John Nicholson, the Lion of the Punjaub

by R. E. Cholmeley

"He saw Nicholson's great form riding steadily on as if nothing was the matter."

The engagement was opened briskly with artillery fire. Forcing the rebels' left centre, the troops drove the enemy from their strongest position near an old serai (or caravansary), silenced the guns there, and then swept irresistibly down the long line of the mutineers towards the bridge. Nicholson's plan of attack had succeeded beyond expectation. Under the terrible fusillade the sepoys broke in confusion, and ran pell-mell for the bridge and the open country on the other side, only to be pursued and cut to pieces in large numbers. The whole affair, from the moment of the first shot fired, occupied one hour, and in that time between 6000 and 8000 well-armed mutineers were put to flight.

It was a brilliant action—one of the most brilliant, indeed, that took place in the whole course of the Mutiny. Not only had a huge force of rebels been dispersed, but a number of guns had been captured, and this with the loss on our side of but twenty-five men. Well might General Wilson thank Nicholson and his gallant troops the next morning, "from my whole heart," for the signal victory gained. Congratulations poured in on the hero of the day, Sir John Lawrence telegraphing from Lahore to say, "I wish I had the power of knighting you on the spot; it should be done!"

The time was now fast approaching when Nicholson was still further to distinguish himself. The importance of not delaying the assault longer than could be helped was being forced upon him daily, and at the council table he urged the necessity for striking an immediate blow. To his far-seeing mind it was essential that the mutineers should not be allowed to gather strength while the army on the Ridge became enfeebled through forced inaction. There were sorties and dashing charges almost every hour it is true, but these brought the actual assault on the city no nearer.

As the days crept by and still nothing was decided, Nicholson's patience gave out. When at last the startling rumour got about that General Wilson contemplated abandoning the Ridge and retreating until he had a stronger army at his back, the leader of the Movable Column decided on a bold course. The idea of leaving Delhi to the mutineers as a centre for a rebellion which might within a few days become universal, appalled him. He went to the next council in the General's quarters with the fixed determination to bring matters to a final issue.

Lord Roberts, from whose book I am again tempted to quote, relates the story of how he learned of this momentous decision. Nicholson had been sitting in his tent talking to the young artillery officer of his plans. He ended by making a dramatic announcement. "Delhi must be taken," he said, "and it is absolutely essential that this should be done at once; and if Wilson hesitates longer, I intend to propose at to-day's meeting that he should be superseded."

On Roberts venturing to remark that, as Neville Chamberlain was hors de combat through his wound, this step would leave Nicholson senior officer with the force, the other smiled and answered, "I have not overlooked that fact. I shall make it perfectly clear that, under the circumstances, I could not possibly accept the command myself, and I shall propose that it be given to Campbell of the 52nd. I am prepared to serve under him for the time being, so no one can ever accuse me of being influenced by personal motives."

It was a characteristic declaration, and Roberts knew that Nicholson would carry out his word. As it happened, however, the occasion did not arise. That day Wilson agreed to the assault being made, and the next morning an order was issued to the troops informing them of the welcome decision.

CHAPTER X.

IN THE HOUR OF VICTORY.

The date fixed for the final leap on Delhi was the 14th of September. Before that historic day arrived there was a week of anxious preparation. The siege-train, to whose assistance Nicholson had gone, as related in the previous chapter, came into camp safely, bringing with it eighteen guns, 24-pounders, 18-pounders, and howitzers. These were quickly placed in position in new batteries close to the walls of the city, and the thunder of their fire warned the mutineers that the siege had entered upon its last phase.

The initial work fell mostly to the engineers. Under the direction of Alexander Taylor, second in command to Baird-Smith, who was unfortunately on the sick list, they worked day and night constructing the breaching batteries and getting ready fascines, gabions, and scaling-ladders. Owing to the heavy musketry fire concentrated on them by the sepoys, the task was one which cost many valuable lives; but, like the true heroes they were, the engineers never flinched. As one after another was laid low, a comrade was ready to step forward and take the fallen man's place.

Now was it that Medley, Greathed, Lang, and Home, among others, won fame for their daring reconnaissances of the enemy's position. The big guns had battered down the Mori bastion, and made great breaches in the wall near the Cashmere Gate. It was important to ascertain the extent of these, so the four engineer officers named volunteered to make an examination. On the evening of the 13th of September, while it was still light, Lang stole out of the British camp, and coolly ran the gauntlet of the sepoy bullets to the very counterscarp of the ditch beneath the fortifications. He returned safely to report that the breaches were practicable.

To make more sure of the nature of the ground, Lang and Medley ventured out again after nightfall with a ladder and measuring-rod. They reached the great ditch, completed their examination of its depth and width, and were mounting to the breach itself when the alarmed sepoy sentries came running towards them. To stay meant almost certain death, so the two officers, with their escort of riflemen, made a dash for safety. Their figures were descried, however, and a volley of balls came whizzing about their ears as they bolted back. Elsewhere, at the Water bastion, Greathed and Home were similarly engaged, being able to announce that the breaches there were equally successful.

At last all was in readiness for the attack. To everyone's gratification, the honour of leading the assault had been conferred on Nicholson. He was to head the first of the three columns placed under his command and to storm the breach near the Cashmere bastion. The second column directed its attention to the Water bastion, while the third was told off to follow the first after the Cashmere Gate had been blown up.

The story of how the gallant Lieutenants Home and Salkeld, with Sergeant Carmichael, Corporal Burgess, and others, blew up the Cashmere Gate and covered themselves with glory, cannot be given at length here. Abler pens than mine have described the brave deed with graphic detail,[1] and I must refer the reader to their narratives. It is of Nicholson and his last glorious exploit that I have to tell.

His post of honour, as has been explained, was at the head of the first attacking column. While Home and Salkeld were carrying their powder bags to the Cashmere Gate, and while behind them No. 3 Column, under Campbell of the 52nd, waited like hounds in leash, Nicholson gave the signal to advance. The booming of the guns had ceased, the heavy shells from the 24- and 18-pounders having cleared once more the breaches which the mutineers had vainly attempted to repair. The way was open for the stormers to enter the doomed city.

In the mad rush that followed, the attacking party outdistanced the ladder-bearers. This caused a brief delay, during which the foremost files of the column were exposed to a fierce fire; but no one wavered. Very soon the ladders were brought, officers and men dropped down into the ditch, and away they all went, racing up the opposite slope and driving the sepoys before them.

Nicholson was still in the van. Leading his men, sword in hand, he swept resistlessly through the gaping breach and found himself inside the city. At the sight of the grim-faced, menacing troops who poured in after him, the rebels fell back confusedly. Little difficulty was experienced in fighting a way through the streets to the point where it had been arranged the three columns should meet. This was an open space by what was known as Skinner's Church.

The juncture of the forces having been effected, Colonel Campbell's column proceeded to push on to the centre of the city. The other two columns, merged practically into one, turned themselves towards the Lahore Gate, the capture of which was all-important. Here, in fact, was the key to Delhi.

According to the instructions issued, the Lahore Gate was to be carried at all costs. Little did the commander-in-chief anticipate what a terrible ordeal he had set his subordinates. As they pressed eagerly forward the troops followed the line of the ramparts and eventually cleared a path to the Cabul Gate. So far they had been successful. There now remained before them a narrow lane less than three hundred yards long and varying from ten yards to three feet in width. Through this passage they would have to win ere the gate could be reached.

What a "lane of death" it was to prove was speedily shown. At the far end the sepoys, flushed with the success that had attended their efforts in repelling the assault at this point, had mounted two guns, one covering the other and each protected by a bullet-proof screen. Above these towered the massive Burn bastion, into which some minutes later hundreds of mutineers poured. It seemed beyond the bounds of possibility that any force could make its way against such terrible odds. There were men, however, who were willing to try, and the advance began.

The 1st Bengal Fusiliers dashed forward at the signal and succeeded in capturing the first of the guns, but they got little farther. The fire directed upon them can only be described as murderous. Shot and shell dropped among the ranks thick and fast, inflicting heavy loss, and the remnant was obliged to fall back for the time. A second charge was made, but this too failed, leaving many another poor fellow stretched lifeless on the ground.

It was now generally realised that the task of forcing a passage through the lane was hopeless, or at least inadvisable, for the present. Nicholson, however, would not concede this. Every inch of ground gained in Delhi that day was worth untold gold, and he determined that no effort should be spared to win the Lahore Gate. Placing himself at the head of his men, he called on them for another charge, for one last brave attempt.

If there was one man whom the Fusiliers would have followed to death, it was Nicholson. At his summons they ran on again, some of them actually reeling from the terrific strain they had undergone. Springing out into the mouth of the lane, Nicholson waved his sword above his head and went forward. The soldiers advanced some paces, wavered, re-formed, and wavered again as the sepoys' guns belched forth flame and death. Then, as they paused hesitating, the fateful moment came. Some yards ahead of the soldiers stood Nicholson, facing his men as he called to them angrily to "come on." Suddenly a sepoy leaned out of the window of a house close by and pointed his musket at the tall, commanding figure beneath him. There was a flash, and on the instant Nicholson fell with a bullet in his back.