Reminiscences of the Great Mutiny 1857-59 Part 4

of loose powder were filled into bags and carted out, besides twenty barrels of the ordinary size of powder-barrels, and more than one hundred and fifty loaded 8-inch sh.e.l.ls. The work of removal was scarcely completed before the enemy commenced firing sh.e.l.l and red-hot round-shot from their batteries in the Badshahibagh across the Goomtee, aimed straight for the door of the tomb facing the river, showing that they believed the powder was still there, and that they hoped they might manage to blow us all up.

FOOTNOTES:

[20] "G.o.d is great!" "Religion! Religion!" "Victory to Mother Kali!" The first two are Mussulman war-cries; the last is Hindoo.

[21] The Pearl Mosque.

[22] Little clay saucers of oil, with a loosely twisted cotton wick.

[23] Small pulse.

[24] Nearly five thousand lbs.

CHAPTER VI

BREAKFAST UNDER DIFFICULTIES--LONG SHOTS--THE LITTLE DRUMMER--EVACUATION OF THE RESIDENCY BY THE GARRISON

By this time several of the old campaigners had kindled a fire in one of the small rooms, through the roof of which one of our sh.e.l.ls had fallen the day before, making a convenient chimney for the egress of the smoke.

They had found a large copper pot which had been left by the sepoys, and had it on the fire filled with a stew of about a score or more of pigeons which had been left shut up in a dovecot in a corner of the compound. There were also plenty of pumpkins and other vegetables in the rooms, and piles of _chupatties_ which had been cooked by the sepoys for their evening meal before they fled. Everything in fact was there for making a good breakfast for hungry men except salt, and there was no salt to be found in any of the rooms; but as luck favoured us, I had one of the old-fas.h.i.+oned round cylinder-shaped wooden match-boxes full of salt in my haversack, which was more than sufficient to season the stew.

I had carried this salt from Cawnpore, and I did so by the advice of an old veteran who had served in the Ninety-Second Gordon Highlanders all through the Peninsular war, and finally at Waterloo. When as a boy I had often listened to his stories and told him that I would also enlist for a soldier, he had given me this piece of practical advice, which I in my turn present to every young soldier and volunteer. It is this: "Always carry a box of salt in your haversack when on active service; because the commissariat department is usually in the rear, and as a rule when an army is pressed for food the men have often the chance of getting hold of a bullock or a sheep, or of fowls, etc., but it is more difficult to find salt, and even good food without salt is very unpalatable." I remembered the advice, and it proved of great service to myself and comrades in many instances during the Mutiny. As it was, thanks to my foresight the hungry men in the Shah Nujeef made a good breakfast on the morning of the 17th of November, 1857. I may here say that my experience is that the soldiers who could best look after their stomachs were also those who could make the best use of the bayonet, and who were the least likely to fall behind in a forced march. If I had the command of an army in the field my rule would be: "Cut the grog, and give double grub when hard work has to be done!"

After making a good breakfast the men were told off in sections, and we discharged our rifles at the enemy across the Goomtee,[25] and then spunged them out, which they sorely needed, because they had not been cleaned from the day we advanced from the Alumbagh. Our rifles had in fact got so foul with four days' heavy work that it was almost impossible to load them, and the recoil had become so great that the shoulders of many of the men were perfectly black with bruises. As soon as our rifles were cleaned, a number of the best shots in the company were selected to try and silence the fire from the battery in the Badshahibagh across the river, which was annoying us by endeavouring to pitch hot shot and sh.e.l.l into the tomb, and to shorten the distance they had brought their guns outside the gate on to the open ground. They evidently as yet did not understand the range of the Enfield rifle, as they now came within about a thousand to twelve hundred yards of the wall of the Shah Nujeef next the river. Some twenty of the best shots in the company, with carefully cleaned and loaded rifles, watched till they saw a good number of the enemy near their guns, then, raising sights to the full height and carefully aiming high, they fired a volley by word of command slowly given--_one, two, fire!_ and about half a dozen of the enemy were knocked over. They at once withdrew their guns inside the Badshahibagh and shut the gate, and did not molest us any more.

During the early part of the forenoon we had several men struck by rifle bullets fired from one of the minarets in the Motee Mahal, which was said to be occupied by one of the ex-King of Oude's eunuchs who was a first-rate marksman, and armed with an excellent rifle; from his elevated position in the minaret he could see right into the square of the Shah Nujeef. We soon had several men wounded, and as there was no surgeon with us Captain Dawson sent me back to where the field-hospital was formed near the Secundrabagh, to ask Dr. Munro if an a.s.sistant-surgeon could be spared for our post. But Dr. Munro told me to tell Captain Dawson that it was impossible to spare an a.s.sistant-surgeon or even an apothecary, because he had just been informed that the Mess-House and Motee Mahal were to be a.s.saulted at two o'clock, and every medical officer would be required on the spot; but he would try and send a hospital-attendant with a supply of lint and bandages. By the time I got back the a.s.sault on the Mess-House had begun, and Sergeant Findlay, before mentioned, was sent with a _dooly_ and a supply of bandages, lint, and dressing, to do the best he could for any of ours who might be wounded.

About half an hour after the a.s.sault on the Mess-House had commenced a large body of the enemy, numbering at least six or seven hundred men, whose retreat had evidently been cut off from the city, crossed from the Mess-House into the Motee Mahal in our front, and forming up under cover of some huts between the Shah Munzil and Motee Mahal, they evidently made up their minds to try and retake the Shah Nujeef. They debouched on the plain with a number of men in front carrying scaling-ladders, and Captain Dawson being on the alert ordered all the men to kneel down behind the loopholes with rifles sighted for five hundred yards, and wait for the word of command. It was now our turn to know what it felt like to be behind loopholed walls, and we calmly awaited the enemy, watching them forming up for a dash on our position. The silence was profound, when Sergeant Daniel White repeated aloud a pa.s.sage from the third canto of Scott's _Bridal of Triermain_:

Bewcastle now must keep the Hold, Speir-Adam's steeds must bide in stall, Of Hartley-burn the bowmen bold Must only shoot from battled wall; And Liddesdale may buckle spur, And Teviot now may belt the brand, Taras and Ewes keep nightly stir, And Eskdale foray c.u.mberland.

Of wasted fields and plunder'd flocks The Borderers bootless may complain; They lack the sword of brave De Vaux, There comes no aid from Triermain.

Captain Dawson, who had been steadily watching the advance of the enemy and carefully calculating their distance, just then called "Attention, five hundred yards, ready--_one, two, fire!_" when over eighty rifles rang out, and almost as many of the enemy went down like ninepins on the plain! Their leader was in front, mounted on a finely-accoutred charger, and he and his horse were evidently both hit; he at once wheeled round and made for the Goomtee, but horse and man both fell before they got near the river. After the first volley every man loaded and fired independently, and the plain was soon strewn with dead and wounded.

The unfortunate a.s.saulters were now between two fires, for the force that had attacked the Shah Munzil and Motee Mahal commenced to send grape and canister into their rear, so the routed rebels threw away their arms and scaling-ladders, and all that were able to do so bolted pell-mell for the Goomtee. Only about a quarter of the original number, however, reached the opposite bank, for when they were in the river our men rushed to the corner nearest to them and kept peppering at every head above water. One tall fellow, I well remember, acted as cunningly as a jackal; whether struck or not he fell just as he got into shallow water on the opposite side, and lay without moving, with his legs in the water and his head on the land. He appeared to be stone dead, and every rifle was turned on those that were running across the plain for the gate of the Badshahibagh, while many others who were evidently severely wounded were fired on as our fellows said, "_in mercy to put them out of pain_." I have previously remarked that the war of the Mutiny was a horrible, I may say a demoralising, war for civilised men to be engaged in. The inhuman murders and foul treachery of the Nana Sahib and others put all feeling of humanity or mercy for the enemy out of the question, and our men thus early spoke of putting a wounded Jack Pandy _out of pain_, just as calmly as if he had been a wild beast; it was even considered an act of mercy. It is now horrible to recall it all, but what I state is true. The only excuse is that _we_ did not begin this war of extermination; and no apologist for the mutineers can say that they were actuated by patriotism to throw off the yoke of the oppressor.

The cold-blooded cruelty of the mutineers and their leaders from first to last branded them in fact as traitors to humanity and cowardly a.s.sa.s.sins of helpless women and children. But to return to the Pandy whom I left lying half-covered with water on the further bank of the Goomtee opposite the Shah Nujeef. This particular man was ever after spoken of as the "jackal," because jackals and foxes have often been known to sham dead and wait for a chance of escape; and so it was with Jack Pandy. After he had lain apparently dead for about an hour, some one noticed that he had gradually dragged himself out of the water; till all at once he sprang to his feet, and ran like a deer in the direction of the gate of the Badshahibagh. He was still quite within easy range, and several rifles were levelled at him; but Sergeant Findlay, who was on the rampart, and was himself one of the best shots in the company, called out, "Don't fire, men; give the poor devil a chance!" Instead of a volley of bullets, the men's better feelings gained the day, and Jack Pandy was reprieved, with a cheer to speed him on his way. As soon as he heard it he realised his position, and like the Samaritan leper of old, he halted, turned round, and putting up both his hands with the palms together in front of his face, he salaamed profoundly, prostrating himself three times on the ground by way of thanks, and then _walked_ slowly towards the Badshahibagh, while we on the ramparts waved our feather bonnets and clapped our hands to him in token of good-will. I have often wondered if that particular Pandy ever after fought the English, or if he returned to his village to relate his exceptional experience of our clemency.

Just at this time we noticed a great commotion in front, and heard our fellows and even those in the Residency cheering like mad. The cause we shortly after learned; that the generals, Sir Colin Campbell, Havelock, and Outram had met. The Residency was relieved and the women and children were saved, although not yet out of danger, and every man in the force slept with a lighter heart that night. If the cost was heavy, the gain was great.

I may here mention that there is an entry in my note-book, dated 18th of November 1857: "That Lieutenant Fred. Roberts planted the Union Jack three times on the top of the Mess-House as a signal to the force in the Residency that the Mess-House was in our possession, and it was as often shot down." Some time ago there was, I remember, a dispute about who was ent.i.tled to the credit of this action. Now I did not see it myself, but I must have got the information from some of the men of the other companies who witnessed the deed, as it was known that I was keeping a rough diary of the leading events.

Such was the glorious issue of the 17th of November. The meeting of the Generals, Sir Colin Campbell, Outram, and Havelock, proved that Lucknow was relieved and the women and children were safe; but to accomplish this object our small force had lost no less than forty-five officers and four hundred and ninety-six men--more than a tenth of our whole number! The brunt of the loss fell on the Artillery and Naval Brigade, and on the Fifty-Third, the Ninety-Third, and the Fourth Punjab Infantry. These losses were respectively as follows:

Artillery and Naval Brigade 105 Men Fifty-Third Regiment 76 "

Ninety-Third Highlanders 108 "

Fourth Punjab Infantry 95 "

--- Total 384

leaving one hundred and twelve to be divided among the other corps engaged.

In writing mostly from memory thirty-five years after the events described, many incidents, though not entirely forgotten, escape being noticed in their proper sequence, and that is the case with the following, which I must here relate before I enter on the evacuation of the Residency.

Immediately after the powder left by the enemy had been removed from the tomb of the Shah Nujeef, and the sun had dispelled the fog which rested over the Goomtee and the city, it was deemed necessary to signal to the Residency to let them know our position, and for this purpose our adjutant, Lieutenant William M'Bean, Sergeant Hutchinson, and Drummer Ross, a boy of about twelve years of age but even small for his years, climbed to the top of the dome of the Shah Nujeef by means of a rude rope-ladder which was fixed on it; thence with the regimental colour of the Ninety-Third and a feather bonnet on the tip of the staff they signalled to the Residency, and the little drummer sounded the regimental call on his bugle from the top of the dome. The signal was seen, and answered from the Residency by lowering their flag three times. But the enemy on the Badshahibagh also saw the signalling and the daring adventurers on the dome, and turned their guns on them, sending several round-shots quite close to them. Their object being gained, however, our men descended; but little Ross ran up the ladder again like a monkey, and holding on to the spire of the dome with his left hand he waved his feather bonnet and then sounded the regimental call a second time, which he followed by the call known as _The c.o.c.k of the North_, which he sounded as a blast of defiance to the enemy. When peremptorily ordered to come down by Lieutenant M'Bean, he did so, but not before the little monkey had tootled out--

There's not a man beneath the moon, Nor lives in any land he, That hasn't heard the pleasant tune Of Yankee Doodle Dandy!

In cooling drinks and clipper s.h.i.+ps, The Yankee has the way shown, On land and sea 'tis he that whips Old Bull, and all creation.

When little Ross reached the parapet at the foot of the dome, he turned to Lieutenant M'Bean and said: "Ye ken, sir, I was born when the regiment was in Canada when my mother was on a visit to an aunt in the States, and I could not come down till I had sung _Yankee Doodle_, to make my American cousins envious when they hear of the deeds of the Ninety-Third. Won't the Yankees feel jealous when they hear that the littlest drummer-boy in the regiment sang _Yankee Doodle_ under a hail of fire on the dome of the highest mosque in Lucknow!"

As mentioned in the last chapter, the Residency was relieved on the afternoon of the 17th of November, and the following day preparations were made for the evacuation of the position and the withdrawal of the women and children. To do this in safety however was no easy task, for the mutineers and rebels showed but small regard for the laws of chivalry; a man might pa.s.s an exposed position in comparative safety, but if a helpless woman or little child were seen, they were made the target for a hundred bullets. So far as we could see from the Shah Nujeef, the line of retreat was pretty well sheltered till the refugees emerged from the Motee Mahal; but between that and the Shah Nujeef there was a long stretch of plain, exposed to the fire of the enemy's artillery and sharp-shooters from the opposite side of the Goomtee. To protect this part of their route a flying sap was constructed: a battery of artillery and some of Peel's guns, with a covering force of infantry, were posted in the north-east corner of the Motee Mahal; and all the best shots in the Shah Nujeef were placed on the north-west corner of the ramparts next to the Goomtee. These men were under command of Sergeant Findlay, who, although nominally our medical officer, stuck to his post on the ramparts, and being one of the best shots in the company was entrusted with the command of the sharp-shooters for the protection of the retreating women and children. From these two points,--the north-east corner of the Motee Mahal and the north-west of the Shah Nujeef--the enemy on the north bank of the Goomtee were brought under a cross-fire, the accuracy of which made them keep a very respectful distance from the river, with the result that the women and children pa.s.sed the exposed part of their route without a single casualty. I remember one remarkably good shot made by Sergeant Findlay. He unhorsed a rebel officer close to the east gate of the Badshahibagh, who came out with a force of infantry and a couple of guns to open fire on the line of retreat; but he was no sooner knocked over than the enemy retreated into the _bagh_, and did not show themselves any more that day.

By midnight of the 22nd of November the Residency was entirely evacuated, and the enemy completely deceived as to the movements; and about two o'clock on the morning of the 23rd we withdrew from the Shah Nujeef and became the rear-guard of the retreating column, making our way slowly past the Secundrabagh, the stench from which, as can easily be imagined, was something frightful. I have seen it stated in print that the two thousand odd of the enemy killed in the Secundrabagh were dragged out and buried in deep trenches outside the enclosure. This is not correct. The European slain were removed and buried in a deep trench, where the mound is still visible, to the east of the gate, and the Punjabees recovered their slain and cremated them near the bank of the Goomtee. But the rebel dead had to be left to rot where they lay, a prey to the vulture by day and the jackal by night, for from the smallness of the relieving force no other course was possible; in fact, it was with the greatest difficulty that men could be spared from the piquets,--for the whole force simply became a series of outlying piquets--to bury our own dead, let alone those of the enemy. And when we retired their friends did not take the trouble, as the skeletons were still whitening in the rooms of the buildings when the Ninety-Third returned to the siege of Lucknow in March, 1858. Their bones were doubtless buried after the fall of Lucknow, but that would be at least six months after their slaughter. By daylight on the 23rd of November the whole of the women and children had arrived at the Dilkoosha, where tents were pitched for them, and the rear-guard had reached the Martiniere. Here the rolls were called again to see if any were missing, when it was discovered that Sergeant Alexander Macpherson, of No. 2 company, who had formed one of Colonel Ewart's detachment in the barracks, was not present. Shortly afterwards he was seen making his way across the plain, and reported that he had been left asleep in the barracks, and, on waking up after daylight and finding himself alone, guessed what had happened, and knowing the direction in which the column was to retire, he at once followed. Fortunately the enemy had not even then discovered the evacuation of the Residency, for they were still firing into our old positions. Sergeant Macpherson was ever after this known in the regiment as "Sleepy Sandy."

There was also an officer, Captain Waterman, left asleep in the Residency. He, too, managed to join the rear-guard in safety; but he got such a fright that I afterwards saw it stated in one of the Calcutta papers that his mind was affected by the shock to his nervous system.

Some time later an Irishman in the Ninety-Third gave a good reason why the fright did not turn the head of Sandy Macpherson. In those days before the railway it took much longer than now for the mails to get from Cawnpore to Calcutta, and for Calcutta papers to get back again; and some time,--about a month or six weeks--after the events above related, when the Calcutta papers got back to camp with the accounts of the relief of Lucknow, I and Sergeant Macpherson were on outlying piquet at Futtehghur (I think), and the captain of the piquet gave me a bundle of the newspapers to read out to the men. In these papers there was an account of Captain Waterman's being left behind in the Residency, in which it was stated that the shock had affected his intellect. When I read this out, the men made some remarks concerning the fright which it must have given Sandy Macpherson when he found himself alone in the barracks, and Sandy joining in the remarks, was inclined to boast that the fright had not upset _his_ intellect, when an Irishman of the piquet, named Andrew M'Onville, usually called "Handy Andy" in the company, joining in the conversation, said: "Boys, if Sergeant Macpherson will give me permission, I will tell you a story that will show the reason why the fright did not upset his intellect." Permission was of course granted for the story, and Handy Andy proceeded with his ill.u.s.tration as follows, as nearly as I can remember it.

"You have all heard of Mr. Gough, the great American Temperance lecturer. Well, the year before I enlisted he came to Armagh, giving a course of temperance lectures, and all the public-house keepers and brewers were up in arms to raise as much opposition as possible against Mr. Gough and his principles, and in one of his lectures he laid great stress on the fact that he considered moderation the parent of drunkenness. A brewer's drayman thereupon went on the platform to disprove this a.s.sertion by actual facts from his own experience, and in his argument in favour of _moderate_ drinking, he stated that for upwards of twenty years he had habitually consumed over a gallon of beer and about a pint of whisky daily, and solemnly a.s.serted that he had never been the worse for liquor in his life. To which Mr. Gough replied: 'My friends, there is no rule without its exception, and our friend here is an exception to the general rule of moderate drinking; but I will tell you a story that I think exactly ill.u.s.trates his case. Some years ago, when I was a boy, my father had two negro servants, named Uncle Sambo and s...o...b..ll. Near our house there was a branch of one of the large fresh-water lakes which swarmed with fish, and it was the duty of s...o...b..ll to go every morning to catch sufficient for the breakfast of the household. The way s...o...b..ll usually caught his fish was by making them drunk by feeding them with Indian corn-meal mixed with strong whisky and rolled into b.a.l.l.s. When these whisky b.a.l.l.s were thrown into the water the fish came and ate them readily, but after they had swallowed a few they became helplessly drunk, turning on their backs and allowing themselves to be caught, so that in a very short time s...o...b..ll would return with his basket full of fish. But as I said, there is no rule without an exception, and one morning proved that there is also an exception in the matter of fish becoming drunk. As usual s...o...b..ll went to the lake with an allowance of whisky b.a.l.l.s, and spying a fine big fish with a large flat head, he dropped a ball in front of it, which it at once ate and then another, and another, and so on till all the whisky b.a.l.l.s in s...o...b..ll's basket were in the stomach of this queer fish, and still it showed no signs of becoming drunk, but kept wagging its tail and looking for more whisky b.a.l.l.s. On this s...o...b..ll returned home and called old Uncle Sambo to come and see this wonderful fish which had swallowed nearly a peck of whisky b.a.l.l.s and still was not drunk. When old Uncle Sambo set eyes on the fish, he exclaimed, "O s...o...b..ll, s...o...b..ll! you foolish boy, you will never be able to make that fish drunk with your whisky b.a.l.l.s. That fish could live in a barrel of whisky and not get drunk. That fish, my son, is called a mullet-head: it has got no brains." And that accounts,' said Mr. Gough, turning to the brewer's drayman, 'for our friend here being able for twenty years to drink a gallon of beer and a pint of whisky daily and never become drunk.' And so, my chums," said Handy Andy, "if you will apply the same reasoning to the cases of Sergeant Macpherson and Captain Waterman I think you will come to the correct conclusion why the fright did not upset the intellect of Sergeant Macpherson." We all joined in the laugh at Handy Andy's story, and none more heartily than the b.u.t.t of it, Sandy Macpherson himself.

But enough of digression. Shortly after the roll was called at the Martiniere, a most unfortunate accident took place. Corporal Cooper and four or five men went into one of the rooms of the Martiniere in which there was a quant.i.ty of loose powder which had been left by the enemy, and somehow,--it was never known how--the powder got ignited and they were all blown up, their bodies completely charred and their eyes scorched out. The poor fellows all died in the greatest agony within an hour or so of the accident, and none of them ever spoke to say how it happened. The quant.i.ty of powder was not sufficient to shatter the house, but it blew the doors and windows out, and burnt the poor fellows as black as charcoal. This sad accident cast a gloom over the regiment, and made me again very mindful of and thankful for my own narrow escape, and that of my comrades in the Shah Nujeef on that memorable night of the 16th of November.

Later in the day our sadness increased when it was found that Colour-Sergeant Alexander Knox, of No. 2 company, was missing. He had called the roll of his company at daylight, and had then gone to see a friend in the Seventy-Eighth Highlanders. He had stayed some time with his friend and left to return to his own regiment, but was never heard of again. Poor Knox had two brothers in the regiment, and he was the youngest of the three. He was a most deserving and popular non-commissioned officer, decorated with the French war medal and the Cross of the Legion of Honour for valour in the Crimea, and was about to be promoted sergeant-major of the regiment, _vice_ Murray killed in the Secundrabagh. His fate was never known.

About two o'clock in the afternoon, the regiment being all together again, the following general order was read to us, and although this is well-known history, still there must be many of the readers of these reminiscences who have not ready access to histories. I will therefore quote the general order in question for the information of young soldiers.

HEADQUARTERS, LA MARTINIeRE, LUCKNOW, _23rd November, 1857_.

1. The Commander-in-Chief has reason to be thankful to the force he conducted for the relief of the garrison of Lucknow.

2. Hastily a.s.sembled, fatigued by forced marches, but animated by a common feeling of determination to accomplish the duty before them, all ranks of this force have compensated for their small number, in the execution of a most difficult duty, by unceasing exertions.

3. From the morning of the 16th till last night the whole force has been one outlying piquet, never out of fire, and covering an immense extent of ground, to permit the garrison to retire scatheless and in safety covered by the whole of the relieving force.

4. That ground was won by fighting as hard as it ever fell to the lot of the Commander-in-Chief to witness, it being necessary to bring up the same men over and over again to fresh attacks; and it is with the greatest gratification that his Excellency declares he never saw men behave better.

5. The storming of the Secundrabagh and the Shah Nujeef has never been surpa.s.sed in daring, and the success of it was most brilliant and complete.

6. The movement of retreat of last night, by which the final rescue of the garrison was effected, was a model of discipline and exactness. The consequence was that the enemy was completely deceived, and the force retired by a narrow, tortuous lane, the only line of retreat open, in the face of 50,000 enemies, without molestation.

7. The Commander-in-Chief offers his sincere thanks to Major-General Sir James Outram, G.C.B., for the happy manner in which he planned and carried out his arrangements for the evacuation of the Residency of Lucknow.

By order of his Excellency the Commander-in-Chief, W. MAYHEW, _Major_, _Deputy Adjutant-General of the Army_.

Thus were achieved the relief and evacuation of the Residency of Lucknow.[26] The enemy did not discover that the Residency was deserted till noon on the 23rd, and about the time the above general order was being read to us they fired a salute of one hundred and one guns, but did not attempt to follow us or to cut off our retreat. That night we bivouacked in the Dilkoosha park, and retired on the Alumbagh on the 25th, the day on which the brave and gallant Havelock died. But that is a well-known part of the history of the relief of Lucknow, and I will turn to other matters.

FOOTNOTES: