Part 15 (1/2)
At last, just after daybreak, we heard the sound of a musket shot; our Shan guides said: ”This is the place,” and instantly evaporated. I can use no other term; I saw them one moment, the next they had gone, where I know not. We went on, and after a hundred yards, pa.s.sed fortifications just evacuated, and soon after entered the village, the enemy retiring before us without firing a shot; we rushed on, and searched the houses. I saw the white standard planted outside a large house on a platform; I ran up and seized it, close by was a tree called in Bengali, ”Poppeya,” the papaw, I believe, of the West Indies, with a soft trunk. A minute after, while I was looking about to see if I could observe any of the enemy, a volley was fired, evidently intended for me, the royal standard in my hand making me a conspicuous mark. I was not struck (probably just at the moment I moved), but the tree was, and fell, cut in two by at least twenty musket b.a.l.l.s.
I then saw some of the enemy strongly posted, under a house, built like all in those parts on strong posts, affording excellent cover. I sprang down from the platform, calling to my scattered men to follow. One man was ahead of me, and was shot down mortally wounded; another minute, and I myself was struck by a shot on the left temple, and almost stunned. I was able to rise, but with the blood streaming down, not fit to pursue. I called to Mr. Morgan and asked him to head a party of the 4th B.I. and clear the village, which was done with great gallantry, the men, when they returned, greatly applauding Mr. Morgan's courage and dash. Having driven out the enemy who, we subsequently ascertained, lost seven killed and twenty-five wounded, we set fire to the village and 10,000 maunds of rice stored there, i.e., about 360 tons, which, of course, we could not carry away, and marched back to Tamil which we reached about nightfall carrying our wounded with us. Besides myself, we had one mortally wounded, one severely and one slightly. I was able to march back. We took three prisoners and heard that the enemy, who did not stop till he had crossed the Chindwin, had a force of 400 to 500 men engaged, commanded by Boh Moung Schway Le.
On February 6th, all the princ.i.p.al chiefs of the Kubo valley came in and made their formal submission to me, promising to remain quiet and obey the orders of the Tamu Myo Thugee, whom I appointed to administer the valley till further orders. Next day, I made them all go to the PaG.o.da, and swear allegiance to the British Government, the oath being most solemnly administered by the Phoongyees. I gave definite instructions to all, and urged them to keep the peace, and buy, sell and cultivate as usual.
I proclaimed the pa.s.ses into Manipur open to traders, which gave great satisfaction to all, and having satisfied myself that everything was quiet I set out for Manipur to consult Dr. Eteson, the Deputy Surgeon-General, who was pa.s.sing through, about my wound. I arrived by forced marches on February 9th, and found that the sepoy mortally wounded on February 1st, had died on the 8th.
Dr. Eteson urged me to go to England on sick leave, and I very reluctantly determined to follow his advice. But, before leaving, I had the satisfaction of seeing the whole of the Kubo valley in a state of profound peace for a month and a half. Provisions were no longer a difficulty. They were freely brought in, and the little luxuries that Hindoostani troops require over and above what can be bought on the spot, were taken down by traders. So great was the energy of the latter, that 2000 buffaloes were exported through Manipur to Cachar during this short period, and when I finally bade adieu to my friends at Tamu, Mr. Morgan and I both expected that war was at an end, and that perfect peace would prevail. It was not our fault that it did not.
Let me here offer a tribute to one who stood by me n.o.bly in the hour of need, but who, unfortunately, died of cholera at Kule, after his return from well-earned leave in England. Morgan was a thoroughly good fellow all round, a devoted servant of the Bombay-Burmah Corporation, and one who put their affairs before everything. As gentle and kind as he was brave, he was a great favourite with the Burmese, and had evidently much influence with them. He was always in favour of mild measures, unless strong ones appeared absolutely necessary.
While still in Burmah, I had sent in my despatches to General Sir H. Prendergast, K.C.B., who commanded the army of invasion, in which I strongly commended to his notice the admirable services of my escort, mentioning specially several men whom I thought particularly deserving of it, though all had done so well, and shown such devotion to duty and soldier-like spirit, that it was a difficult task to select any one in particular. General Prendergast forwarded my recommendation to the Commander-in-Chief, and it was a great satisfaction to me when I heard afterwards that Baluk Ram Chowby, then Subadar Major of his Regiment, had received the Order of British India, with the t.i.tle of ”Bahadur,” and that other decorations and promotions had been bestowed. The detachment of the gallant 4th Bengal Infantry, took with them, as trophies to their regiment, a standard they had captured, and also one of the sixteen guns taken at Kendat.
I left the old Woon at Manipur, having strongly recommended him to the favour of Government. He stood by our people in a dark hour, and saved them from torture and death. He was of high family, and had fought against us in 1852. He had the air of a thorough gentleman, and was, with all his family, most amiable in conversation and demeanour.
Before leaving, I paid one last visit to Kang-joop-kool and saw my child's grave, [37] and the peaceful scenery and lovely views over the hills and the broad valley, thinking of the past and its many memories connected with the place. I paid my last visit to the Rajah, when I told him that I had strongly urged the restoration to him of his old possession, the Kubo valley. I visited all the familiar spots round the capital. I said good-bye to old Thangal, Bularam Singh, and all my old followers, and, on the 19th of March, bade adieu to Manipur, which I felt I had raised out of the mire of a bad reputation.
I left it as it had been of yore, a faithful and devoted, though humble, ally of the British Government to whom it had done transcendent service. Alas! little did I think of the fate that would befall it before a few short years had pa.s.sed by.
My escort turned out to salute me as I left the Residency gate, and I gave them an address, thanking them for their services. Then the Subadar Baluk Ram Chowby insisted on their accompanying me for some distance. When time for them to return, he halted his party, drew them in line by the side of the road, and presented arms, and as they did it they gave a loud shout of ”Colonel Sahib Bahadur ke jye,”
i.e. ”Vive Monsieur le Colonel Victorieux;” we have no equivalent for it in English. My heart was too heavy to say much; I said a few words, and we parted.
As I crossed the summit of the Lai-metol range I gave a last look at the valley, and saw it no more.
I pa.s.sed through s.h.i.+llong, where I was hospitably entertained by the Chief Commissioner, Mr. Ward, and on reaching Calcutta received a command to visit Lord Dufferin at Benares. He received me very kindly, and under his roof I spent a most enjoyable day. I left Bombay on the 9th of April, and reached home on the 28th, thus practically finis.h.i.+ng my active Indian career, after nearly twenty-eight years' service.
CHAPTER x.x.x.
CONCLUSION.
The Events of 1890 and 1891.
When I first began this book it was my intention to have given a connected account of the Palace Revolution of September 1890, and that of 1891, against the British Government. Being probably the only living person in full possession of the whole facts connected with the startling events that then took place, and the circ.u.mstances that led up to them, and having, moreover, a strong conviction that it is best for all parties that the truth should be known, I felt that a fair and impartial statement could do no harm, and might act as a warning. Further reflection has led me to alter my determination, and to ask myself the question, ”Cui bono?” The Government of India has shown no desire to make more disclosures than necessary, and it is not for me, a loyal old servant, to lift the veil.
”Let the dead past bury its dead.”
However much, therefore, I may wish to see the right horse saddled, I shall for the present, at any rate, avoid criticism as far as possible, and confine myself to a few general remarks.
Nothing that I can say will undo the past, and all that remains is to hope for the future.
After I left Manipur fresh disturbances broke out in the Kubo valley, where I had left all peaceful, prosperous, and contented, and a considerable strain was put on the resources of Manipur. Had I been ordered to return I would gladly have done so, but my health was too bad to make it advisable for me to volunteer my services. [38]