackinnon’s column has passed on to the main attack, when it will follow in its rear. This regiment will make its attack at ten minutes before eleven o’clock. The seventy-seventh regiment will be in reserve on the right of the convent of Santa Cruz.’

“You see by this Order how necessary it is to be scrupulously exact in a storm. The capture of Seringapatam, the capital of the Mysore country, was, to the East India Company, an object of great importance, and the storming of the place was executed with great boldness. That Tippoo Saib was a treacherous and cruel tyrant there can be little doubt; and, if you have ever visited the museum of the East India House, you have seen a proof of his ferocity.”

“We have never been there. What is it that you mean?”

“There is in the museum a musical instrument that was made for Tippoo Saib. It is a kind of organ, and when the handle of it is turned round a tiger leaps on a prostrate British soldier, to tear him to pieces. The piteous cries of the soldier, and the savage yell of the tiger, afforded the tyrant much amusement.”

“Then he must have been a cruel savage, sure enough. We should like to see the museum.”

“There are many things in it which were taken from Tippoo, and among them his silken banners, decorated with the blazing sun, rent and torn by the storm of battle; his helm, his armour, and his mantle. His helmet is made of brass, with a silk covering, and his mantle has on it an inscription, written in Persian, which says that it had been dipped in the holy well at Mecca, and rendered invulnerable.”

“We shall, perhaps, see the India House Museum some day, and we shall be sure to look for the tiger and the soldier.”

“Tippoo Saib was the son of Hyder Ally; but he was much bolder and much more cunning and ferocious than his father. Soon after he ascended the throne, he attacked General Matthews, who had penetrated to Bednore, the capital of Cadnore. With his cavalry, and a few French troops, he made a desperate attack on the general, who, with the loss of five hundred Englishmen, took refuge in Bednore, where he soon surrendered.”

“Tippoo knew how to fight, it seems.”

“He did; but in battles, whether on sea or land, he who is a conqueror to-day may be a captive to-morrow. Tippoo found this to his cost. Detected in corresponding with the French, and plotting against the English, for their expulsion from India, it was determined to attack him in his capital. Desperate was the attack of the British and native troops, and desperate the defence of Tippoo, with his guards and his tiger grenadiers. General Harris was the British commander; but the attack on Seringapatam was entrusted to Major-General Baird, who had once been taken prisoner by Tippoo, and kept in irons for near four years.”

“He would be sure to do his best, then.”

“No doubt he did. For some days the walls of Seringapatam were battered. At last a practicable breach was made, and then the place was stormed. Ten flank companies, supported by the 12th, 33rd, 73rd, and 74th regiments, with three corps of grenadier sepoys, and two hundred men from the troops of his highness the Nizam, formed the assaulting party, assisted by artillery-men and pioneers, while the battalions of Madras sepoys supported them in the trenches. Major-General Baird divided his forces, that he might the more easily clear the ramparts right and left. Colonel Sherbrooke led one party, and Lieutenant-Colonel Dunlop the other.”

“Tippoo would not be conquered very easily; he would never surrender.”

“A singular circumstance took place during the attack, that much favoured the British troops. A shot struck the chain that supported the draw-bridge, and divided it. Down fell the bridge, and thus enabled the besiegers to cross the moat. There was a rush to defend the bridge, and terrible was the carnage upon it; but British troops are not easily driven back, and they won their way.”

“How glad the British would be to see the draw-bridge fall.”

“Glad enough! Colonel Sherbrooke and Colonel Dunlop were both successful in their attacks. The tiger grenadiers made a desperate sortie from a sally-port, but they were met by some brave Highlanders and others, and, in spite of all resistance, the place was taken.”

“What became of Tippoo? was he taken prisoner?”

“No, not alive. He was pressing on to encourage his troops, when he received a musket-ball in his right side; and soon after another. His horse fell, being wounded, and then Tippoo’s turban fell from his head.”

“Poor Tippoo! Then it was all over with him.”

“He was placed, wounded as he was, on his palanquin near the gate under the archway, and one of his domestics who survived, said, that a soldier who came up, snatched at his rich sword-belt, but Tippoo made a cut at him with his sword and wounded him. This enraged the soldier, who, raising his musket, shot him through the temples, when he instantly fell and expired.”

“We can’t help being sorry for him, cruel as he was.”

“When his body was found it was under a heap of slain, and despoiled of sword, jacket and turban. On his right arm was fastened an amulet of metal, like silver, sewed up in fine flowered silk. This was a talisman, for, besides the metal, it contained some small manuscripts, in magic Arabic and Persian characters.”

“The talisman did not save him from being killed.”

“It did not: his time was come. And it shows us the uncertainty of the life of a king as well as that of a common soldier. What was Tippoo in the morning when he quitted his palace? why, a king! a Sultan as proud as wealth and power could make him. What was he before set of sun? A disfigured lump of breathless clay! deprived not only of his capital and his kingdom, but also of his life. His proud palace, too, was occupied by General Baird; he whom Tippoo had before kept in cruel bondage for so long a period, at a short distance only from that gateway under which the tyrant fell!”

“There were a great number killed on both sides, no doubt?”

“I cannot tell the loss on the part of Tippoo, but on the English side there were between five and six hundred, reckoning killed, wounded and missing, altogether.”

“We should think it a terrible thing to see one man killed, but five or six hundred! that is dreadful.”

“Well, if I now tell you of the storming of Ghuznee, you will have had enough of fighting for one while. The storming of Ghuznee, in Affghanistan in Eastern Persia, a year or two ago, produced a strong sensation, both on account of the desperate resistance of the garrison and the courage and complete success of the besiegers.”

“Please to give us the account, and we will not interrupt you with a single word.”

“I should have told you, that in storming a place it is customary for a small party to go first. This party is composed of soldiers who freely volunteer their services; it is called the ‘forlorn hope,’ on account of the extreme peril hazarded by the party. In this instance the party was a strong one. When a soldier goes on a forlorn hope he often does two things at once—he wins a reputation for bravery and loses his name from the muster-roll. The gate of the fortress was blown in with gunpowder, and when the single bugle sounded, the stormers, headed by Colonel Dennie, rushed into the dark and smoking entrance, where they came at once into deadly conflict with the Affghans of the garrison. It was night, and nothing could be distinctly seen in the gateway; but the clash and clang of contending swords and bayonets were fearful. Hand to hand some fought their way, others poured in, as opportunity occurred, at pistol-shot, a destructive fire of musketry. At last they could see, as they penetrated further, a little of the blue sky, and, here and there, a twinkling star, over the heads of their enemies; but they had no time for star-gazing. On they went, till a force of four companies had, in some sort, established themselves in the fortress! A loud cheer was then raised to announce their success to their companions outside the place. Brigadier Sale was bringing up his men to support the forlorn hope, when he met an engineer officer who had been injured by the explosion at the gate. This officer told him the forlorn hope could not force its way, the passage was so choked up with rubbish. Brigadier Sale, knowing that under such circumstances it would be sacrificing his party to proceed, sounded a retreat, and thereby put the victorious forlorn hope in extreme danger from the want of support. This was, however, but for a short time, for, soon after, the success of the stormers was made known to him. The Brigadier then advanced with his men, but was met by a large body of Affghans, rushing headlong from the ramparts to the opening to make their escape. The encounter was desperate; and one of the Affghans, leaping over the fallen timber, brought down the brigadier with a cut in the face with his sharp shumsheer, striking him also, as he fell, another stunning blow. The Affghan lost his footing, and grappling his enemy, rolled with him on the ground. This was a critical moment: the brigadier contrived to grasp the Affghan’s hand, so as to keep fast the hilt of his shumsheer till Captain Kershaw came up and passed his sabre through his body. Still the desperate struggle continued, for the infuriated Affghan was not subdued till the brigadier got his right hand sufficiently at liberty to cleave the head of his opponent with his sword, when the latter shouted out ‘Ue Allah!’ and breathed his last. Allah, or Ullah, is the name the Mahomedans give to God.

“Though Brigadier Sale was unable at the moment to enter on active service, he yet calmly directed the movements of his men. There was desperate fighting; but British muskets and British bayonets won their way, and repeated shouts from the area of the fortress told the commander-in-chief, posted on the heights, that the walls were in possession of his troops. An order was now given to turn every gun on the heights towards the citadel. Colonel Croker with his troops entered the gates, winding his way upwards, as well as the ruins of the place would allow, towards the citadel, while the reserve troops, which had closed up close to the walls, had to endure the fire of hidden enemies from the ramparts. At last the reserve troops also entered the gates. It was thought the most desperate resistance would take place in the citadel, but it was not so, for Mohammed Hyder, in consternation at the boldness of the stormers, abandoned the mound. The gates of the citadel were burst open, and the colours of the 13th light infantry, and of the 17th regiment, were soon seen waving on the stronghold of Ghuznee. All was confusion; the rattle of muskets, the clashing of bayonets and swords, and the shrieks of the women of the harem were mingled, while the cries and groans of the wounded, and the flight of the fugitives increased the general consternation of the garrison. The reserve troops pressed on to the eastern rampart, when a body of concealed Affghans madly rushed forth, sword in hand, to cut a passage to the gateway. Just then a group of wearied soldiers were resting on the low ground below the citadel, where many of the wounded men lay, and where hundreds of Affghan horses were wildly galloping to and fro. On this group the furious Affghans rushed. The soldiers sprang to their feet, and a dreadful carnage ensued. A wild fusillade was directed against the Affghans, who fell, grinding their teeth with rage, crying, ‘Ue Allah!’ or giving vent to curses. Courage, calmness, rage, suffering, supplication, and despair, were all visible. The dying were mingled with the dead. The narrow streets of the town were scoured by the besiegers, the detached tower was carried by the gorge, and the garrison completely subdued. In little better than two hours after the attack commenced, Ghuznee, with its garrison of three thousand five hundred men, was taken, without a single ladder being raised in escalade—thus showing the wondrous superiority of British valour and British tactics.”

“Well! that was a very desperate affair.”

“It was; but war is a desperate game; it is often so to the winner, and always to the loser. There has been sad news lately from India. The Affghans have been victorious, some thousands of our troops have fallen, and the wives of several British officers are in the hands of the enemy.”