Part 6 (1/2)

Here the country was more open, so, re-forming our scattered line, with skirmishers in advance, we drove the rebels before us, the Horse Artillery playing on them in the open and bringing down scores.

Crossing the ca.n.a.l (which here barred our progress) by a bridge, we entered into a wide lane to the left, the high bank of the ca.n.a.l being on one side and the walls of a large caravanserai on the other.

The insurgents were posted at the far end of the lane, where it opened out at the gate of the serai, and received us, as we advanced at the double, with a rattling fire of musketry. Some climbed to the top of the bank, while others fired down at us from the walls. It was a perfect _feu d'enfer_, and the loss on our side became so heavy that a temporary check was the result, and it was only with great trouble that the men could be urged on.

Seeing a disposition to waver, Colonel W. Jones, the Brigadier under Chamberlain, with great bravery placed himself in front on foot, and called on the soldiers, now a confused ma.s.s of Sikhs, Goorkhas, and Europeans, to charge and dislodge the enemy from the end of the lane.

He was answered with a ringing cheer, the men broke into a run, and, without firing a shot, charged the sepoys, who waited till we were within fifty yards, and then, as usual, turned and fled.

Some entered the caravanserai by the large gate, which they attempted to shut; but we were too quick for them, and following close on their heels, a hard fight began in the enclosure.

Others of the enemy ran onwards in the direction of the city, chased by portions of our force, who pursued them a long distance, and after a desperate resistance killed many who in their flight had taken refuge in the serais and buildings.

The party I was with in the great caravanserai ranged the place like demons, the English soldiers putting to death every sepoy they could find. Their aspect was certainly inhuman--eyes flas.h.i.+ng with pa.s.sion and revenge, faces wet and blackened from powder through biting cartridges; it would have been useless to attempt to check them in their work of slaughter.

Twenty or more of the insurgents, flying for life from their pitiless foe, made for a small building standing in the centre of the serai. They were followed by our men, who entered after them at the door. The house had four windows, one on each side, about three feet from the ground, and I ran to one and looked in.

The wretched fugitives had thrown down their arms and, crouching on the floor with their backs to the wall, begged with out-stretched hands for mercy, calling out in their language, ”_Dohai! dohai!_” words I well knew the meaning of, and which I had often heard under similar circ.u.mstances. I knew, however, that no quarter would be given, and in a short time every rebel lay in the agonies of death.

Most of the force, as I have related, had continued chasing the enemy, so that for some time we were alone and few in number in the serai.

It was nearly five o'clock, and we thought that, as far as we were concerned, the action was over.

It was not so, however. Shouts and yells were heard outside, and, running to see, we found a fresh force of the mutineers a.s.sembled outside the gates. There was nothing for it but to make a rush and fight our way through; so with fixed bayonets we charged through them, meeting soon afterwards the remainder of the force on its way back. Joining with these, we drove the enemy again before us till we came within 700 yards of the city walls, there losing sight of our foes. Their guns fired into us, but the insurgent infantry seemed now to have had sufficient fighting for one day, and not one man was to be seen.

Our work was accomplished, and the order was given to retire. Slowly we wended our way back to camp, arriving there about sunset, having been continuously under fire for nearly seven hours.

The losses on this day exceeded that of any since the siege began. Out of our small force engaged, 221 men were killed and wounded. It was computed that of the enemy more than 500 were killed, and probably twice that number wounded, the dead bodies lying thick together at every stage of our advance, but the wounded men in almost every instance were carried off by their comrades.

The camp of our regiment on the extreme left of the line having become a mere swamp and mud hole from the long-continued rain, and also being at too great a distance from the main body of the army, we were directed to change to a position close to the banks of the ca.n.a.l, near the General's headquarters, and on the left of the 8th Regiment. The move was made, I think, on July 11; and here we remained till the end of the siege.

At about this period, too, I was most agreeably surprised by a visit from an old school-fellow named C---- d. He had entered the Bengal Civil Service a few years before, and, at the breaking out of the disturbances, was a.s.sistant Collector at Goorgaon, seventeen miles from Delhi. On the death of their mother in Ireland, an only sister, a young girl of eighteen years of age, came out to India to take up her residence with him. C---- d escorted his sister to Delhi on May 10, she having received an invitation to stay with the chaplain and his wife, who had quarters in the Palace. He returned to Goorgaon, little thinking he would never see her again.

The next morning, on the arrival of the insurgent cavalry from Meerut, and the subsequent mutiny of the native infantry regiments and artillery in the cantonments, the ma.s.sacre of the Europeans in Delhi began.

I forbear entering into all the details of this dreadful butchery; suffice it to say that the chaplain, Mr. Jennings, his wife, Miss C---- d, and nearly all the white people, both in the Palace and the city, were murdered. The editor of the _Delhi Gazette_ and his family were tortured to death by having their throats cut with pieces of broken bottles, but there were conflicting accounts as to how the Jenningses and Miss C---- d met their end. From what I gathered after the siege from some Delhi natives, it was reported that the ladies were stripped naked at the Palace, tied in that condition to the wheels of gun-carriages, dragged up the ”Chandni Chauk,” or silver street of Delhi, and there, in the presence of the King's sons, cut to pieces.

It was not till the following evening, May 12, that C---- d heard of the Mutiny, and, fearing death from the populace of Goorgaon, who had also risen in revolt, he disguised himself as best he could and rode off into the country. After enduring great privations, and the danger of being taken by predatory bands, he at last reached Meerut, and thence accompanied the force to Delhi.

From what he hinted, I feel sure he had it on his mind that his sister, before being murdered, was outraged by the rebels. However this may be, my old school-fellow had become a changed being. All his pa.s.sions were aroused to their fullest extent, and he thought of nothing but revenge.

Armed with sword, revolver, and rifle, he had been present at almost every engagement with the mutineers since leaving Meerut. He was known to most of the regiments in camp, and would attach himself to one or the other on the occasion of a fight, dealing death with his rifle and giving no quarter. Caring nothing for his own life, so long as he succeeded in glutting his vengeance on the murderers of his sister, he exposed himself most recklessly throughout the siege, and never received a wound.

On the day of the final a.s.sault I met him in one of the streets after we had gained entrance into the city. He shook my hands, saying that he had put to death all he had come across, not excepting women and children, and from his excited manner and the appearance of his dress--which was covered with blood-stains--I quite believe he told me the truth. One would imagine he must have tired of slaughter during those six days'

fighting in the city, but it was not so. I dined with him at the Palace the night Delhi was taken, when he told me he intended accompanying a small force the next morning to attack a village close by. All my remonstrances at this were of no avail; he vowed to me he would never stay his hand while he had an opportunity of wreaking his vengeance.

Poor fellow! that was his last fight; advancing in front of the soldiers, he met his death from a bullet in the heart when a.s.saulting the village.

There were other officers of the army in camp who had lost wives and relations at Delhi and Meerut, and who behaved in the same manner as C---- d. One in particular, whose wife I had known well, was an object of pity to the whole camp. She was the first woman who was murdered during the outrage at Meerut, and her death took place under circ.u.mstances of such shocking barbarity that they cannot be recorded in these pages.

Truly these were fearful times, when Christian men and gallant soldiers, maddened by the foul murder of those nearest and dearest to them, steeled their hearts to pity and swore vengeance against the murderers.

And much the same feelings, though not to such an extent, pervaded the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of all who were engaged in the suppression of the Mutiny. Every soldier fighting in our ranks knew that a day of reckoning would come for the atrocities which had been committed, and with unrelenting spirit dedicated himself to the accomplishment of that purpose. Moreover, it was on our part a fight for existence, a war of extermination, in which no prisoners were taken and no mercy shown--in short, one of the most cruel and vindictive wars that the world has seen.