Twelve Years Of A Soldier's Life In India Part 2

But who, at this juncture, will open the road to Meerut, from the general in command of which place we want papers and intelligence? The following extract from the letter of an officer stationed at that place will, perhaps, explain:--

"When the mutiny broke out, our communications were completely cut off. One night, on outlying picket at Meerut, this subject being discussed, I said, 'Hodson is at Umbala, I know; and I'll bet he will force his way through, and open communications with the Commander-in-Chief and ourselves.'

At about three that night I heard my advanced sentries firing. I rode off to see what was the matter, and they told me that a party of the enemy's cavalry had approached their post. When day broke, in galloped Hodson. He had left Kurnal (seventy-six miles off) at nine the night before, with one led horse and an escort of Sikh cavalry, and, as I had antic.i.p.ated, here he was with despatches for Wilson. How I quizzed him for approaching an armed post at night without knowing the parole. Hodson rode straight to Wilson, had his interview, a bath, breakfast, and two hours' sleep, and then rode back the seventy-six miles, and had to fight his way for about thirty miles of the distance."

The pace pleased the general, Hodson supposes, for "he ordered me to raise a corps of Irregular Horse, and appointed me Commandant," but "still no tidings from the hills," (where his wife is;) "this is a terrible additional pull upon one's nerves at a time like this, and is a phase of war I never calculated on."

On the 27th of May the march towards Delhi begins, and Hodson accompanies, acting as a.s.sistant Quartermaster-General attached to the Commander-in-Chief, "with free access to him at any time, and to other people in authority, which gives me power for good. The Intelligence Department is mine exclusively, and I have for this line Sir Henry's old friend, the one-eyed Moulvie, Rujub Alee, so I shall get the best news in the country." He starts, too, happy about his wife from whom he has heard; the hill stations all safe, and likely to remain so.

General Anson dies of cholera, and General Barnard succeeds; still, oddly enough, no change takes place in our lieutenant's appointments.

And so the little army marches, all too slowly, as the lieutenant thinks and remonstrates, upon Delhi. Other men are answering to the pressure of the times:--

"Colonel T. Seaton and the other officers have gone to Rohtuck with the 60th Native Infantry, who, I have no doubt, will desert to a man as soon as they get there. It is very plucky of him and the other officers to go; and very hard of the authorities to send them; a half-hearted measure, and very discreditable, in my opinion, to all concerned; affording a painful contrast to Sir John Lawrence's bold and decided conduct in this crisis. This regiment (1st Fusileers) is a credit to any army, and the fellows are in as high spirits and heart, and as plucky and free from croaking as possible, and really do good to the whole force.

"Alfred Light doing his work manfully and well....

Montgomery has come out very, very strong indeed; but many are beginning to knock up already, and this is but the beginning of this work, I fear; and before this business ends, we who are, thank G.o.d, still young and strong, shall alone be left in camp; all the elderly gentlemen will sink under the fatigue and exposure."

_June 5th._--Head-quarters arrive at Aleepore, nearly at the end of our march, in fact one may say at the end, for on that day I rode right up to the Delhi parade-ground to reconnoitre, and the few sowars whom I met galloped away like mad at the sight of one white face. "Had I had a hundred Guides with me I would have gone up to the very walls;" and on June the 8th we occupy our position before Delhi, having driven the enemy out of their position; not without loss, for Colonel Chester is killed, Alfred Light (who won the admiration of all) wounded.... No one else of the staff party killed or wounded; but our general returns will, I fear, tell a sad tale. I am mercifully unhurt, and write this line in pencil on the top of a drum to a.s.sure you thereof.

We must break the narrative here for a moment, now that we have got the combatants face to face, in the place of decision, to submit to our readers our own conviction that this same siege of Delhi, beginning on June 9th and ending triumphantly on September 22d, 1857, is _the_ feat of arms of which England has most cause to be proud.

From Cressy to Sebastopol it has never been equalled. A mere handful of Englishmen, for half the time numbering less than three thousand, sat down in the open field, in the worst days of an Indian summer, without regular communications, (for the daks were only got carried by bribery, stage by stage,) without proper artillery, and last and worst of all, without able leading, before and took a city larger than Glasgow, garrisoned by an army trained by Englishmen, and numbering at first 20,000, in another ten days 37,000, and at last 75,000 men, supplied with all but exhaustless munitions of war, and in the midst of a nation in arms. "I venture to aver," writes Hodson, "that no other nation in the world would have remained here, or have avoided defeat, had they attempted to do so." We agree with him; and we do trust that the nation will come to look at the siege of Delhi in the right light, and properly to acknowledge and reward the few who remain of that band of heroes who saved British India.

Our readers must also remember that we are not giving the story of the siege, but the story of Hodson's part therein, and must therefore not think we are unduly putting him forward to the depreciation of other as glorious names. We would that we had the same means of following the life day by day of Nicholson and Chamberlain, Tombs and Light, Welchman, Showers, Home, Salkeld, or a hundred others equally gallant.

But what we have is Hodson's life compiled from his daily letters to his wife. No doubt the work of the regulars was as important, perhaps even more trying, than that of the Captain of Irregular Cavalry, a.s.sistant Quartermaster-General, and head of the Intelligence Department; but these were his duties, and not the others', and we shall now see how he fulfilled them.

On the first day of the siege "the Guides" march into camp:

"It would have done your heart good to see the welcome they gave me--cheering and shouting and crowding round me like frantic creatures. They seized my bridle, dress, hands, and feet, and literally threw themselves down before the horse with the tears streaming down their faces. Many officers who were present hardly knew what to make of it, and thought the creatures were mobbing me; and so they were--but for joy, not for mischief."

"Burrah Serai-wallah," they shouted, ("great in battle" in the vulgar tongue,) making the staff and others open their eyes, who do not much believe, for their part, in the power of any Englishman really to attach to himself any native rascals.

Next day, June 10th, the ball opens. The mutineers march out in force and attack our position:

"I had command of all the troops on our right, the gallant Guides among the rest. They followed me, with a cheer for their old commander, and behaved with their usual pluck, and finally we drove the enemy in with loss.... Indeed, I did _not_ expose myself unnecessarily; for having to direct the movements of three or four regiments, I could not be in the front as much as I wished."

But wives will be anxious, my lieutenant, and making all just allowances, it must be confessed that you give her fair cause:

"The warmth of the reception again given me by the Guides was quite affecting, and has produced a great sensation in camp, and had a good effect on our native troops, insomuch that they are more willing to obey their European officers when they see their own countrymen's enthusiasm.

"My position is a.s.sistant Quartermaster-General on the Commander-in-Chief's personal staff. I am responsible for the Intelligence Department, and in the field, or when anything is going on for directing the movements of the troops in action, under the immediate orders of the general."

Again, on June 12th, we are at it:--

"A sharp fight for four hours, ending as usual. They have never yet been so punished as to-day. The Guides behaved admirably, so did the Fusileers as usual. I am vexed much at the _Lah.o.r.e Chronicle b.u.t.ter_, and wish people would leave me alone in the newspapers. The best b.u.t.ter I get is the deference and respect I meet with from all whose respect I care for, and the affectionate enthusiasm of the Guides, which increases instead of lessening."

But this daily repulsing attacks cannot be allowed to go on: cannot we have something to say to attacking them? So the general thinks, and sets Greathed, a.s.sisted by me and two more engineers, to submit a plan for taking Delhi.

"We drew up our scheme and gave it to the general, who highly approved, and will, I trust, carry it out; but how times must be changed, when four subalterns are called upon to suggest a means of carrying out so vitally important an enterprise as this, one on which the safety of the empire depends!"

Simple but "perfectly feasible" plan of four subalterns: blow open gates with powder, and go in with bayonet, and that there may be no mistake about it, I volunteer to lead the a.s.sault (wholly unmindful of that a.s.surance given to a loving heart in the hills that I am _not_ exposing myself) and fix on a small building in front of the gate as the rendezvous, which is now called "Hodson's Mosque."

General approves, and orders a.s.sault for the morning of June 13th.

Alas for our "perfectly feasible" plan!

"We were to have taken Delhi by a.s.sault last night, but a 'mistake of orders' (?) as to the right time of bringing the troops to the rendezvous prevented its execution. I am much annoyed and disappointed at our plan not having been carried out, because I am confident it would have been successful.

The rebels were cowed, and perfectly ignorant of any intention of so bold a stroke on our part as an a.s.sault; the surprise would have done everything."

Next day there is another fight. A council of war. Our plan is still approved, but put off from day to day. Abandoned at last, we are to wait for reinforcements. Poor "feasible plan!"

"It was frustrated the first night by the fears and absolute disobedience of orders of ----, the man who first lost Delhi, and has now by folly prevented its being recaptured.

The general has twice since wished and even ordered it, but has always been thwarted by some one or other; latterly by that old woman ----, who has come here for nothing apparently but as an obstacle; ---- is also a crying evil to us. The general knows this and wants to get rid of him, but has not the nerve to supersede him. The whole state of affairs here is bad to a degree."

And here I am (June 19th), with fights going on every day, knocked down with bronchitis and inflammation of the chest, "really very ill for some hours." "The general nurses me as if I were his son. I woke in the night and found the kind old man by my bedside covering me carefully up from the draught." But on June 20th (bronchitis notwithstanding) I am up and at work again, for the Sepoys have attacked our rear to-day, and though beaten as usual, Colonel Becher (Quartermaster-General) is shot through right arm, and Daly (commanding Guides) hit through the shoulder. So the whole work of the Quartermaster-General's office is on me, and the general begs me as a personal favor to take command of Guides in addition. I at first refused, but the general was most urgent, putting it on the ground that the service was at stake, and none was so fit, &c. &c. I do feel that we are bound to do our best just now to put things on a proper footing; and after consulting Seaton and Norman, I accepted the command. How ---- will gnash his teeth to see me leading my dear old Guides again in the field.

And so we fight on, literally day by day, for now "our artillery officers themselves say they are outmatched by these rascals in accuracy and rapidity of fire; and as they have unlimited supplies of guns, &c., they are quite beyond us in many respects. We are, in point of fact, reduced to merely holding our own ground till we get more men." Still we don't feel at all like giving in.

"The wounded generally are doing well, poor fellows, considering the heat, dirt, and want of any bed but the dry ground. Their pluck is wonderful, and it is not in the field alone that you see what an English soldier is made of. One poor fellow who was smoking his pipe and laughing with the comrade by his side, was asked, what was the matter with him, and he answered in a lively voice, 'Oh, not much, Sir, only a little knock on the back; I shall be up and at the rascals again in a day or two.' He had been shot in the spine, and all his lower limbs were paralyzed. He died next day. Colonel Welchman is about again; too soon, I fear, but there is no keeping the brave old man quiet. Poor Peter Brown is very badly wounded, but he is cheerful, and bears up bravely. Jacob has 'come out' wonderfully. He is cool, active, and bold, keeps his wits about him under fire, and does altogether well. We are fortunate in having him with the force. Good field-officers are very scarce indeed; I do not wonder at people at a distance bewailing the delay in the taking of Delhi. No one not on the spot can appreciate the difficulties in the way, or the painful truth, that those difficulties increase upon us."

I am rather out of sorts still myself, also. It is a burden to me to stand or walk, and the excessive heat makes it difficult for me to recover from that sharp attack of illness. "The doctors urge me to go away for a little, to get strength--as if I could leave just now, or as if I would if I could." ... So I am in the saddle all day, (June 24th,) though obliged occasionally to rest a bit where I can find shelter, and one halt is by Alfred Light.

"It does me good to see the 'Light of the ball-room' working away at his guns, begrimed with dust and heat, ever cheery and cool, though dead beat from fatigue and exposure. How our men fought to-day; liquid fire was no name for the fervent heat; but nothing less than a knock-down blow from sun, sword, or bullet, stops a British soldier."

My glorious old regiment! how they have suffered in this short three weeks; Colonel Welchman badly hit in the arm, Greville down with fever, Wriford with dysentery, Dennis with sunstroke, Brown with wounds.

"Jacob and the 'boys' have all the work to themselves, and well indeed do the boys behave--with a courage and coolness which would not disgrace veterans. Little Tommy Butler, Owen, Warner, all behave like heroes, albeit with sadly diminis.h.i.+ng numbers to lead. Neville Chamberlain is come in, who ought to be worth a thousand men to us."

Those rascals actually came out to-day (June 25th), in their red coats and medals!

"We are not very well off, _quant a la cuisine_. I never had so much trouble in getting anything fit to eat, except when I dine with the general. Colonel Seaton lives in my tent, and is a great companion; his joyous disposition is a perpetual rebuke to the croakers."

And so too was your own, my Lieutenant, for we have fortunately a letter from a distinguished officer, in which he says,--

"Affairs at times looked very queer, from the frightful expenditure of life. Hodson's face was then like suns.h.i.+ne breaking through the dark clouds of despondency and gloom that would settle down occasionally on all but a few brave hearts, England's worthiest sons, who were determined to conquer."

But this siege does set one really thinking in earnest about several things, and this is the conclusion at which our Lieutenant arrives:--

"There is but one rule of action for a soldier in the field, as for a man at all times, to do that which is best for the public good; to make that your sole aim, resting a.s.sured that the result will in the end be best for individual interest also. I am quite indifferent not to see my name appear in newspaper paragraphs and despatches; only content if I can perform my duty truly and honestly, and too thankful to the Almighty if I am daily spared for future labors or future repose."

But here is another coil this June 27th:--

"There has been an outcry throughout the camp at ----'s having fled from Bhagput, the bridge which caused me so much hard riding and hard work to get, some time ago."

He has actually bolted, on a report of mutineers coming, leaving boats, bridge, and all. By this conduct he has lost our communication with Meerut, and that too when our reinforcements were actually in sight. The consequence is that I have to go down to Bhagput to recover boats, bridge, &c., and reopen communication, which is done at once and satisfactorily; and by July 2d we are quite comfortable, for I have set myself up with plates, &c., for one rupee, and Colonel Seaton's traps and servants will be here to-day ... except that we are somewhat vexed in our spirits, for

"---- has been shelved and allowed to get sick, to save him from supersession. I do not like euphuisms. In these days men and things should be called by their right names, that we might know how far either should be trusted.

"_July 5th._--General Barnard dies of cholera after a few hours' illness. Personally I am much grieved, for no kinder or more considerate or gentlemanly man ever lived. I am so sorry for his son, a fine brave fellow, whose attention to his father won the love of us all. It was quite beautiful to see them together."